It’s been a lovely (albeit toasty) week. I’ve spent much of my free time playing in the dirt. There’s quite a lot in bloom right now, but I will stick to six photos of irises. They’re such intriguing flowers with a graceful beauty about them.
Our garden greeted us with a few new splashes of color as we pulled into our neighborhood after being away for 12 days. First to catch my eye in the newly created flowerbed in the front yard was a little group of purple columbine happily dancing in the breeze.
Wayne and I have had a lovely time visiting my Aunt Carolyn in West Virginia and my Aunt Linda in Ohio (plus a smattering of cousins and kin).
I’ve seen this meme floating around on social media a bit lately.
I confess that I haven’t read any of this author’s books, so am not sure of the author’s context for this quote. I do know that his philosophy of life leans toward encouraging simple, minimalistic living. Its something to which I aspire, especially since I have reached the summit of decade six and am now careening at breakneck speed toward number seven. However, each time I read, “Be a curator of your life,” something strikes me as being untrue in my life. While I do make choices each and every day to simplify my life, I’m not so sure I am (or even want to be) my life’s curator.
God is a better Curator of my life.
As I look back over the past several years, I see things in it that I wouldn’t choose, but He allowed. I’ve seen family relationships crumble — not something I orchestrated or desired, but even that hardship passed the muster of His divine curatorship in my life for my ultimate good and His glory.
On this day in 2020, my life took an expected turn which left me with more unexpected feelings than I ever dreamed possible. It was the day my momma met Jesus face to face. It was fully expected–I knew in my heart she would be leaving. When my sweet momma breathed her last, my role as her daughter, friend and caregiver suddenly ended. While the weight of years of caring for her was now lifted from my shoulders, I also felt an unexpected void that my “purpose” as mom’s caregiver had previously filled. Even in the midst of incredible grief, my sadness was wrapped in the grateful realization that my loving God had edited and rearranged my life in a way I could never have planned so that I could walk my sweet momma Home.
The heart of man plans his way,
Proverbs 16:9 (ESV)
but the Lord establishes his steps.
I am joining Jim and my gardening friends worldwide for a little Six on Saturday garden update. Wisconsin has been slow on the draw declaring it Spring, but I think it’s finally arrived. Spring has sprung in all its tulip, daffodil, and flowering tree wonderfulness. So, come along with me for a little tour of six(-ish) things happening in my garden–then hop on the virtual garden club tour bus via Jim’s blog at https://gardenruminations.co.uk/2023/05/13/six-on-saturday-13-5-2023/ and wander through a few more gardens.
Continue reading “Six on Saturday – A New Flowerbed”
Sharing this post with the Five Minute Friday writing community – today’s word prompt is HAVE.
Coffee in hand, I have been sitting in my favorite chair taking a break from today’s gardening endeavors. The knees of my blue jeans are wet and a bit muddied because I should have made an extra trip to the garage to retrieve my knee cushion (but didn’t). My cushion is an old seat cushion from my brother’s wheelchair and has served me well for several years now. It’s nice and cushy for my aging knees, and big enough to provide a dry place for me to sit when the grass is wet with morning dew. [I am making a mental note to grab it when I go back outside in a few minutes.]
I chose the east side of my house as my focus for today’s weeding and cleanup endeavors. In years past, it has been the side of the house which few people see. However, this year we took down two unhealthy spruce trees in our front yard, giving passersby an unobstructed view of a flowerbed which had previously been fairly well hidden. I have decided to put a little extra effort into this garden space and see if I can make something special out of it–something which my neighbors can enjoy.
But now, at this moment, it’s overgrown with lamium (a noxious weed disguised as a plant), and many weeds and over-wintered, water-soaked hosta leaves. As I pull my hand rake through the tangled bed of yuck, the green shoots of this year’s floral promise are slowly uncovered.
There, under last season’s detritus, are the green tips of an emerging hosta, alongside the peony my dad dug for me from his garden a few decades ago.
As I cleared away last year’s fallen leaves, I found this lovely patch of pulmonaria bedazzled with pink and blue little bells. Even when the flowering finishes, I just love the fuzzy, bespeckled leaves. [Take a gander here if you’d like more photos and info about the pros and cons of this lovely plant.]
April weather is absolutely crazy in Wisconsin. Spring? Summer? Winter? It can’t make up its mind! One day I’m working barefoot in my garden–the next day snow squalls are springing up here and there, or hail is pelting the house. Our crazy weather reminds me that life is unpredictably subject to change without advance notice. In this earthly body, I have this moment and this breath–and have no guarantee of the next. This thought encourages me to make every moment and every breath that I can a beautiful one and to make sure my heart is ready for that first breath of heaven.
For we know that if the tent that is our earthly home is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. ~ 2 Cor. 5:1 (ESV)
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