Having grown up a few states away from my own grandparents, I vividly recall those long “summer vacation” trips from Wisconsin to Ohio and West Virginia…and back. Three sweaty siblings elbowing each other in the backseat of our sedan in the years before our family car had air-conditioning. I loved seeing my grandparents, but the trip, not so much. Memories of that once a year trip make me feel particularly blessed to have our daughter Beth and her family living about ten minutes away from us and able to stop by often.Continue reading “Hand a (Grand)Kid a Camera”
My Christmas tree is a little wonky-looking. A bit oddly shaped, no matter how I fluff it, stubbornly refusing to stand up straight in the rotating base. It has a bit of a wobbly jewelry-box ballerina pirouette going on as it twirls round and round slightly askew. But I love how my wonky tree sparkles as it does its little lopsided twirly dance.Continue reading “Grandma’s Wonky Christmas Tree”
I love hearing the little ‘ping’ when my granddaughters send me a text. I received one from Mia last week asking me to identify this plant that she noticed growing at her church. She remembered seeing them growing between the cracks of my flagstone path when she was a little girl and she had always enjoyed them. Of course, I recognized them as portulaca (moss rose) and told her I have a few little bits of it growing in my garden this year.
I plant moss roses every now and again and am always delighted when a plant throws seed and new moss roses come up willy-nilly somewhere else the following year.
Mia’s question spawned a curiosity within me about seed gathering, so I decided to look up a video demonstrating how to collect the seed from some of my moss roses so that I can plant some of my favorite colors more purposefully in areas where I’d like them to grow next year. There are plenty of YouTube videos on the subject of gathering seed from portulaca, but I appreciated this one .
I enjoy growing petunias in my pots. They’re just so pretty – especially the purple ones. I decided to watch a few more videos on how to gather petunia seeds so that I could perhaps save a little money by growing my own next year. I discovered it’s very similar process as the one used for portulaca seed gathering. After watching this particularly helpful video, I decided head out to my front porch and check my favorite petunias to see if there were any seeds to gather.
I was so excited to find the little seed pods mentioned in the video, so picked a few and tried harvesting them myself.
I used this little strainer from my kitchen drawer to sift and separate the seeds from the little pods. Next, I slipped the harvest of seeds into a white paper envelope and then labeled the envelope with what kind of seed was within (knowing full well I would forget by next spring). Before sealing the envelope, I slipped the plant tag from this year’s plant into the envelope too. I am looking forward to planting my seeds next spring and really hope they will germinate. If they do, I’ll be sure to post some pictures!
What about you? Have you had success in harvesting seeds? Do you have any tips to share? I’d love to see your ideas and tips in the comments below.
Happy gardening, my friends!
The simple blessing of being able to attend my sweet granddaughter’s symphonic band concert on Wednesday night was not lost on me. My husband and I could both go to the concert. Together. We didn’t have to take turns going to these special events anymore. We didn’t have to hire a caregiver or ask a friend or family member to come spend a few hours with my mom. We could just go.
As we waited for the concert to begin, I looked down our row of seats in the high school auditorium and was caught up in a beautiful moment of realizing I was sitting here with my daughter and her family. I could sit next to grandson Charlie and give his back a scratch while we waited for the concert to begin. I could ask him during the concert what his favorite instrument was – percussion, if you’re wondering too. During the concert, I watched Henry, seated at the end of our row, totally taking in the music. I remember comparing Henry’s silhouette with that of his mother seated next to him – how fun to notice the similarities in their facial features. It made me smile. Even sitting next to wiggly George and helping him cover his ears during the loud or “scary” parts of the music was a special blessing to my grandma-heart.
Our flautist. (Such a strange word.) How fun to see Violet seated next to Izzy, her friend since kindergarten.
Of course, I relished watching Violet play her flute. When did she grow up to be such a poised and beautiful young lady? The obvious enjoyment she had in making music with her friends just thrilled my heart. The music was amazing – I could not believe this band had been practicing together for only two months.
Being able to attend this concert was a grace gift – a hidden blessing of having my sweet mom in memory care. My heart was reminded that I need not regret our decision to place mom in assisted living memory care earlier this year – it was an act of love – for her, for me, and for my family.
We met through the mail when I was 15 and he was 21. He was in the Navy and I was in high school. Just before my 17th birthday we decided we wanted to get married, then got officially engaged on my 18th birthday, and married the next summer on my parents’ 25th wedding anniversary – July 3, 1976.
We’ve now been blessed with forty-three years of marriage and two children, Matthew and Elisabeth. We’ve seen God provide godly spouses for each of them. Icing on the cake…before long, the Lord blessed us with grandchildren: three grandgirls and three grandboys.
We’ve also been blessed to put down roots in only a handful of places: one apartment and three houses we have called “home.” I remember back in 1977 we discovered a little gem on 49th Street that would only cost us $10 more per month than we were paying in rent for our little furnished apartment. It wasn’t very big, but it was ours and perfect for our little family of three (soon to be four). God provided then, and He still provides for us now.
