Tea with a Friend

The other day, whilst pruning back my garden, I dithered with myself in God's range as to whether I should return to the bloggy world.  I missed that funny sort of virtual thingy that has brought so many new friends into my life.  I questioned myself about time and presence and came to no solid conclusion save the one I always found at the end of this conversation; namely:  "You'll know if and when the time is right."

So, I finished the pruning, went in for a cuppa tea, and stopped thinking about blogging.  When next I checked my email  I found a lone new comment left upon a distant post.  It read:

I miss you Debbie..

I wish I could come visit, 

we could chat over some hot tea and a cookie or two..

I hope you are well! 

Dear sweet Elizabeth, busy mom of five from the other side of the US, had written to me . . . missing me.  A tear sparkled in that knowing little way as my heart whispered, "It is time."  Thank you, Elizabeth, for letting me know.

And so once again the kettle has begun to sing here at Wisteria Cottage amidst the familiar clatter of blue willow teacups placed onto a tray as I ready for the first of many chats together with my sweet friend(s).

But, Elizabeth, before the chatting can commence I simply must know . . .

 Gingerbread

or

Sugar

Cookies?

: D

A Blogger Comes to Call

You think about it . . .

You wonder what it would be like . . .

You wish for it . . .

. . . even pausing to pray about it . . .

And then it happens –

 A blogger comes to visit.

A blogger from Down Under steps out of the virtual realm into reality . . .

And it is WONDERFUL!!

I had SO MUCH FUN when Kylie came to call.

I hope to return the favor with a visit . . . to Sydney

I’m thinking about it . . .

I’m wondering what it will be like . . .

I’m wishing for it . . .

I’m even starting to pray about it . . .

And maybe it will happen . . .

: D

For now I’m lacing up my blogger-dancing shoes
and preparing to blog again. 

It’s been a while . . .
but the visit with Kylie reminded me
what it was all about . . .

FUN

and

FRIENDSHIP

and

SHARING 

It's all good!

I Quietly Shuttered My Blog . . .

And then . . .

YOU DID WHAT?!?!?

But, I have lots more to post on your blog!

I haven't done my tutorial for claymation,
I haven't played my piano . . .

AAAAAAAAAhhhhhhh!

And then . . .

My comment box and email basket

began to overflow

with the most precious words of encouragement . . . 

 And then . . .

I began to overflow . . .

And then . . .

I thought about the wonderful analogies you sweet readers expressed to me:

Blogging is a gift we give of one's self

Blogging has yielded a neighborhood for us to share life within

Blogging made us neighbors

(and neighbors do so miss neighbors who pack up and move)

Blogging has become SO MUCH MORE than a virtual exercise

Blogging matters

And on and on the list goes . . .

I knew it all once upon a time, but dark clouds of late had pushed all those thoughts from sight.

But then I closed my eyes and felt it . . .

The best and most beautiful things in the world

cannot be seen or even touched -

they must be felt with the heart.

Helen Keller

  . . . and the clouds receded.

* * * * *

So dear friends, I shall be away for a time wherein I shall discard a very "logical" decision to quit blogging in favor of a heartfelt promise to hold teatimes here at Wisteria Cottage whenever the spirit moves me.  In between the pourings out, I shall supervise the building of a new greenhouse and the planning of a MUCH BIGGER GARDEN -- this alone should provide endless subject matter for blogging.  I shall also be fitting in a delightful visit to my sister in North Carolina next week for some RandR and a much needed stockpile of endorphins (if you can hear laughing . . . it's us).  Did I mention that I will be finishing my prayer garden, and learning to make cheese, and  . . . ?

Most of all I wish to give you all a hug (the REAL kind) as I fling wide the shutters of this wonder-filled little spot wherein I keep something very special:  FRIENDS!  I love you all so much . . . and I have only actually "met" a one or two.  Amazing!  I think a bloggy get together truly is in order some day, but until then we will meet here for tea on occasion and it will be WONDERFUL.  (And off she goes with a grin on her face and a dance step at her feet . . . truly blessed with something more valuable than a bit of extra time in each day.)

p.s.

Touché Karen Deborah . . . you win.  I started blogging at your request to see what we are up to, and yes it captured that spirit of being neighbors again.  When Chris in Alaska mentioned that she blogged to give her mom a glimpse of belonging she also encouraged me to think who might need the same from me.  I immediately thought of you and the tears flowed -- it was like moving all over again!!!  (A childhood of steady moves has made it an Achilles Heel for me -- I loathe moving!!)  I could not leave you on that couch in front of the tv.  I would rather you come here via blogger express and laugh at the chickens and the kids and all the rest.  

