Just. Blessed...

The hubs and I are newly licensed referees for US Rowing.  If you read my blog you'll know we love rowing and this was another step to participate in a sport we love.  Today was our first regatta since getting licensed and we were thrilled to be officials at the Northstar Head Race on the Mississippi River this morning.

Regattas require EARLY morning starts.  E.A.R.L.Y---like the Referees, coaches, and cox'ns meeting is usually in the ballpark of 6:30 a.m.  So getting up, getting dressed, getting there means you're up early.  EARLY.

Today was that first bite of what is to come in our weather...no sun, winds in excess of 15 mph and rain.  It may not sound like much but any winds over about 5 mph start to get choppy and at that level usually means whitecapping.  And if you think that is fun in a boat that weighs about what an average man does and carrying 8 (or 4) people trying to fight the river, guess again.  Then picture standing on shore in the rain recording times, or in a launch boat in the rain following the racing shells, or on the dock checking boat equipment and bow numbers.  WAAAAAHHHH, call the waaaaaambulance and take me away, boo hoo.

And in the cold.  And rain.

Why did I want to do this?

I asked myself that over and over as I rode in the launch boat in the rain coming down hard enough to drip steadily off the bill of my cap onto my lap.  Moving quickly up the Mississippi into the wind to get to my place at the starting line, all I could think about was that it was going to be a very long morning.  It was only 7:30 and it already felt like I had been out there forever.  The last race went off at noon, could I last so uncomfortable?

Hugging myself tight I looked along the banks of the river and noticed that with the rain and wind of the previous several days, the trees had lost their beauty and the leaves had now formed a thick carpet of color on the ground.  Bare branches swaying told of winter coming and that even the fall was behind us now for the most part.  The water now even looked cold and ready to freeze.

And I saw a blue plastic tarp in the woods on shore.  A fleeting thought made me wonder who had been careless enough to let it become trash up on the shore and then I saw it.

The tarp moved in an odd way.  Not the wind blowing it.  Odd...I could not figure it out.

And then I realized it before I saw it in reality.  A person was under the tarp.  Someone was under there for protection from the elements.  My heart broke.

I don't know if it was a  man or woman.  I don't know their age or race or background.  But I know it was a human being that had nothing more than the side of the river and a blue tarp.  Hopefully some blankets, a coat, what else?  My heart broke again.  What had led them to a life or even a day like this where they existed on the cold wet ground just up from the river with a tarp to cover them?

I stood there waiting for the first of the racers to row to the start and thought of many things...

I woke up this morning like every morning.  In a warm, queen size bed with two pillows under my head and another two on the floor that I put on the bed for decoration.  One is especially fit for your neck to be ergonomically comfortable.  Under me are smooth sheets that feel like a wrapper of comfort on cold days to keep me warm and on warm nights to sooth me with their cool cotton.  Under those sheets is a mattress cover with a pillow top that I found on some outlet website especially made to cover deep mattresses and cushion your sleep.  It feels like you are sleeping on a cloud.  A cloud on top of a mattress and box springs...an item that so very many of us take for granted.  I lay my head on those two pillows to rest; one is foam and one feather.  I am covered in a top sheet and on top of that two quilts.

Quilts.  I have come to have a "collection" of several and I rotate them in and out when I want a change of decor in our bedroom.  I have them in pairs that coordinate, one on top, one under that and folded from the top to show the beautiful patterns that go in the room.  I just did change them out and the quilt underneath right now shows beautiful purple flowers on the bottom and on the top purple and white and pale green stripes.  The top quilt shows purple violets in bunches on a white background with lime green and darker green leaves.  It's trimmed with a striped ruffle all the way around of the purple and white and green.  Many mornings I wake up, pull those quilts up and finger the ruffle around the edge with love knowing that violets were my mother, grandmother, and aunt's favorite flowers and one of mine.  And the pillow coverings match the top quilt to make the bed so beautiful.

Our room is painted the color of a pale key lime pie.  It is bright and tropical and in the summer is celebratory of the beautiful warm weather we have and in the winter reminds us of places at the beach we love to go and the cheery locations that embrace this color in their own decorating schemes.

Often I am restless in the night or the hubs is.  We have two other bedrooms to go to if we want to.  They also have warm sheets and blankets and have walls and pictures that are a beautiful environment we love  Or there is an enormous couch in the den to escape restless legs or snoring.  One of three couches in the house and another in the loft above the 2nd garage.

I am able to get out of that warm paradise, put my feet on plush carpeting and put on a bathrobe that is warm and fuzzy and fluffy over my night shirt that I got for Christmas from Victoria's Secret one year.  I walk in comfort downstairs to a warm kitchen stocked with food and am able to have a warm cup of coffee and sit with the hubs (most mornings) and my pups and watch the news on a flat screen TV that gets about 200 channels.