Over the years we’ve owned our fair share of pets (thankfully, not all at the same time) : one guinea pig, one cockatiel named ‘Jingles’, two gerbils named ‘Digger and Aaron’ (apparently NOT brothers, as evidenced by their very large family), one hamster named ‘Houdini’ (he actually did disappear and we’re really not sure where he went), two “free” dogs (Dusty and Hooch), and one porch kitty who adopted us three summers ago.
On this day, our 43rd wedding anniversary, I could think of no other person on earth who is as perfect for me as this man. May the Lord bless us with more years to walk together in love, as Christ loved us.
Ephesians 5:2:”And walk in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God”.
Life is Good!
Let me introduce you to Violet. This granddaughter has held my heart for 15 years now and I am quite certain she has a special place for me in her heart too. Any time we spend together is special.
Not only does she love me well, but she also has a special softness in her heart for her memory impaired great-grandmother. Violet goes out of her way to be a bright spot in my mother’s day as often as she is able. Most recently she wrote a few letters to her and asked me to slip them in her purse every now and then so she had something new to read. On other occasions she will come with me to visit her GGma.
Violet and I share in common a love for writing. I love reading what she writes and especially love finding her thoughtful notes sprinkled liberally throughout my house. On a recent visit, Violet picked up a pencil and a notepad and poured out some thoughts on paper about Alzheimer’s. I asked for permission to share them on Barefoot Lily Lady.
By Violet Cynthia Schultz
Family becomes strangers
‘Home’ becomes lost
Books become confusing
Memories become a maze.
Guests become intruders
Flowers become weeds
Shouts become whispers
Old stories are forgotten
making them new again.
Yet the smile of a stranger
can still brighten up the day
Help from a friend becomes a blessing
when you’re lost.
The old photo album
jogs memories new and old.
The surprise intruders
become a highlight of the day.
The countless weeds
spark the old passion of gardening
And the whisper of a voice ensures
comfort, rest, and security.
One of our nesting boxes bit the dust last year when it was chewed up by neighborhood squirrels, so my grandkids Violet and Charlie painted this one. The birds have already set up housekeeping and we expect to hear little chirps and tweets very soon.
Spring is having a tough time making up its mind, but little signs of beauty to come are poking up all over the yard.
Only a few crocus are open, but there are more to come! I only wish they would hang around for a little bit longer.
Sempervivum is one of the first garden inhabitants to announce the arrival of Spring. I love how its color perks up as the soil warms.
A little garden trellis lends a splash of vibrant red. Now I just need to decide what I will grow on it this year.
Last, but far from least, a little gift from my favorite ‘flower’ and most frequent garden helper – my granddaughter Violet. She likes to fill jars with lots of little notes of love, encouragement, and blessings…oh, and a little bit of glitter to add an extra measure of sparkle to my day.
It feels good to finally get a little dirt under my fingernails again and to wander around my garden taking photos. Well, that’s my Six for this week. I hope you’ve enjoyed them. Check out all of the other Sixes courtesy of
The past few days have been especially wonderful. Even though it sometimes felt like I was always cooking, having our kids and grandchildren gathered here and being surrounded by family refreshed my spirit.
Three nights in a row of good sleep didn’t hurt either.
Yesterday, our children, along with our three lovely granddaughters, lovingly came alongside us in support of a decision that Wayne and I had already prayerfully made. A spot in a lovely memory care home has opened up for my mother. Together as a family, we acknowledged that my mom deserves to receive the 24/7 care I can no longer give her.
This has been an especially hard decision for me, as it has always been my desire to walk Momma all the way “Home” here in our home. Now that mom is under home hospice care, it seemed like we were almost there. But God has given our family wisdom and showered me with peace in the midst of my tears.
Last night, Mom was out of bed before our Friday date night caregiver left our home at 10:30 p.m. Bless sweet Kathryn’s heart, she tried so hard to get mom to bed and asleep before her shift was over. It was not meant to be. Sleep would not come for Momma until a few minutes before 5:00 a.m.
Today I’m feeling physically worn out and emotionally spent. The frustrations of my sleepless night and my groggy, bone-weary body served as confirmation that the decision we made as a family is the right one.
Nine days from now it will be different.
Round-the-clock care will be available to redirect my tired and anxious mother back to the safety of her bed while I am sound asleep in my bed a few miles away. There will be no more trips up and down the stairs between my bedroom and hers all night long. No need for cameras and a video monitor to keep tabs on Momma. No need for baby gates, a multiplicity of grab bars, wheelchairs, walkers and bedside potty chair. Someone else will vigilantly monitor and carefully dispense drugs, change and launder soiled clothing and bedding, cajole her into bathing (and washing her hair), and keep her from wandering away.
I find comfort in the hope of being able to attend school concerts, participate in church activities, go to the gym more regularly, travel with my hubby, take an unhurried bath, have impromptu play dates and sleepovers with my grandkids, and play in garden dirt whenever I want. The list of all the things I’d like to do now is very long indeed.
As much as I look forward to finding our new normal, I also understand the transition will not be easy–for her or for me. The tears which trickle down my cheeks without warning remind me that I will miss taking care of mom. It has truly been an honor and a privilege and the hardest thing I have ever done.
Caregiving truly is the hardest job I ever loved.