You dear readers have ALL showered me with the "pick me up" I needed to conquer the perfectionist publisher in me  (forgive me, it used to be my livelihood) and toss aside the schedules in favor of a bit of whimsy on occasion.

I'll be away for a time, but I shall return now and again with the kettle bubbling and the stories brimming as I share tales of life among the wisteria and the roses. 

XO!

A Friend Comes to Call

A friend came to visit this weekend. She picked an interesting weekend to show up – snowstorms pelted the gardens, a power outage rendered my simple weekend routine useless, and cold temps forced all to gather round the woodstove with projects and playthings in hand. I could have been slogged under with frustrations and irritations at the laundry piling up and the recesses of the house curling up from cold, but my friend came to serve and to share, not to take. You see, my friend came delivered in the postbox, wrapped between the covers of her latest book. Sally Clarkson’s Dancing with My Father arrived on a cold and powerless Friday and set about warming me up from the inside out.

Whenever a friend comes to visit, announced or unannounced, I like to prepare something special. If my visitor drives down the drive on a lark, I pop on the ever-ready kettle and rustle up a nibble of nourishment (sometimes as simple as a slice of bread dressed with fresh butter and a thin shaving of cheese placed on sprigged china). For those who call in a “reservation” I have spates of time smoothed before us filled with lavender-scented linens, welcoming roses in a vase, delicious meals all planned out with sweet desserts to cap off our time of lingering togetherness. Our stay-at-home-work-from-home lifestyle (abruptly required with the birth of my “special” twins so looooong ago – one of many blessings in disguise) furnishes the freedom to throw wide my arms and embrace the gift of togetherness when it blossoms unexpectedly. And so I do . . .

With Sally’s arrival on Friday I quickly introduced her to my stack of “friends” piled up near my favorite reading chair. I had so many little tasks to tackle while I juggled our family needs into segmented spates of time when the generator would hum and the machinery would spring to life, that I entrusted her to the company of poets, monks, and children on exciting adventures, all piled up neatly near the floral refuge.

And so I scurried away putting pots of soup on to simmer, placing eggs and butter and other cool-requiring goodies near the chilly windowsill, all the while thanking the Lord that I had baked four fresh loaves of whole-wheat bread just the day before. Gary and the girls kept the homes fires bright (I avoid wood-hauling with this delicate elbow), while Matthew adjusted his ever-compulsive tendencies to compensate for the loss of his music, computer, and video buddies which he regularly calls on throughout the day. As I fretted a bit over how to explain “no power” to a young man who often finds words a jungle of noise and confusion, I noticed that a greater degree of maturity had set in since the last “outage episode” as I witnessed Matthew regularly checking the light switch in his “office” as an indicator of computer availability. He remained calm and complacent in the necessarily quiet surrounds. Praise the Lord!

With meal prep doubled to last beyond today and children all engaged in reading, practicing, and working with the natural light of day, I felt free to ignore the laundry and vacuuming in lieu of a visit with Sally. I manually lit the gas ring (those assisting clickers need power) and set out the cups and saucers – oh wait! I only need one, don’t I? The kettle sang sweetly as I chose a robust Assam tea, knowing from previous bookish visits that Sally prefers a strong dark tea. With tea steeped and steady snowfall reflecting a generous amount of light into my favorite reading spot, I settled down and gently opened our visit.

Time always flies as we “catch up.” I have read all of Sally’s previous books (they sit upon my shelf inviting rereads while waiting for the day she is welcomed by my daughters as they seek to enjoy a mentoring visit along The Mom Walk or The Mission of Motherhood in the Seasons of a Mother' Heart). I “met” Sally through another “bookish” friend, Tina Farewell, who published a most delightful catalog, Lifetime Books and Gifts (sadly out of print these days), that read like a book of books and gushed with introductions to other like-minded folks reaching out to encourage those of us along the pathways of home education and home dedication to our Lord in a tumultuous time in our world.

Long ago Sally arrived on my doorstep all bundled up in a Whole-Hearted manual of educational ideas, tips, and inspiration that set my heart to racing. A kindred! Just like the big sister I always dreamed about! And she arrived just in the nick of time to help a faltering sister see the light through the exhaustion, frustration, and sheer sorrow-filled clouds that had overtaken my sunny approach to life and learning in our own Willow Cottage. Multiple closely-spaced kids (including twins with multiple handicaps), a husband working round the clock to find a successful source of support for his family, conflicted family members who just didn’t understand our choices, nosy neighbors who believed children should go off to school, and a host of burdens I carried from a difficult childhood threatened to sink my Good Ship Lollypop.

Enter Sally . . . one who has walked many of the same shadowed valleys, encountering similar ruts and pitfalls, yet hearing the same calling. A bit further along the road, she called back to me, “All is well! Grab God’s hand and follow! I’m here with God; it’s still dark, a bit scary, and pretty difficult, BUT God’s faithful. KEEP COMING!”

