Yes, the title is misleading …
But in the world of miniature or fairy gardens, anything is possible.
For the fourth year, I’ve planted my miniature garden. I use a small galvanized tub I found at Warm Glow Candle in their garden annex and I’ve been pleased with how well the plants hold up all summer long.
This year I was excited to “get out the crop” because my bestie Gay Kirkton gifted me at Christmas with some new goodies to add. Do you see the chickens? And the all-weather work boots? What about the stepping stones and the garden tools?
It’s amazing how much fits into so little a space. I added the small plants, found here in Pendleton, and in no time, the garden is ready for warm weather. Gay and I assembled our miniature gardens a few summers ago when our girlfriend getaway had a clear “Home and Garden” theme. We went on a home and garden tour in Centerville, took a garden “glass lady” class, and assembled our miniature gardens, among other things.
Thanks so much for the additions this year, Gay!
I decided to display the small garden where more people will actually see it, so it is positioned on a bench outside our front door. I added the small decorative chair and an asparagus fern. The plastic base I started out with for the fern didn’t please me and then I had an ah-ha moment! To go along with the galvanized tub miniature garden, why not use an aluminum bucket for the base for the fern? In fact, I’m going to pick up another one for the Boston fern that will go in another spot on the porch. Galvanized steel has become hot in decorating! This is an easy fix.
And how do you like the vintage kitchen towels I told you about from Building 125 in Cambridge City? I love them! And to me, they scream SUMMER.
Speaking of summer and gardening, one of The Courier-Times’ her magazine sponsors, Warm Glow Candle at the Centerville exit off I-70 and Centerville Road in Wayne County, is having the annual spring sale this weekend, Friday-Sunday, May 5-7.
I’ll be there signing books from 10 a.m. to 6 p.m. Friday only. If you are in the area, please drop by, look me up and say hi. And if you aren’t in the area, it might be a great weekend to plan a visit to this wonderful gift complex and yes, tourist attraction.
I’m early with the midweek blog as I have today off instead of tomorrow. I’m starting my day tomorrow, Wednesday, May 3, with a 6:30 a.m. breakfast at New Castle Breakfast Optimists. I’ll be giving the program on what it was like to cover the presidential inauguration.
It’s an early start, but sometimes it’s fun to shake up the routine a bit. That’s not what I’ll be saying when Amy Grant starts singing Better Than a Hallelujah as my alarm at 5 tomorrow. But that’s OK!
Click on my CONTACT box at the top of the page to check out my upcoming schedule and this busy but wonderful time of year. Shoot me an inquiry if you need a speaker or program, email@example.com.
This is just the time of year that makes me antsy. Every day, the trees and shrubs have filled out significantly more than the day before. The grass looks like a lush, Irish-green shag carpet, and once again, the ash tree survives the nasty ash borer disease that has taken down many a beauty in recent years.
We have plenty of yard work needing done. Our side of the white vinyl fence behind our property needs washed, there is weeding, and pruning, and plenty more to do if we were ambitious about such things.
But what calls my name are the vacancies at the end of the black chains dangling on the back porch as well as on my topiary-styled pole on the front. I want to pick up a bridal veil for its designated spot by the front door (the most ideal spot for this plant that could possibly exist and I take full advantage of it yearly). And I want to fill the back porch with huge Boston ferns.
Those Bostons have been taunting me at a particular grocery store where I can get them cheaper than at several other locations. So I’m playing beat the clock. Will they be sold out by the time I feel sure the weather will cooperate with their outdoor digs?
I wish somebody would just say when, and I would know that the time had come.
“Have you got your ferns yet?” a friend asked a week or more ago. I don’t dare yet. I looked at the weather for the next week and it looks promising. But that takes me only to April 29 and then I remember my mother saying to hold off with outdoor annuals until May 10.
Others say May 1 or Mother’s Day. But my mother seemed to know best. True, the porch is covered. But still. I don’t want to buy them only to see them turn brown and ratty, and then go to the trouble and expense of having to replace them with the second, inferior wave of smaller Bostons.
Today, the neighbors and Brian played beat the clock and mowed and worked their yards, getting a jump on not only the weekend but the rain said to move in tomorrow. I did some landscape weeding.
The plastic bin resembled a salad bowl with green trimmings piled high. A couple weeks ago I bought tiny cone-shaped evergreens for the black urns in front of the garage doors. I like the greens in the urns but they tend not to last beyond a couple of years so I didn’t invest too much. For now they are growing like, well, weeds.