I am able to go to one of 3 bathrooms to answer the morning call of nature, two of which I can shower/bathe in hot water with soap, brush my teeth.  I have lotions to soothe my skin, I have coconut and sesame oil to put on in the winter to do the same.

I am able to wake in the morning in comfort, in cheer, in warmth and roll over in my own bed and look into the woods out my back window into my garden.  I wake to blessings and am wrapped in the privilege of laying there with all of those things.

I am able to do laundry in a washer and dryer.  If I need to leave the house I have the choice of two cars to transport me.  I am able to buy food at the grocery store for meals without worry, I am able to dress in lovely and professional clothing to go to my client sites.  I have technology to do my work and make our lives easier.

What do we all have that we take for granted?  Every.   Single.  Moment.

Things that the person under the blue tarp on the Mississippi does not have.

To feel so blessed yet so helpless and insignificant watching from a boat to officiate a sport that is often of the affluent seeing someone who has so little.

We donate significantly and volunteer often and contribute of ourselves in ways that typically we feel is not only the right thing to do but is "enough."   Is it?

Sometimes it is.  Sometimes there needs to be more I think...

But I don't know what because I feel helpless thinking about that blue tarp.  If I had to try and find my way back I would be lost...I didn't know the area we were in well enough.  And what would I do if I found them that would be "enough?"  Would I wound their pride or would I help?  Would I even know where to begin or would be hurting the person somehow?  My heart hurts...what is the right thing to do?

I'm lost.

So at least for tonight I will light my candle in the den that I have there for Archangel Michael.  Michael the Protector.  And I will simply ask him to help me and answer my prayer to protect that person and bring that person to goodness, light and safety.  And I have one to Archangel Raphael too.  Can't hurt.

It seems so small just praying for them.

But...

What if we all took 3 minutes to pray for those people that are in situations like the blue tarp, whether they were/are in or out of their control?  One prayer.  Three minutes.  Specifically asking for help for those suffering and in need...

I'm going to try.  Because if I am this blessed, it is the least I can do in return at this moment.  I will figure out the rest along the way.

Grateful to witness love, bravery and courage

I stand here in my garden and watch leaves fall like rain and almost overnight the little maple tree in the back yard has gone from green to yellow and the big one in the front yard has been kissed at the top with color like God has kissed His child's head.  That heliotrope that I deadheaded is blooming again, not wanting to give up and go to rest.  My geraniums are prettier and fuller than they were all summer now at the finish of their time to bloom and show their pink faces -- they just won't give it up.  The air has cooled dramatically and there is a wind blowing the coming season in moving us from the summer and garden to the space indoors.

Ten years ago today my sweet Maya came home for the first time straight off a plane and missing a hurricane that nearly wiped out the island where we found her.  Yesterday, I brought her home for the last time.  To rest in the beautiful urn we bought last week at an art fair and look down on us from the shelf next to the fireplace.  My heart...

My sweet Maya loved the yard...the leaves blowing and the flowers blooming.  Running after the hubs mowing grass or blowing leaves.  The snow that she ran in that was almost to her shoulders...over them at times.  Watching deer that she had never seen in her previous life, chasing squirrels and rabbits and chipmunks who taunted her.  Her spirit is there now and I recall her coming home to us.  It was a rescue we certainly did not plan...

We go to Cozumel at least a couple of times a year.  It started with our honeymoon and continued to escape the winter during January and March when I was off from my professorial duties during J-term and spring break.  Occasionally it would be random trips when we wanted to escape.  Such was the trip of May 2005 and it was hot...  but it had been a long semester and we wanted an escape.

We were at the beach bar we love so much, owned by a family we love so much.  As I went to open my car door I saw this pup trotting after a couple and they shooed her away.  She came to me and I said "Oh sweet puppy, it is so hot, go find a cool place to lay down."  She promptly jumped in the car and sat between the seats looking at the hubs and I as if to say "What is the holdup, let's go!"

We were already on our way to the Humane Society to drop off a suitcase full of donations and I told the hubs we'd take her and at least get her safe and off the beach.  He balked..."we don't know this dog..." but in he climbed and she laid her chin on his shoulder and licked his earlobe gently the whole way there.  She knew exactly who to pitch the sale to ;)

She had the most beautiful golden eyes.  She was sweet and smart and alert watching everything as we drove.  She figured out when we got to the HS and our friend Monica put a leash on her that this was not going to be the life she had...and she pulled away at first.  But we got her in a kennel and Monica assured me she would be fine and taken care of and SAFE.

The sun rested my bones after a long semester but my soul was haunted by those golden eyes.  I took pictures of the dusty paw prints on the car seat, I had taken a picture of her in her kennel that I kept looking at.  The hubs kept telling me that there were plenty of dogs at home needing help, let it be. But her heart pulled at mine.  And soon I found myself on a plane coming home longing for my girl with the golden eyes.  My heart ached and I did not know why.

