When I think of keeping calm, I always remember the Friends episode where Monica gets all twirly because of her parents’ upcoming visit. With frantic pillow fluffing and excessive dusting, Monica scrambles to make the apartment “perfect.” Of course it will never be “perfect” according to her mother. Monica should not have wasted worry on the impending storm of her mother’s scrutiny, but rather saved her energy for riding out the blasts of criticism and then felt the blissful relief of seeing her mother go back to Long Island.
Just as Monica worked herself into a tizzy over the visit of her parents, my daughter got all twirly on us last week. We were preparing for our annual Memorial Day bar-b-que. My daughter inherited my worrying gene and did not sleep much the night before because she could not stop fretting over the details of the event. By “details” I mean she was worried about the kids fighting over shovels in the new pea-gravel we added around the swing set. Fighting over shovels was just too much for my sweet girl to bear at the first party of summer. In spite of our frequent reminders to just enjoy the day, she was consumed with worry over the rumblings of potential fights. Fortunately, most of the kids did not even pay attention to the shovels, and, once her friends arrived, my twirly girl left her thundering thoughts behind. Continue reading “The Storm Will Pass – Wise Words Wednesday”
As one of the greatest wonders of the world, humming birds defy the odds of nature and mystify with the speed of their wings and delicate ability to hover. For Christmas my children surprised me with a hummingbird feeder to put in my flower bed. No contemplation was necessary over its destined location. That hummingbird feeder was going outside my office window. The notion of having nonstop opportunities to see those winged wonders was pretty exciting for me.
As the winter dragged on, I sadly gazed at the feeder in its box on a garage shelf for months. Hummingbirds certainly weren’t going to come if the weather never got warm.
Finally, spring arrived!
I carefully mixed the nectar according to the directions and poured it into the feeder’s reservoir. With excitement I lined up the lid to screw it on just the right way and SNAP the neck of the reservoir cracked off rendering the feeder useless.
I was humming with disappointment. Continue reading “Sweetly Humming”
As a surprise, hubby and I headed out for a short two-day camp out with the kids as soon as they were dismissed from the last day of school. Their excitement was contagious and the chance to get away was too tempting to resist.
One of our favorite parts of camping is always the campfire. The kids and I seek out the best sticks and logs and enjoy hours of flame watching and food roasting. Campfires always seem to pull us into the warmth and light of their flames and inspire memorable moments and sharing.
The dancing flames provide one of nature’s greatest entertainments. The fantastic show they perform can never be duplicated and never ceases to amaze us. The first campfire of the year holds a special power. Continue reading “First Fire of the Year”
When I sat down to write, I knew I only had 15 minutes and about a thousand ideas for today’s post. What I didn’t know what would come of those limited minutes and limitless thoughts.
Here it is.
Spring stresses me out.
Each quiet moment I find tears hiding behind my eye lids. My mind is anything but silent. The days constantly hum with demands, to-do lists, and the tings and pings of technology. My muscles are exhausted. My feet do not want to move. My brain seems to be on whatever fertilizer the farmers are spreading on their fields.
While each season has its ebb and flow, I always feel like spring is the craziest. The sunshine and breezes entice me outside, but the labor of pulling weeds and putting away delinquent Christmas decorations remind me that caring for our home is a never-ending task.
As the baseball schedules are made, vacation plans penned, and wardrobes are rotated from sweatshirts to shorts, I can’t help but feel completely wiped out.
What is it about spring that is so exhausting?
Spring is a time for planting, growing, new beginnings, and some seriously serious stress. The school year’s end is looming and, while summer is so nice, the tests, papers, and traditions that simply MUST be upheld make the last months more demanding than most. Spring stresses me out. Continue reading “Spring Stresses Me Out”
Wives’ tales are one of my favorite meteorological practices. I love the idea of watching for woolly worms’ colors and seeing how much rain falls in the first seven days of a year to predict the potential forecasts for the upcoming seasons. Persimmons also hold a tell tale story in their seeds.
Each fall my kids and I trek across our farm to the various persimmon trees that line our pastures. By this time of October they don’t have many leaves left and their peachy-colored fruits are the only sign of life on the trees. Taking turns, I lift my kiddos up to pick a few fruits from each tree. When we have had our fill of persimmon picking, we rush back to the house to split open their seeds.
Last fall’s findings were a little unclear. The shapes in the centers of the seeds weren’t very distinct. We found some knives with a few forkly shapes. As last winter was a mild one, with a few icy patches, those indecisive centers were a pretty accurate reflection of what the weather was to bring.
There were no ambiguous shapes this year. This season we found spoons in the center of every seed.
So what do the clear cut spoons mean for this year? Well, according the wives’ tale, we will be digging ourselves out of snow this winter. This prediction thrilled my children.
While the idea of piles of snow may not please you, I hope you will take time to enjoy activities like persimmon picking with your family. It is a great way to get outside, make memories, and use imagination. Put some energy this week into enjoying time together and maybe telling some wives’ tales of your own.
By: Melanie A. Peters
P.S. I am not a licensed meteorologist, so if you do not like this forecast, blame it on the persimmons.
So after my proud post about Digging for Spring, I had a few things pop up that were NOT in my flower beds.
Thursday night I had what looked like a blood blister on my middle finger. It hurt and was really ugly. Hubby squeezed it for me until blood and puss came out. Attractive, right? 😉
Friday night my hands kept going numb. It was like they were constantly falling asleep.
