Kathy, a long time family friend, brought her professional bakery expertise and a lot of laughter to the kitchen.

Jennifer's sister (and mother of the bug-catching five year old) led the games (we didn't diaper a cat), made the party favors (including hand lettering a poem on 25 favors) and brought the best fruit pizza. We asked that each woman write mothering advice for Jennifer and then, as an icebreaker, we each shared what we wrote. That was my favorite game, involving tears, laughter and lots of wisdom.  

Jennifer had lots of help opening the presents. I gave her dresses, including an embroidered dress I wore as a baby made out of the thinnest material possible.  

The baby's kicking me (and Jennifer too). 

Jennifer and her Aunt Wanda (her grandfather's Aunt so that would be the baby's great great great aunt) checking to see how close she guessed Jennifer's girth. 

My sister, her very pregnant daughter and her bug-catching granddaughter by the cake table.  

My sister brought a "few" savories (this is less than half) and decided that she never wants to be a caterer. 

Spring Cleaning Surprises

I haven't posted for a while because I've been cleaning. The house sparkles except for the boys' rooms for which they are responsible. Although I mop regularly, I was shocked at the dirty water when I finally got down on my knees for a thorough scrubbing.

Why this frenzy of cleaning? Well, it was needed, but I hosted book club Friday morning and a baby shower Sunday afternoon. Plus I will soon be spending all my available time outdoors.

So I set up an aggressive cleaning schedule early in the week, but did not take into account that Steve would remodel the bathroom since he was off for spring break. Remodel is too mild of a word, transform is a better word since it basically hadn't been touched since 1960. It is about 90% complete (needs molding plus towel and tissue hangers). While it skewered my cleaning schedule, it looks wonderful.

Another unexpected twist in my plans was the invasion of box elder bugs. Oh well, it gave my five year old great niece something to do during the shower...capturing and releasing outdoors the bugs with orange on them.

My Knight

In this post, Lucy captures something that I haven't been able to put into words about my husband but which I know to be true. Steve is a gentle man, but he is my protector. I feel safe with him.

When the Evil Boss was abusing me at work, it was as stressful for my husband as for me. Every fiber of his being longed to rescue me. There was nothing he could do, so he urged me to quit, to remove myself from the situation. I didn't and my physical and emotional health suffered.

When someone verbally attacked me, my husband's response was, "He wouldn't have said that if I was there." He's right. The look in his eye would have stopped it.

My sons were taught from an early age (and it is being reinforced in their teen years) to respect me. They see Lucy's "bad boy" in their father and know this is a line they cannot cross. This is a good lesson on how to treat women.

Don't misunderstand, I am not encouraging domination and the caveman approach to women. As I said, Steve is a gentle man. And I am not suggesting that women are the weaker sex. We are strong, but in different ways. But there is something I need in this expression of my husband's masculinity.

LINK FIXED!

Notes from sitting in a hard wooden chair providing hallway security for six hours at a Show Choir competition last Saturday

"Polka dots kick ass" according to one lovely young lady to another wearing a long white dress with black polka dots. Of course, I already knew that since I discovered A Dress a Day.

Curlers are back. Lots of teenage girls in curlers roaming the hall until time for their performance.

Teenage boys still sit on the floor strumming acoustic guitars for hours.

Make a statement with Crocs in your school colors.

My sons are flirts. Honest flirts, but still flirts.

Only in show choir do you think nothing of a 16 year old boy in a bright purple suit or neon green satin shirts.

I'm on a different planet than my son. He stops by my security post while I'm looking at a garden catalog and I remark that there are a lot of honeysuckles. "What?" he responds. I repeat, "a lot of honeysuckles" while pointing to the catalog. With a clear glimpse into his mind, he said, "Oh, I thought you meant people kissing."

Who's Eliot Spitzer?

Just got a call from my niece, who had read my post about Crunchy Cons, to tell me her email was just published on NRO's Crunchy Con blog. Go read it. You may need to read the post to which she is responding also. She's such a good writer, which I'm convinced is not only based on a good command of the language but also based on clear thinking.

