It's Thyme

I enjoy gardening, but I was never sure what it is about the hard labor and uncertain results that attracts me. However, one of the advantages of owning a home in Minnesota is the expectation that I should have a neat lawn free of weeds, and borders blooming with fruit and vegetables. 
When we moved in the garden had been neglected for over 10 years. Overgrown with weeds, there didn't seem to be anything to save. We hacked down the borders and sprayed everything with weed-killer. Then came the arduous task of digging out the dead and decayed, while waiting for summer.
The waiting is the hard part. I am sucked in by the beautiful flowers at the garden center, and rush home to plant them with visions straight out of "Better Homes and Gardens".  It is frustrating to watch and wait, and wonder why they choose not to flower for me.

This is me in my garden in 2004.  It is the same garden I am now tackling.  Needless to say it doesn't look the same. The phlox and lilies have taken over.  But I smile when I uncover a hosta or cone flower that I planted 15 years ago.  They are still there, struggling to grow between the weeds.  I give them space and replant them; then watch and wait.
One border had been planted long ago as a herb garden with parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme.  I dug it over to get rid of the grass and weeds.  Then I watched them reappear to reclaim their patch of ground.  I pulled them up without mercy, not allowing them to win.

Until, one day, I got a distinct scent from what I was pulling. I took another whiff and realized it was thyme. Then I started to look closer at what I was pulling: chives, mint and cilantro were popping up, despite my lack of care.
In my flower beds I decided to let things grow in order to try and identify them.  I have discovered lily of the valley, dead-nettle, alium, sunflowers, canna lily, primrose and beebalm.  The alium, and nettle have bloomed. I am waiting for the rest.
Somehow the  waiting doesn't bother me now. I may never see them bloom again, but I have enjoyed discovering them, uncovering their beauty, and rediscovering how they grow.
Instead of wishing for past glory, or anticipating next year's crop, I am enjoying the present. Each plant has it's day.  They continually surprise and amaze me as they pop up, produce leaves and bloom. No day in the garden is ever the same.
I should be used to change and new developments. My life has hardly been settled or in a rut. But I find I still overthink change and weigh out it's merits, trying to predict the future.

That is why, when asked what we were doing for my youngest's graduation party, I answered,"Oh, nothing much." I am not much of a party-er and I was looking for a way round hosting what I knew traditionally to be a lavish affair with catered food and crowds of guests. Is any party worth all the work that goes into planning it?
Oh course family rallied round and gave suggestions as well as physically laying a new patio before unloading tables and chairs.  Our yard and garage were a hub of activity weeks before the party. Because it was then that I realized that you don't give a party because tradition expects you to; you take advantage of the opportunity to give a party. Ben is my youngest and I will never again have a chance to host a graduation party midwest style.  Now is my chance to entertain, bring people together and be a part of a family/community.  (Most of this community is related to me by marriage)  So together we took our place and hosted a party to be remembered.
Twinkle lights strung through the rafters of the garage and guests  were greeted with drinks and some of favorite foods from around the world. No one seemed to mind that they couldn't pronounce "pao de queijo", and were willing to try dates with mint lemonade.

We shared memories and music outside under the lanterns on a beautiful night. Everyone who came got to know us a little better... which is probably why they came. And it is time to make memories here, in this place, with these people; not to dwell on where we have come from, or worry about where we will all end up, but to celebrate this time, here, now.

My First Real Prom

I am almost sure I went to prom in high school, but can't remember much about it or even whether I had a date. It couldn't have been much fun. And with three sons through school now, I seem to have able to avoid the whole thing... until today.
My eldest went to prom on Kwaj.  And Jake, being Jake, took care of any arrangements needed for ordering a tux and coordinating garment colors.  The corsage was ordered well in advance and shipped across the Pacific in a refrigerated container. Where in Kwaj, being Kwaj, it was completely acceptable to show up in island formal which means... anything goes. He went to prom by bike.

 My second son attended senior prom in Europe and informed me that he needed a well-fitted suit. I provided the money for the tailored suit and managed to get one shot of him as he left on foot with his friends.  I have no idea what his prom was like, but I am sure it included lots of alcohol. 
Now my youngest son is attending his senior prom in America's heartland.  Neither he nor I had any idea what this entailed.  But my husband is right, here in Minnesota Prom is like a wedding celebration.
Everything started months ago with people casually asking me if Ben was going to prom. As if I knew.  Then my son casually informed me that he had asked someone to prom.  That set the wheels in motion and my 'to-do' list was started. I couldn't have done this without the help of friends and family who would drop hints in a conversation at church or a forwarded email of what was next on the timeline. 
I had to go in to school and buy my son a ticket. Then I was told to go back and buy tickets for myself and Jon. We paid for reserved seating at the Grand March.???  Did this mean I was involved in Prom in some way? Did I have to dress up too?

