News Trend Adventures At The Pond|Actual

My husband?S youngest sister has lived in the same lovely Cleveland-area suburban neighborhood for twenty years now. We?Ve visited many times and strolled often along the sidewalks and around the community pool.

But it was only this past weekend that the thought dawned on me to walk my dog over to the neighborhood pond.

Gracie quickly went all in with my idea. As usual, when she is presented with any body of water larger than, well, her body, she rushed right in, lay down in the shallows and began lapping up the water with gusto.

She doesn?T really care to swim per se, but boy, does Gracie love to lie in water and lap.

Now this particular pond is well populated with ducks and Canada geese. For the most part, the water fowl kept their distance from us. Each day, they waddled out from under their shade tree as Gracie happily approached, and paddled off to the far side of the pond.

But on one of the days we visited, a small contingent of female ducks organized a counterattack. Almost in military formation, they pursued my amiable redhead, quacking their indignation and clearly attempting to scare her off their turf.

You can see the effect of their intimidation campaign on Gracie.

Ha.

Because there is nothing - not even a fleet of angry mama ducks -  that is going to ruin my dog’s happy adventures at the pond.

News Trend Gracie’s Field|Actual

Behind my daughter’s apartment complex is a field.

Once upon a time, it was most certainly part of narure’s Great Hardwood Forest; later most likely a farmer’s corn field. Eventually, this place will probably be developed into some kind of space for suburban living.

But for now, it’s nothing more or less than a field. Butterflies flit among the grasses and. birds swoop just above them. Rabbits may run in the longer bits of grass, and deer come out of the nearby woods at dawn and dusk to graze.

Gracie loves this field. We took her there multiple times each day and every time, she leaped and pranced and strutted with delight.

And it makes me happy that I can make her happy with such a simple thing as a field.

News Trend Third Bird|Actual

And then there?S this girl who promises to never sail away.

Today the third of my four baby birds flew out of the nest.

This time it?S my first-born who is moving out. I can hardly wrap my head around the fact that she?S moving just a few miles away; with my third-born in Asia and my second across the country in Ohio, it?S a new experience for me to have a daughter living close by.

And while I tell myself that this is not a monumental life change, I can’t deny that my nest is down to just one fledgling - and the fact that she’s currently vacationing in Seoul means that  for the next six days, this nest is altogether empty.

But here?S something I have realized. My home is not an empty nest, abandoned and devoid of any future purpose.

My three daughters go out into the world not as birds but as sailing ships, plotting their own courses and bending the winds to their purposes.

This house - my house, our house - is a safe port in a storm, an anchor to which they can always return for security, serenity, and a safe place to rest.

And I am not a mother bird who pushes out her brood and then flies off to an unknown future. I am a harbor master, an anchor. My job is to stand ready, strong and steady, keeping my heart and my home as a safe haven for my adventuresome daughters.

News Trend Winds Of Change|Actual

Look, here's the truth, when your kids move out of the house, emotions run wild.

And rather than drowning in a sea of bittersweet tears, I am determined to forge ahead into a beautiful new season of life.

I quickly realized that the epicenter of my sadness was my older daughters' now-empty bedroom.

Well. The room wasn't completely deserted. Left behind was a hodgepodge of unwanted furniture, bare walls, and cast-off belongings that did not make the cut to be packed up and moved out.

My challenge is to keep those old things in place while inviting the winds of change to transform this room into something beautiful and new. Here's what I've accomplished in a week.

^ First, new lamps. Dark rooms are depressing rooms and neither Siruis nor I are down with that.

^ New pillows. Gracie takes them for a test drive. She approves.

^ New plants and sheepskin rugs. Check and check.

^ I found this watercolor cactus at IKEA over the summer; and it spoke to me. I didn't know it at the time, but it was announcing its intention to serve as the inspiration for this makeover.

And this sturdy old student desk has announced its willingness to be upgraded from childhood to a chic and stylish new purpose that has yet to be envisioned. The base of the ancient black lamp, just so you know, still bears the outlines of some glow-in-the-dark star stickers.

