Counting My 2009 Blessings

Do you enjoy all the television shows that provide a retrospective of the year, or the specials that remind you of all the celebrities who died this past year? Didn't we get enough of Michael Jackson already?

As you probably guessed, I'm not a huge fan of those types of shows. What I do enjoy, however, is looking back over my own year of personal triumphs and reminding myself of how far I've come.



Think about it. You have a choice, you know. You can look back at the past year and be all glum and gloomy about it and think about things you didn't do or people you loved who died or the fact that you lost your job or business was awful. I'm sure at least some of my readers can commiserate here! 2009 was a tough year for many people, no doubt about it. Health challenges, job losses, lousy economy, scary news stories, all sorts of yucky stuff happened.

I lost people I loved. I've written about them here. But I don't want to dwell on loss today.

We know bad stuff happened in 2009. But we can't do a darned thing to change it, right?

And among all the yucky stuff, I'm sure something wonderful happened to you. Even in the worst years of my life there were blessings big and small. I might not have recognized them as such when they happened, but they were there all right.

Today's I'm going to express my gratitude for the wonders that 2009 brought to my doorstep. What can you celebrate about 2009 so that you enter 2010 with an attitude of gratitude?

My 2009 Blessings

1. I resumed my magazine writing career, and published several articles, as well as an essay in the Chicken Soup for the Soul series of books. That was on my "list of things I've always wanted to do" and it was such a thrill to see my name in print again. It also reminded me that my original love, and my gift, is writing. I enjoy marketing - my gift to the world is writing.
2. I met people around the world through this blog and my writing, and I call them friends: Bangchik, who comments nearly once a week (I don't know how you manage to find the time, between your family, job and your own gorgeous garden, but thank you); Keewee, Janet, Colleen, Annie and all the rest who stop by and offer a few words of encouragement; thank you, thank you.
3. My vegetable garden produced so many vegetables that we still enjoy them. What gratitude I feel that I have space to grow things again.
4. Good health for myself, my husband, my little family.
5. Hiking part of the Appalachian Trail on the peak foliage day this fall, a golden cathedral of yellow, a carpet of color. What a memorable day.
   
6. Continued spiritual growth and participation in my wonderful church community at St. Theresa's.
7. Getting over my fear of playing music in public - and actually playing at church (okay, just a few notes, it can only get better from there).
   
8. New friends in our local community, and loving long distance relationships with old friends.
9. Facebook - what did I do before Facebook? Facebook has put me back in touch with people I loved and lost contact with 20 years ago. Elementary school friends, girls I played dolls with when I was a child, high school buddies, college friends, and the wonderful people from all my past jobs - and I can leave out the people I didn't enjoy working with. What fun to catch up on their lives and keep up with their lives now.
   
10. Clients I enjoy working with. What wonderful people I have met this year. I have been blessed by my clients and I hope I am a blessing to them too.

And now, my gardening accomplishments for 2009!

• The new vegetable garden went in and was productive.
• My perennial flowers flourished, and I added my new iris varieties (one survived) to keep my goal of adding one new one each year.
• We finished the patio and the new flower beds in the back of the house.
• We expanded the number of trees, shrubs and flowers to nurture wildlife.
• We planted 460 flower bulbs to brighten the spring.
  
• My house plant collection grew to include Christmas cactus, plants I've wanted for many years but didn't have the space or light to grow back in New York.

and the biggest gardening accomplishment....

Canning! I learned how to can my harvest. And I enjoyed canned pears and pickled peppers this week, a taste of the harvest.




Happy New Year to all!

Burpee's New Year's Resolutions for Gardeners

Are you on the email list for the Burpee garden seed company? I am, and this morning they sent the best email of the year. In it, they listed the gardener's 2010 New Year's Resolutions. It's actually a promotion for a set of garden seeds, called the New Year's Resolution Garden. If you are interested, here is the link (I am not making money off this one, just sharing).

Burpee's New Year's Resolution garden seeds.






I thought the list was so great, I made up my own. Here is the list with my own little spin on it.
The Gardener's 2010 New Year's Resolutions

1. Lose weight - grow lettuce and sprout some seeds
   
2. Exercise - turn your compost pile and weed the garden!
   
3. Save money - grow organic tomatoes at home
4. Less stress - grow flowers!
5. Help the environment - grow a butterfly garden
6. Enjoy more family time - grow sunflowers with your children
7. Eat better - just grow vegetables. Any vegetables. Then eat them daily.

