February left
Taking with it the jade blossoms
In its wake are delicate almond blossoms, fragrant paper whites, fresh oranges,
And treasured memories of my sister’s visit
I’ll savor the “left behinds” while preparing for nature’s March surprises
We do not remember days
We remember moments
Cesare Pavese
July has been my staycation month, which has been great!
From beaches to garden spaces
From tourist spots, to less known beautiful locations
From bustling to quiet…
Sharing time with a friend is a gift.
The moments of the last few days have provided many memories.
Time spent with friends is refreshing to the soul.
The Beginning
Dinner in Milwaukee
Stage set for five days of non-stop activity.
Trip was planned around a family wedding.
Sister provided our resting location.
Visited with as many family and friends as time allowed.
Good times and memories abounded.
Last sight in Milwaukee
The Ending
What a weekend! It was Tom’s 50th Class Reunion (twice delayed), which sent us heading to Scottsdale, AZ for Memorial Day Weekend. The class reunion was great and provided my hubby with the opportunity to connect with folks from his past, talk about high-school pranks, project cars and hobbies. We enjoyed much laughter and good connection with some of his former classmates. During the video presentations of senior pictures, I realized those students looked like the kids I graduated from high school with 50 years ago. They sure looked young! My guess is they were like the kids I graduated with. They thought they knew much about life, Didn’t we all experience a surprise?
Though the reunion was fun, our accommodations were the highlight of the weekend. We stayed in the house where Tom grew up. A home built in the early 50s, designed by a renowned architect and built by Del Web as one of his first homes before he became famous for building communities. This house was a one of a kind in a unique neighborhood developed by invitation of the owners of Ride ‘n Rock Ranch. This house was the initial build within the area and identified as the Ranch Guest House. The owner never stayed in the home, but used it as a perk for his executives and for tax benefits. A breezeway separated the bedrooms from the main structure, with each bedroom having its own entrance and a private bathroom. Tom’s parents were the second owners of the structure. During their tenure there, they enclosed the breezeway, which resulted in the first bedroom being connected to the main part of the house.
There’s a one lane road leading to the home, which is set back with plantings and trees lining the walkway to the entry. I felt like I was entering an enchanted zone.
The current owners are passionate about the history of the home and understanding changes performed on the property. They have amassed a huge history on the house and the neighborhood.
Tom has told me many stories of the place and his growing up experiences. I have to admit, I struggled to understand the layout or the neighborhood. His stories came to life for me. It felt like I stepped back in time.
Ho, Ho, Ho! The stockings are all hung on the mantel with care.
Not with hopes of gifts, but stuffed full of memories from Christmases past.
Ho, Ho, Ho! Santa should come on a sleigh.
Ha, ha, ha—no snow here, but then there are no children here either. So perhaps no one will notice.
The music of the season fills the airwaves, the shopping spaces, vehicles and homes. Taking listeners on journeys back to their past, those years of prior Christmases. Some smile, some shake their head and think it is all nonsense. I’m one who smiles with memories of being a child, memories of being a mom and surprising a child. My memories overflow and allow me to derive pleasure watching others as they celebrate the season.
Back home, it is quiet here. Not an eerie quietness, but a quietness that settles like a soft comforter one wants to snuggle into. This season has brought contentment, joy and peace. I revel in these feelings.
Lights and baubles bedazzle the tree; some shiny and some not.
Each bauble holds the secret of its history waiting for the dark when only the lights of the tree allow them to speak of their origins and how they became part of this holiday tradition. How I would enjoy hearing them tell their own story, how they feel being out of the box for a brief season.
The nativity scenes on full display sit in several rooms, emitting their own scenes and memories from years past within the family tree. Now they live together in our home, with our family, and share their pride of being treasured for so many years. Their story continues to live in our lives.
Ho, Ho, Ho!
May this Christmas season come to your home and bring hope for the future, eyes to see the good in others, and peace to all who enter through your doorway, thus leaving you with many happy memories.
This is the first year since leaving Wisconsin that we have a Christmas tree inside the house. Our Colorado years sported a dressed tree on the deck outside our dining area. Sturdy ornaments able to withstand the elements donned the tree. Many of the years, dustings of snow graced the branches and sometimes birds would land in the tree. All those years our fragile ornaments hid in boxes wrapped in tissue. It was a treat to open those boxes and see treasures stored away.
The decorating process unleashed memories from years back, memories of family events, memories of friends. The nativity set I grew up seeing at my grandparent’s house now lives at mine. Unwrapping each piece stirs memories from my childhood, when its home was a corner table in their living room. I treasure the story of how the set was acquired. First the stable with the holy family, then, as finances allowed, they added to the collection. The pieces don’t match, but they warm my heart as it’s part of my history. Several years back, my husband purchased a new stable for the set. It was our way of putting our own touch on this set.
