News Trend A Perfect Autumn Day|Actual

Pumpkins and sandals.

Crisp October mornings where the golden sunlight is still warm enough for bare toes.

This is my idea of a perfect autumn day.

News Trend Badlands National Park|Actual

During our summer road trip, we saw more interesting sights that I could squeeze into my real-time posts. Now that I'm back home and have fished all 548 photos off my devices, I have a few more road trip stories to share.

To catch up on the rest of the trip, starthere.

* * * * *

The story goes that the French fur trappers who wandered through this place bemoaned the lack of water and difficult passage, and deemed these to be "bad lands,"

I fervently disagree.

Granted, I had a cooler full of chilled beverages, Google maps and a team of National Park Rangers to usher me through. But on our half-day tour of Badlands National Park, I found goodness to behold around every corner.

^ Approaching from the east, this canyon land marks the unofficial beginning of the American West, and on those merits alone, fills me with excitement and a spirit of adventure. Take that, you South Dakotan corn fields - here the frontier begins!

^ While the first vistas in the park allow sweeping views of the distant rippling rock formations, the scenic drive soon winds up, in, and among the stone walls. While my family happily took in the sights from within the comfort of the air-conditioned car, my restless spirit demanded that I get out and explore each and every stopping point, at roughly three-minute intervals.

^ Any patch of wilderness tender enough to nurture wildflowers is a softie in my book.

^ I'll admit that the midday sun was scorching, but these picnic shelters went a long way toward providing some comfortable shade. In the interest of full disclosure, I must point out that the seats - made from recycled plastic - bowed in the center, apparently having melted from the heat. Yikes.

^ Continuing our looping westward drive, we noticed storm clouds piling up on the horizon.

^ And sure enough, just a few minutes later, the heavens opened up and the glorious rain poured down. For the rest of our visit, we drove in and out of these squalls, adding to the drama and charm of the landscape.

^ Here and there we discovered areas of soft, flowing table lands, prairie green from summer rain, with just the tips of rocky ranges peeping up far beyond. I just wanted to spread out a blanket in that lush grass and eat my lunch all over again.

^ More rocky ravines. More cloud bursts.

^ More precious clumps of flowers.

^ And a constant wild wind, buffeting my ears and whipping my hair in every direction. It was fierce and lovely.

^ As we edged closer to the western perimeter of the park, the steep, sharply pointed cliffs abruptly gave way to older, rounder formations. Tinged with layers of pink and yellow sediments, these geologic layers date back to the times when this was a sea, and then a jungle, and then a sea once again.

It seems that this land is indeed ever-changing, reinventing itself over the eons, transforming beyond recognition from one age to the next.

So don't let those old fur traders fool you. This may have been a "bad land" in their day and age, but for us, these are very Good Lands indeed.

News Trend Smashing Pumpkins|Actual

Pumpkins, on the outside, are a perfectly pleasing lot.

Geometrically satisfying with their spherical shapes and curious curves, their smooth, vibrant skin is outdone only by their gnarled, knobby stems.

And while each individual pumpkin certainly has its own personality - thus the fun of choosing one - the truth is that every single one of these beauties is more or less as perfect as the next.

But - as anyone who has ever opened up one of these gorgeous gourds can attest - the inside of a pumpkin is a whole 'nother matter.

Pale white flesh lacks the strength and vitality of the outer skin; its fibrous mass quickly breaks down into shapeless shreds.

And the gushy orange guts, cold and stringy, cling defiantly to those fragile fibers to form slippery handfuls of yucky mush.

In comparison to their smooth and sumptuous outer selves, pumpkin innards are messy, complicated and difficult to deal with.

In this way, I suppose that pumpkins are a whole lot like people.

On the outside, we present ourselves as smooth, centered, colorful, and balanced.

