A Spring Week at Woodsong

As I drove into the Shawnee National Forest on Tuesday, the pinkish purple blooms on the redbud trees brightened the still bare tall black-limbed trees all around them. The drive there had been stunning with the redbud at the height of its glory. Inside the forest, there were also a few scattered dogwood showing white blossoms and foretelling that time was running out for the redbud. Sure enough by this morning, though still lovely, the redbud trees had begun to shed the blooms for green leaves. And everywhere in yards and roadside, the white of the dogwood was beginning to dominate.

Tuesday Gerald left the house early to go with his friend Herman on an Angel Flight. Before I was through my breakfast and coffee, however, he was back home because the weather had cancelled their flight. I unexpectedly needed to figure out something for his lunch before I left the farm, and I did and hurried on to errands in town and my plan to consider going up Hamburg Hill to revisit the cut of the 1838 road there.

I knew I would not go unless I completed errands quickly enough that I could go there and back in time for our grandson Samuel’s jazz band concert that night. Since this group of youngsters had just won superior at state recently, I wanted to hear their performance. Sam’s junior high band was playing at the high school before their jazz band played, and Sam and fellow trombonist Ben were going to be improvising together. Coming home, I cut through the country by way of Goreville, one of my favorite towns in the universe (cause my grandparents lived there), and I was home from the forest in time to fix our supper. Gerald and I were sitting in the auditorium as the curtain was ready to open.

Gerald did take the Angel Flight on Wednesday, so he wasn’t there for lunch. But I had the same sort of rushed day with emails and phone calls to take care of as I worked on the final collection of handouts to mail to Rend Lake College for copying for the thirteen participants who will be on our river-to-river van trip this week. On Tuesday we will traverse Route 146, the designated Trail of Tears auto tour across our state.

After I completed the handouts and stopped to replenish our fruit supply, I went through the drive-in for supper and then hurried to the car wash to get the mud from Hamburg Hill taken off so Gerald wouldn’t feel he needed to do it. I arrived early at our village church in Crab Orchard for a First Place meeting at 6. I had neglected the Bible study all week and needed to attempt to catch up before the others arrived. With only three of us there, we lingered sharing our thoughts, our troubles, and our opinions in addition to the Bible study review. Consequently, it was later than usual when I arrived home to hear Gerald’s stories about the day’s Angel Flight and find out who won Georgia’s and Texas A&M’s games. The stories were interesting as always, and we had won both games.

Thursday afternoon I left the farm with all kinds of extra trucks there as once again some service was helping Gerald burn off our fields of native grasses. I thought this was a government requirement for these fields, but he explained that it was just the recommended plant culture. The two women in charge were careful to burn by creating V-shapes that allowed wildlife to escape safely. The eggs of one turkey nest, however, required our brother Keith and nephew DuWayne to come rescue them for their incubator.

Again I had a tad of shopping to do, ran by Katherine’s, and got a sandwich at Subway before meeting Jari Jackson to go to our Southern Illinois Writers Guild meeting. It was a Critique Night. I had hoped to have something new to read, but hadn’t completed anything. I did grab an article out of the file cabinet marked for revision and was amused to see it was written when my youngest daughter was still in high school as her son is now. I decided it was a little too old to share, but I may yet revise it someday.

It was fun just to relax and listen to the wide variety of offerings presented by more prepared members. When I got back to the farm, Gerald was in bed with the light on and his book of Appalachian humor in his hands and was fast asleep. I debated whether I should wake him and tell him good night or let him wake on his own when the book fell from his hands. That seemed the simplest, so I went on downstairs to check emails and surf a bit.

Friday morning for me started with a long welcome phone call from that youngest daughter who has been too busy with house revamping lately for leisurely calls. The weekend soft ball games would start on Saturday, and Gerald was hurrying to mow the yard and finish his shop project of modifying a sprayer for Scott, the next-door neighbor. This lengthy project turned out to be more complicated and challenging than Gerald, a perfectionist, anticipated. He was glad yesterday to take the completed sprayer home to Scott. In the meantime, our son-in-law Brian had arrived at the other farm for some weekend farming, and at the end of the day he dropped in and ate a waffle with us.