My own gardening plans for 2010 involve finishing the flower beds near the front of the house. I found seeds for my yellow primrose, the old-fashioned kind my mom grew next to the garage, and I found dozens of butterfly-attracting perennial seeds to grow for that front of the house garden. Other goals include building more bird houses, especially bluebird houses, adding iris to the flower beds, moving butterfly bushes to the edge of the clearing so they don't overtake my flower garden, and finishing off the garden paths (if I can convince hubby to help.) Oh, and being smarter about my vegetable garden - not growing so many turnips (there are only so many one family can eat), canning beets, growing more things that store well, and enjoying what's fresh in season when it IS in season.

Happy New Year from my garden to yours!

Orchids!

The days after Christmas, many people head to the shops to find Christmas bargains. Ornaments. Wrapping paper.

I head out to Lowe's and look for houseplant bargains. Christmas money in my hot little hands, I found their houseplant area so picked over there were only a few stragglers left. But upon close inspection....orchids!

I snagged a Phaelaopsis for $2 and a Dendrobium for $2.

I've never grown orchids before. My sister Ann grew them in our house in Floral Park. We had a weird house. It was built as what they used to call a "Mother Daughter House". The mother had an apartment upstairs, but used the same entrance as the daughter, who presumably lived on the first floor.



When my parents bought the house, they sealed off the gas line and water pipes in the old kitchen but left the cabinets. My childhood bedroom led into a kitchen, then a bathroom. Well, we had kitchen counters and cabinets, which we used as the linen closet. My sister Ann was pretty ingenious. She loved plants and wanted to study botany. She hung up plant lights under the old kitchen cabinets and used the top of the old counter as her plant laboratory!

She ordered orchids mail order and grew so many different types under those lights. I learned something from her about them, but I plan today to do a little sleuthing on the Internet to make sure I care for my new beauties.

They sure need some TLC. There's a reason they were on the $2 table! But the phael is blooming still, which is a nice plus. He's tucked behind the radio in my office. I've always wanted an orchid in my office. The other is next to the tabletop fountain in the plant room.

I also scored a second Christmas cactus, this one also marked down from $10 to $2. They should have priced it at fifty cents. The poor thing. Talk about taking a beating. It looked as if it had been dragged through the snow. I bought my peach colored one before Christmas, a healthy but small plant. This one is a hot pink color, as evidenced by the dead blossoms trapped in the silvery wrapper around the pot. Half the plant is dead, rotted away, and I spent a little time this morning pulling away dead portions. I'm left with half a plant. I've got it safely tucked in on my plant able in the plant room, nestled between the wintering geraniums and the African violets. Hopefully it will recover.

If anyone has some good orchid care websites, share links!

Mr Fit It

Yesterday's phone conversation between my 5 year old nephew and godson, Michael (who lives on Long Island, New York) and John, his favorite uncle and grownup in the whole world.

Michael asked, "Can you come over and help me? Santa gave me Mousetrap (the board game). Daddy can't put it together. I want to play it today. Can you come over?"

John said, very gently, "Michael, I live in Virginia now."

Pause. "Okay, maybe I can come over to you then?"

People Look East

"People look East. The time is near, of the crowning of the year...

"Make your house fair as you are able...

"Trim the hearth...(or bookcase)

"and set the table

'People look East:Love the Guest is on the way!"

(Traditional Advent Hymn: Words by Eleanor Farjeon, 1881-1965, with hymn tune based on "Besancon", French Traditional hymn)

Wishing you a Merry Christmas from everyone at Seven Oaks!

Jeanne
John
Shadow
Pierre

It's Not the End of the World. Really.

My friend Rose posted this picture on Facebook, and I have borrowed it because it cracks me up. With all due respect to people who believe in the impending 2010 end of world, doom and gloom scenario....and don't forget the Polar Shift Theory of 2012....I ain't buying what you're selling.

2010 is the year the Mayan Calendar ends, and many New Age types think it signals the end of the world. Why the Mayans would be right instead of, say, Nostradamus (although I don't think he was precise with dates), who knows? I'm not sure why I should give the Mayans any more credence than anyone else. Despite the blockbuster movie, 2010 is just going to be another year.

As for the 2012 Polar Shift, Susan Kerr, a well known psychic, author, animal communicator and an acquaintance of mine introduced the concept to me a long time ago. We were standing in her book store staring at a poster on the wall of the continental shift, as forseen by some seer, after the pole shift predicted for 2012. Only problem, as I pointed out to Susie then and did again for another friend into that theory - physicists tell us it's impossible. Poles don't shift. And if they do, it's not going to be rapid thing as predicted.

