It’s that time of year when every American mother is wondering what she’s going to get in return for the figure, the youth, and the sanity she traded for you, her beloved issue.  Will she get a card?  A hug?  Or a fancy brunch to thank her for the invaluable gift of giving you life?

It’s been a couple years since my last awkward visit with my mom, which you can read about in my previous post, ‘Mom? Dad? What Are You Doing Here?’  Our relationship is not complicated, really.  Mom is who she is and she doesn’t have much, if any, interest in who I am.  That’s why the only place I see her these days is in my imagination. 

For example, last night I had a wicked wild dream about my mom… Read more »

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“The most I can do for my friend is simply be his friend.” — Henry David Thoreau

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I’m grooving on an amazing week filled with friendly get-togethers — old friends, new friends, groups of friends and tête-à-têtes.  It’s been a total blast, but today I promised myself I’d stay home and be quiet.  In the midst of this “alone time” — which is not really alone because my boyfriend, Mr. C, is here — I find myself reflecting on the nature of friendship.

What is a friend?  “Friend” is a word we all use almost daily, but what does it mean?  When I ask my friends to define friendship I get responses like these: Read more »

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“Show me your garden and I shall tell you what you are.” ~ Alfred Austin

“A garden is a grand teacher.  It teaches patience and careful watchfulness; it teaches industry and thrift; above all it teaches entire trust.”

~ Gertrude Jekyll

After a long, cold Winter it seems like Spring has finally sprung!  I’m super excited to celebrate the change of seasons by taking my first steps toward opening the garden.  The first rite of Spring in my garden is to go around and stand up everything Old Man Winter knocked down over the past five months.            

I begin by climbing up on a chair and lashing together the tree branches which form the tipsy trellis-arch over the garden path.  It’s the showpiece of the garden once it’s returned to its upright position, the portal through which guests enter, and the framework for taming my wild, climbing roses into an artful expression of pseudo-civilized domestic bliss.  What’s left of the roses, I should say, after the bunnies have been munching on them all winter long.  Read more »

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