Yesterday Vickie and Geri Ann had gone with Gerry to Auburn University to watch Georgia play, and we were following them and also Erin at Oklahoma University at Norman, where she started the first inning with a RBI double. Gerald was also trying to follow Lucas Hileman at Baylor in the other room on TV.

Interspersed with the games for me was a trip to the village to return overdue library books and collect Revolutionary Road that the library had ordered for me. The florist shop where I owed a bill was closed but the wonderful owner/hostess of The Mustard Seed in adjoining quarters assured me she’d see that LaRonda got my check. There in that haven of crafts and antiques, I could not resist a small good-looking and inexpensive alarm clock for a downstairs bedroom. Then I took a drawing and some photographs that needed framing up to Tom Ribedeau, photographer, wood craftsman, teacher, and owner of the most beautiful long driveway imaginable through a certified wildlife habitat. I went back to Woodsong for more softball inspired by the beauty of the drive and Tom’s delightful personality.

After sleeping with the sound of rain on the camper all night, Brian dropped in to say goodbye before he headed home to the city. I was able to hand him John Elder Robinson’s Look Me in the Eye that I had told Mary Ellen about and wanted her to read.

As always today I was inspired by siblings Miranda and Caleb as they participated in various learning activities in our preschool classroom. Watching their faces as they learn new things and discover new words and new concepts is a joy. Since our story was about Jesus healing ten lepers and only one saying thank you, we played with band aids and wrapped bandages. Miranda had noticed my tiny “owie” on my hand and her band aid is still there tonight. Caleb was very interested in counting the ten pennies, ten marbles, and ten pencils that Miss Kim brought. He quit his independent play to go over and sit on her lap to try and figure out what this counting was all about. He could say the word “two.”

Since Erin’s game today was on ESPN, we watched as we ate lunch and then went downstairs to the bigger TV to see the rest of the game. David dropped in to pick up some left-over vinyl for a project he was working on to try and make Katherine’s chair more comfortable. We were quite unhappy to see Texas A&M lose, but despite our sadness, we had to be proud of Oklahoma’s D. J. Mathis who was back on the mound after a shoulder injury. D.J. played with Erin for Southern Force here in Illinois and won everyone’s hearts with her enthusiasm, and probably knew she needed to keep walking Erin.

At our evening service, Becky Belt handed me her copy of The Shack that Kim had finished, so it looks like I have plenty to read in the week ahead.

Spring Is Blossoming Out All Over

Last Friday night, the first day of Spring, Gerald and I experienced the awakening as we drove down to Union County amid the white blossoming pear trees, tulip trees already shedding their pink blossoms, yellow forsythia, and golden daffodils in yards and roadsides.

We went early to have time before we met his brothers and wives, so he could take me up to Hamburg Hill again in Shawnee National Forest. I had taken the wrong turn with Samuel the week before and missed it. I wondered if it were a good thing. When Gerald and I went up, I knew I had been fortunate to miss the right road. The road was rough and I think if I had gotten as far as Hamburg, I might have been foolish enough to try to drive to the top of Atwood Hill, where the fire tower was. Gerald started also but soon turned around in a road so narrow that I closed my eyes and clinched my fists—even though I knew with my mind that he would make the turn safely. Somehow my stomach did not know this.

Although the grass was greening, the forest itself was still stark trees with leafless limbs—still beautiful in their abundance up and down the steep hills, but not yet breathtaking as they will be when the leaves come back. We were looking for the cut in the forest where the old road used to go. We did find the cut and the pioneer cemetery. We then explored another narrow road through the forest to the top of the hill, where other explorers had left behind their beer cans and trash. There was plenty of turn around room here, and after walking around a bit, we headed on to Fox Hollow for fish with the brothers and sisters-in-law.

This is definitely the time for seeing the countryside. Each day is greener and different as new plants come from the ground. I was able to carry in sweet-smelling hyacinths for the women from church who gathered at our house on Monday evening. I only picked two for each table because it was Gerald’s bulb garden he planted last year, and I did not want to have it too barren when he returns from his birthday trip to Georgia.

I had forgotten he had planted one yellow and one white daffodil there, so I was richer in daffodils than I thought. Each plant had three blossoms, and I picked one yellow and one white to stick in a tall narrow vase. I resisted the urge to pick a fifth hyacinth to go with the two daffodils for a table in the living room.

