Smelling Summer

I love to sneak out to the vegetable garden in the early morning. Even when there are golfers on the course that backs up to my home, I just tip toe through the wet grass trying not to let them notice that I'm still in my pajamas. My garden is small, but it is the most I've ever grown. I love the taste of peas popped fresh from the pod. For breakfast. My zucchini is nearly ready to pick. Maybe tomorrow. Tomatoes are growing, but still green. The pumpkin plants are spreading their beautiful, broad leaves. Wiggly watermelon vines swarm across the soil.

When I've put away the peas and climbed into the shower, I bring my hands to my face and they still smell of tomatoes. The scent of summer. ahhhh!

I Think the World is Glorious

Mantua, Utah

Happy Birthday to Me!

It's my party....and I'm excited to shout my good news:

I'm pregnant!

We are beyond thrilled about this long-prayed-for baby, due in January 2009. It is fun that our kids are old enough to understand the concept of a new baby and are anxiously looking forward to their new sibling 'after Christmas.'

Some local reaction:

K: "I think it is a baby grill and we should name her Pretty Pony!"
D: "We won't know if it is a boy baby or a girl baby until it comes out. How does it come out, Mom?"

....the OTHER side of having older siblings. Any good suggestions for dealing with awkward questions from a 5-year-old? I'd love a good book on this subject! :)

Mountain High

My mom is a hiker. On sunny summer days of my childhood, she would often lead us on adventures up the canyon. She would point out the Columbine and the Bluebells along the trail. She would encourage and (sometimes) drag the stragglers up the hill, promising a rest or a snack in just a few minutes. And, of course, there was the reward of reaching the top; getting to see the view or play in the waterfall or stand triumphant on the highest boulder.

Many memories were made on the trails of Southern Utah as our family set out with our cousins, the Browns, and the two families would adventure through the HooDoos of Bryce Canyon, the mysteries of Kolob Canyon or, on one particularly courageous outing, through Zion’s Narrows. I don’t know if I always had the best hiker attitude. Sometimes it was hard to keep going. It seemed that we’d never reach the top. But, Mom had her ways of keeping things moving.

She sang:
Can you walk a little faster? said the tortoise to the hare.
There’s a porpoise right behind me and he’s stepping on my tail.

She offered treats: I think she had an endless supply of Starburst or Jolly Ranchers in her pocket.

And, she’d call ahead to the front hikers with her Brighton Camp days yell:
Hi-lo inny-minnie eye-kye-kye ooom chow chow eeee-whoa-whoa
And, whoever was up ahead would yell back:
Inica-minica-inica saw, ta-boom, ta-la, ta-yooohooo
You always knew they weren’t too far away.

And, Mom was always right about one thing: getting to the top really is worth it.

So, when Chad suggested a hike to fill up our wide-open day, I was excited about the idea of introducing my kids to one of their Grammy’s favorite activities. I told them about the trail songs we used to sing as I helped them pull on long pants. We talked about what kind of wild flowers we might see as I slathered on sunscreen. And, I mentioned how if we got tired, my mom always had Starburst in her pocket to keep us moving; maybe I’ll throw in a few treats, too.

We climbed in the car and headed for the hills. The kids were excited about the idea of climbing a mountain. We drove through the beautiful yellow and purple flower-covered hills to the trailhead. Chad had a pack filled with water and snacks. I brought along ‘nature crowns’ for the kids to collect leaves and flowers along the way. We donned jackets, took one last bathroom break, and headed up the trail.

Our big 5-year-old boy was fearless and energetic, wanting to be in the lead and pave the way. He and Chad found walking sticks---they looked so official. Little Sister was a little more reserved in her excitement, cautious of the mud, and worried about the bugs. But, she, too, hiked with a smile most of the way. Chad pointed out horse hoof prints on the trail, warned of stinging nettle in the fields, and encouraged the kids with thoughts of reaching the summit and being able to see into the valley. Sis and I looked for butterflies (the only bug acceptable to this entomophobe), counted our steps, and, of course, sang our own trail songs. Oh…. and she asked for a treat every few hundred feet.

We finally made our way to our “top.” It wasn’t the tip of Lewis Peak, where the trail eventually led. I’m not even sure how far we hiked. But, we did get to a summit where we could look into the valley. My little hikers felt such a sense of accomplishment as they relished the view. I was proud of them, of their ability to keep going even when the trail seemed too long or too steep. I loved watching their discovery of tree log benches, beetles and new flowers along the way and smiled at their desire to point out their finds to Mom and Dad. And, I was glad to pass along my memories of days spent walking amid the Indian Paintbrush and Sunflowers with my mom. What a wonderful, beautiful world!

On the Fringe

Make new friends, but keep the old.
One is silver, the other is gold.

I was thinking about friendships the other day: how they last or disappear; how some are deep and intertwined, while others are only surface-y; how they fall into categories and groups. And, I’ve come to the conclusion that, particularly with my ‘old’ friends, I’m kind of a fringe girl. You know, the one on the edge of the crowd who is pals with the gang, but not really a PART of it; whose memories are wide-spread over many groups, but not deeply rooted with one particular set of people.

I live in Utah, which, for Mormons, is where many pilgrimage frequently. When someone comes 'home', a get-together is often organized so the out-of-towner can see all their old friends. I’ve been invited to several of these little gatherings lately, with several different ‘groups,’ and as conversations unfold and stories are shared, I realize that the bulk of the people there are good friends. I mean, really GOOD friends. They continue to see each other several times a year. They have many, many overlapping memories. I have a few. I send Christmas cards. But, I don’t feel like I’m really ‘in’ with the crowd.

My husband is a fringe-er, too. He was friendly with nearly every crowd in high school, but close friends with a very few…and no one group in particular. Together, we enjoy the chance to visit with people from the past, and listen in on the escapades of yesteryear, wondering how, exactly, we got invited to this reunion of friends when we are merely acquaintances with most of them. I think it’s the Christmas cards. And, the fact that we live in Mormon Mecca. And, hopefully, it is because even though we are fringers, we are friends, too.

Because it is fun to be connected to people from my long-ago, even if I’m only connected by a thread….and a photo card of my kids in their mailbox each December.

Sound it Out

Overheard at my house:

My 3-year-old, singing: IIIIII am building a booooox. A box, a box, I'm building a box! B-O-G-S, a box.

My First Mother's Day Tea Party at Preschool