Since time began, prophets have predicted the end of the world. End Times. Well, like death and taxes, it's inevitable. We say, "All good things come to an end." We know the world will end someday.

The problem is predicting it. If you're right, you'll never get the acclaim you deserve. If you're wrong, you fade into history along with the group of would-be prophets who predicted the end of the world last year, and the year before last. Really, it's a no win situation for would be end times prophets.

So maybe the Mayans DID get tired of making their calendar, after all.

Who knows where we are going? Even Jesus said "You will not know the day or the hour." Although he never said anything about not knowing the year....!

Can't wait for the stories on the blogosphere as we draw closer to the New Year! As for me, I'll be in my pajamas in my living room, eating Italian-inspired antipasto snacks made by my hubby, sipping champagne and watching ball drop in Times Square, as always.

If the world ends, I will at least be happy.

Christmas Memories

My mother's familiar handwriting is on the back of this photo: "Jeanne & Grandma Rudmann, Christmas 1973." It's one of the very few photos of me as a child that show me smiling. I was a very solemn, serious child. But sitting in my grandmother's lap and feeling her strong arms around me made me smile.

I dreamed last night of my grandma. She has been gone from this earth for 24 years but I still feel her strong arms of love and protection around me.





She had trouble speaking English and peppered her words to me with German phrases from her homeland.

But a hug speaks volumes, don't you think?

If you are very lucky, there is one person from your childhood who really stands out. I am blessed that there are dozens. I start writing about one, then another one pops into memory. But out of all of them, my grandma is with me daily, in snippets of things remembered.

Her photo is on the bookshelf in my office.

The painting hanging over the fireplace in my family room is of the valley where she was born, and when I look at it very, very carefully, I see a little thatched cottage on a hillside that looks very much like the hills near my new chosen home in Virginia. I imagine it is her childhood home.

When I did my canning this fall, I thought of my grandma. Her basement in Bellerose was always stocked with home-made and canned soup, jelly, tomatoes, peppers, applesauce. Whenever I think of the word courage, I think of my grandma. I imagine the boat she came over from Germany on in 1922, the Princess Irene, with her two sisters and six suitcases and not much else. I imagine her life in the tenements of the Bronx.

She was a smack you on the behind, stop feeling sorry for yourself grandma. A fall necessitated a big kiss, a heavily spiced German oatmeal cookie, and then "get back on your skates" or the German equivalent.

She taught me to love cooking and baking, to love my garden, and to not be afraid of much in this world.

It's amazing how one brief glimpse of a photo and a dream last night can bring memories of someone back to you so quickly. Merry Christmas, Grandma.

Snow Memories

I wasn't able (yet) to build my snowman, but I thought I'd share this photo. This is my sister Ann (on left with the blue hat and blue & red scarf) and me (on the right) with our snowman, circa 1974. We grew up in a house about two blocks from the Long Island Rail Road and the Patterson Fuel Oil Company. Before it was Patterson Fuel it was Patterson Coal & Ice. Their old coal depot was long gone and paved over into a parking lot for the oil delivery trucks, but if you were a kid, nice and close to the ground because you were short and really sharp-eyed you could walk along the grass outside the chain link fence surrounding the lot and find little pieces of coal. If you were really, really brave, you'd sneak behind the poplar trees to where the cement barrier and chain link fence barred the way to the Long Island Rail Road tracks. If you walked really close to the barrier or (and of course, I never did this...) slid under the hole dug near the fence by the local hoodlum teens, you could walk next to the tracks and find lumps of coal from the days when the LIRR trains rain on coal-fired engines. There was still coal there in the early 1970's. The coal on this snow man was real. One year, we did indeed leave coal in Ann's Christmas stocking. Or was it mine, or Steve's? I can't remember now. But I do remember hunting for coal near the old Patterson company.

I remember my dad bundling us all into the car after a big snow storm and driving into Queens, to Alley Pond Park. There were hills there and we'd take our old clunky wooden sleds out. He would sometimes forget to wax the metal runners, and we'd leave rusty trails along the snow.

There was one big adult-sized sled and a child's sled. The child's sled could really get some speed going...it just zoomed down those hills. The child's sled had been my dad's and it was from the 1930's. My older sister rescued the sled when we sold my dad's house, repainted it, and hung it on the wall of her office as a decoration. Every time I see it in her office, amidst her academic diplomas and other important things, it makes me smile and feel all warm inside.

