I am so pleased to find you here. I hope you will come to share a bit of who you are and what brings you to stroll along with me. Few gifts are as meaningful as a friend who draws so near in spirit that our gates fall in step with one another.
I am a homeschool mom to two little fellas who remind me to let caterpillars crawl on my shoulder, to draw the whole world with sidewalk chalk, to munch cookies while they're warm, to ride bikes in the rain, and to dance with the music of our own laughter.
I'm just a simple, old-fashioned prairie girl with a cherished heritage of Cherokee natives, English settlers, French and Irish immigrants... the daughter of a long line of farmers. During my childhood, my dad was a preacher and my mom was a teacher.... my teacher no less. Everyone knew who I was and what I did.... and it was a good thing... a very good thing.
The comfortable security offered by that true sense of community was a treasure to me as a little girl. The milkman delivered our milk, juice, and eggs to a metal box at the back door. Our church had an outhouse... and only an outhouse... which entirely petrified me. The music within those heavy church doors however was comprised of songs, voices, and faces I still hold dear. The lessons from my father's mellow bass voice were as bricks to my foundation, as I listened with one ear up and one ear resting against my mother's skirt. The little country store in town had rough-hewn plank floors and a squeaky, old screen door which clapped shut behind every visitor. Our food grew from a garden expansive enough to seem like a large field to me. (I got lost once trying to wade through the high summer corn towering over my head in the true fields behind the garden.) Our meat came from family farms and was prepared and stored in the local meat locker. My sister and I picked peaches from the back of my dad's 1952 Chevy pickup. Saturday morning might have found us drinking bottles of Crush soda at Joe's garage... jumping at the sound of the air compressor. These moments....layer upon layer... constitute the simple, country way of life which is the core of who I am... cherishing a beloved, rich, old-fashioned, prairie heritage.
So it is with each of us. Just as the warm patina of old wood conveys a unique, exquisite depth of character and history, so too our life experiences... layer upon layer... become the enchanting complexities of who we are. Some elements may seem light, while others seem darker. Some aspects may seem smooth with the refinement of time, while other recesses seem coarse and raw with lack of exposure. These contrasts are so intriguing to discover in one another. We are amazingly complex creatures!
I hope to learn these complexities of who you are! Following are a few of my favorite things... old-fashioned, perhaps... but steeped in the contrasts, character and immense appreciation of the heritage I am honored to carry forward. I wouldn't have it any other way!
Wild black berries plump, warm and glistening on summer vines
Rich chocolate éclairs from a fine European bakery
Brilliant diamond starlight against a velvety midnight mountain sky
Fireworks streaking over easy ocean waves lapping soft beach sand
Sleek, new stiletto heels reminiscent of black and white movies
Hiking boots worn supple with life, caked in cracked clay
Dupioni drapes in puddled cascades of texture
Faded handmade quilts, soft and thin with use
The familiar creek of rusty springs on an old, wooden screen door
The first words upon my ears from the voice of a new friend
Harmonica strains growing soft over a crackling campfire
Fine string melodies rising from the magical pit of the orchestra
A bareback ride on a spirited horse across open pasture
Hmmm... breaking stride here... there is no comparison...
Basic, practical, earthy sustenance of nutty, fresh-ground grain
Frivolous froth of a creamy bubble bath aromatic with warm vanilla
Strolls so leisurely we unknowingly slow to a stop... lingering and still
A sprinted sail over hurdles without so much as a toe skimming the top
Thundering crescendos of a summer storm rolling through the dark
Such a hush as to hear the breath of my little one resting against my heart
The layered strokes of Monet's beloved Giverny garden upon canvas
"I love you" scratched with a broken stick in sun-parched dirt
A knowing glance... words no longer necessary to communicate deeply
Unceasing chatter of friends reunited, spilling into early morning hours
The charged intensity of a day on the New York Stock Exchange floor
Easy simplicity and predictability of coffee served by an old friend
Watchful anticipation of fresh beginnings at sunrise
Settling satisfaction of closure and reflection at sunset
Nature's warm bronzed palette waning to rest in the fall
A fresh pastel rainbow bursting forth with vitality in the spring
Cheerful Christmas lights sparkling across city skylines
Fields of snow-flocked trees adorned with glittering icicles.
Musty library stacks of old English poetry
Fresh smell of ink and crisp, unopened binding of a friend's new work
Rain showers clinging in clear droplets against silky rose buds
Long rays of late afternoon sunlight dancing on the rippling creek.
Assured strength in a handshake of trust
Gentle, whispered brush of my hair
Easy familiarity of a beloved worn path
The awaiting adventure of an unblazed trail
And as with my horses, nothing quite compares to home...
Out on the prairie.
Ready to go for a stroll?