That first Sally Book served me well as I read it with pleasure, cried onto its pages when I needed a refreshing nudge to keep going, and always found a friend when I came to call.

A few years later, Seasons of a Mother's Heart arrived as I juggled five kids, incredible routines and therapies, our own business, and external family breakdowns. Once again I saw that I was not alone. Sally’s honest voice and keen eye for beauty found in the simplest things of life felt like a warm kindred hug. I read through the book in pieces at a café near my daughter’s ballet studio. While Elizabeth stretched and danced, I sipped tea and slipped through the chapters; hearing once again that I did not stand all alone in a lonely meadow – others have passed this way before and survived in love and with joy.

Years flew. I moved.  She moved.  Life jaunted along and new books arrived from Sally’s pen. Emails went back and forth now and again (like the sweet note of love and encouragement Sally sent when I reached out in a time of grief following my son’s death) and the era of blogging dawned. I read Sally’s blog and even comment on occasion, but I cannot say that she even knows who I am . . . but that doesn’t seem to matter when a new book-bound missive arrives. Her open-hearted style pours forth the truth of a life lived in earnest for the Lord. Her kindred joys and triumphs mirror my heart. I’ve grown up with Sally as one of those blessed beacons around the shoals of time. She joins Edith Schaeffer, Amy Carmichael, Susan Schaeffer McCaulay, and a host of other caring sharing women who have mentored me along life’s path as I dance, tumble, stumble, regain, and dance again. It’s not a club . . . it’s a gift of friendship in print that I praise the Lord for.

And so this latest chronicle of Sally’s journey to live joyfully inspires me with each page turn. As a regular reader of her blog I have had the pleasure of praying for some of the very miracles and joyous occasions she recounts. Building upon her past sharing, Sally fleshes out even more of her precious person in this latest book, causing me to keep alive that flame of a dream that some day she and I will meet in person over a fragrant cup of tea and I will actually look into those blue eyes of hers and tell her how much she has meant to me in tough times and happy, as I thank her for the honest hand she extended in those pages she prayed over and labored to produce just for me . . . and so many more.

I’m happy to report that after about 38 hours of power-free living, our trusty lights sprung back to life. The laundry tumbles away and the vacuum roars to life, but I still manage to find snippets of time to carry on my “visit” with Sally. Though tempted to devour the book in one gulp, I have measured out the chapters in order to spread our time together over a slower, gentler space. I ponder her words, God’s Word, and my thoughts in journal. I remain “unplugged” from stress as I continue this weekend visit with my dear bookish friend.

I encourage you to get to know my friend Sally in your own special chair with your own cup of tea. For now, you’ll have to excuse me as I see her over there waiting patiently for me to close up this laptop so we can resume our dance of joy. I can hardly wait! I just love Dancing with My Father . . . and my friends. Take joy!

Visit Sally's Blog

* * *

UPDATE:

I found this waiting for me in my email box this afternoon:


Hi, Debbie,
What a fun, sweet post. I feel so honored. I so appreciate your reviews of me and my books and it encourages me to keep going. May the Lord continue blessing your ministry of writing life-giving words. I appreciate you.
Fondly, and blessings of His grace and peace,
Sally=

Finding Blue Hawaii

When Lily asked me to accompany her to Hawaii to say farewell to her sister, I immediately accepted. I packed with an eye to respectful attire while preparing my heart to support and encourage my friend through a potentially difficult moment. I concentrated on what I could give. But as I have found over and over again, the gift of friendship and love spills a bounty of blessing right back onto me.

In meeting Susan a year ago I gained access to a personal side of Lily that had been previously unknown. Though stricken with Alzheimer's that robber her of short-term memory, Susan had free reign of memories from long ago and shared them freely. We learned how Susan, the first-born, battled sickliness as a child, thus Lily (second-born) received instruction from mom to always, "Take care of your sister!" Setting off for places like the Catholic boarding school they both attended in Taiwan brought about the regular call to care for Susan. Throughout childhood and beyond Lily "Took Care" of Susan even to the final days and beyond.

Their bond deeply twined their hearts.

Lily's devotion and love shined brightly for all to see as she clutched a portrait of Susan and herself amongst the flowers of my gardens (formerly resting on the casket) and watched over the last details of Susan's burial.

Lily took care of her sister . . . and did it well.

After the ceremony, we gathered at an obscure looking restaurant in a typically-Hawaiian strip mall. All admonishments against "judging a book by its cover" applied to this unassuming little place that rolled out the most FABULOUS gourmet Chinese feast I have ever eaten!! Seriously! The taro duck ranked as my favorite, but the chicken, fish, scallops, beef and many many vegetables (like fried spinach -- Delish!) that poured forth in each new course caused me to gasp at the thought of dessert . . . until it arrived: A platter of delicacies including ice creams, puddings, chocolate decadence, and even red velvet cake (my favorite!).

