What’s Up There?

Yesterday, we went to our neighborhood park to play for a little while before dinner. It was a beautiful evening. The air was full of springtime . . . and interesting sounds.

“Mommy, it sounds like there’s a woodpecker up there. Is that a woodpecker sound?”


Mommy didn’t know.

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My Grandmothers’ Irises


In the front garden of our home, I have irises from both of my grandmothers.

My maternal grandmother, Naomi (“Mimi”) was an extremely strong woman and wife to a farmer/rancher. She was lovely and smart and generous and fiercely protective of her family.

My paternal grandmother Christine (“Tine”) was a nurse and a gardener. She was pretty and sweet and nurturing. She also had a great sense of humor and a contagious laugh.

When Mimi passed away, my mother dug up her iris bulbs, planted some in her own garden, and gave the rest to Tine, who then added the irises to her already beautiful garden full of roses of every color and type imaginable. A few years later, when Tine died, my mother dug up most of those bulbs, before she and my father sold the house, and gave them to me for my first house with my husband. When I moved from that house to our current house, a few years ago, I dug up most of the bulbs and planted them in our new front yard.

With all that digging and moving, they still take root and multiply every time they must settle into a new home. And they bloom majestically each spring. These iris blooms are a perennial reminder of my beautiful grandmothers, both gone now for over a decade. And although my own children never met these women, who were so special to me, in the irises I feel I have a piece of them here in my home and my heart that I can share and pass on.

The kids do so enjoy flowers and bright colors and hearing me tell about their great grandmothers.


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A Tree Ballet

I took these photos with my iPhone camera this past Friday late morning in my neighborhood park.  I was supposed to be exercising, but I stopped for a closer look.

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As I look back at these pictures, the trees in their early winter state remind me of ballerinas arching, lifting, twirling, pointing, stretching. The dance is formal and majestic. The dancers’ movements, torsos and limbs, are powerful, controlled, yet graceful. You can’t see all that when they’re wearing their leaves.

Look, there are a couple of large birds mixed in with the mistletoe in that treetop.  I wasn’t sure . . . are those crows? I wish I could see the performance from up there.


My Thankfulness


We spent the Thanksgiving break with my side of the family this year.  This is a view from the ranch-house deck.  I shot most of the photos included in my SLIDE SHOW early in the week at my parents’ ranch in West Texas and the rest I took on Thanksgiving day at their in-town home.  If you have 4 minutes, please take a look.  Music Credit: “Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing,” Sufjan Stevens.

We’ll be spending Christmas with my hubby’s family.

— Twyla