I had put out the elaborately painted eggs that my friend Jane Perr made years ago. She had learned the craft from an elderly gentleman from the Russian Orthodox Church in Royalton. So I invited Jane down to our meeting, so she could see I was still enjoying her beautiful eggs. She surprised me by bringing me another beautiful egg in its own little holder and also a purple hyacinth that completed the daffodils just the way I wanted the vase to look.

Today after eight hours sleep, I came out of my bedroom at 10 a.m. with the idea I’d walk down the lane to the mail box to get the newspaper that Gerald always walks down for at 6 or 7 a.m. I was somewhat startled to see daughter Jeannie walking out of the other bedroom.

“When did you get here?” I queried. “I figured you’d be driving back today. How did you get in the house?”

Evidently shortly after I went to bed at 2 a.m., Jeannie and Cecelie had arrived from Nashville to our dark house. When we built this house, we gave each of our children a key, but no one seems to remember that they have one. We, of course, leave the door open for them when we know they are coming. Fortunately, one of Jeannie’s kids had found her key and wanted to know what to do with and she had told them to put it in the van. So they had let themselves in and we all slept peacefully, and I got a report on her visit with Leslie as we ate a bite of breakfast.

Much too soon, we had a late lunch and she and Cecelie were off to Freeport although they planned a drop-in visit with her sister Katherine in town before they got back on I-57 to head home.

Cecelie had enjoyed a piece of left-over angel food cake from our women’s meeting, and I put another in a plastic bag for her to take on her trip–along with the left-over chocolate eggs that I knew I should not eat.

As I followed them outside to wave reluctant goodbyes, our eyes focused on the ornamental tree in the driveway’s circle, which is just starting to bloom. Jeannie commented on how she enjoyed our spring down here and in Nashville knowing it will still be three or four weeks before the trees blossom up north. So she will do spring twice.

When Gerald phoned later, he told me that it was chilly in Georgia. Nevertheless, he and Vickie and her mother Shirley, Geri Ann, Tara, Aidan, and baby Maddux were all heading out to the softball stadium at the University of Georgia to support Gerry and the Dogs, now ranked 7th in the nation again. They were to play Mercer. I read tonight it had rained but didn’t rain the game out, which was good since we won.

However, the inclement weather at Waco did cause a postponement of the A&M game with Baylor until April 29. I had to laugh when Erin blogged about the tailgate party last Saturday night for the team, friends, family, staff, and Sugar Daddies. The Broussard family had generously supplied an abundant supply of crawfish. Erin had to fess up, that as an out-of-state girl without crawfish in her menu background, she was grateful for the table laden with desserts.

Since Gerald took the car on his trip, I drove the pickup over to a small-group meeting at our village church. I stopped at the end of the lane and finally picked up this morning’s newspaper.

Daffodils and Eating Humble Pie

Yesterday I was privileged to drive into town twice and observe the world turning beautiful. I always take the country road to town if I can, and so twice yesterday I passed by the special roadside filled with blooming daffodils in front of a woods. Every spring I enjoy them and love to wonder who the former resident was who planted them. I was sure long ago there was a house there and the farm wife planted a few of the bright yellow flowers to pleasure the end of winter.

Now they have spread to a wide area, and they spell spring to me. Since there was no house or living person anywhere near this spot on the road, I have felt free to park the car and pick a bouquet of the blossoms to place on the Easter dinner table or even one year to press and send one to a daughter living in far-off Tennessee who could not come home for Easter.

About a year ago, I began to notice a new road cutting through the woods behind the daffodils, and now there is a beautiful new house back there barely visible through the trees. I wonder if they bought this lot in the spring time because they too fell in love with the spread of the daffodils.

I may need to plant some bulbs of my own now. I have bought bulbs from school children before, but they were delivered late in the after-Thanksgiving rush and I never planted them. Gerald planted some here at Woodsong in a bed by the patio from an old house site far back on the farm, but they turned out to be double daffodils. He also planted some over on the island. From a distance, the yellow is pleasing, but I really like the traditional single daffodil for its grace.

The infundibuliform center surrounded by petals is so lovely to my eye. Why did I use the word “infundibuliform” instead of simply saying funnel-shaped? Well, I am just having fun and showing off. This is the 15th anniversary of Wordsmith.org, and this week they are sending us emails with words that have 15 letters. I did not even like this word and quickly deleted the email. But I just went into the delete file and rescued it.