I’d rather have a sunny Saturday tomorrow than rain, as though I got to decide such things. But the rain is needed and will encourage the growth and nourish the soil.
So, I’ll wait patiently for the Bostons to take their places, for the bridal veil to welcome front-door guests, and for May 10 to hit the calendar, assuring me, as did my mother all those years, that the time has come.
That is, unless of course, I cave.
It’s been a cold, windy few days. But then, that’s part of the season. Still, spring cannot be held back.
I felt certain the wind would strip off the lavishly beautiful display on our backyard tree. Yet those blossoms are hanging on for dear life. I noticed a while ago the layers of color in the setting: the lovely green of the grass, the vibrant blue sky, the blossoms and white fence.
Yesterday Brian and Sam ran off to The Great American Ballpark to see the Cincinnati Reds play and win. I was concerned for them with the wind and possible rain but they weren’t complaining as they dressed for the occasion in layers and added rain gear on top. They had a good time.
Then last night, Bob Jenkins, whose career as an auto-racing broadcaster took him all over the world covering every kind of auto sport you can name, gave a charming presentation at the Henry County Historical Society. I wanted to go because Bob is from my hometown of Liberty, and so I covered it for our paper. When I was mentioned to him as from his hometown, he took a moment to connect the dots and mentioned that his brother and mine were best friends and to tell my brother, Tim, hi for him. It was a good night.
Even though I’m not an avid race fan, many in my family are, and it was fun to hear his stories and I was also reminded of the spectacular month of May in Indiana, which I associate with the Indy 500 and a great time of year to be a Hoosier.
Tomorrow Pendleton friends and family will say goodbye during the celebration of life for Tim Redmond at Ovid Community Church. Tim’s wife Patty is a member of my life group, The Midlife Moms, and we’ll be helping out with the dinner as well as attending the memorial service for a wonderful man.
For now, there are Friday chores to see to. The sun is shining, the dog is napping and we’re off to the grocery store. What are you and yours up to this weekend?
Of all the months, March is the one with the most mood swings.
Here in Indiana, the third month brings every kind of weather. There will be days with sunshine, blue skies, white clouds, and even summer-like temperatures. Those, however, may well be followed by a snowstorm. Tornadoes will carry warnings or watches, an ice storm may cripple trees and power wires. It will rain.
And that’s only day one.
Well, two, maybe.
If it’s been a particularly rough winter, which it hasn't been this year, March is that thing you point to, as in, “Once we get to March, it will turn around.”
I spent winter 1986 sick with morning sickness, although time of day had nothing to do with the constant nausea and overall exhaustion. The cold and dreariness offered no relief. I thought it would never end.
Then the calendar flipped to March and it was as though a light had flipped too. It was a Saturday on that first day of March. I went to Lafayette where I had lunch at Long John Silver’s and went shopping. As I ate fish, and gazed out at the bright day, I at last felt … good! I wasn’t sick, wasn’t tired, and I wanted to hug the month.
Little could I have imagined this: The baby girl that would marry the baby boy I carried would be born the next day.
In the years our boys were growing up, March meant baseball. In fact, baseball was a major part of our lives for nearly two decades, counting both boys’ years of participation. I associate March with delight that it was finally time, and weather good enough, for the boys to get out there and practice. Each new season meant new teammates and dynamics as well as new uniforms and new parents with whom to share bleacher time.
Baseball, and by association March, had a scent, a chilly, earthy, leathery scent. It had a sound. It was the snap of ball in glove, of crack of the aluminum bat against ball. March had an energy of hope for the season ahead. It was time to play ball, or at least practice it, and I couldn’t imagine it ending someday and being a baseball mom without boys and a team or two to follow.
Perspective is everything. Now I wonder how I found the time to get anything done besides baseball because boy, there was a lot of baseball. Now I wonder how I would ever fit baseball into my life. Yes, perspective.
Spring breaks always came in March and for a few, too few years, we had some fun times: Disney World, Busch Gardens, Historic Williamsburg, Virginia, Cleveland where we saw the Cavs play and visited the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and the Football Hall of Fame in Canton.
There was the spring break we spent on college visits to Bloomington, Hanover, Terre Haute and Evansville, only for Sam to visit Muncie later and say that’s it, search over. He would be a Cardinal.
Along with daughter-in-law Allison’s March birthday, it's also son Ben’s.