After a restless night of tingly hands, my right forearm began itching and a raised hive covered the entire inside of my right forearm. Tiny bumps followed shortly and my hands ACHED. My knuckle joints were very stiff and felt like they were on fire. My nose itched constantly and my lips were tingling. Something just wasn’t right.
I did what any mom/wife/daughter/friend/teacher, who has too much to do, would do. I took some ibuprofen and Benadryl and went about my business. Continue reading “Allergic to Reacting?”
via Daily Prompt: Bury
Digging for spring is something I find myself doing in the fall. Most Octobers or Novembers I scramble to clear out dying plants and add a few bulbs to my flower bed, but this year I am showing some real ambition for spring. I have extended one flower bed and added another in front of our home this week. (We’ve lived in the house 3 years and I am just now getting to these beds. Don’t judge.)
Tulips and daffodils are my bulbs of choice this year. Hopefully I will have the chance to enjoy plenty of new blooms come spring, but for now I get to look at fresh turned dirt and mulch, while feeling the pain of more shoveling than my shoulders are used to. 😉
Even if you are not a gardener, you can appreciate the need to dig for a more beautiful future and maybe that requires us to bury somethings that aren’t so pretty. My favorite things to bury are guilt and worry. I want to stick them deep in the ground and pray that they fertilize something much more enjoyable in the next season of my life.
In addition to the bulbs, I have added a few mums. Mums are my favorite perennial because they bloom for a long time and come back every year. There are plenty of perennial elements in our world and I encourage you to celebrate and give thanks for recurring pleasantries. Whether that annual awesomeness comes from birthdays or anniversaries or more frequently, like weekly coffee with your BFF or breathtaking sunsets each evening, relish the dependability that blooms in your life.
Right now I encourage you to dig deep for intents that will bloom into beautiful moments and memories. Bury ugly and unfruitful practices, habits, and influences and let their absence make room for more fruitful experiences. Planting positivity always blooms grace, gratitude, and joy.
By: Melanie A. Peters
P.S. Fertilizer is stinky, but so are guilt and worry. Don’t use too much of any of those. It really burns up the joy in planting.
via Daily Prompt: Solitary
I think I found where world peace should start…
After a long day of travel, we arrived at our rented, vacation cabin. We spent the evening checking out the lake and camp grounds, did some fishing, and tested out the kayaks. When the kids finally realized they were hungry, each began to gather smalls sticks to start our fire. Hubby purchased firewood from the local woodshed and got it going. I dug out the hotdogs, buns, marshmallows, and skewers.
The open-flame grilled dogs were extra delicious and the kids probably wasted more marshmallows than they ate, but it was fun to watch. When the camp fire and “roasting” things began to lose its appeal, the kiddos hopped in the hot tub. I cleaned up the meal mess. Hubby checked out the area map and brochure of attractions.
It was not until well after dark and the kids were tucked into their respective beds that I was able to do what I wanted on vacation…sit quietly.
There is something powerful and energizing in a camp fire. Watching the flames dance and hearing the logs crack you are fully award that in front of you is a living, breathing creature. Even though I was alone by the campfire, I could not feel lonely. Continue reading “A Fire All My Own”
One of the most impressive sights at the local creek is that of the bald eagles. For a few years now a pair of eagles have raised their family in a huge nest high above the creek bank. This spring a terrible thunderstorm blew their nest down.
Even though their nest has been gone for three months, the eagles remain. It appears they may be building a new nest in a tree across the pasture, but they are often still perched in the tree that held their old home.
Even without their giant nest, the eagles are so picturesque and stoic. (I guess that’s why they were chosen over the less suave turkey to be our national bird.)
The frequency that those eagles return to the empty branches of their fallen home tells me that they are a lot like us.
Like the nestless eagles, we gravitate and return to what we know and cherish. Home isn’t defined by what we have but where we feel comfortable.
Storms are going to come along and change everything we have ever known, but we must hold fast to what is at the center of ourselves and continue to return to what keeps us safe and makes us strong.
The eagles don’t seem bothered by the fact that they are homeless. They continue to fly high, gather food, and reign over the creek and its surrounding fields.
The Intentergy challenge for today is to be like these eagles. Know what makes a place home for you. Continue to persevere after tragedy and rough times. Stay strong. Do what you have to do to get through. Allow turmoil to bring about new beginnings and don’t let change chase you from what defines you.
By: Melanie A. Peters
P.S. Don’t tell the eagles they are homeless. They think they already own the whole, darn place.
Last week I had the pleasure of taking my niece and nephew fishing with us. They had not been fishing much and were VERY excited to go to Grandpa’s pond and reel in their first big catch.
My sister had lovingly chosen fishing poles for each of them. An Avengers pole for my nephew and a Moana pole for my niece. As I carried them to the kitchen table with my tackle box, my nephew looked suspicious.
“What are you going to do to my fishing pole?” he asked in his little voice.
“I’m putting a hook, weight, and floater on it so you can go fishing,” I replied.
His eyes got the size of saucers and he said, “A real hook? Yippee!”
My niece was equally excited about her “real hook,” but at nine years old she was too cool to say, “Yippee!”
The “Yippees” kept coming until it was time to put bait on those “real hooks.” Both of my guest anglers were appalled to tears that I would expect them to touch a worm. They wanted to used the fake bait my daughter had in her tackle box. I said, “Okay, but the fish don’t bite as well on them and those fake baits stink way worse than worms.”
“Worms are gross,” my niece informed me.
“They may be gross, but the fish sure love them,” I said. Continue reading “A Hook Out of Water – Wise Words Wednesday”