Talking of things I don’t like, I did not like what happened to the Georgia Dogs today when they played Florida. Florida like Washington, whom the Dogs beat on Sunday, is rated #1. (There are more polls than one, and I am not sure which are in which poll.) Georgia’s Sunday win moved Georgia to 7th place in one poll and 8th in another.

And then we played Florida at Gainesville today and they beat us by the mercy rule with a score I am not going to report. Oh me. Oh my. Talk about eating humble pie. I am trying to digest it, but it does not taste good. We lost again 4-0 in the second game. That was better. I did not think that was such a bad score to play with the best in the nation. We will see how quickly our girls can shake this off and go back to having the mercy rule end games with them in the winner’s bracket.

Sunshine on a Stem

Where last year’s garden was, Gerald planted a patch of sunflowers. He quickly acknowledged that they were much too thick. I don’t think he really knew how to thin them, and I know he has not had the time. I thought it could just be an experiment to see how well the plants bloomed planted that closely. For some weeks now, the tall plants have made a thick rectangle of swaying green—there is not a mite of space between the plants.

Last Sunday there was one tall stem above all the rest. Topping it was a beautiful circle of yellow. The next day a couple more blooms came out. By today, we have a hundreds of bright yellow flowers facing out kitchen window. Obviously, they are not planted too close together for maximum blooming. There are some little short plants with smaller blooms on the front row, but the huge blooms dominate. It is a lovely sight, and the birds will enjoy those seeds this winter.

I enjoyed Gerald’s observation that his green John Deere tractor with yellow wheels parked beside the flowers yesterday matched them perfectly.

It is nice to have some extra sunshine in our lives. There is so much sadness in the world and so many health problems in our immediate family and in our church family. Enjoying summer’s beauty is sometimes an antidote to being overwhelmed by our problems.

Talking to someone by phone who is struggling with grief, I was told she went to a Christian book store today and bought not one but two books—one to distract herself from her family’s problems and one that might offer helpful suggestions.. I can remember when I have faced serious problems in the past, I would often search out all the books I could find on a particular topic, such as how to care for elderly parents. I always felt if I checked out other people’s ideas, I would perhaps run into information I did not know or ideas I did not have. And sometimes I was simply searching for affirmation that I was handling things as well as possible.

My brother told me once that some problems we just have to live with—we cannot solve them. I have always remembered that, and sadly found it to be true sometimes. We can’t always fix things. But even when we can’t, thoughtful living and seeking ways to handle what we have to live with can make a positive difference in our lives.

It can help to deliberately enjoy the good things in our lives even when the bad things are more overpowering. No one wants to be in a hospital room, but enjoying the beautiful flowers that someone sent to show their love is not a wasted effort. Smiling at photographs of happy days gone by is not a waste of time. And looking out on a bright patch of large yellow blooms smiling at us does lift out spirits.

August Blessings

We have been having delightful weather in Southern Illinois. High temperatures are so difficult on those with multiple sclerosis, so I have reason to appreciate more moderate temps. Hearing the news folk remind us one evening that it had been over l00 degrees on the same day a year ago made me doubly appreciate the cooler weather.

After he had been mowing the Conservation Reserve Program (CRP) land around Woodsong, Gerald came in and invited me to ride behind him on the “mule” to enjoy how pretty some of the back fields are right now. There are meadows of native grasses blowing in the breeze separated by the mowed areas for water run off. Last year he was excited about the partridge peas, but because of early weather and rain conditions, they are less abundant this year than last. Yet especially at the edges of the native grass patches, we do see a good many of the pretty lacy green plants with bright yellow blossoms.

The star of the field this year, however, is a plant I had never heard of before—bundle flowers. Brown has always been a favorite color of mine, although I like bright colors too. The bundle flowers are little brown balls or bundles filled with seeds that will drop to the ground soon and be there for bird food. We frequently see quail around the farm now and are grateful for their come back.

The garden is producing not just zucchini but enough acorn squash to even give away although there is only one acorn squash plant. It was accidentally bought by Gerald as it was mixed in with the zucchini. Most autumns I buy an acorn squash or two and one bright turban squash to create a centerpiece with other veggies. Then before the Christmas season, I cook them. But we had never grown acorn squash before, and we have really enjoyed this addition to our summer menus. We are also enjoying fresh tomatoes and okra.