But inside, we are oftentimes a mess. Life's circumstances fill each one of our lives with challenges, traumas, hurts and fears, and while we all learn to manage them, one way or another, most of us try to keep the messy and complicated parts of ourselves hidden deep within, where no one else can see.

Hmm. I'm not particularly flattered to be likened to an overgrown gourd in this way but I can't deny that there's some truth in the comparison.

However, there's one more thing on the inside of every pumpkin - seeds.

Seeds represent growth, hope and the blessed assurance that new life is just around the corner.

And in this way, I am perfectly pleased to be a pumpkin.

* * * * *

A song called Hope from Smashing Pumpkins.

And now my metaphor is complete.

News Trend My New Roof|Actual

We also got new gutters. Gorgeous, amirite?

Last week, I bought the second most expensive thing I've ever purchased in my life.

Yes, my house represents the number-one big-ticket item. And ever since the day we signed on the dotted line to become homeowners, I've known that this enormous follow-up expense was unavoidably coming my way.

A new roof.

Blah. How boring is that.

I've been dreading this expenditure for years. I knew the day would come when we would be forced to blow somewhere around $25,000 on this utilitarian and mandatory but mind-blowingly mundane maintenance item and there was no way to cushion the blow.

I mean, we did what we could to stave off the pain.

We kept the first roof as clean as possible.

We replaced worn shakes and repaired small leaks.

We waited as long as we possibly could. And then some.

This summer, my husband and I agreed that the sorrowful day could wait no longer. We met with our roofers to seal the deal, and wrote them a big fat check. Then as I sat glumly by, imagining my hard-earned dollars sprouting wings and flying out of my bank account, a fleet of workers descended upon my home and began ripping my old roof to shreds.

Somewhere around the time that the giant heaps of worn shingles were carted off to the industrial size dumpster in my driveway, and the massive crane arrived to deliver the new shakes to the tippy-top of the now-naked roof, I began to get excited.

My new roof is unexpectedly beautiful, its fresh-cut cedar shakes shimmering in the autumn mist. Architecturally, our roof is a huge feature of our home's street appeal, and those new shakes make the place look like a million bucks.

It never occurred to me how pretty a new roof can be.

But best of all, my new roof is a beautiful metaphor for protection and safety and preservation of all that goes on underneath. I can't help but feel that my  home is now ready for a fresh cycle of life, and I'm excited to see what happens in this new season.

News Trend I Am Not A Leaf|Actual

Autumn is upon us once again, and the scarlet leaves will soon be fluttering down.

So many times in my life this has happened. Summer gives way to fall, the seasons change, the leaves on the trees give way. And as I noticed these changes in the air yesterday, my first reaction, I'm sorry to say, was this.

Yawn

Ho-hum.

I've seen this all before

And I'm not that impressed.

Then, in a snap, I realized that I was a fool.

True, this has all happened before. Leaves change color more or less the same way each year, and the ritual repeats itself in nature's unending cycles.

But here's what's different this fall:

Me.

Now granted, my personality has not completely transformed in the last twelve months.

But I'm definitely not the exact same person I was last year, or the year before. And next year, God willing, I will most certainly be just a little bit different than I am today.

Mother Nature runs round and round in her predictable and pretty circles, but we humans grow on a greater trajectory.

Every year,

every season,

even every day,

life changes me and expands me and - if I'm keeping my head on straight - gives me endless opportunity to make myself more of who I want to be.

And that is an idea that impresses me very much indeed.

News Trend Being A Mom|Actual

Three of the five remaining state-side Streichers.

Being a mom is the hardest thing in the world.

Today I drove my third-born daughter to the airport and sent her off on a one-way ticket to Asia. She'll be gone for a year, give or take.

I tried not to notice how her face still captures the same exact expressions as when she was a baby.

I tried not to think about how tiny and vulnerable she seems, bitty little hands waving goodbye to me from the other side of the security checkpoint.

I tried not to cry, but settled for wiping away the tears as fast as they fell.

