Packing? or snow?

This is our garden. Or was our garden. In another time.
Flowers bravely fighting the snow!



Packing!

I should be packing. I'm not. I was packing, as you can see, earlier this morning before the snow started. It was fun while it lasted but there seems to be no end. The more I pack, the more I find to pack. The boxes keep stacking up and still I keep packing more. My bed is littered with binders, picture frames, shelves...the walls are looking bare in spots...my desk and dresser are stacked with things not usual to them. I'm going in 10 directions at once, or so it seems. I pull stuff out from under the bed, grab stuff off the wall and unpack boxes that were once packed for something I discover I need. Today. I wonder where that other box is with the recipe I wanted to make this weekend. I give up. We'll eat something else.







This is my life. For the moment. It will get better. The packing will come to an end and I will be happily settled in my own little house. I don't know when. It may be days or weeks or months, but it will come. I know it will.



In the meantime, I'm lovin' the snow! We got hit! We really did! Three inches in two hours isn't bad for the Kansas plains. And so we are frantically gathering containers to save water. They are warning us to be prepared!



I had to go to Fairview Service to pick up my car. The snow was swiftly falling and swirling across the road. It was freezing on my windshield. I was glad it was only a couple miles.


After lunch I dug out my boots, grabbed my camera and tromped outside for a few pictures. I threw a few snowballs, at no one in particular, particularly because there was no one to throw them at. (For some reason I couldn't get my 87-year-old Dad interested in a snowball fight! I guess fighting with Ann's cat this morning was enough fighting for him!)



And now I'm trying to get this post finished before the power goes off and I have to retire to my chair, wrap myself in blankets and settle in with a good "Pooh" story.

MY DAD!

Before you laugh at my laundry on the line, read the following story.

Mom, Ann and I got up early this morning to go yard saling. Before we left I put a load of laundry in the washer. That way it will be ready to hang out when we get back, I thought.

We returned some three hours later, delightedly discussing all the bargains we found and the amazing morning we had. As we neared home, Ann noticed the laundry happily flapping in the breeze. We started to question how it had found it's way to the line. If Mom had been home, it wouldn't have been hard to guess but Dad was the only possible answer. And Dad...hanging out laundry???!!! I had never in all my days heard of such a thing! Could it be possible??

I rushed into the kitchen and looked out the window just to make sure. Yes, the clothes were definitely on the line and not in the washer where I had left them. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry and so I did some of both. I cried when I thought of my 87-year-old Dad, who doesn't do much in a day besides read and sleep, hanging out my laundry. I laughed when I went out to take a closer look and saw the interesting arrangement of clothes hanging on the line.

My Dad...often forgets. He will ask the same question many times over. He won't remember people he goes to church with or has known for years. He can't remember events or will ask several times in a day, what day it is. He's stubborn and wants to do things his way. He doesn't understand or reason very well anymore, often reminding me of a 5-year-old boy.

And yet...MY DAD hung the laundry up for me, although I've never known him to do it before, even in his "better years". I'm proud of him. I love my dad. I realized this again today and just how special he is and how much I will miss him when he's gone. I determined to tell him so this very day.

Counting Flowers!

This is the first day of spring! I said it several times throughout the day to Emma. And then we went out to see how many flowers we could find. Along the front porch was a spirea bush - the smell brought back memories of my grandma who used to have a whole hedge of them along the driveway. In the corner we discovered one lone daffodil bravely lifting it's head. We wandered across the lawn and spotted wee, miniature flowers in deep blue, fushia and white. I don't know their names. They would probably be classified as weeds and yet, when closely examined, they were truly amazing in design. Of course, there were dandelions showing off their bright yellow faces. We nearly missed the gorgeous lavendar flowers residing in the flowerbed to the west of the house.

On the drive home I spotted a bright yellow forsythia bush. There were flowering trees, as well. As I pulled in the driveway, my gaze was drawn to the front walk. More daffodils, bright red tulips, pansies in purple & white and pink hyacinths.

I love flowers! I love spring! It gives me a sense of hope after the dry, barren winter. I need hope for my thirsty soul. Where is it that I lose hope? I get bogged down with the issues of living. I can't see past the whiny, fussy, teething one-year-old I care for day after day. I'm exhausted from working five long days. I have no time or energy for anything else.

But then...I remember...it's spring! There is hope! Counting the flowers today, renewed that bit of hope in my soul again. Try it! It might renew your hope, too!

New Baby

This is a picture of my newest niece, Joyce Valerie Steckly! She was born March 6, 2009, weighing 9 pounds and 4 ounces. She is welcomed by 6 brothers and sisters and the happy parents, Paul and Sarah.