We celebrated Susan's life with smiles, laughter, a few tears, and lots of good food. She may have been attending the wedding feast in Heaven without us, but Chef Raymond of Pah Ke's did his best to compete without a bit of complaint from us.

We left with smiles of satisfaction.
Susan would have loved to see this happy family portrait.

Now that the tasks had been completed, we bid farewell to the family and returned to our hotel to rest. The day had taken its toll. At day's end we slept soundly and awoke Wednesday with a full day on this Island Paradise stretching out before us, as we didn't leave until Thursday afternoon.

And so I entreated Lily to show me her "Blue Hawaii." She complied, and the stories and places came together wonderfully as Lily walked back to days long ago when she first came to the Island of Oahu, proudly clutching a fresh degree from Michigan State in Hotel Management (even today she has a school pennant hanging in her Grass Valley office). Well-acquainted with Elvis' film Blue Hawaii, Lily took a position at the elegant Ilikai Hotel (as seen on Hawaii Five-O, she always reminds me) in the heyday of Hawaiian tourism of the 1960's.

The Blue Hawaii of those days looked less like this . . .

And more like this.
This romantic isle of swaying palm trees

Exotic Banyan Trees

And sweetly fragrant Plumeria

The islands attracted a host of celebrities and stars and Lily's job in management kept her in steady attendance to some of the greatest celebrities. She is quick to note that Jack Lord of Hawaii Five-O fame was soooo vain that he would only allow photos of his "best side." She recounted meeting Bob Newhart, Carol Burnett, and countless other delightful "stars" who were really just nice people. She mentioned that Don Ho drank too much, but entertained everyone with genuine enjoyment. Her greatest praises fell on Elvis Presley. "He really was nice . . . the nicest I met," she would recall. "He had to stay in his hotel room a lot, because the fans really gathered around and he signed autographs and gave kisses or took photos as much as they wanted. He was never rude." Lily also believed that his movie, Blue Hawaii, really captured the spirit of the Hawaii she came to in the 60s as tourism mushroomed.

In this Romantic Paradise, Lily met Chef Karl and they married (complete with a three-week honeymoon to romantic Kauai). Their careers took them to Hong Kong and on around the world to work in some of the finest hotels. Their high-profile careers brought them back to Hawaii, wherein Lily became a manager in the Halekulani Hotel's 5-star restaurant, La Mer.

The hotel resembles a rambling plantation from Hawaii's golden days of pineapples from Paradise. The beauty literally spills out unexpectedly from every place imaginable.



The rolling greens and open verandas invite one to step back in time and live with genteel grace and T-I-M-E to spare for drinking in the tropical splendor wafting on a balmy breeze. I happily played along with the magic . . . and it felt WONDERFUL!



Luxury waits around every corner. If the warm waves of Waikiki do not entice you, maybe this sparkling blue beachside-pool will do the trick. Such choices . . . I love choices.



I tried to convince Lily that a table at La Mer would suit the mood and it would be my pleasure to have her as my guest, but she wouldn't budge. Lily doesn't fancy French food with all its sauces and fats . . .



Instead, she directed me to the tropically-infused option of dining under the swaying palms and setting sun. The magic continued as we made our way to The House Without a Key. Smitten with the charming name, I followed her lead to another facet of Lily's Blue Hawaii.



A Blue Hawaii for Lily (naturally) and a Chi Chi for me (only our bartender knows for sure if we imbibed fully or not -- *snicker*), paired nicely with some Maui chips while we awaited the arrival of our Sashimi and Beef Satay.

The tradewind-swept stage hosted crooners in the traditional style, while a lovely Miss Hawaii of yesterday swayed gently in the telling of her Island's special beauty. More fairytale than ever, we sipped and sighed and enjoyed the sheer beauty of this tranquil moment.

The sun gently slipped low on the horizon, igniting the sky with that every-day event:

A Spectacular Sunset

As murmurs of "Ooh" and "Aah" floated amongst those gathered together, our attention focused on an announcement by the Hawaiian trio. By special request they would be reaching back to share two timeless favorites. As the intro to Tiny Bubbles floated our way we all smiled that silly smile associated with those little bubbles. But then a hush fell over the veranda as we heard the gentle singing of the words by a patron. Seated next to his long-life love, this romantic man sang every word into the tear-sparkled eyes of his darling wife. When he belted out "I'll love you 'til the end of time" I felt my cheeks glisten. (I missed Gary; I know Lily missed Karl.)