My dad loved to sled. He told us stories of growing up in the Bronx in the 1920's. He and my Uncle John would skitch. Skitching means that the kids would take their sleds along the snowy New York City streets and grab hold of the end of the street car, letting the old street cars pull them along their sleds. That's called skitching a ride in New York parlance. When I was a kid, sometimes the bold (and probably stupid) teens would try to grab the bumpers of cars and do that. My mother would yell at my dad not to tell us such stories. It was kind of a relief to know that my dad did bad and stupid things too as a kid, to tell you the truth.

My dad had a scar on his left bicep from a sledding accident. My Uncle John (his best friend who we grew up calling uncle) and he were sledding down a hillside near the Grand Concourse in the Bronx (this would be around 1930 or so) and his sled went out of control. It shot down a hill and he flew off, and his arm went over a spike on top of a fence. The spike went through the flap of skin on his arm. He pulled his arm off, grabbed the sled, and ran home crying. My grandma bandaged it up then yelled at him until she was blue in the face. He still loved sledding even as an adult and he gave us that love of sledding, too. But I bet he avoided that hill after that.

I'll leave you with one short Christmas memory from my childhood, probably a year or two after the photo above was taken. One year, we waited way too long to get a Christmas tree. We always bought a live Christmas tree. It was probably a day or two before Christmas, and the tree lots were just picked bare. There were Charlie Brown trees that looked as if one ornament would crash them over and the gigantic, big bucks trees, but the normal firs that were within an average family's price range were all gone....except for a few trees. My dad grabbed one, we tied it to the roof of the car, and off we went.

Well on Sunday when we went to put it up, we were in for a shock. While it looked full from the front, the entire backside of the tree was bare. Trees can have spots without branches, but this was like a huge bald spot on a guy with hair down to his waist. Bare spot? Let's just say that even turned to the wall, you knew this tree had issues. Big issues.

We turned that tree this way and that, we fussed and tried to hide it with tinsel, but to no avail. Suddenly my dad disappeared. We heard him in the basement rummaging around. He left his hand drill in the living room. The next thing I knew, he returned with branches from the hemlock hedge next to the garage.

Carefully, he drilled holes in the trunk of the tree and stuffed them with hemlock branches. If you didn't look too close, you couldn't tell the difference. And by hanging on the lightest ornaments and tinsel, we got away with our jerry-rigged tree.

Snowbound

Snow dog of the south. "Grr! Brr!!" She was so excited out in the snow storm. She spun in circles chasing her tail. Her muzzle is covered with snow because she kept diving head first into the drifts, flipping around making doggy-snow-angels.



I'm dreaming of a white Christmas! The garland on the porch looks so pretty in the snow.




My fruit trees are buried under there somewhere....

******************************

Well, it's official - we're snowbound! Drop a foot of snow on us and that's that. See you by Christmas (maybe).

White Christmas

It's already started snowing. After enjoying umpteen-odd Christmases without snow (okay, we had one of those wet snows on Christmas Eve once on Long Island, but it didn't stick), I had to move to Virginia to experience an honest to goodness white Christmas! We are expecting 10-14 inches of snow...or more. The generator is primed. Water is stocked. Propane tank is full. Now all we have to do is sit back and enjoy the snow storm. If the power stays on it will be fun. If the power goes off, we'll live. The only sad part is that I had to cancel our neighborhood Christmas dinner, which we were hosting tomorrow. I know it's not Christmas, but the temperatures will remain cold enough so that the snow will be here for Christmas. A real white Christmas!


With the heaviest snow expected tomorrow morning into the evening, there was no way anyone should be out on the rural roads...even if you have a snow plow hooked to the front of your car.



You know, during my executive days, I had very long to-do lists with important sounding items on it.

My to-do list for this weekend includes just one item: build a snowman.

I promise to take lots and lots of pictures!

Seeds!

I'm doing the happy dance around my kitchen in my ratty blue moccasins right now. Seed catalogs have arrived! I've already got some new varieties of Echinacea marked in the Parks catalog, and I found the sweet potato variety, Beauregard, that Jack from Appomattox recommended me. He was kind enough to give me a call after Liz from the Prince Edward County Cooperative Extension and I spoke, and I mentioned that I wanted to grow sweet potatoes. Jack, I look forward to visiting your farm this spring.



