by jphilo | May 29, 2015 | Uncategorized
This fantastic Friday, I am pleased to announce that snake sightings are within the normal range where I live and therefore, no snake warnings are being issued by the Gravel Road Snake Warning Bureau for Spring, 2015. This state of affairs is in stark contrast to the spring of 2009, when the proliferation of snakes led to the creation of the Gravel Road Snake Warning Bureau as is explained below.
Rest assured that this SNAKE WARNING is not meant to eclipse the swine flu pandemic. But I’m worried that the media’s narrow focus on all things pig and pork-related may have blinded us to a growing menace right beneath our central Iowa feet.
Since Easter, the number of squashed snakes on my gravel road has increased alarmingly. In one month, I’ve seen more of the flattened critters than in the previous eighteen years combined. In the newsletter put out by the vegetable farmers from whom we purchased our community supported agriculture (CSA) share, mention was made of the large number of snakes crawling around their farm, too. And in a casual conversation with someone who shall remain nameless (not because he or she is an anonymous source, but because I’m having a senior moment), an abnormally large number of snake sightings was reported.
Even though my level of credibility, manpower, or technological wizardry does not match that of government agencies like the CDC or the Department of Health and Human Services, I am hereby issuing an OFFICIAL SNAKE WARNING for my small town and the surrounding countryside.
The most important thing is that you DO NOT PANIC. DON’T hide in the basement or a windowless closet or interior room in your house until the all clear siren sounds. DON’T wash your hands frequently or stay away from crowds to avoid spread of reptiles. Just AVOID sunbathing on warm rocks. CHECK your shoes for sleeping snakes before you put them on and watch where you step when wandering in the grass. WHISTLE “Dixie” real loud before kneeling in your garden. This is a little trick I learned in South Dakota to scare off rattlesnakes. It works, too. In seven years, I never saw a diamondback.
There. I’ve done my civic duty, and I’m ready to enjoy a SNAKE-FREE weekend. I hope your weekend is, too.
by jphilo | May 5, 2015 | Top Ten Tuesday
10. The frost boil on our little gravel road has healed, and city workers removed the “road closed” barricades.
9. My allergy elimination diet has moved from bark, twigs, and leaves meat, veggies, and nuts to meat, veggies, nuts, rice, and oatmeal.
8. At the library, I scored the audio version of Amy Poehler’s memoir Yes, Please.
7. I also scored The Book Thief movie DVD and watched it with Hiram. Geoffrey Rush’s portrayal of the father? Perfect.
6. The post about Beginnings and Endings led many former Bryant school faculty, staff, and students to share memories on Facebook about the years they spent there.
5. Every Child Welcome, the book Katie Wetherbee and I co-authored was Amazon’s #1 new release in the Children’s Ministry division and #2 of ALL their children’s ministry books, new and old.
4. The lilacs are blooming.
3. Saturday night, the Man of Steel and I went out to supper with Mom, my sis, and my bro. In honor of Dad, we saved our straws.
2. Facetime with my son and grandson on Saturday.
1. Conversation with a writer I was coaching led to the realization that her parents and grandparents knew my dad when he was an extension agent in southwest Iowa. Her grandpa was on the 4-H board and got home very late one night because Dad wouldn’t stop talking. I love hearing those stories about Dad before my memories of him kicked in.
What are you smiling about this week? Leave a comment!
by jphilo | Apr 23, 2015 | Three Thoughts for Thursday
- Equation for best day ever = seeing all 3 grandkids in 1 day
- After several weeks of travel, I’m ready to put on my ruby slippers, click ’em together 3 times and say, “There’s no place like home.”
- I love waking up on spring mornings to the sound of rain drumming on the roof. You?
by jphilo | Apr 10, 2015 | Family
Friday’s here again, so it’s time for another fantastic post from the past. This one comes from April 2011, a few years after Mom’s Alzheimer’s diagnosis and subsequent move to live with my brother and his family. That chapter of Mom’s life ended this past January, when she moved to an assisted living facility. She is not adjusting particularly well. But as this post points out, she has adjusted before, and I can hope that she will slowly adjust again. And I can also hope that this week, during our Wednesday visit and drive, she will smile to see the daffodils are blooming.
The Daffodils Are Blooming
My daffodils started blooming yesterday, their bright faces raised, impervious to the wind while they soaked in the sunshine. They spoke spring and warmth and light and hope into my winter weary heart. They made me smile.
Then the rain moved in, and everything changed.
These natty soldiers, who had marched beside my house erect and confident short hours ago, were bowed and bedraggled this morning. They shivered in the wind. Tears rolled down their faces and puddled in the dirt at their feet. Their burdens were heavy on their shoulders, so heavy they couldn’t lift their heads to see the clusters of clean, greening grass lining their parade route, cheering their arrival.
They have no idea that sunshine will return.
The daffodils were a gift from my mother the last fall she lived in her house. Before we suspected Alzheimer’s. Before her legendary strength abandoned her. When she still had energy to dig in the dusty, autumn soil for the daffodil bulbs that needed separating. Come spring, the news that I had planted the bulbs didn’t bring her as much pleasure as in previous years.
The first clue, as I look back, that something was wrong in my green thumb mother’s world.
Things moved more swiftly after that. The next fall, Mom moved in with my brother and sister-in-law. The next spring, her house was sold. Her passion for gardening evaporated along with her love of quilting, sewing, jigsaw puzzles, and ordering around her children. When my sister gave Mom an African violet for her bedroom, her response was, “I’m not sure I want that much responsibility.”
Can this be the woman who grew all the roses for our wedding altar arrangements?
“The daffodils are about to bloom, “ I told Mom during our visit two days ago. “The ones you gave me.” On our drive to the library, we saw some blooming beside a small house. “Look, Mom,” I pointed. “Aren’t they pretty?” Her eyes turned warm and bright. For the rest of the trip, and again on the way home, she watched for flowers.
“The daffodils are blooming.” She smiled and lifted her head. Briefly, the sunshine returned.
by jphilo | Mar 10, 2015 | Top Ten Tuesday
10. One day snowdrifts. The next day daffodils breaking through the dirt.
9. Cardinal song.
8. Certain people who will remain nameless go to bed way early to Netflix because the arrival of Daylight Savings Time makes it perfectly okay.
7. Morning people are smiling because Daylight Savings Time means their favorite time of day come extra early.
6. The Man of Steel can be found splashing through puddles while running up and down the gravel road.
5. The Woman of Aluminum can be found picking her way around puddles while walking up and down the gravel road.
4. After a couple days of exercise overdue, the Man of Steel and Woman of Aluminum walk stiffly around their house along the gravel road.
3. The park is overflowing with 12-year-old girls wearing short shorts and walking bare-legged even though the temperature is only 48 degrees.
2. Brackets, brackets, brackets.
1. Everybody in town wears a goofy grin, and they have no idea why.
What signs of spring are sprouting where you live?
