TWO CHAIRS

I saw two chairs made of ash,
My friends were ready to trash.
I asked if I might,
Given such a sight,
Remove and change them in a flash.

The years they sat out of doors,
Took away their beauty by the score.
They languished so long,
Where they did not belong,
And their finish was unsightly and poor.

So I began to refinish as I ought,
A few hours at most, I thought,
But to my surprise,
I was not very wise,
More Minutes and hours I sought.

To strip pealing paint seemed so simple
But I made progress as small as a dimple
The more that I scraped
The more time escaped
And when sanding I thought of Miss Wimple.




She's well known in my head over years
In my brain endless stories I'd hear.
she'd rock forth and back
As she'd linger and chat,
And enjoyed birds singing in her ears.

I managed to work very hard,
As I lingered for hours in the yard.
I sanded and scraped,
Lost in thought I escaped,
To stories of Miss Wimble 'til jarred.

My thoughts returned to my view
Of ashen chairs, half dead, made new,
With deep bluish stain,
And much love to gain,
Two chairs are now ready for you.

Lets linger in the garden, you and me,
And think of the beauty we see.
Let's sip lemonade,
And wonder who made,
These treasured two chairs for no fee.

TIME IN THE GARDEN

I am finally in the garden again.

Distractions have interfered with my focus on flora but now I can spend a bit more time deciding what to do with all this foliage.

Parts of the garden are new this year.

Parts have taken three years to flourish.

I love it all.

I want to fill in all the empty space but I know better.

There is still much to transplant.

Too much blue in front.

Almost no blue in back.

Oh my!

This gets complicated.

I just want to watch the garden grow and see what happens.

The bamboo trellis is ready for the beans that are suppose
to grow and twist around it.  It's not hot enough yet.
The banner was given to me by my sister years ago.
I love letting it wave in the breeze.
I want to tell people, "Come, sit in the garden."

Pink Hydrangeas are now blue after adding
aluminum last year.  It took my Astilbe
three years to pop with red and look healthy.

This is a better shot of the hill.  I love the three
terraced beds.  Each has a personality of its own.

Blue Creeping Geranium is overtaking my Russian Sage!
Day Lilies are trying to peak through.
I guess I have a little work to do.

Paprika Yarrow seems to POP!  I so love them.
I know they will look tacky when they fade but
for now they look like an ice cream sundae!

So, I have a choice to make each day.  I can linger in the garden and smell the wonderful scents or I can do just a little bit of work to keep this moment of beauty fresh.

Some days I opt to linger.
Other days I begin to pluck tired buds or that unwanted weed and before I know it I have spent two hours in the garden.

Choices turn challenges into joy.
Time in the garden is so short in this region.
Summer hopefully will live up to its name in a couple days.
For now, it is rainy and cold with spurts of hot.
That's the challenge, though.
Each day seems to unfold with just the right amount of time in the garden.

I ponder here.
Newly trimmed rose bushes will soon overtake the empty space.
That's the fun.  Trim them and they will grow!

So I continue making choices: to linger or to work or to do a little bit of each.
It's a question most of us ask daily as we go about our chores . . . either at our workplace or at home or both.
 Do I linger awhile and enjoy the moment?  YES!
Do I work a little so those 'linger-moments' are a delight? YES!

That is what makes our lives complicated.
Life, like our gardens, needs tending.
Life, like our gardens, needs enjoyment.
We can have both but that is the challenge we face daily.
Sometimes a little lingering, a little mulling over our 'life garden' is a challenge but the results, hopefully, will grow memories that last forever.

   

My little herb garden looks so drab.
I want to fill the space with color but I'll be patient.
I took this shot a few weeks ago.
I will show mature plants in a week or two. 

I love the textures and colors that POP
in our front yard.  What whimsey!

The back yard overlooks open fields, cut short
by a 'hedge' of huge trees that bloom full
and partially cover our view.  That's OK.
We have plenty of birds and roses to
keep our attention.

THE FIRE

It seems like it happened yesterday when I heard the news that the chapel at my alma mater had burned beyond repair.

Not the chapel!

My mind lingers in a flood of memories.

Our daily 'mantra' was "Chapel, class and lunch."

No matter what our schedules, we always began the day with a chapel service.

Our graduating class even donated a small stained glass window for one of the side windows.

It's gone.

Melted.

In the intense heat a tiny piece of coal expanded into a flame that overtook centuries of memories.

It has been years since I was there but we finally visited the campus.

Almost nothing had changed . . .  except the site of the chapel.

A chain link fence keeps us out of a very precarious structure . . . purposely left standing for all to see . . . it's just a building . . . which will be replaced by a structure far more practical, more easy to maintain and just as beautiful.

But the memories . . . will they keep?

I think so.

The heart seems to keep such treasures secure for our lifetime . . .  

Memories are like that.

When I find the time to linger on the porch and do little more than remember, I will re-imagine exactly how the building was shaped and what went on inside . . .  every morning . . .  before entering our various classrooms.

The beauty of destruction:
 strong lines, beautiful angles,
beams meant to last more than
 a couple of centuries.

The crisp white of 'Main Hall,' so close that it could be attached, towers
 above  charred remains.  Even the ancient slate seemed to melt.

The Rose Window, loved by all who saw it,
remains strong in contour.  A flower that retains its
stature after the color is gone is still beautiful.

Red brick, fired to withstand the centuries, has
held this edifice together.  I wonder if someone
gently touched the tower . . .  would it crumble?
The bell no longer chimes since the old rope sizzled away.

I am told the mortar is so lose that all will topple
in a severe storm.  It seems to retain such strength.
I definitely see strength of character.

The trees on each side of the door we entered each morning
seem to defy all odds.  Green blooms spring forth to remind us
that life is always regenerating.
Life keeps blooming in the midst of ashes.

These are the 'bones' of the chapel, sort of like our bones.
When all the 'flesh' is gone, the structure seems haunted.
Yet, as with ourselves, the soul remains.
 Our souls, given freely to God in Christ, live forever.
The soul of this chapel will live forever in our hearts.
 

 Spending an hour with this building taught me that life-expectations, like this chapel, can fizzle in a moment.
We may go through a devastating fire that leaves us feeling, and looking, like a walking skeleton . . .  torn to shreds, gray as ash . . .  yet when we give our soul to God, fully, as His servant, we can stand tall, and know that we also can be rebuilt.
Devastation can hold us back for awhile but, with God's help, we can 'rebuild' our lives stronger . . . with greater purpose . . . more inspiring than before.

May the fires of life not hold us back but provide soul- strength we never felt before.

[By the way, the new structure will be placed right next to this chapel site and retain the beauty and integrity of a place that will linger in my memory for the rest of my life.  The site of the 'old' chapel will become a meditation garden.]