A Tune

While paging through his music looking for a practice piece, Aaron tapped out a percussion piece on his flute keys. I said, "Wait! What's that? I like the sound."

He cringed looking at me like I was nuts. I said, "Listen! Do that again." I grabbed my camera, flicked on the video mode and recorded the result to post here! Listen closely to hear Isaac's "Fluffybottums is our guy" comment.

Celebrating summer sounds!

Spotty Dog

I received an invitation for a baby shower.

I didn't even wonder: 'What to give new parents?' I knew – a homemade blanket. It's the gift that keeps on giving – sometimes even through preschool. The question was: 'What theme?' Boy, girl, or... hmmm.

My hubby suggested: 'Check their gift registry.'

Ah, ha! Inspiration strikes: plush puppy, lullaby CD and a pacifier pack. All awesome accessories to soothe baby to sleep. (We know. We had three!)

At the fabric store, I found thematic prints to sew a blanket and got a bit more for a matching crib sheet. In the baby aisle, I saw sweet puppy slippers – clearance-priced!

Now about that baby shower...

Who can wait – for Spotty Dog's Debut?

A Writer Writes...

Sometimes for publication to the masses;
Other times for a selective group;
And at times, for individual eyes.

In those times, a writer must choose:
typed or hand-written
pencil or pen
paper or card
boughten or homemade?

Yes, the "Martha-within" speaks. And then, this Writer Writes!

One Candle...

...on a brownie I baked tonight marks forty-ONE years and a sweet ending to a relaxing birthday.

I am truly blessed. All week long, I've received greetings from family and friends in various worldly corners. Dan had suggested dinner and movie – for the two of us on Saturday. But after I scanned the local theater ad, I opted for a twist to his plan.

I volunteered using my gift card from a local steakhouse for the five of us on Friday evening. After our meal, I dropped off Isaac, Aaron and Noah for their traditional First Weekend of Summer Vacation with Grammy and Paka.

On the way home, I used birthday money to buy a DVD that a friend recom-
mended to me months ago.

Back home, Dan joined me in our family room to watch "August Rush" – a modern-day fairy tale about an 11-year-old "orphan" boy who uses his musical talents to find his biological parents who are also musicians leading separate lives. For me, this was the perfect "happy-ending" birthday movie.

Before turning in for bed, I started a grueling but inspirational book that Grammy had sent home with me.

As the clock neared 1 a.m., I forced myself to set aside "90 Minutes in Heaven – A True Story of Death and Life" about a man crushed in his car by a semi that crossed into his lane.

I closed my eyes comforted by the words of Don Piper about his 90-minute heavenly encounter before he was prayed back into life by others here on earth.

This morning, I rose, put on my Nikes, grabbed my camera and walked to the mile-marker and home again taking in these marvelous Spring scenes.

Dan and I spent the day at home enjoying each others' company as we worked on projects. The cedar ceiling in the boys' bathroom now has a fresh poly-coat. And all the wood trim is cut and ready for primer and paint!

My flower bed is half weeded and thinned. Why – only half? A tornado warning this evening drew me away from completing the job. Fortunately, no harm hit. And, I've got two ice cream buckets of day lilies waiting to be transplanted into Grammy's new flower beds.

Following supper, I mixed up a batch of brownies from scratch. Last night, I turned down Dan's offer to buy a birthday cake. But tonight, something sweet seemed right.

While cocoa permeated from the kitchen oven, I laid out fabrics on the dining room table. A family friend and my sister are both expecting babies the end of August. Tonight's quietude seemed perfect to start stitching baby blankets together.


Now it's time for bed.


Thanks to all
who made
this birthday
THE best.


I'm closing my eyes,
making a wish
and blowing out

One Candle!

Kitty Cat

If
a
picture's
worth
a
thousand
words,






then
let
these
two
speak.

Memorial Day...

...holds many memories for me. But until today, none involved attending a public service for those who have served in our nation's armed forces.

That changed this morning. Our family of five sat at various corners of the school gym where community members gathered for a presentation of flags, prayers, speeches and music honoring – especially local – veterans.

Isaac and Aaron played clarinet and flute with the high school band on their two selections. Dan sang three numbers with the community choir.

Noah and I snuck in moments before the program began and sat in the back next to three elderly men from our church. Noah had a small flag in hand. While we stood during the songs, Noah waved his flag.

As we sat for the speeches, Noah ate crackers that I'd bought him at our little town store to stave off his complaints of hunger. One gentleman looked at Noah and then to me. I whispered apologetically, "He didn't eat any breakfast." The man replied, "That's okay. He's got his flag. That's all that matters."

The guest speaker briefed us on the start of Memorial Day. He explained:


Shortly after the Civil War, some southern women were walking home from church. As they passed by a Confederate cemetery, they thought aloud: 'How lonely those graves look.' They picked wildflowers to decorate the headstones. Likewise, their children picked wildflowers – only they walked across the road to the other cemetery and put their bouquets on the graves of Yankee soldiers. Some of the women wondered whether this was proper. An older woman of the group pondered the question and decided: 'Yes, both sides fought for what they thought was right. These Yankee men died and were buried far away from their homes. Their graves deserved attention too.' And so, began the tradition of Decoration Day to honor our nation's deceased military veterans. Later the holiday became known as Memorial Day.


The speaker encouraged us to verbally express our thanks to our veterans before – "they fade away." He explained that those words were made famous by General Douglas MacArthur during his 1951 Farewell Address to Congress. MacAurthur quoted part of a popular barracks' ballad refrain: "Old soldiers never die; they just fade away."

As the school band played the various marches from each military branch, veterans in the audience stood up for their song. Noah and I discovered we were surrounded; Our church men (sitting beside Noah) were former Navy and Army vets.

I'll admit a lump in my throat formed as a proverbial light went on. Now I better understood why Noah's cracker-eating didn't matter to these men. Instead, they cared more about Noah's enthusiasm for waving his little flag – the Stars and Stripes banner under which they'd served.

This Memorial Day exceeded my memories of earlier ones. Decades ago, I was born the day after Memorial Day. In all the years of birthday celebrating, I'd never come so close to grasping our nation's commemoration. What a blessing to be drawn out of our home and into this service on Memorial Day.

To our veterans: Thank You for your service, patience, and enlightenment. And – as the great entertainer Bob Hope used to say – "Thanks for the memories."

Country Living

I miss Country Living –

not the place

(We're still here
in the foothills of
rural Minnesota)


but the magazine.






Each month,
I looked forward
to strolling
down our driveway,
opening the mailbox
and picking out
a big book
filled with
seasonal photos
and
inspirational ideas.




I especially
enjoyed the
one-page
spreads
featuring
nine small
photos

– in three
lines of
three –


that told a simple yet vibrant story.


But
a
couple
months
ago,
my
subscription
ran
out.



I
didn't
renew,

because

our
house

is
under
reconstruction

and...





...I am

desperately

trying

to simplify.




Even with
no piles
of publi-
cations
for
inspiration,

I am
inclined

to create...


especially
when my
neighbor
drops off
a bundle
of her
garden-
fresh
tulips
and pear
blossoms.


(Tell me a photographer who COULD resist? Not I.)


There really is

nothing like

Country Living –

and this time

I mean

the place!




To thoughtful neighbors. Thanks, Kim!