Siting

I just spotted a Baltimore Oriole's nest swinging in the breeze in a large maple tree across the creek. I excitedly called my husband, who had spotted it last fall and has been keeping an eye on it. He reminded me that he pointed it out to me last fall. Oh, now I remember.

Oriole nests are a tightly woven sack, as deep as 8 inches, hanging 30 or more feet from the end of a branch near the top of a tree with a 3" opening at the top of the pouch. The nests are difficult to spot when the leaves are on the tree, and they seldom reuse old nests although they return to the same territory. We have found several nests on the ground over the years and the construction is amazing. When horses were more common, long horsehairs from the tail and mane were tightly woven around a twig framework. Now string, yarn and plant materials are used to finish the nest.

Francis Hobard Herrick in 1935 described the building of an oriole nest:

The first strands of bast, which are apt to be long, are wound about the chosen twig rather loosely with one or more turns but subsequent modes of treatment tend to draw these threads tighter, and as their free ends are brought together, other fibers are added. From such simple beginnings a loose pendant mass or snarl of fibrous material, which I have called the primary nest mass, is slowly formed, but it is a long time before it takes on the semblance of a nest or nest frame. . . .

Behavior at each visit, after a certain number of strands had been laid and joined, was essentially the same, the oriole usually bringing in but a single fiber and carrying it around the support and working it into the nest mass by what I have called shuttle movements of the bill. Clinging to the principal twig, hanging often with head down, and holding the thread, the bird makes a number of rapid thrust-and-draw movements with her mandibles. With the first thrust a fiber is pushed through the tangle which soon arises and forms the growing mass, and with the next either that or some other fiber is drawn loosely back. . . .

While these shuttle movements are, first and last, very similar, and almost equally rapid at all times, the number made at each visit tends to increase with the growing complexity of the product. At least one hundred shuttle movements were sometimes made at a single visit, but these were often so rapid that it was impossible to count them, and many of them must have been abortive.

In all this admirable work there was certainly no deliberate tying of knots, yet, as the sequel will show, knots were in reality being made in plenty at every visit. There certainly was no deliberate directing of the thread, The work was all fairly loose at first, yet naturally some of the threads became drawn more tightly than others. I do not wish to imply that the same thread that is first thrust through the nest mass or the nest wall is immediately drawn back, but only that some thread or other is blindly seized by the bill and withdrawn. . . . The irregularity of the weave of the finished work shows conclusively that the stitching is a purely random affair, though, for all that, none the less effective.

In the late stages of construction "the bird settles down in the nest and shakes all over in an effort to bring the pressure of the breast to bear upon its inner surface; he [in this case the bird was assumed to be the male] rises, turns, settles, and shakes again. These are the typical molding movements, and they are applied all over the lower parts of the pouch, their violence at times being such that the surrounding leaves, and even the slender tree itself, are all a-tremble."

Signs of Spring

My species crocus are blooming and the songbirds were singing early this morning.

A Dress a Day

This is scary. I haven't sewn since 1972, but this site has awakened the creative sewing urges. My 45 year old sewing machine hasn't worked very well for several years, and sewing was the last thing on my mind. The stars are beginning to align though: I inherited my mother's sewing machine. I found a site that makes me want to sew dresses of all things, now that my normal garb is jeans. I visited a sewing store for some special craft supplies and I had to run my hands over the beautiful fabric. I've been following Project Runway. And my husband, a master craftsmen in wood, asked me recently about the similarities between furniture construction and dress construction. Stay tuned for the inevitable.

The Renegade Gardner

I've linked to his website previously, but I'm going to do it again because I just heard him speak this afternoon at the Home and Garden Show. I laughed, I nodded in agreement, I smirked in self-satisfaction, and I squirmed in self-recognition. For those of you in the area, don't miss him.

Imported Beer

Last night, Steve ordered a Samual Adams beer, which made me giggle. (OK, maybe it was the Lemon Drop that made me giggle.) About a month ago, we delivered the boys to a church retreat and then scoured the countryside for a place to eat. We found it. Coody Browns. The food was actually tasty and we enjoyed looking over the frozen lake. However, when Steve was looking at their list of imported beers, he discovered that they imported Sam Adams...all the way from Boston.