March, for decades, meant time for my biggest work project of the year, the annual Courier-Times recipe contest. Then interest waned and we moved on to other projects.
I appreciate March most these days because we get to spring forward on Sunday. Say what you will about former Gov. Mitch Daniels but if I saw him I might give him a high five for Daylight Savings Time. I like it.
I also like March because once April arrives, I’m counting on spring, no more playing around, and I'll watch daily as green replaces brown landscape and sandals top newly bare feet.
What do you like or dislike about March? How do you feel about springing forward?
March, you are a fickle month, you devil. But you aren’t January and you aren’t February. And for those reasons, I welcome you with open, if sweater-clad, arms.
If you’ve been hanging with me for a while, you might know that a few years ago, our friend and oh-so-handy man, Monty Foust, designed and built our open-air back porch. It’s been my joy ever since as a great place to sneak off to (well, sneak may be overstated as it is only one step away from the kitchen. I’m not so hard to find).
Although I am not much of a napper, I find that out there on the wicker sofa, with the soothing sounds of birds and breeze, I can drift right off. But after eight years of sun and rain, freeze and thaw, some sprucing is in order.
On Wednesday I touched up the two wicker rocking chairs with black spray paint. We had some upstairs space open up due to Brian’s exercise machine. It had a slow death of many years and so many visits from the repairman that he and his family expect invites to Thanksgiving dinner, but it is now gone and in its place is a gym membership. So the porch stuff is wintering upstairs.
The outdoor sofa’s exterior is holding up great but there is a problem. The elastic that holds the cushions in place is stretched out. This is due to us making the mistake of wintering the sofa on the porch one year. So I need to address that issue. And, the cushions need recovered due to sun and stains. My winter project beckons.
I have this OCD thing of wanting to put things away as good as or preferably better than I found them. Not that it always works out that way.
For example, I’m particular, some might say fanatical, about the way I store Christmas decorations. When they are unpacked each year, I care that the lights work, the ornaments have tops and hangers and there is law and order in them-thar boxes. Call me crazy.
One year when the time came to put them away, I was down with the flu. I felt so horrible that I told Brian just to throw it all in the boxes because I did not care. Luckily, I couldn’t hold up my head to supervise the work. I dreaded unpacking it all again in 11 months.
While I certainly am not the best housekeeper, I do like the notion of order.
It’s the time of year when we work from the outside in. How about you? What are your fall projects before the snow flies and the winter winds begin to howl? Speaking of wind and winter, it’s going to be a chilly one tonight. First frost. I’ll be sipping my new favorite hot-tea flavor: Salted Caramel. YUM!
Hey! If you are free at 10 tomorrow (Saturday, Oct. 22), come on over to the Spiceland Public Library. I'm bringing homemade pie. Librarian Kathy Painter is providing coffee, and we'll talk about using recipes in novels, how I decided to write my latest, and whatever else you want. I'll have copies of both books. Meanwhile, grab an extra blanket. You might need it tonight (especially if you haven't turned on your heat yet, as we have not)!
A paint touch-up is in order for the porch rockers. The one on the left was $25 at a roadside sale near Noblesville a few years ago. The one on the right was 20 bucks at a thrift shop. Since they are real wicker (and not the all-weather kind) they need a little sprucing now and then. But mostly, they rock!
I didn’t set out to collect leaf pins. I suppose that’s how all collections begin. You start with one, and as soon as another is added, boom, you have a collection.
I tend to wear pins anyway as my jewelry of choice with a preference for the big, grandma brooches of old. Maybe that’s because I spent a fair share of childhood time rummaging through my mother’s and grandmother’s jewelry boxes admiring the sparkles and shine of their costume jewelry.
One of the most elegantly dressed (and beautiful) women of my childhood was my eighth-grade history teacher, Joan Kratzer. If you knew her, you will likely recall the gold, circle pin she wore daily. I once asked her about it and she said it was her signature fashion statement.
My first leaf pin was a resident of mom’s jewelry box. It’s the gold-hued one with the tiny pearl. It came from a neighbor’s Sarah Coventry Jewelry party in the 1960s. Who remembers those? And whatever happened to Sarah? Oh, I’m sure I could have my answer with a Google search and probably find other pins like this one online. When I think of that pin, I think of mom wearing it on a scarf.
The red, leaf one came from a second-hand clothing store in New Castle, if memory serves. Of my leaf pins, I think it’s my favorite. It seems to go well on jean jackets and black sweaters, both of which I’m partial.