This is when I realized that prom is really for the parents.  Like a wedding, we tell our children what is expected of them on the big day, meaning to insure they don't miss out on anything, but manage to stress them into conforming to expectations.
My son didn't want a tux, but I ended up renting one for him and making sure the colors coordinated with his date's dress. I ordered the corsage, and arranged for the pre-prom photo shoot. I have never ordered a corsage before and had no idea what I was doing. After asking me for as much information as could be imagined about my son and his date, the florist informed me that they only did white roses. I ordered the white roses... for $50.

There was a stressful eve of event when Ben began to see that his mother was in fact more involved with prom than he was. His mutiny played right into my hands when he suddenly decided to forsake the family's planned event at the farm and arranged for others to meet at our house. I provided food and Jon took pictures. We met the other parents and found common ground.
We all went round to the school where the students would board a bus to a party aboard a boat.  This "grand march" into the school drew quite a crowd. And we all followed the students into the gym to watch them promenade once again, with lots of posing for photos along the way.

 And just when I was beginning to feel like the whole event was just a ruse to make young people feel like they fit the mold, I saw a young couple doing their own thing. They wore plaid instead of a tux and gown, and proudly walked in while the crowd gawped.  As parents we are all secretly glad it isn't our child going to prom in jeans, but it was also a relief to see someone break the rules.
The strangest part for me was to find most of the boys wearing garters on their arms.  I was told this was an age-old tradition, but I still don't understand it.  And I am glad Ben didn't feel he had to wear a woman's garter to fit in.

So that was my first experience of an all-American hometown prom, and probably my last.  I am sure I will hear more about the actual party aboard the boat, and about the crazy Post-Prom party where the students are locked in a sports/activity center for the night to keep them from getting into trouble. 
I am glad my son, who is experiencing his fourth Jr/Sr HS in four different countries, is getting a chance to  have a real prom. He deserves a bit of fun!

An Introduction to Winter Sports

Winter arrives and my usual outdoor activities seem less appealing. I look for something to keep myself active and busy during the months of subfreezing temperatures and icy snow.
Skiing seems out of the question. I would have to drive miles to find a decent slope, and it is an expensive way to get hurt.
Then there is the infamous ice fishing, which I have never tried because... it just doesn't make sense. Why would anyone choose to sit out in the middle of a frozen lake for hours inside a claustrophobic hut?  Cross country skiing should be more popular around here.  The trick is finding a day when there is enough snow on the ground without the -25º wind chills.  Jon has found his course around the lake, but can't fit many laps in before the sun sets. It is dark early and invites us to stay indoors.

If I am crazy I can join the polar bear club and plunge into a freezing lake. Or I can seek out a warm gym with indoor pool in which to spend some of those dark hours.  I confess I joined a Pickleball group which meets twice a week, indoors, to hit a plastic ball over a makeshift net. No one can say I don't exercise!
However, these are not the winter sports that really get us going and let us sink into bed exhausted at the end of the day. This is my version of the winter sports that I have taken up since moving to Minnesota.
First I dig myself out. I can spend up to an hour several mornings a week shoveling the driveway before I can get the car out. The snow is not cooperative. It sticks to the pavement and lies over sheets of ice. It laughs at my attempts to shovel and whips back in my face. I scrape and I chisel, knowing that winter is far from over and it will all need to be done again.
Then there is the getting of firewood, because there is nothing better than sitting by a real fire on a cold night. But firewood just doesn't appear in the wood box.  It must be cut and trucked in from the farm, before carting it piece by heavy piece to our wood pile.

Before making a fire I put on my gloves and boots and traipse outside to look for sticks for kindling and logs that are not covered in snow or ice. I was told that being cold burns calories... I'm certainly burning a few.
This activity usually leads to cooking.  The cold makes you hungry for potpies, warm cookies and soup.  So I shop and I chop, then I roll and I bake.  There is no pizza delivery service here or restaurant nearby, but the eating is good!
The winter sport that keeps me the busiest is home improvement projects. After being forced to stay inside on a day when the snow is howling outside, you start to notice all those less than perfect parts of the house.

In October we started with tearing out carpet, toilets and walls. Yesterday I was tiling the dining room floor and refinishing a table top.  "Not a sport ," you say? Well tell that to my tennis elbow I got from, not pickleball, but sanding and painting the drywall. If, like me, you have spent hours in Home Depot looking for bullnose tile and thinset, then you know how arduous these projects can be. I spend hours researching and searching for materials. And I often have to start again when I have come to the conclusion that it just doesn't look right. This is a winter sport that I am just learning and will need a lot more practice before I can join the big leagues.