Prairie Lily Arts

Where Hearts Are Planted

Home.  It's time.  Early morning light streams golden warm across boot leather smooth... and my heart calls home.  Through generations lived out, home catches tears of joy... tears of sorrow... they wash the view clear. They spill together upon this solid ground of family... and nourish life.

Home is where necks are hugged first and words are spoken second. It's where mom's bread rose full and tender in oven's glow. It's where the milkman delivered clear bottles of purest farm cream to the door, and corn stretched tall all around.  It's where Grandma's potatoes sizzled in morning's skillet, and crisp emerald cucumbers soaked up summer flavor in crocks heavy.  Mom's stitches gathered Sunday dress ruffles. Daddy would hoist me to his lap on the tractor. A white plank tree swing grew worn in the middle, arching high above tiger lily blooms nodding orange in slightest breeze. The bed of Daddy's '52 Chevy was the ladder for two little girls stretching on tip-toes to reach peaches plump with promise.  Cattle called low across rolling pasture, and the sweet smell of spring hay filled my lungs with life breath.

Basic Kneads: Happy Mother's Day

 
It was the day after Christmas and the kitchen counters were still lined with tiered plates and footed candy bowls offering sweet confections, towering over platters spread with cookies.  My little man stood eyeing the dishes. 

"Mama, what I'm really craving is your bread."

Sustenance.  Basic.  Familiar.  Nourishing.

For a flash of a moment I was surprised.  And then I smiled, knowingly.  Warm memories rose in my senses as if the aroma of my mom's bread baking golden could be savored wafting through the kitchen.  This singular aroma stirs tender thoughts of holidays, my mom, home.

So here comes my own little man quietly, wistfully seeking the basics.  Amid the flurry of life, sometimes we just need the most simple of needs met.  Isn't that what motherhood is really about?  Nurturing our families through meeting their most basic, yet essential, needs?

Giving Thanks: Writing On the Wall

 
When I host Thanksgiving, I encourage my guests to write on the wall.  It's a tradition we began a few years ago.  (I've since forgotten where I first found the idea.)  On the wall between the kitchen and dining room, I stretch a piece of white butcher paper.  Each guest chooses a colored pencil, each person with a different color.  And the outpouring of thanks giving begins.

In a Scrabble®-esque fashion we write single words for the blessings in our lives.  We are rather free-form.  Usually a little one writes first, out of eagerness... and the rest join in no particular order or turn taking... until all pencils are put to paper at once.  Little ones writing (or coloring) low, and adults arching over.  Depending on your number of guests it can come to look as much like a game of Twister® as a game of Scrabble®!  Some memories bring breathless little-boy laughter. 

Carving Day

If you had dropped by today...

This was us... unedited.

Monstrous Dreams

 
Tomorrow, just in the nick of time, we will visit our local Kinsey Family Farm to select just the right pumpkins for this year's jack-o'-lanterns.  It's a little early for sugar plums, so my boys are dreaming of pumpkin bread and hay rides and apple cannons.  (Ok, so is their mama.)

Halloween at our house is much less about monsters and all things gruesome as it is about dreams.  Sure, the boys love to put on the goulish masks in the costume aisles.  Dozens of times over I hear, "Hey, Mama, look at this!" as they see who can gross out the girl.  But when crisp breezes first begin to rustle the treetops, my boys start dreaming.  What hero do they most want to be?  If they could do anything, be anything, what and who would it be?

Mama's Bed

I hear his breath beside me, this little man of mine, with a long, quiet, slumbering rhythm.  His tender cheeks grow rosy, pressing against silky white cotton. Wisps of still baby-fine hair cling to the warmth of his face.  The night air has grown cool, but he burrows deep into quilts and blankets and feather pillows piled plush and welcoming.  The old milkglass lamp with its knobby hobnail texture glows softly in the dark. 

There are nights when I hear the call of a little-boy voice, closely followed by the muffled padding of feet running across the carpeted floor.  Tiny toes grip the edge of the old bed as his legs stretch their maximum span to climb up into a waiting respite... comforting and secure. This is one of those nights. When the world seems less certain, even to a little boy in Superman jammies, mama's bed chases away the worries... and dreams come sweetly.

Mama's bed.  New to me.  Old to the world.  Oh, that it could whisper this night. 

Red, White and Blue

   
  "Beneath Their Sheltering Wings"

I was elated that Jenny chose "Red, White and Blue" as the theme for this week's photo challenge.  It speaks of summer, of pride, of a much-loved way of life.  My candidate images range from an old-fashioned soda fountain in Bar Harbor lined with polished blue and chrome stools beneath a bright red Coca-Cola fountain to little boys perched on a red and white cooler with their heads cast back in unbridled laughter to a U.S. Coast Guard boat tied off with a dive suit tossed on the dock.  I sort through photographs of U.S. Flags flying freely from Maine to Florida, each with its own unique character: whipping in the wind atop rocky cliffs, capping towering sailboat masts or gently waving a warm welcome home to a rolling tree-filled farm.  We are a proud nation.  So many "Red, White and Blue" moments wait to be captured. 

But for today's entry... one special image stands alone... purely from a sentimental standpoint. 

History Penned by Hand... and Baked

Opening an old, handed-down, handwritten recipe collection is like stepping back in time.  So much is revealed through the handwriting, the order, the common ingredients and the evidence of use.  My fingers travel immediately to the pages worn, tattered and stained... these are marks of love... a legacy of memories made... family history unfolding.

Happy Birthday, America

From this small, proud town I call home

Thank you.

Simplifying the View

Ok, so technically it's summer... but I'm spring cleaning.  In the process, I discovered a different view... or maybe rediscovered, really.  I found it inspiring in a quiet, unassuming way... a simpler way.  For when the layers are pulled down, all you see is the exposed, foundational, elemental nature of life... fresh, growing... dare I say, blossoming!  I stepped back, shifting the angle, switching the focus, adjusting the depth...toying with perspective.  I found a renewed appreciation for simplicity.

The Learning Never Stops ~ Summer

 
"Mama, did you know this is good for you?!"

Joining my friend, Jenny, in her weekly L.E.N.S. Photo Challenge at Home Is Where the Heart Is.  This week's theme?  Summer.  Last weekend I drew the boys out on the deck for a balmy evening supper and snapped this picture of my little guy literally drinking up summer in the warm rays of late evening sun.  Few things taste like summer more than a melon just cracked open... sweet juices streaming down your fingers.  My little one delighted in the knowledge that this dessert was healthy!  We treasure our long summer days working in the garden and savoring the tastes of the season... literally and figuratively... so much to learn and discover!

The Garden Is In!

 

Departing from the serious y'all, because... well... I've learned from a couple of silly little monkeys I wrestle with each day that you just can't always take life too seriously! 

 So here's a laid-back little corner of my world.