The next song caused everyone to grab a hankie, as the trio crooned The Hawaiian Wedding Song to the still-in-love couple. My writer's mind ran a jillion scenarios for this couple, but none matched the brilliance of his smiling face gazing into her deep pools of love as he promised all over again to love her to the end of time.

We breathed deeply, feeling so relaxed and happy to be enjoying a moment of such joy -- thankful that once upon a time Gary decided to celebrate one of our our anniversaries at a Swiss Restaurant in Grass Valley and that day has led to all of this . . . and more.

Oh thank you, Lily, for showing me your Blue Hawaii.

Swimming in Chocolate

For where two or three are gathered together in my name,
There am I in the midst of them.
Matthew 18:20

So softly wakes the morning. Some off to church . . . some stay behind . . . all hearts turn toward Him as we rest at the end of a long and lovely week. It has been so good . . .

The Lord promises to grace His presence upon our gatherings. Surely no week has personified that more than this week we have lately closed. With a sigh of sadness at saying goodbye (for now) and a sigh of relief that the waves of busy-ness will calm as the social tide ebbs – well, truly I feel the need to rest and reflect and reminisce in this life that the Lord has blessed me with.

Today I am far too tired to ramble on with stories of this and that and all the rest exchanged over teapots or beach balls or late night snacks, but I can assure you that the entire week spent with my dear, sweet sister Natalie from Ukraine reinforced my heart as it reaches out to embrace any and all friends that the Lord brings across my path.

Over four years ago I answered a call to bring goods and hugs to orphans in Ukraine. Nursing a broken heart at the recent loss of my own sweet son Andrew, I traveled to distant parts of a country filled with lonely, “special,” needy, and precious little ones and old ones and every “one” in-between. My journal from that trip cries out with queries and qualms about my role in this big place called earth.

Adopt a special infant and repeat what I had only recently laid to rest?

Teach and share with those hungry to know of my walk with Jesus?

Return home and merely finance another’s task?

Too many questions tumbled in my heart as I traversed the string of boarding schools and orphanages and group homes for those forgotten by most save a governmental supplement.

I saw love in the rawest form as whole warehouses of special boys and girls received the best care possible financed with the smallest budget imaginable. My life changed – my heart broke again . . . and yet the Lord offered me solace in the midst of so much sorrow.

A brief meeting in a crowded vestibule would prove the only opportunity for me to “meet” Natalya. A hastily worded introduction and a warm exchange of greetings planted a seed. Later an email invitation to join in prayer and support for this missionary to campus students sparked my thinking that this avenue into the hearts of the Ukrainians by a fellow Ukrainian filled in some of the blanks I carried home from my trip. I joined and began receiving regular updates.

Not content to merely read of events and gatherings, I began writing to Natalya personally. We began sharing more than just “work” progress – a friendship sprouted from that seed of a greeting many months before. She became so much more than “Natalya: Campus Crusade worker” and blossomed into the familiar “Natalie: friend and sister.”

In time I returned to Ukraine for another opportunity to share and give and love. This time we journeyed to Lviv, Natalie’s hometown.

To exit the plane, walk into the terminal (an old and quaint building predating Soviet history), and be met by a “friend’s” embrace set the “mission” on a very different plane. Though the trip involved the same format of traveling to meet the outlying in need, the off hours contained walks in the park arm-in-arm with Natalie as is the custom among girlfriends in Ukraine. Tea dates in cafes offered moments to laugh and share over fragrant tea and tasty cakes. Conversations covering politics, religion, history, literature, and family life peppered our times together. Sometimes others joined us, often times we met alone, but always, always we had so much to say and ask and wonder about.

The zenith of my visit came when she invited me home. I saw her life in a new light. A visit, a meal, a memory indelibly cast – the miracle of two hearts living so far apart geographically yet knitting so close spiritually. The miracle of friendship never ceases to amaze me!

I left Ukraine once again, and once again the experience had changed me forever.

Months later I received a delightful email containing news of Natalie’s pending trip to the US. I immediately invited her to extend her trip to include a West Coast leg. She accepted. We shared but a few days together as a family. My children, husband, and friends welcomed Natalie with all the regular festivities accorded a guest, but more than that we proffered the tiny moments shared within a family. Lingering over tea on the deck, staying up late in the night, sharing hopes and dreams – it all took place on that first trip. We bid farewell far too quickly. All too soon life carried on carrying us to new places in life.

Recently, while bemoaning the cancellation of an eagerly anticipated visit by someone dear to me, I received an email asking if I had room for a visitor. Natalie had booked another trip to the USA and this time a California visit figured prominently on the itinerary. Many hurdles had to be surmounted, many people had to work together to make it all possible, but like the gift of all visits with friends-who-become-sisters, Natalie and I enjoyed yet another wonderful holiday together.