Chelsea, a long time reader of this blog who I've gotten to know a little through cyberspace, sent me a link to her new endeavor, Hometown Seeds. With the slogan "more garden for your dollar" I was instantly curious, because a) I'm a cheapskate and b) any time someone offers me 'more garden' I'm there with ya. What caught my eye are the seeds in the kit called Survival Seeds. Not only are they non-hybridized, breeds-true seeds, but they're suitable for long term food storage. That's going to be a huge help for me. Although I've conquered my odd fear of canning, I still need vegetables that will store well. I can grow lots but there's only so much we can eat fresh. The kit includes 16 different vegetable seeds: peas, beets, beans, peppers, radishes, chard, zucchini, squash and much more. I'm hoping to get some soon and will try them in the garden this year. I'll let you know how they grow! I grew the Kentucky Wonder variety of string beans offered in the kit and I can say for sure that this is an excellent variety; produced an enormous quantity of delicious green beans for the money. So this kit looks like a winner!

If you'd like to visit Hometown Seeds, here's the link. It's a new company but they look like they have a great variety of flowers and vegetables. If you do talk to them, tell them Jeanne at Seven Oaks sent you.

Move Over, Morris

Move over, Morris. This photo of Pierre under our Christmas tree was chosen for one of the local newspapers this week. I can ink Pierre's paw if you'd like an autograph.



This has been a great week for the whole family. Pierre's photo was chosen to grace the local newspaper. A friend from college who now teaches high school in northern Virginia asked me to speak at the high school's career day about careers in writing, so I'm heading north in February to bore 60 high school students to death. Should be a blast. Best of all, the high school is in the same town as my brother, his family, and my niece and her family, so I will get to visit my precious new grand-nephew too.

I was given the title Senior Writer on LovetoKnow, and Helium just awarded me "Journalist" status, which is a nice professional badge and provides additional writing opportunities.

Luckily, we have Hubby to keep our heads from swelling too much, right Pierre?

Best Coffee Cake Recipe

I made four of the best darn coffee cakes EVER last night, thanks to the blogger over at Mennonite Girls Can Cook. She posted the Apple-Raisin-Braid recipe and I took it and made it my own.

The original recipe is here.

Here's what I did: I made the bread dough exactly as the recipe states, but I changed the filling. Instead of using her filling recipe, I spread a layer of brown sugar down the middle of the bread, layered apple pie filling on top of that, then layered raisins, pecans and cinnamon. I braided the bread, baked it, and made a glaze for the top from confectioners sugar, hot water and vanilla extract. Absolutely divine coffee cake. Even John had a second piece and he's my toughest critic. If it wasn't good, he would have fed his piece to Shadow and told me so. Yeah, he's tough, but he's always honest, so when he takes a second piece - you know it's good.

Thank you to the Mennonite ladies who run that blog. Mennonites are the BEST cooks in the world, I think.

Cat Person or Dog Person?

I never thought of myself as a dog person until this morning. Shadow gets me up at dawn, whenever dawn is. Either pet jumps on the bed, whining for breakfast. Pierre's technique is usually to bite at your legs under the covers, while Shadow prefers the whine and dash.

After feeding Pierre (the king is always fed first), I feed Shadow and take her out for a walk. We usually walk about half a mile to a mile, watching the sun rise over the woods and fields. The wildlife is the best at this time of the morning. On any given morning, I'll spot all sorts of beautiful birds - thrushes, pine siskin, cardinals, orioles, and many more. There are rabbit, of course, and deer - always deer. One morning we saw our resident skunk waddling off through the woods. We often hear tiny feet rustling through the leaves.




This morning, Shadow was a total goof. After doing her business, she was leaping around on the end of the leash, snapping, grinning, tongue hanging out. I don't trust her off the leash on a frosty morning like this; the deer scent is too strong, and I heard hunters moving through the woods, their dog packs barking. Last week, she stood off and barked off a pack of hunting dogs. They chased deer directly at us as we were walking up the driveway. After the deer ran at us they veered into the woods, with three large hounds snapping at their hooves. Shadow was on full, German Shepherd, defend-or-die alert, and those three dogs took one look at her and took off back down the road. It was pretty amazing.

After I headed upstairs this morning, crazy dog wasn't finished with me. Back outside we went, with me chasing her pell-mell around the lawn. After 20 minutes of play, she was finally satisfied to come back inside. I've sure gotten my exercise today.

I never thought of myself as a "dog person". When I was a little girl, I loved dogs, but I loved all animals. When I was 8, a friend's dog bit me in the face so badly I needed stitches. After that I was afraid of dogs until college. When I began riding horses, the barns all had dogs (what's a stable without a dog?) so I got to like dogs again. Then I met John, and he had Mr. Foxhound, his golden retriever mix...it was "love me, love my dog", with my hubby being the quintessential dog person. So I learned to like dogs.