The silver leaf is another pre-worn find, and it probably cost a buck or two.
I have a pair of tiny leaf “scatter pins.” The scatter pin isn’t something trending right now and that makes me even more of a fan. The leaves are very thin and have beautiful shimmers. I think there was a third in this trio that I gifted to my nature-loving friend Cheryl. They came as a set but where, I don't recall other than from a consignment store somewhere.
I also have a wreath-styled bronze pin of autumn leaves. I’m a big fan of wreaths as well as pins so when I saw this one in a thrift store, I snagged it. Yesterday it fell off in the middle of a parking lot with a lot of traffic around. I’m glad I heard it hit the ground or it would have been gone forever.
I don’t know why, but I never wear these cuties at any time of the year except for fall. Even though I should wear them year-round, I doubt that I ever will. It’s kind of fun to have some seasonal pieces to save and enjoy during, well, leaf season.
How about you? Do you have any fall collections?
Fall rolls in tomorrow. No one in this house is complaining.
Autumn isn’t my favorite season, but every time it gets here, I wonder why not. It's pretty splendid. This year we're completely over the humidity and heat! There hasn’t yet been a single sweatshirt day, and while the pantry is stocked with my favorite Twinings Green Tea, I haven’t steeped that first teabag in months (I prefer iced tea until it cools off outside and that sure hasn’t happened)! Oh, but of course that will happen soon, and it will be delightful.
I’ve promised my newsroomies that we’ll start the new season with our Chew This! columnist Blaise Doubman’s Pumpkin Crunch Cake from his new cookbook, Blaise the Baker Dessert First, served first thing in the morning at our Thursday staff meeting.
I have to work on my Bible Study Fellowship lesson, get some things ready for working a long day tomorrow, including a first – it seems that I'm “opening” at an elementary school’s Back To School Night tomorrow with a program on literacy.
Oh, but more decisions on the garage-door saga! I had one color in mind from the ones offered with the style we chose, but true to form, I'm re-thinking the choice. Maybe it should be the lightest color among the standard choices, the almond over the desert tan.
I’ve noticed a lifelong pattern whereby I have trouble deciding on color when it comes to large spaces – paint, carpeting, and now the garage double doors.
I’m digging out the fall decorations and have gotten started with a few.
So let’s get it started: a new season, back-to-school night, Pumpkin Fest out at Whitetail Tree Farm this weekend, leaves, color and sweater weather. Bring it.
And the LORD went before them by day in a pillar of a cloud, to lead them the way; and by night in a pillar of fire, to give them light; to go by day and night: He took not away the pillar of the cloud by day, nor the pillar of fire by night, from before the people. – Exodus 13:21-22
I attend an international, non-denominational Bible study nine months a year called Bible Study Fellowship. Each year is a different in-depth look at a particular topic, with references taking you all over the Bible.
BSF resumes the week after Labor Day and this session, which runs through early May, we’ll be in the book of John.
In the six previous years the studies have included (in no particular order here) Isaiah, Genesis, Acts of the Apostles, Matthew, Revelation, and Life of Moses. I have loved each study as part of my lifelong pursuit to become biblically literate. When you study the Bible, it comes alive to you because it is the Living Word of God.
If I had to select a favorite study so far, I’d pick Life of Moses. His life, and the miracle of God bringing His nation, Israel, out from slavery in Egypt on a journey to the Promised Land, is alive for me on so many levels! The year of the study was the same one I literally experienced that Promised Land of Israel for myself with a group from my church and I will never be the same. The Word came alive as we physically walked upon the pages of the Bible in 3-D color.
I keep thinking about God manifesting Himself before the Israelites as a Pillar of Cloud by day, and a Pillar of Fire by night. How did the ancient Jews ever get over that? How could they quibble and complain when God led them on a daily journey where they saw Him in those forms, protecting and leading? Man, would I love a selfie with God the Pillar of both Cloud and Fire!
Oh, but I do the same as they did. Don’t we all? And today, God is living inside me as He is inside all Christians. Yet sometimes we take Him for granted or we rail or complain or doubt. I say this often: I’m being an Israelite again.
Still, I can't quit thinking of God appearing as a constant Pillar … leading and protecting.
I think of the manna He provided daily for His people, Israel. It was perfect nourishment, the supply to meet their daily needs. Yet they were not to store it away as spares for tomorrow in case God didn’t show up with more. No, He promised that He would provide it daily. They had to trust.