Evening Out

Last night my husband invited me to dinner and the theater. Now this was quite a shock since his idea of a hot night out is a campfire by the river. We dressed to the nines and had an enjoyable dinner. And then headed for a production by the local college.

It.was.awful. Shakespeare done as bawdy slapstick. It might have worked, but it just wasn't funny. During the first act, I peeked at Steve and the expression on his face was of pure pain. So at intermission, when I stood, picked up my coat and purse and headed out, he knew exactly what was happening. We laughed more at how bad it was than at the show itself.

My only disappointment is that he will be reluctant to suggest another such evening.

Here's the last photo of the series. We're getting serious now about our work. Look how I'm holding my hand, waiting for the precious seeds.

This photo was attached to the previous photo. I'm too absorbed to take notice of the camera, but Mom smiled for her husband, probably wondering why he was taking her picture when she was in her work clothes. She just had her third baby when this photo was taken. Note the pretty dress I am wearing to work in the garden...and no shoes. As I child, I tried to avoid shoes as much as possible. That's the neighbor's house, laundry and shed behind us. I'd like to restore these prints before they totally fade away.  

As we sorted through Mom's photos, I found this one. Yes, it is Earth Girl (not Earth Matron!) I am three years old and planting the garden. The photo is in bad shape, but there is something about it I love.  

Spring Rituals

I went to the site (Gene Stratton Porter's Home in the Wildflower Woods) today and spent most of the day with my fellow gardener ordering seeds and plants. Now they have to find funding for the requests. We ordered a lot of seeds. Even if the germination rate is low and it takes a year or more for them to catch up with bare root plants, the cost is much lower. I know we ordered too much for the two of us plant, given that we still have spring clean-up and weeding to do. I really do need to spend some time developing a volunteer program for the garden.

Weigh In 3

Mom lost 1 more pound and son lost 3 for a total of 8 and 15 respectively. Son is on a weekend show choir trip, which will be a challenge for him. My sleepover at a friend's lake cottage should be easier since most of us are on similar eating programs. The big discussion was whether wine would be empty calories or an essential food. You can guess our conclusion.

Catalogs

Lucy asked about my favorite garden catalogs. The two catalogs I peruse most carefully, dream over, and absolutely love are White Flower Farm and Wayside Gardens. However, I rarely order from them because of the cost. I prefer to buy plants locally grown as they have less transplant shock and are acclimated to our heavy clay soil. Actually, I really prefer to get starts from my gardening friends! I'm ordering seeds from Select Seeds this year and will let you know what I think.

Label

Oh yes, I have a label now - Crunchy Con. It's amazing how well it fits. My left-leaning friends are surprised at my conservatism and my right-leaning friends are surprised at my crunchiness.

This unusual plant is the amaranthus or Love-Lies-Bleeding from the site garden last fall. I bought a packet of seeds to plant some more this year. 

Seeds

Usually I propagate by root division. It's easy and dependable. Last year, though, I had incredible luck starting plants from seed. No damping-off as in the past. So this year I am a sucker for the seed packets that are sprouting up in all the stores.

So far I purchased apricot colored foxglove which I think I'll plant near the apricot colored mullein I purchased last year. The two packets of rock soapwort (saponaria) are for the rock garden at the site. The cerastium (snow-in-summer) are also for the site as an edging to the daylily bed and the Blue Mink Ageratum is to edge the site's blue bed. The moss rose will go somewhere. The Heavenly Blue morning glories will be planted around the bay window as we loved the effect last year. Since I bought two packets of the morning glories, I think I'll plant some along the split rail fence at the front of our property. I also bought a bush-type morning glory which may go into pots or as an edging. The two types of nasturtiums are for the site since they did so well last year. I bought the annual buttercup daisy (sundrops) because the white and yellow flowers looked so charming. I'm sure I'll find a place for them. Two packets of delphinium Giant Pacific Blue Bird are also for the site. The two packets of verbena are for my container gardens. Bells of Ireland were an impulse purchase because my mother grew them when I was young. The unusual colored columbine (William Guinness) will probably go in the purple bed at the site, with seeds collected next summer for my garden. We had two amaranthus (Love-Lies-Bleeding) self-seed at the site and I bought another packet to supplement them. These were truly eye-catching. Three different types of sunflowers will look lovely in the butterfly garden at the site. Finally, a nod to cuisine - a packet of sweet basil. We are still enjoying the basil I harvested last year.