How does this happen, that babies grow old enough to fly away?

Where do the years go, so impossibly quickly?

Why do these same old predictable emotions and motherly cliches still rise up in my heart, even when I have been through these goodbyes many times before, and know perfectly well that everything really is going to be okay?

I don't really have many answers. All I know for sure is this:

Being a mom is the hardest thing in the world.

News Trend Islands Of White|Actual

White is a lame excuse for a color.

Sure, scientifically, white light is made by blending all the colors of the spectrum, and artistically, white plays a role in creating volume, perspective and negative space.

But in home decor, white represents a failure of imagination and is often employed by those who timidly refuse to take a leap into the vibrant world of bold and varied color. And the vibe of an all-white space is pretentious and overly fussy, utterly unconducive to everyday life.

Or so I used to think.

^ A tiny gallery collection of white frames disguises my ugly thermostat and lends a light touch to a dark corner of the front hall.

Thankfully, one of my students taught me a few lessons about white.

My schooling began from the moment that I first walked into Katie's family apartment,

The space was a modest modern unit, built within the past decade or so, and utterly lacking in stylish amenities or architectural charm.

But as soon as I dropped my book bag and settled on the simple couch, a profound sense of peace and order settled over me like a dove. I immediately began my search for the mysterious source of this serenity and calm.

^ I die for the cheery yellow of these hexagonal shelves, and find that the simple white objects inside, underscored by the white shelves and little lamp, help calm my eye and redirect my attention to the six-sided shapes.

Several weeks passed by - each session feeling like I was floating on a cloud - until my eye finally perceived what my soul had felt all along.

White.

Katie's entire apartment - every dish, every rug, every inch of furniture - was decorated in nothing but shades of white.

^A collection of mix-and-match white dishes and an elephant teapot bring sass and style to the dining room without overwhelming my eye with clutter.

"Oh, right," Katie laughed when I shared with her my discovery. "My mom loves white. She thinks it's calming."

Well. I couldn't have agreed more. And to be honest, my old preconceptions about color - "the more, the better" was my motto - began to crash around my mind as if blown by the winds of a blizzard.

^ Alright, I'll admit that neutrals and natural textures sometimes creep into my islands of white. But for a person whose favorite color is fire engine red, this still represents major restraint.

As my studies with Katie progressed, so did my newfound obsession with all-white living.

I noticed the many nuances of white. Like any color, there is no one shade of white but a delicious spectrum of cream, eggshell, buttermilk, ivory, linen, and of course, good old white-white.

Rather than creating a flat, one-dimensional space, these varied tints and shades came together in a cozy, dynamic and eminently livable room. The signs of use - a tiny ding in the coffee table, a smoky smudge on a sofa pillow - came across as evidence of life well-lived and lent a happy, homey vibe.

Much to my surprise, I began to crave some white space of my own.

^ My cravings for white are often directly related to my stress level. The more crazy my life, the more white I want. This arrangement came together after the wild and woolly holiday season of 2014 and I'm still feeling it.

For a few months, I puzzled over this incongruity. My home has always reflected my obsession with color, bright and bold. As much as I loved Katie's place, I couldn't imagine transitioning my whole house into an Arctic tundra. Where was a happy halfway point?

^ Inspired by an all-white Vietnamese coffee shop, of which Katie's mom would definitely approve.

I stumbled on to the perfect solution by accident.

Islands of white.

Here and there, throughout my colorful house, I've gathered small collections of white objects - books, planters, dishes, frames, vases and furniture. While these spaces don't have quite the same head-to-toe soul-soothing impact as Katie's mom's all-white home, they give my eye a much-appreciated space to land and to rest, amidst the riotous rainbow that most of my house continues to be.

^ I fully admit that this bookcase does not exactly look like an island of white. But you should have seen it before.

So thank you, dear Katie and your wonderfully wise mom, for teaching me the power and beauty and perfect practicality of the color white.