The other set comes from hubby’s family and was purchased by his parents many years ago on a trip to Italy. The pieces all have exquisite facial features, all are in the same style. It is a simplistic piece that finds its home on an end-table each Christmas. I love both sets, and unwrapping them is our introduction to the holiday season.
Unpacked ornaments lay on the table, ready for the tree. Hubby picked up a piece and said, “Is there a history here? I see so many snowmen.”
I chuckle. “Yes. I have a friend who knew I liked snowmen and for many years, she gave me an ornament or two for my tree.”
I’m grateful he asked. It brought back so many pleasant holiday memories after my children were adults and I lived alone. Friends are so important in life.
He asked about other ornaments or decorations. Some were from my mom; some made by children; some purchased on travels; some, I don’t remember. Then we talked about some ornaments he brought.
I have many things my mother gave to me over the years. So much has changed since last year when we were absorbed with cleaning, unpacking and getting settled in our new home. There were no Christmas decorations. In retrospect, I recognize that may have been healthier for me. This year, I’m able to pick up a piece and enjoy the thought of my mom giving the ornament or decoration to me. Many of the items reflected her personality. The simple styles, or elegant lines, reflected who she was and how much care she gave in selecting gifts for others. Last year, I wasn’t ready to appreciate the memories associated with those items.
Time is a healer.
Bougainvillea plants explode with color
Petals are thin
Each bloom holds four to six petals tightly together
Two white dots fill the center of each as identifying marks for the species
Some tower to the sky growing against the house
Others fill large areas of the garden
Whichever, they fill their space with color and gaiety
Colors vary depending upon plant
The blossoms dry then flutter to the ground
They swirl in the air, ultimately landing below
Like tissue paper scattered and left after a celebration
The yard represents life
Family visited for two weeks
House filled with laughter
Children played games, ran in the garden
Shared cooking experiences
A glass of wine enjoyed in the evenings
Tomorrow’s adventures planned
Car loaded
Family departed
Time flies
Memories are left scattered around
Different shades and hews
Much like my bougainvillea tissue flowers
One thing I love about this house…
The high ceilings and the wall of glass draw my gaze outward and upward. I marvel as I watch the moving canvas of the skies. Some days the clouds roll in layer upon layer, each with a little different shade. Some days the clouds race across the sky, in a hurry to get somewhere else. Other days fluffy white clouds dance by, or frilly thin like lace covers the skies. Then there are the sunny days when the sky is bright cerulean with nary a cloud in sight, taking me back to my childhood and early art projects when my sky was always that color.
These same windows draw me into the heavens after dark when the sun is long gone, and the stars too numerous to count tease me into thinking I can reach out and touch one. They lure me out on the deck where I stand gazing into these skies, often allowed the gift of witnessing a shooting star with its blazing tail. It’s peaceful there and quiets my soul, setting the stage for a good night’s rest.
Azure blue skies and bright sun meet the cold winter morning. Looking out the windows or standing on the deck, I see the sparkling shimmer of tiny frozen crystals falling to the earth. I expect someone in the heavens is sprinkling glitter down on this winter morning. I love the magic of this experience.
Long after this house belongs to another, I’ll remember how the windows called me into the heavens; how the skies are the bluest I’ve ever seen. The emotions stirred within, seared into my soul, will forever be a part of me.
I wish similar experiences to the new owners. If you want to be that owner, contact Kimberly McKinley at McKinley Sales Real Estate, Inc. and ask for information on the Flynn House. Kimberly’s Phone: 970-925-7477
Dedicated to my mother…
Words on paper
absorbed in mind
create images
Brings to life
other places and times
Roots and wings intermingle
Twisting and growing together
Each trying to be dominant
The one who planted words and dreams
had deep roots and has left the earth
Yet she birthed the one with wings
Did she know what she planted
Do any of us
She marveled as she watched
the wings grow and develop
Did know she was thanked
Pause.
Projects.
We are at home. Like many of you, really at home.
Perhaps for the first time in ages.
At our house that has meant projects.
House projects for my hubby.
Mostly writing for me.
This last week, I took on a project to remake an old family dresser.
The chest is sturdy, but made from an era when all wood furniture was dark.
Dark has become so foreboding.
It was time for a change.
I had a plan, however when I started sanding the finish from the old piece of furniture, the wood spoke something different to me.
Plan abandoned.
I kept on working.
As I was doing the finish coat, I found my mind wandering to memories of my father.
He was the one who introduced me to wood and with great supervision, would allow me to work with him in the basement.
Those thoughts bought a smile to mind.
For those of you who know me, there aren’t many times I speak of my dad.
My memories aren’t very pleasant.
In the last few years, I’ve been learning about how we can remake our memories.
Instead of replaying in your mind the same sad stories, stop those thoughts and replace them with more pleasant memories.
I’ve been working on that memory project for a few years.
It doesn’t change any realities, but it changes what my first thoughts are when thinking about my father.
This weekend wrapped up a remaking project and contributed to an ongoing remaking project.
It’s never too late to work on remaking…
Journey to the Heights 