These are my seed contributions to the site, but I'm also scouring catalogues for plants to purchase. We have several rather empty beds in the garden and I'm trying to find the plants that were originally planted in the garden to start restoring the garden to historical accuracy.

Advanced Master and Master Wannabe

I just got my new Master Gardener badge and discovered that I am now an Advanced Master Gardener.

Tonight I attend orientation for the Master Naturalists program. I am so looking forward to these classes, which are 3 to 4 hours each, taught by "names" in regional naturalist circles:
Geology: Dr. Jack Sunderman, Geologist
Birds: Dr. Jim Haw, Birder
Insects: Dr. David Miller, Entomologist
Forest Ecology: Dr. Jim Tobolski
Wetlands: Tim Skiver, Wetland Biologist
Critters: Chris Barlow, Naturalist
Wildflowers: Doug Rood, Naturalist
Trees: Ricky Kemery, Purdue University

Surprise!

I received an email from Karen at Rurality letting me know that I am on page 77 of Blogosphere: Best of Blogs under Garden Diaries! I'm totally floored, and this isn't something like Who's Who where you have to pay to have your name entered. Now I feel compelled to post something about my garden...so here's a picture of snowdrops blooming in January, about 6 to 8 weeks before I usually see them. Of course, I'm pretending this is in my garden, but it is in an out-of-the-way place where I put vegetative matter that is too rough for the compost pile.

No Matter How He Speaks, My Knees Grow Weak

My husband speaks all five languages of love.

Words of Affirmation
The other night, Steve came in the room and shared that he was reading about the different aspects of intelligence. He determined that I was gifted in at least 4 areas and perhaps in the other two. He never fails to proclaim his love for me daily, usually with three simple words, "I love you," sometimes with one word, "luvsya," and, at other times, with a full poetic expression of his love. He even renamed a constellation for me; Orion's Belt is known as Martha's Crown in our house.

Acts of Service
What an incredible feeling to come home and find the floors mopped, the table set and dinner started. Sometimes he tells me to go back to sleep and he will handle the morning chores. And I can't begin to describe the work he does on our three properties. He's also teaching our sons to speak this language of love.

Receiving Gifts
I don't need diamonds to know he loves me. His gifts are sweet and thoughtful. Last week while shopping with him, I remarked how much I love hyacinths in the house as a foretaste (or is it a foresmell) of spring. We drove separate cars to church Sunday and when I came home, two decorated paper bags were on the dining room table. Inside were three pots of hyacinths. Not only did he listen, but he remembered that this was something that would please me.

Quality Time
He will grab my hand with a "join me" for an evening walk. We walk, we hold hands, we talk. Rarely are these talks utilitarian, about the running of our daily lives. Sometimes we dream. Sometimes we play silly word games. Sometimes we share our observations about the wooded area we walk. Sometimes we talk about the books we're reading. Sometimes we solve the world's problems. This is the time I often tell him stories from the blogs I've read and he tells me stories from school. Sometimes we walk in companionable silence. After 14 years of marriage, our pure delight in each other's company continues to grow.

Physical Touch
And then my knees really grow weak.

Trouble with the concept or the words?

My sister, her daughter and I are giving a baby shower for her other daughter, so my sister invited all of us to her house to plan it. As usual, she invited everyone's family to dinner as part of the planning process. My sister's five-year-old wickedly clever granddaughter volunteered to say grace, then said the Lord's Prayer perfectly...well, almost. Every "thy" was "my" as in: Hallowed be my name. My kingdom come. My will be done..."

The showeree, who professes to hate shower games, suggested a few games for her shower. Diapering a baby doll, even blindfolded, is too tame for her; she wants us to play "Diaper the Cat." After much laughter, she proceeded to try to demonstrate it on the cat. The cat won. Her suggestions for refreshments were as bizarre. Does anyone know how to mold a jello uterus?