But Shadow has taught me to love dogs. She keeps me from getting too serious about myself. She makes sure I get fresh air and exercise. Every evening, just as dusk approaches, she tugs on my sleeve while I'm writing, or she comes to my desk and whines; quitting time, she says. She lays on the floor of my office, often with her head on my feet as a I work. I have to take breaks and get outside and walk her; this gives me about 2 miles or more of walking every day, if you add up our romps.

She protects me fiercely and loves me unconditionally. From dog packs heading down the driveway to a black bear that dashed across our path last year, she'd stand off anything to keep me safe.

I love Pierre and I'm still a cat person. But this rescued German Shepherd has chosen to love me, and I've fallen back in love with dogs. She's made me a better person all around.

Today's photo is Shadow in her Christmas finery. I made the bandana with fabric from Heartland Fabrics, the new store by Miller's in Farmville. Fantastic selection and service. The lady there is helping me pick out squares for my winter quilting project. I made a matching collar for Pierre, but he won't wear it.

Let Me Explain

To quote the best character in a movie ever - Inigo Montoya, of the Princess Bride: "Let me explain. No wait. There's no time. Let me sum up."

A friend who read my last blog post emailed me. He said, "Let me sum it up for you. This is your issue. You don't want anything to get in between people and whatever experience they can have of God, because you want everyone to experience God's presence directly."

Yup. That's it in a nutshell.

And this from a Hindu friend, sent via a quick, scolding (but loving) email. "You used to sing kirtan (devotional chanting) many years ago and managed to sing all of Oh God Beautiful, even though you mangled most of the words (it was in either Hindi or Bengali). If you can do that, you can manage Latin." The text, by the way, is here on someone else's blog in English and it really is a beautiful chant.

Great big hugs of joy to my friends. You get me.

Wild Bird Garden

Yesterday, our long-awaited shipment of new trees arrived. We again donated to the Arbor Day Society, despite our mixed feelings about their trees. Oh well. I've got to remember that we don't donate to purchase discounted trees. That's a nice bonus, but it shouldn't be the real reason we give.

Anyway, this year's free gift was their "wild bird garden" set of trees. One of my cherished dreams for Seven Oaks is to really make the entire 17 acres a sanctuary for wildlife. Hubby and I love watching birds, and the bluebird house our friend Phil Hertzler made for us was such fun this spring. We hung it on the fence post outside the vegetable garden and I could watch the bluebirds from my chair in the plant room. We had a family of bluebirds raise their young, and Hubby's going to make more bluebird houses based on the one Phil made for us.

We've put bird baths around the property, and I hung a bird feeder up in the flower garden. Unfortunately, the squirrels found it. That was pretty funny. Here were squirrels who I'm sure had NEVER seen a bird feeder in their lives. I watched from my office windows for two days while the six gray squirrels figured out how to walk across the chain suspended between two pines, hang upside down by their toes, and grab the seed. By the third day, they'd worked out a system. One guy would hang by his toes, grab seed, and fling it to the ground for his fellows. If you've ever wondered if squirrels are smart or have any sort of society, I can tell you that the answer to both questions is yes. I watched them cooperate until they'd cleaned out my bird feeder of seed.

This year, I've just left the sunflower heads on the ground out in the flower garden. If any spring up, so be it. But the mice and birds have cleaned it out. We caught Pierre hunting birds back there last week, so now he's on "parole" with supervised outdoor jaunts only.

The trees were unpacked and of course, they're just twigs. It took us about an hour to plant all ten of them. We also moved a whole bunch of pines that had grown up over our septic area; they're probably baby trees from the mature ones that were removed when the land was cleared to build the house. It was awfully cold yesterday with a strong west wind, but the ground was soft enough to plant. When we came inside, my cheeks were so rosy it looked like I'd gone mad with the blusher.

Here's what we planted. Each tree has some sort of benefit for birds: seeds, berries, or nesting habitat. My favorite it the Arrowwood Viburnum and the Gray Dogwood. The three dogwoods we planted the year we moved in are doing great. When they're big enough, I'll hang more bird houses and feeders from their branches; on Long Island, the birds adored the dogwoods.

