I sat here for much of the afternoon. Enjoying my yarn, gazing at the love lies bleeding flower and relishing a quiet house and lazy Sunday afternoon in the neighborhood.

“I hate you, Mom!,” with venom oozing out your eye teeth.

“I wish you weren’t my mother!,” as daggers are thrown violently from your deadly eyes.

“Go to hell!,” (maybe a bit advanced but more appropriate for the 17 year old who is so damn ready to leave this house).

Well, the other day, Audrey Anne (who is presently 4 years, 6 months, 5days old) says to me in a burst of emotion she doesn’t quite know what to do with it, “I’LL NEVER HAVE A MOM LIKE YOU AGAIN!!!”

I think she was trying to pull one of the above mentioned statements and pulled it off in her four year old way. I have to admit that it caught me off guard and it took me a moment to shift gears and realize I can’t take this personally; this is just the beginning of many more comments like this.

I am trying to look at it in a positive and different light: my daughter is trying to find space and her own self separate from me. And she gets a little pissy when she doesn’t get her way; so do I. I am simply her boundary maker much of the time and am feeling her body and presence bounce up again the boundary fence I put in place. There is bucking and kicking involved that sometimes sound like words such as: I’ll never have a mom like you again.

I will stand firm in my boundary setting; this is for your blessing, your sense of well being and security and your ultimate good, my dear Audrey Anne. And some day, you will be so glad to have me for your mother and will change your tone to your words and it will mean something entirely different. You’ll see.

I have received two long Trudi-blessing hugs; if you have ever sat down with her for a simple meal time prayer, you’ll know exactly what I am talking about without saying very much. For those of you who have never sat at Trudi’s table for a shabbat meal: she prays on and on and ends up crying and sniffling in the end. I have learned to let her arms enclose me and receive her blessing rather than pushing her away. It’s better that way, especially when one is recovering from major abdominal surgery.

I have ripped my mom’s knitted sock out twice since she has arrived; yes, this is the same knitting sock she has been working on steadily for a year (or more). I think we have finally gotten past the heel and gusset and instep, etc, etc. and are on to the tube. Tubes are good. Knee high leg warmers are next up for her. Who needs two socks anyways? I will buy a purple sock for her at Target to go with this one.

I have enjoyed having permission (mostly from myself) to do nothing this week. I have lingered in the back yard in this lovely weather with my beautiful daughters and just watched them play. Audrey started her second year of preschool this week and I have tried to be present for that with her. I think she is enjoying herself immensely.

I ended my convalescence with my nurse who make me laugh on the q5min basis this evening with a meditation on the lake front. That was so peaceful and soothing. That water out there is so consoling. I love that breath can be prayer.

Off to bed for more rest, more narcotic use to aid my sleep and ease my sore tummy, and snuggling with the tired husband.
Till the next time…

I love the inner chambers of this sunflower almost as if it was a mandala meant to be colored in with every shade of green and chartreuse and yellow.

Well, tonight, I went through my garden and snapped some pics of what’s blooming in my garden. I wish I could give you all boquets of the flowers to put in a vase by your bed this evening, allowing you to linger and simply enjoy color, beauty, design and even some scent. I currently have a single stem of pink gladiolas in a black onyx vase my grandmother gave me long ago.

And then this evening, I came around the corner to turn on the sprinkler and lo and behold I discovered my very first moonflower. I have been waiting for these to bloom. Six inch diameter fragrant blooming vine. I was delighted.

Here is one of my favorites. I grew these “green envy zinnia” from seed and thought they would look good as a backdrop in my window boxes with nasturtium cascading down. I think it works to some degree. I am really into chartreuse colored flowers this season.

Nicotiana. Very light and wonderful scent.

I thought I had planted zinnia seed in this one area by the shed. Oops. They turned out to be very low growing sunflowers that I have come to appreciate and am thankful for how many blooms there are. They look fabulous cut and in a cute Mary Engelbreit teapot my mom gave me.

I attempted to “overwinter” fuchsias. And I do believe (puffed up chest and fluffed up feathers) I have succeeded. They are just now beginning to bloom. I always think of my grandmother’s garden and all the fuchsias that would cascade down into my little pudgy fingers. I would walk around popping the ones that had yet to open and bloom. Trouble.

And zinnias that bumble bees and butterflies are finding tasty.

I hope you enjoyed your tour of the gardens.
Stay tuned for future blooms.

I almost made it: 4/5 days I was there. I considered it a success considering Wednesday it was raining and overcast and really wouldn’t benefit my freckle accumulation too much. I went to Lake Michigan three of the four days and experienced some short lasting peripheral neuropathy (laymen’s terms: the water was biting cold and simply put, I am glad I don’t have gonads hanging on the outside of my body. ‘nough said). I went to Loch Lomand in Mundelein where the water was as warm as bath water (or as some might say, as warm as urine) and consequently full of green algae. But it was still heavenly. I have not dove off a diving dock in years.

Result of going to the beach four times this week: I am in full bloom.

Freckles are amass and adorning me as if I had been kissed by thousands of angels. And I might even say my legs are a scant bit tan. In high school, Hilga Lyle and I would always say, “We don’t tan; we blush.” It’s true; I don’t think I am capable of tanning. My freckles are my tan and that is more than good enough for me.

Interesting science experiment as a result of accomplishing my goal: I was considering making one inch square blocks on the most freckled parts of my body and asking Audrey to count them. Ha! I really wonder how many there are in a one inch square. Well, maybe I will just go on and do that before I go to bed. I am curious. And I will be tickled pink (and not a bit surprised) if there are over 100 in some squares. They kind of start to blend by that point. Love it!