It's 31F here, and starting tonight, we're supposed to have ice showers, sleet and other slippery stuff for the next two days; so, my Sunday Stroll will be an indoor edition. While ironing pillowcases for my newly changed bed, I reflected on how many of them incorporate flowers and how much I love to iron them.  Each week, I get to pick out a new set of embroidered flowers and smell freshly pressed cotton and lemon scented starch.  As a child, I ironed pillowcases for my mother for the princely sum of  five cents a case.  I thought I was making the big money back then. They remind me, too, of sleeping at Grandma Nita's house on clean, starched sheets so slick I slipped right into them after my bath. My favorites are the oldest ones because they were stitched on really good, thick, cotton material, and it shows.  I...

Today, I'm digging up most of my bulbs in the front yard. I've hired a landscape designer to help me with the gardens.  Are you surprised?.  Well, the photo on the left is my  home's front view taken early last spring.  This looks good. The photo, below, is of another bed to the right of my front door.  It doesn't look so great and breaks lots of landscaping rules.  See that long, straight line of rusty brown cutting in the middle of the bed in half? Garden designers will tell you that isn't good.  Straight lines say "formal," and in some settings (like Buckingham Palace) formal is good.  However, in front of a log house out in the woods, it's a no, no. It's a little like Mr. McGregor's Daughter's famous green mustache, which she fixed last summer. I've looked at that straight line for six years and always wondered how to...

My friend, Staci, died on Sunday at approximately 1:00 p.m.  At forty, she was beautiful and died too young.  She was married to Rob and had two daughters.  Two of my children, ASW and Bear, were their classmates. She died of breast cancer, and although I know pink is traditional, Staci was definitely not a pink kind of girl.  She was fiery and feisty, and she deserves every bright and shining color in the crayon box. When people die of cancer or some other debilitating disease, we read in their obituaries that they fought the good fight, were brave, but that they were eventually defeated.  We also read about their families left behind. My friend was so much more than her disease, and I don't want her defined by it.   She was a wonderful mother, who loved her children as fiercely as a mother bear.  Even when she was confined...

I saw this tiny viola while I was out, and it occurred to me that we could learn a thing or two from it and its larger cousin, the pansy.  Only two days ago, it appeared crushed by the biting wind, precipitation and cold.  In fact, I was dismayed when I saw all of my pansies and violas lying prone, their leaves upon the ground as if in surrender.  What I didn't realize until today was that they were simply holding themselves together and saving their energy for the first warm day. This is that day.  It's the first we've had in awhile, and I went outside to see what might be surviving our crazy up and down weather.   Surprised that so much was available, I nearly threw myself upon the ground in gratitude.  However, it was damp and squishy underfoot so I didn't. I am in awe of my...