Here's what we planted:

1. Arrowwood Viburnum (Viburnum dentatum)
2. Bur Oak (Quercus macrocarpa)
3. Canadian hemlock (Tsuga canadensis) - two of these
   
4. Gray dogwood (Cornus racemosa)
5. Northern Red Oak (Quercus rubra - one of our all time favorites)
6. River birch (Betula nigra)
7. Sargent crabapple (Malus sargentii)
8. Tulip tree (Liriodendron tulipifera) - these grow wild throughout our property too
9. Washington hawthorn (Crataegus phaenopyrum)
   

The Hidden Secret

A little Christmas story for today.

I think I've mentioned my aunt before, Sister Janice Buettner, O.P. Aunt Lucille (her given name) is a Dominican sister from Amityville, New York. Every holiday, my dad would drive to the convent to pick up Aunt Lucille. She liked to save the cars in the convent's auto pool for the sisters who wanted to drive to their relatives' houses, but who didn't have anyone to pick them up. So my dad was always drafted for the task. He usually stuck his toolbox in the trunk of the car because inevitably, my aunt or another sister would ask him, "Frank, do you mind looking at the sink in the bathroom?" or "The door to the chapel is a bit squeaky; do you mind?"



When I was about five, we drove to Maria Regina Hall to pick up Aunt Lucille for Christmas dinner. When we got there, someone must have had a request for my dad, because Aunt Lucille led me into the kitchen into the care of Mother Flavia. She was the convent cook. Isn't that the best name for a nun assigned to cooking detail - "Flavia"? Sounds like 'flavor'!

Mother Flavia was a little old German nun who wore a spotless white apron over her long white Dominican habit. She smelled like talcum powder and onions and I loved her. With eyes twinkling, she'd hoist me onto a big stool next to the worktable where she was mixing stuffing for the turkey or slicing vegetables, and we'd sing Christmas carols together. She'd say, "My, but you look hungry!" and I'd pretend to be fainting with hunger. Then she'd hand me carrot sticks sliced with a chef's precision and I'd munch on them while she'd tell me stories.

When my aunt returned, I didn't want to leave Mother Flavia.

Aunt Lucille asked me, "Do you want to visit the chapel to say a prayer?" I always said yes and she always asked. I loved the nun's chapel at Maria Regina Hall. She'd lead me through the dining room, all beautiful and sparkling with white china and crystal for the holiday, and then we'd wind our way through the convent and into the plain little room they called the chapel. The sanctuary light was blue; I remember that, because the one at Our Lady of Victory Church was red, and I thought all of them "had" to be red.

The chapel was a magical place. It was cool and dark. The kneelers were hard. But we'd kneel and say a prayer. Then my aunt, with a whispered word, would lead me right up to the altar. There on a table next to the altar was the manger scene. I remember those little figures so well. I have never seen one quite like it before. There were shepherds and lots of sheep, and of course the Three Kings. Mary and Joseph and Baby Jesus, and the donkey and cattle.

But best of all was The Secret.

Aunt Lucille showed me the Secret. "Pick your favorite," she suggested with a smile.

I chose a shepherd because he had a dog (it looked like a German Shepherd - portent of things to come?) at his feet and a sheep over his shoulders, and he looked kind. She picked up the figure and with a smile, turned it over. The base of the statue was concave, with a little key hidden underneath.

"Turn the key," she whispered.

I turned the key with trembling hand. The little notes of "Silent Night" played through the chapel.

It was a tiny music box. Some of the figures had tiny music boxes hidden inside!

Somehow, the little figures with the hidden secrets sums up the mystery of Christmas for me....a baby, looking from the outside very human, shrouding something mysterious and wonderful inside.

A separate chapel building for both my alma mater, Molloy College, and the convent was built in the 1980's. I don't like it very much. It's very Modern with a capital M and lots of abstract stained glass and piped-in music, like a sappy funeral home. Ick. And now even the convent is undergoing a transformation, with half of the building converted into offices for the college. There just aren't enough sisters living there and those that are there are mostly elderly and frail, like my aunt, but they've lived most of their lives there and consider it home, so the college lets them live on in retirement. Someday soon, Aunt Lucille is going to have to move to the mother house at Amityville where the order has the nursing home, but for now, her best friend Sister Jean takes good care of her in between leading the Art Department at Molloy.

I miss the dark, cool chapel and the hard kneelers and the magical nativity scene. I miss Mother Flavia Schulein, who was always so kind to me, and all the other nuns who fussed over me whenever I went to visit. Most of all, I miss my aunt, who is far away back in New York, and too far away to whisper secrets to me anymore.

