A FATHER'S DAY TRIBUTE

My father was a good father.

He was, in many ways, the typical, strong-minded Italian father.  He was a traveling salesman, so for much of my youth he was mostly 'a weekend/holiday' father.  He sometimes ruled with an iron hand, but on reflection it was rarely selfish, it was with the good of his children in mind.  And he loved children in a grand and huge way, both emotionally and with tight hugs against his large, expansive chest.  He overflowed with love, kisses and a hearty laugh.  He was a good father.

I have known many fathers in my life time, countless fathers.  Some I have known really well; uncles, fathers of childhood friends, and the fathers of the many children I have taught over the years.  I have known tender and loving fathers who fully participated in their children's lives and distant, cold fathers who never really knew how to show their love.  As a teacher of Special Education (many years spent teaching what was called 'Emotionally Disturbed' children) I have also seen the worst of fathers, those who physically, emotionally and/or sexually abuse their children.

I think over the course of my life I have known more good fathers, thankfully, than bad fathers....and quite honestly, without any doubt in my mind at all, this genuine and unassuming man...

...is so far at the top of the list of good fathers, that I know of no one that surpasses him.

He is both gentle and strong, leading his girls in their daily lives with a softness (most men would shun) that is grounded in self-assurance and inner strength.

He is extremely thoughtful, deeply concerned and respectful of all things.  He loves the earth and all its manifestations, working diligently to leave only a positive footprint.  He seems to understand with great wisdom the interconnectedness of all things and behaves in such a manner that what he does, from planting the seeds in his garden to reclaiming wood for his house and barn, does not diminish the earth.
  

He is steadfast and earnest and skilled in ways that personally enhance the life of his family.  Further, he is an artist with an eye for symmetry and beauty that is expressed in all that he makes from rough-hewn sheds, to quick craft shelves, to 'elf and fairy' gardens in the woods.

He is a warm and broadly intelligent teacher who is quick to recognize each 'teachable' moment and to meaningfully and creatively bring his girls to that moment.

When I was a Waldorf teacher one of the most powerful tenants I learned was that we, as adults, must always act in such a way that our actions are worthy of imitation.  Andy is such a person; his actions are truly worthy of imitation.

I know that he might scoff at such descriptions of himself, and that surely he is not without his own foibles, but all that I say about this man is true in my eyes.  

My daughter Jonel is supremely blessed with such a husband; Mary and Bill Gorrill are supremely blessed with such a son; 

Iris and Elsa are supremely blessed with such a FATHER;

and I, I, too, am supremely blessed that my daughter choose this man to be her husband and the father of her children.  I am so blessed to have Andy in my life.

BLESSINGS ABOUND

A hot and sunny Sunday afternoon turns magical and cool without going more than a couple of miles from home.

Jonel and family were off to hike a 'fairy' trail and Freddie and I went along.  It was truly magical, primeval and dense with moss, fern, and multiple ledges of water-covered rock steps to ascend until we reached a sandy, rocky deep overhang of a cave.  

The girls had brought along their fairies and they were right at home in this Kickapoo Fairyland.

...standing amidst the forest...

...sneaking and resting...

...the 'rock ledge steps'...

...the girl's fairies felt right at home here...

The sandy cave looks like a surreal watercolor painting.

Captured by the beauty...

...a quiet moment...

...the audience...

We were not gone very long, still it felt like we had traveled far into some distant and mystical land where children and fairies know one another well.

INSPIRATION

Just about a month ago I discovered something called Zentangle.  I don't recall how I happened upon a website about it, but I am so glad that I did.  I think I am addicted already.  Zentangle is a meditative kind of 'art' work, and is reminiscent of much of what I have always admired by illustrators, especially of children's books.  I have always loved the borders by artists such as Jan Brett, and I think that Zentangle will allow me to do some of that type of work.

I belong to an art group, who call themselves Artlings.  We exchange sketch books monthly, as well as bring in work we are working on, to share with one another.  I 'tangled' a new cover for the sketch book that I had, as well as 'tangling' a couple of pages within the book.

My granddaughter Morgan's bedroom is decorated with butterflies, and I did a larger version of this as her birthday card.


Our Artlings group meets the first Tuesday of the month, and this month we had the visual pleasure of meeting at Susan G's. 

This is Susan and at her house there is art everywhere you look, and I mean everywhere, including around every corner and/or tree out of doors.

This was hanging in one of the many artful cabins around her property.  Somehow it reminded me of Zentangle.

Susan has meditative sitting spots everywhere, both inside and out.  Here she has hung colorful rags as a kind of 'fence'.  Her spots are in the shade, in the sun, in spaces she can turn 360 degrees, beneath staircases, in hammocks, I mean one can meditate just about anywhere they happen to wander.


She also has some stunning flowers, such as this Cherry Jubilee Rose:

Which almost looks good enough to eat.


It was a wonderful and inspiring day spent with artistic women who are friends.  


And then I came home to this:

A sweet ending to a great day.  (Most of these made it to the freezer, and the rest will end up in a pie today.)


I am grateful to have such women friends who support one another and bring inspiration into my life.