The thought of the manna is with me lately. When I want more than He has provided, want a spare something, want more than I need today, I am tempted to ask God why I don’t have that reserve.
He shows me the manna. His showing me the manna is in the form of supernatural, spiritual provision that keeps coming to mind. It is enough to trust Him. I even wrote the word MANNA on a slip of paper and taped it to my computer. He’s that serious about this topic, and I’m that serious about remembering it.
Lately, the Hoosier skies have been putting on a show of wonderment. They are just clouds, I know, but they are part of His creation and they are spectacular, and I think of God as that Pillar of Cloud, leading, protecting. Facebook posts have been full of beautiful skies filled with clouds and sky, stunning sunsets and starry night scenes. It's all at once as new as today and as ancient as creation. I could spend hours looking up.
These photos were taken yesterday during my drive home from work. Enjoy the scenery, and don’t forget to look up.
The Bible Study Fellowship I attend is Monday nights at the host church, the Middletown Church of the Nazarene. This year’s study is Monday, Sept. 12 at 6:55-8:55 p.m. Email me at firstname.lastname@example.org for information. OR, just show up! There’s an introduction class that night. BSF is free and you’ll be surprised to find a couple of hundred women there too from all manner of denominations and backgrounds. Regionally, BSF also meets Tuesday mornings in New Castle, and there is a Richmond class. Wherever you are, there's likely a BSF class close enough for you to attend.
It never occurred to me that my husband might have a favorite flower. Then the other day he said it was the orange tiger lily. “I love seeing those along the road,” he said. “They only bloom in June and that means school is out and summer is still ahead.”
I’ve always thought of those as happy flowers, too, or maybe even weeds. If they are weeds, bloom on, because they form picturesque floral-scapes along country roads, fences and ditches. They seem to bloom out of nowhere, in places you wouldn’t give a second glance 11 months of the year.
I think most of us spend our lives, to a degree, thinking of time in relationship to school calendars. If June means freedom and tiger lilies, those bright purple weeds and the sound of cicadas in August mean school is about to start. Crocus appearing out of the snow in late February mean hold on, spring break is coming.
The school calendar is even more significant when, like Brian, you have 40 years under your belt working in education. “I’ve been going to school since 1958,” he has often told people. He's now been retired from either attending or working in schools for a year. But he’ll never stop packaging life according to a school calendar.
And that’s why he loves seeing those orange tiger lilies blooming, as they are, now, in June’s remaining days.
Speaking of remaining days of June: If you live in or around Elwood, Muncie or Tipton, let’s connect! Three different venues, three different programs are on tap for the rest of the week with the little book tour for That Sweet Place: At Home in the Heartland.
Seventy-three degrees in mid-March, in Indiana.
And an extra hour of light at the end of the day.
And sunshine is beaming right now.
Sure wish I didn’t have to work today. But I'm home now, and in just a bit, I’m heading out the door and around the block. I hear the children’s voices out there, and it’s almost a childhood flashback; as though I could hop on my pony and fly down our gravel road and meet up with the neighbor kids.
Reality check: I’m 57.
Could it be that spring has sprung and we’re done fretting about cold weather? Nah. We’ll have more of it. But not today and I’m celebrating.
Almost as polarizing as presidential politics around these parts is where you stand on Daylight Savings Time. I don’t discuss politics on social media but I will tell you exactly where I am on DST: I love it. Love that extra hour of light at the end of my day, love it in mid-summer where it is 10 p.m. and I feel like I’ve had an entire day to enjoy since I left work.
Maybe it depends on if you are a morning or evening person or if you have school-age kids to get to bed or to bus stops. I have none of those issues. I’m neither a morning nor evening person. My finest hour is 10 a.m. but I get a second wind at night. The light is inspiring.
If you aren't feeling it, well, at least I hope your clocks have all been changed.
Like me on Facebook!
Well, enough about light. I see the stats on how many read this blog but few of you comment. And I wonder: WHO are you all? Here’s a favor.
My author page on Facebook is five people shy of 500 and in the coming weeks I’ve got some big stuff to tell you about.
So if you enjoy writing, books and my quirky brand of small talk, would you go onto Facebook and like Donna Cronk – the author page?
And, tell me about yourself while you are there and if this blog prompted the “like.”
You could just put on your walking shoes and hit the road. There’s still some light to be had out there. Yee-haw.