The women in our church enjoyed a wonderful repast at Charlene’s on Monday night, and just when we thought it could not be any better, she brought out fresh peach cobbler. We have been able to get local peaches at our Kroger store, and many of our August meals have ended with a peach or a dish of sliced peaches.

Gerald came in tired tonight from his travel on an Angel Flight with his pilot friend Herman. However, he was feeling good at seeing a two-year-old and his grandmother transported to receive care for the little boy's legs which had been burned in an accident. Gerald loves to fly and to experience the amazement of going over so much territory in a short time. Since they had been delayed by the lateness of the flight that brought the duo from Cleveland, they had only returned to Marion in time to eat “lunch” at supper time. So just as I entered the kitchen, to cook a bite, Gerald said he had already eaten. So I was blessed with extra time to start reading When Lincoln Came to Egypt by Professor George Washington Smith originally published in 1940 and then republished by Gordon Pruett in 1993. I finished the introductory essay by John Y. Simon, one of our area’s outstanding historians who died this July. With my hometown of Jonesboro preparing for the sesquicentennial of the Lincoln-Douglas 1858 debate, I thought it was a good time to read the book.

I picked this book up at our village library when I returned William Keller’s History of Jonesboro, From 1803 to 1899. I grew up with Bill, who was just a year older than his cousin and my friend Shirley and I. Although I knew he was employed at the historical society in Springfield, I did not realize until after his death how much research and writing he had done. One of my deep regrets was that I did not take advantage of reconnecting with him after he retired in Jonesboro. I am sure that he had many answers to much that I want to know about the town.

I had a difficult time getting this book (Bill’s thesis for his master’s degree at SIU in 1956.) because it had been checked out earlier from the SIUC Special Collections. Naturally it finally arrived when I was busy with other projects (like shredding zucchini). Since it could not be renewed and had to be back by in the morning, I was glad Gerald was on the Angel Flight and I could read through the lunch hour and finish reading and taking the notes I wanted.

Soybeans Are Planted! Spring Activities in Full Swing!

Brian planted soybeans on Monday. We had T-bones at our house that night to celebrate. I made Brian a cake, and I took the remains to our daughter’s house today to get it away from here. Granddaughter Geri Ann and her cousin Lex were graduated from 8th grade last night at Johnston City, and families of both kids were there to cheer for them. In fact the high school gym was packed with students’ admiring loved ones. Baby boy and baby girl gifts are laid out on the dining room table to be wrapped for a shower and for a welcoming visit for new babies. Spring is in full swing, and now that the rains have stopped, the weather and the scenery are delightful.

The 8th grade graduates at Johnston City were all dressed in jeans or jeans skirts with matching class T shirts. I think that was the class members’ names on back. What a great idea! Nobody had to wreck the family budget nor waste time shopping to buy new suits or dresses. The excitement of high school graduation with the robes and mortarboards will not be diluted by having worn them at the end of grade school. There were lots of awards and recognitions for these youngsters—proof that they had worked hard and achieved much.

Not only was Brian able to plant soybeans, people here were finally able to start working on their gardens, flower beds, and lawns this week. I dug up some day lilies that had almost been destroyed by grass mixing in with them. They had been mulched, but I did not know to lay down plastic beneath the mulch. Consequently, some clumps had grass come up and mix with the lily.

When the plants were young, I wasn’t able to distinguish between the lily shoots and the grass stems. By the time both plants developed, I was not strong enough to separate the grass and pull it up. This had gone on for a couple of years now, so some clumps of day lilies were in bad shape. Finally this week I dug up the invaded clumps and separated the grass and replanted the lilies. I am watering them and hoping they grow quickly to make my line of lilies uniform.

The same neighbors who gave us the day lilies also brought us iris to plant that they had dug up from a family farm up north. That flower bed is truly beautiful right now with the large purple blooms blowing in the breeze. Gerald and I planted three new rose bushes last week, and the three planted last spring are perfuming the air already.

It is a good time to work outside and get dirt under the fingernails. It is not too cold nor yet too hot. It is also refreshing to bring out the spring clothing and start putting away the heavier clothes. Spring events make us want to dress up a bit. Who cares if the bleach only partly cures my work-damaged hands?