We hosted gatherings of many and few, we ate indoors and out, we talked late into the night and slept late in the day to make up for it. We shared deep and deeper. So many questions flowed from a young woman raised in a very different world than I, yet seeking the same treasure found in serving the Father, marrying, bearing children, making a home, celebrating life. My struggles and losses stacked up next to triumphs and blessings, serving to clarify my pathway and the journey to joy I travel. Natalie’s Soviet scars and difficult days gone by prove no less motivating as she reaches out to grasp freedom and fulfillment in life. We have walked in different worlds, yet our hearts cry out for the same love and life.

And so for a few precious days we floated without notice of clocks or calendars as we opened our hearts and lived together in harmony as a family.

The Ukrainians have a phrase to describe the luxurious life:

Swimming in Chocolate.

Truly, this past week we swam in the sweetest and best of life’s pleasures.

All too soon with bags packed and good-byes exchanged we ended this particular chapter in the book of our life as friends and sisters. Fortunately this book has many, many more blank pages for God to write upon. I have already received a preview of a future chapter entitled:

Nuptials for Natalie:
A Ukrainian Adventure for the Unruh Family.

I can hardly wait for that installment!!!!

Gentle Harvest

How quickly a year has passed . . .

Last June 23rd I sat next to Elizabeth as she guided me into the world of cyber journaling. When she hit “Publish” my heart went into PANIC!

“Wait! Not yet!” I blurted.

“Too late,” she grinned, knowing all too well that her mother would dither forever about opening wide the doorway to her home and gardens and family and heart-thoughts.

She knew.

Without her publishing push and Karen Deborah’s nagging steady encouragement, I never would have unlocked the gate and let you in for a peek.


For years upon years I have kept journals, written letters (some never intended to be read by a recipient), scribbled stories, recorded memories, and dreamed big dreams that never even make it to print as I freely spin away dancing and singing in the gardens or in the kitchen or reclining in a tub of bubbles. “A dream is a wish your heart makes,” sings Cinderella; my heart works overtime in the dreams department . . . it always has.

As a little girl I would lay in bed before sleep overtook me and imagine the way things could be. As I imagined I made some plans. Many fell away but some took root and became part of my life. This little blog sprouted from one of those seeds dropped to grow a connecting place for family, which produced a most unexpected harvest of new friends who came bearing their dreaming hearts. I wander freely through blogs filled with ideas, hopes, dreams, events, hurts, and so much more. I read and smile knowingly or gasp in astonishment or laugh uproariously or drop to my knees in prayer. Without knowing it, that “Publish” moment planted rows of dreams that have yielded a gentle harvest of such goodness.


Over the course of the past year I nearly pulled my blog down several times as I wrestled with the time commitment, the expectations, the comment dilemma (keep it and not worry who comes – close it and wonder if anyone comes), and all the other logistics of publishing from the heart. I have also begged off from playing tag or contesting or meme-ing or chasing after comments – it just doesn’t feel right for me, though I find nothing wrong with any of it (kinda like garage sailing or not . . . I don’t, but others do and love the thrill – different strokes . . . ).

I wandered in the wilderness at some stages in the growth of Wisteria and Roses – mostly due to technical ignorance – but determined to learn one new thing every time I sat down to blog (today I learned to use the “strike out” mode). I still chafe a bit that I had to forgo naming my blog Wisteria Cottage, as I had planned; some other person nabbed the name before I entered the scene, but closed down their blog without releasing the name. : (
Adjusting, learning, falling down, trying again, laughing, crying, hoping, praying . . . I look back and see baskets brimming with so much I have gained over this past year’s “experiment” in blogging.

Yes, I set out to “experiment” for a year. I figured if I had anything worthwhile to say it would surely take no more than a year, BUT – I found that blogging means so much more than merely saying something or even showing something. (Did I mention I had ZERO photography skills before I began blogging – NADA! I relied on Gary and Elizabeth for every pic and edit in those early days!)

Blogging, for me, serves as more than a sounding board or a “show-and-tell” session, though it often involves that and I LOVE the way bloggers share so freely of what they know or do or feel. When I hop from blog to blog I “visit.” When people pop in to see me, I want them to feel welcome and invited in for a little respite and just a peek into another way of walking the path. My journey differs from your journey and maybe, just maybe, that stretches our hearts a wee bit more than we expected to a very good end.


When I read of life in Australia or Norway or France or Canada or The South or The North or even right across town, I cast my focus away from what I know and live, and find another’s pathway. Maybe it contains a garden of the hottest colors and most robust annuals, which bears no resemblance to my dreams for my own garden, but I find joy in the visit nonetheless. Foods, décor, lifestyle, fashion, childrearing, faith, politics, and all the rest spill forth from blogs and I have found the breaths of fresh air bracing and exhilarating. I love blogging!