^ A mash up of old things and new things breathe a hint of life into the trusty old Expedit.

And while I work through these changes and imagine how to shape this room for the future, Luna and Gracie nap in a comfortable heap on my bed. They remind me that when I'm willing to embrace the winds of change, anything is possible.

News Trend Autumn Garden|Actual

^ The weeds are finally gone.

^ Fresh mulch has been laid. And resulting splinters have been pulled.

^ The furniture cushions have been pulled though they are still at close hand in the garage for any remaining warm and sunny afternoons.

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^ The fall bloomers are enjoying their slow and steady fade.

These are the ways you can be sure that autumn in settling into my garden. What with all my unexpected travel this summer, I fell far behind in my usual gardening chores. But now, in October, I'm making up for lost time and finally content in my autumn garden

^ A pair of pumpkins adorn Gracie's dinner table and she shares my satisfaction with the season.

News Trend Succulent Season|Actual

In winter, when the extravagances of Christmas have all been spent and spring is still a good long way off, I often need a breath of fresh air.

There is nothing like a parade of fresh-faced succulents, in all their sweet geometric precision and tender green perfection, to cleanse my spirits and set me right again.

I don't need to buy them. It's enough just to rest my eyes on their humble, hopeful selves, and I'm ready to march on.

* * * * *

I wrote this snippet months ago but, for reasons unknown to me now, filed it away as a draft and forgot all about it till I stumbled upon it today.

Winter is long gone. Spring and summer too. Autumn is in full swing and we are mid-way through October.

And while my original thoughts still ring true, I would add now that there is no time of year - no season, no frame of mind - that is not enhanced by a tidy row of leafy geometric perfection.

The simple truth is that succulents make me happy every single day of the year.

* * * * *

In my opinion, you can never have too many succulents, and you can never have too many stories about succulents. Here are a few to choose from:

Court And Kylee's Succulent Party

Succulent Season

Franklin Park Conservatory

Confessions Of A Crazy Plant Lady

Pallet Possibilities

Another Rainy Day

Growing Things

This Is War

All In A Day's Work

Design Dilemmas

Wait For It

Shopping Spree

Saturday Spring Satisfaction

Sprouts

Tiny Tinsel Tree

Biology 101

Little Things

News Trend Amy|Actual

Small enough to fit into the palm of my hand, and colored much softer than the photo appears,

if this pot had a name, I would call it Amy.

This seventies flashback is now a fast-forward.

Recently, I've been thinking about the amazing ceramic hanging pots I collected back in the seventies. Back in the day when street art fairs were a new phenomenon, my mom and I would head into

Ann Arbor on the last weekend of July each summer, and browse, among other things, the pottery shops. She bought serving dishes and platters, bowls and vases, but I bought mostly hanging plant pots.

I had quite a collection of them - probably eight or ten - and they not only hung in my bedroom during the second half of my childhood but also went to college with me, coming home in the trunk of the car for breaks and long weekends. When pottery plant holders fell from fashion in the ruthless days of the eighties, I boxed them up for safekeeping and brought them along with the other mementos of my life, not knowing what else to do with them.

For a good twenty years, they lived in silence.

At some point after the new millennium, I pulled them out of the attic and brought them down to show my daughters a little bit about who I was before I became their mom. Enjoying their summery patio vibe, I hung them here and there around the yard, but that was a lethal mistake. All but one of my seventies pottery plant pots has since broken into irredeemable pieces.

So sad.

But the one that remains is my favorite. Small and delicate, this pot was thrown from a pale golden clay and colored with an almost-pastel turquoise translucent glaze. I used to keep it planted with baby's tears and it was precious to me.

Ever since the other planters were destroyed, my darling pot has been lying quietly in a safe, protected corner of the garage. The other day, I dug it out, restrung it with fresh hemp, planted it up with Irish moss, and hung it at my kitchen window.

This relic of my childhood is back in action, and the circular rhythms of life play on.

* * * * *

This song was popular during my freshman year at college

and it reminds me very much of my hanging pottery planter days.