REVERENCE

I spend a good portion of the day thinking about food in one form or another.  One of the things that I find stimulating and actually lots of fun, is mentally scouring the refrigerator, the garden and the larder 'looking' over what I have and what would combine to make a simple yet beautiful and delicious meal.  Actually this is something I don't do deliberately, but find my mind engaged in throughout the day.  Sometimes however, a meal comes together without what I consider to be that creative journey, and often I can see tomorrow night's meal while preparing tonight's meal.

However last Friday was one of the mental journey meals.  Having vowed to eat more fish (which I really haven't kept) I decided on salmon patties.

 A good can of pink salmon, chopped onions, fresh dill, Italian style bread crumbs, an egg, a dollop of mayonnaise, chopped fresh dill...form a patty and press it into Panko bread crumbs.  Fry in canola oil.

As my asparagus is quite abundant now, and as we love asparagus, I roasted a tray full lightly brushed with olive oil and sprinkled with garlic powder.

Patties just out of the pan...

Asparagus just out of the oven...

Plated dinner.  I made a simple 'sauce' of mayo, sour cream, dill and a touch of lemon juice to add to the salmon...proved a good addition, mmmm.

...and at least for Freddie and I, a meal is just not complete without a fresh from the oven loaf of crusty bread...

And although we don't always have dessert, this puff pastry crust has become so easy, I keep some in the freezer always.  Simple to take out, roll out, add a filling, bake for 17 minutes and viola!  a great dessert.

I often think about the people who have so little to eat, who sometimes resort to garbage, to inedible things like sand, and yes, to 'junk' food.  We never fail to appreciate the fact that we are blessed to have such an abundance of good food at our table.  I feel it is a gift and a blessing to love to garden, to preserve, and to prepare good food.   I do not, by any means, ever take this for granted. 

CONTENT IN THE GARDEN

The second and fourth Tuesdays of the month, I travel to La Crosse for Spirited Women's writers group.  It is a very important part of my writing life.  Several weeks ago, our facilitator 'assigned' us five questions (regarding the group) to answer before the next session.  As poetry is what I most often choose to write, I answered each question in the form of a poem.  Here is the one entitled:  

The Meaning of the Group

Gathered at the glass-topped 
wooden table,
each here drawn by the magic
of words,
knowing how their placement,
just so on the page,
births a beauty
provocative and pure...
powerful, 
and above all,
essential.

We gather here 
knowing that the word
is the beginning,
the word
is with God,
the word
is God.

We gather here
on our journey
to the light.

  Despite this deep feeling for the group, yesterday I choose not to go, in order to plant the myriad tomatoes and peppers awaiting the garden in their tiny pots.

   Gardening, sinking my bare hands into the newly tilled soil, gently tamping each plant in place, carrying water, even weeding, are essential activities for me as well...just another journey to the light.

 I spent most of the morning, garden rake in hand, pulling the finely tilled soil up into mounds in which I would plant peppers, broccoli, etc.

  Looking west from my garden.  The tomato fences and the spade that replaced the garden rake when times really got tough.

A look at the garlic which was planted last November.  It seems to be doing really well.

The peas, which were planted in the early March warm spell.  They are profusely flowering, and we are anxious for their crisp sweetness.

I am trying, for the first time, growing my cucumbers on a trellis.  This saves garden space, and I think makes for better cucumbers.  (In my delight in purchasing plants, and seeing so many beautiful cucumber plants at my favorite Amish greenhouse, I realized when I got home that I had 12 cucumber plants.)  I gave two away.

)

Ten sweet potato plants, planted as the Amish, do under black plastic, in a mound of dirt.  I've done this now for many years, and the sweet potatoes are huge, and so easy to harvest.

Looking east towards the house.  Cucumbers, peppers, tomatoes, etc.  

I mulch between the rows with straw to keep the weeds down.  But mostly I mulch with straw because of its golden beauty.  Always I think of Rapunzel.

Lettuce and spinach and radishes, which we have been eating daily for many, many days.


I love my garden!  I love the chance to be vitally in the out of doors, I love the air, and the kiss of the sun, and the smell of the soil.  Such magic is holy.

ANOTHER LAMPSHADE

I had some multi-thread silk that I used for the warp of my latest lampshade.  For the weft I used a combination of reclaimed fabrics, light-weight cotton, silks, and rayon.  Some of these were old clothing that I cut into strips.

...an up close look at the completed frame....

The completed lampshade set on a lamp.

And here with the warmth of the light bulb shining through

Using the metal fram of an old lampshade for the 'loom' provides an interesting and sturdy base for weaving.

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY

I have been thinking about my mother more than usual these past days.  I am filled with a deep nostalgia and wish she were still near, despite knowing that I carry her within me at all times.  

As my father was a traveling salesman she did much of the parenting without his being there....granted we heard a lot of "wait until your father gets home!"

We were fortunate to live with my grandmother's (my mother's mother) along with one of my mother's sisters, Minnie.  So we grew up surrounded by lots of 'Mothers' and owe each of them much of what we are.

I am profoundly grateful to them...their way of life and their parenting skills.  We had a large garden, a small vineyard, a huge larder filled with home canned goods, and always, always wonderful fresh, 'organic' food to eat.  We had little money, but we had plenty, plenty, plenty.

These woman gave me freedom to roam the woods behind the house and a love for all things natural.

They live in my heart and in my very flesh and blood and bones.  

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY

My mother, me, my sisters Barbara and Jackie. (Our dear brother Vic, was not yet born.)