So, I guess you have guessed that my “one year” experiment has expired and will have no effect on my blogging habits. I will continue to blog at whim about whatever crosses my heart and spills over to share. My children delight in sharing (some more than others) and the bounty of my garden and table provide lots of inspiration for posts. The natural flow of memories continues to grace this blog with stories and celebrations from today, yesterday, and way back when without showing signs of waning. In short, my blog will ramble and tumble and dance and sing as it always has. My arms spread out to catch the gentle harvest from your thoughts and dreams and all the rest without an expiration date.


And so, when you peek through the garden gate at Wisteria and Roses I will be here to welcome you with a steeping teapot and a plumped cushion in a waiting chair. Shall I pour out as we take a pause from our busy lives and simply visit?

Sometimes It Pays to Eat Out

In a spontaneous moment Gary suggested we go out to dinner. Having just returned from a pumpkin "reforming" session over at my pal Becky's, I jumped at the chance to hoist myself out of the chair which enveloped my exhausted body (did she say pumpkin "wrangling"?) and into a fine dining establishment. The kids salivated wildly over the expectation of Amy's pizza while I went upstairs to powder my nose.

We waltzed into The Swiss House to see our friends/restauranteurs Karl and Lily. Lily greeted us with the sad news that her brother-in-law had just passed away and she would be flying out to Hawaii the very next day. Amidst hugs, promises of prayer, and some reminiscing we settled in for a typically Swiss episode in fine dining -- excellent in every way. The warm rolls and butter arrived, followed by the most flavorful split-pea soup, and then onto a crisp salad of mixed greens gently draped with green-goddess dressing. As the entrees arrived (Gary chose sauerbraten; I opted for cannelloni) we settled down to some serious gastronomic enjoyment.

According to custom, Karl visits us tableside, greeting us in the old world style. Typically he inquires as to our dining pleasure and the status of the food, but this particular night he changed the game and offered to send me home with some surplus ratatouille and spaetzle owing to the abrupt closure of the restaurant the next day. Of course I was inclined to jump up clapping and hugging him -- his ratatouille is unmatched in deliciousity (I know it's not a word -- but it SHOULD be!) and the diminuitive dumplings that magically roll off the fingers of this chef cannot compare with any I have ever attempted -- BUT, I maintained my composure. After all, I sit in the midst of other diners who haven't the good fortune of hitting the "Stuff 'n Nonsense" jackpot. Good manners kept me composed while he relayed instructions regarding the care of spaetzle to avoid spoilage. (Who knew spaetzle could spoil?) Then he proceeded to describe the layering of ratatouille, the piling of cheese . . . my stomach rumbled, despite having already taken in 4 courses. (I ate enough bread to count as a full course.) Fortunately the kahlua-laced chocolate mousse arrived and we dove in as Karl headed over to the next table (poor souls -- no leftovers, only greetings).

When we arrived home Matthew popped his head out of his "computer office" (also known as my laundry/sewing room). He eyed Gary's hands, looking for the usual clamshell containing the balance of my dinner destined to become his evening snack. His eyes grew saucer-like as Gary hefted a grocery sack onto the kitchen counter! I promptly fixed him a diversionary snack whilst Gary loaded the goods into the refrigerator.

The next day I layered the spaetzle, then added ratatouille, sliced in some chicken/apple sausages I found hanging out in the meat drawer, and topped it all with some good cheddar cheese (being fresh out of provolone). I popped the pan into the oven and went about my business. Once the aroma of this meal carried throughout the house everyone came running with their appetite. We feasted like kings. The meager remains from lunch allowed Matthew to dine, but no one else.

Today Gary returned the empty containers to Karl. He just returned home smiling as he reported that Karl has more leftovers to send my way. My stomach growled. It sure does pay to eat out in this town. ; )

Dancing FREEly

Hello My Sweet Blogger Buddies,

I have been away for a spell caring for my family and living life on a daily basis. As I write this I can sigh and smile that all has returned to normal, save for a bit of swollen cheeks and a mere hint of bruising on Miss Lydia's part. The day she returned to the music room and I heard the glissandos falling from her harp I knew we had weathered the storm and calm had returned.

In returning to the internet, I noted that storms had sprung up in many lives. Thankfully my dear friend, Karen Deborah in Mississippi, has come through Hurricane Gustav without incident. Our prayers continue as the season of storms keeps going. Our heat spell has finally broken here and our evenings cool off, as does our house, and we sleep peacefully. Our deck-building project has progressed to the painting stage with railing due in a week or so. We had hoped to spend Labor Day on the deck dining sumptuously. Due to the ladders, dropcloths, and railing-free outdoor setting, we opted to take our repast in the dining room.