Mistletoe Hunting

Yesterday afternoon after church, I went over to my friend Patty's farm for a visit. After coffee and watching a bit of the football game together, I rose to leave. "Do you want some mistletoe?" she asked.

"You have some?" I was delighted. I love mistletoe, but other than the fake stuff, I've only seen the living mistletoe plant once or twice.

"Yes," she said. "It grows all over our oak trees. Come on."

Her husband, Ron was in the doorway. He grabbed his riffle and after a brief discussion about ammunition and passing some boxes back and forth with Patty, we put on our coats and trooped out onto the muddy farm road. I had no idea why Ron had the riffle. I thought he was going deer hunting.

We walked down their farm road and stopped under a huge old oak tree next to the new workshop building they'd just put up. There was a mature holly bush near the base of the oak, covered with red berries, as if to underscore that it was the Christmas season and here we were picking mistletoe. I looked around, but didn't see anything that looked like the little plastic mistletoe my mom hung near the front door. "Where is it?" I asked.

Ron pointed up into the oak. "There."

High up in the boughs of the old oak tree was what I at first took to be a cluster of leaves. Then I realized it was mistletoe! It looked at first like leaves that hadn't fallen to the ground, or perhaps an odd kind of Spanish moss, the kind I've seen growing off the oaks in Louisiana.

Ron carefully took aim with his riffle and fired. Mistletoe boughs rained down on us.

Patty scooped them up, pushed them into a zip lock bag, and I was on my way home.

I've never hunted wild mistletoe before!

Thanks guys...that was quite the adventure. And Ron is quite the shot...

Micro Micro Climates

I did a double take this morning as I stepped off the porch with Shadow on her leash. It was around dawn, and a heavy frost blanketed the lawn. It's December 4th, right? Almost winter? Yet there, blooming next to the garage, were impatiens.

I've loved impatiens since I was a little girl. Have you ever noticed that their flowers sparkle? It's true. Pick one (well, maybe next June when you have them!) and look carefully at the flower. See those tiny sparkles? I'd pick flowers and float them in my kiddie pool like lily pads.

On Long Island, impatiens are the suburban gardener's friend. They grow anywhere and often reseed. Here in Virginia, I avoided planting them because they need so much water. Last summer was hot and dry. Plus I don't have a lot of shade. But Hubby and father in law showed up in May with a flat of mixed impatiens because they knew how much I loved them.

Where to fit them in? I knew I needed shade, so the only place for them was near the porch. I tucked them in by the small walkway and steps next to the garage. It was easy to dump the pet's water bowl on the flower bed every morning and night when I changed their water, so the plants stayed well watered. And being so close to the porch, I was hopeful that the rabbits and deer wouldn't nosh on them.

Today when I stepped off the porch, I looked to my right and saw what was blooming. It's December 4th, it was 30 degrees outside, and there was an orange impatien smiling at me, alongside dianthus and pansies.

There's got to be a nice warm pocket of air snuggled right between the porch and garage, a micro micro climate keeping the impatiens warm and happy.

Thank you, micro micro climate. Let's see how long my impatiens will bloom!

Today's picture...Pierre, posing near the micro micro climate area about a month ago, and a lovely photo of an impatien.

The Catnip that Ate the Carrots

I'd always wanted to grow catnip.

Now I know better.

Innocent little me. I thought I'd grow a few plants, harvest some organic nip for Pierre, and that would be the end of it.

The catnip had other ideas.

I planted three plants in the herb bed, but they looked so small....I planted three more in root vegetable bed, next to the carrots. I'd read somewhere that catnip repels pests from carrots.

And it grew. And grew. And grew.

On Sunday, Hubby asked me to help him with some work outside. We hauled cartload after cartload of compost out to the back lawn, and Hubby sprinkled compost on the bare patches of lawn, then seeded. He asked me if I wanted help pulling up the last of the dead pepper plants in the vegetable garden, so off we went.

"What's that?" he asked, pointing to a huge silvery green bush that spilled out of the raised bed and onto the pathway.

"Catnip."

I eyed it. It sneered back at me. It was time for battle.

The catnip had grown. Three tiny plants in each bed had turned monstrous, tentacles reaching into every other herb, swallowing them whole. I took my spade. I whacked. I struggled. I removed four plants, leaving two that I trimmed back to the crowns.

And there among the bed...carrots. Another dozen carrots. Spindly and weak to be sure, but growing all year in the shade of the catnip.

I'm told carrots are all the sweeter from the frost. They're going to be all the sweeter because I wrestled them away from the catnip that ate the carrots!