Now most of you enjoy family gatherings, cookouts, BBQs, and the like on this "holiday" and we do too. However, I did not plan, prepare, or cook a morsel (and I didn't last year either). Instead, a five-star Swiss chef descends on my pre-heated grill with the finest of meats marinaded to perfection, accompanied by delectable salads/rice dishes, and followed up with the most heavenly chocolate mousse I have ever tasted! (Sounds like a Faery Tale Friday post, right? I can just picture some of you scratching your heads and wondering if I jest. Well ... I don't.)

We've been blessed with a five-star-friendship in Karl and Lily Resch, proprietors of Swiss House . Many years ago we crossed the threshold of Swiss House in search of a festive meal (an anniversary celebration) and marveled at the excellent food and friendly European service found in our tiny Sierra town. On a subsequent visit Lily approached Gary with a question: "Are you a contractor? I need to hire somebody to install a light fixture for me." To make a long story quite short, he answered "No," then added, "But I can probably take care of it for you." He did and we entered the friendly domain of regular customers.

Time passed and the friendship blossomed. The following Christmas Karl gifted our family with a strudel of such exquisite form and flavor that it still lingers prominently in our memory: Delicate pastry, tartly/sweet apples, bathed in a vanilla custard sauce that makes my mouth water even now as I am writing with only a memory to stimulate. The next Christmas we invited them to join us for our family celebration as they have no family in range for gatherings. They accepted and I promptly panicked. Do you know what it feels like to realize that you just invited a five-star chef to your home for a meal (especially one with a reputation for having THE CLEANEST KITCHEN IN THE COUNTY -- I got that from a source directly related to a health inspector)? I prayed, I planned, I cooked and I CLEANED! They arrived with a delicious gift of mousse in a very large serving bowl (I don't need a vague memory of this treat, my thighs sigh out contentedly on that issue). We dined, we laughed, we celebrated with Christmas crackers and party hats and hugs.

Over the years, we have joined together to celebrate Father's Day, Labor Day, Chinese New Year, and so on. We have dined with them for Swiss fondue and Chinese Hot Pot or ventured to other restaurants to enjoy, Chinese, Japanese, and Thai cuisines. My palate swoons whenever we set a date for a get together We even purchased our outdoor gas grill when Karl suggested he would come and grill for us if we had a grill. We bought one and asked his approval. He smiled. We salivated.

Life offers us so many opportunities to learn and grow and love. Meeting Karl and Lily opened our eyes to a whole new world of European and Asian upbringings and cultural customs, unique memories of visiting numerous exotic locales around the world, and world-class restaurant careers, coupled with the unique love story of a Chinese woman living in Hawaii who meets up with an internationally-acclaimed chef -- well, you know ... the rest is history. The cultural and emotional aspects read like a fairytale, yet the reality of reaching for happily ever after as restaurant owners in our town took much hard work, careful planning, and the occasional risk. They enrich our lives and those of our children with wisdom and affection and encouragement to follow your dreams, but be willing to work hard along the way.

This past Monday found us all eager to get together, celebrate life over great food, and talk, talk, talk. We discussed Elizabeth's current journey away at school, Lydia's recent surgery and speedy recovery (she ate meat for the first time since the wisdom teeth removal -- she couldn't bear to pass up any of Chef Karl's fantastic creations), and of course politics and world events. Naturally the fast-approaching elections held center stage. Both Karl and Lily have been U.S. citizen's for over 35 years, but thus far only Karl has ever exercised his right to vote. Lily always preferred to abstain. But not this year! She came in the front door with hugs and greetings and exclamations that she had found a reason to register to vote and she was ready to do it. (I just happened to have the forms ready and waiting ... just in case.)

When Karl and Lily bid goodbye I paused with a lump in my throat when I saw her with that voter form tucked under her arm. Her enthusiasm to cast a vote rather than a stone reminded me that I once held unjaded and enthusiastic hopes each election day. Somewhere along the way I had lost that enthusiasm felt so keenly at my first ballot for president in 1980. Of late, I felt ennui in the face of the dirt and mud of politics-as-usual and saw little reason to celebrate the changing of a guard that changed very little (if at all). Lily's shining smile and eagerness to register for this historic vote buoyed my spirits. We have choices -- stark ones, it would seem -- and the privilege to make them. I felt a rising of spirit -- patriotic spirit -- to participate in selecting a government FOR the people, BY the people, and OF the people. Lily's smile muted the cacophonous braying of the media, the partisans, and the mudslingers. I heard a tune of freedom ... and I started dancing.

Karl and Lily Resch