Home two weeks, I was talking about her and recalling her eyes and spirit and suddenly the hubs said "OK, go call Monica and tell her we want her."  I don't think I've dialed a phone that fast...EVER!  We knew we could not have brought her home when we found her or even at my call to Monica.  The heat restrictions for the airlines banned it, so we made plans to go down in fall when it was cooler and restrictions were lifted.

Hurricane season runs June 1 to November 1 and it is a crap shoot.  Sometimes storms, sometimes nothing.   But in 2005 Hurricane Emily hit the island and my heart was in my throat as I waited to hear from friends about their safety and hear if my golden-eyed girl was OK.  Emily came in quick and Monica and the volunteers had to find shelter for the pups fast.  They had boarded up and secured the cattery and the pups were put into a vacant apartment to ride out what was said to be a short storm.  Short yes, damaging oh YES.  The island sustained a good amount of damage and our bar was gone...I thanked God we had gotten her safe.  Monica sent me a note and said when she went to get the pups out, all were safe, no injuries and that when she arrived my sweet Maya was sitting on a window ledge looking in at her as if to say "OK, I'm done, get me out."  My sweet girl had braved a wicked storm that even many humans are terrified of.

We decided after Emily swept in to make a trip down in August and meet up with our friends from Connecticut who have a house there and are family to us also.  It was a short trip for us...only about 4 days.  But it was Heaven because each day we got to get my girl and take her to the beach and spend our days with her.  That particular trip our rental car was an old green VW convertible.  Maya sat on my lap everywhere we went and had her nose out the window.  She ate cheeseburgers at the beach with Tia Retta. The smile on her face was pure bliss and from that trip on, the hubs would see her smile and forever after call it her "Green Volkswagen smile."  We could not take her home that trip, still too hot...I cried as we left her with Monica that last day.  We will be back sweet girl.

During that trip I had a conversation with Monica and we learned a bit more about Maya's history.  With a rescue pup you most often do not know but something had happened to present more of her story and it tore my heart to pieces...

Two sisters in their 20s had owned her.  They lived with their father who had a tenant in the apartment above them.  The tenant took Maya one night and dumped her in the jungle.  My sweet, brave girl managed to find her way back to her home only to have the man dump her in the jungle again.  She must have found her way to our beach bar and begged food to stay alive and slept there to keep safe.  She must have met with some horrible situations because her left ear had a v-shaped chunk out of it from a fight.  She had braved all of that and managed to figure out that the bar was safer than getting dumped in the jungle a 3d time.  The two girls showed up at the HS looking for their Dalmation that the tenant had also dumped in the jungle and when they saw Maya they cried and cried seeing her, overjoyed she was alive.  Their joy was short-lived hearing from Monica that their dog...the one that they named Mara...now was going to live with an American couple and was named Maya.  Monica was adamant that no dog was going to be given back to such an irresponsible situation and we were relieved and blessed.

Plans were made that the  hubs would go down and stay in the house of our Connecticut friends and get her and come home.  I had a training class for a corporate group in Dallas and could not go along so this was his adventure with our new girl, just the two of them.  As the day approached for them to come home, he called and asked me to look on the NOAA website for the weather.  Hurricane Wilma was gearing up for a run at Cuba and he seemed a bit worried.  I assured him that the website showed Cuba as a target, but he was worried because people were buying plywood and water like crazy.  "Something is up here, it's a strange energy and people are acting weird."  I assured him the map showed Cuba, not Cozumel and he was to come home the next day.  All would be fine.  I sat in my little corporate dorm room telling him not to worry.  But I did.

All was not fine.

Monica saw them off at the airport along with a sweet pup named Morena that one of my sorority girls was going to adopt and was coming with Maya.  Everything was set up and both pups secured to ride home in cargo safe and sound when Monica told the hubs that she would not talk to us for several weeks but would be in touch as soon as she could and for us to send an email with pictures and notes about Maya's homecoming.  When the hubs asked why so long and what was going on, she said that this was THE LAST flight off the island and when he left, the island was shut down and everyone was under house containment because Wilma was due shortly and it was going to be bad.

And it was.  It almost destroyed our island paradise.  That bitch Wilma moved in.  And sat on the island for nearly 63 hours.  So much gone...

Men fished by hand to feed their families.  Blocks in from the ocean there was a wall of seaweed nearly 9 feet tall.  No phone, no electricity.  Pictures showed people on 30th street, nearly a mile in from the ocean, kayaking down the street to get around.  Divers brought in hundreds of tons of salvage from the sea...washing machines to furniture.  Roads were completely gone, homes devastated, businesses wiped out.

But my loves made it home.  The hubs, Maya and little Morena made it.  The pups walked off a plane into the crisp fall air and warm homes with love they had never known.  Maya was so thin and waif-like that on the way home from the airport she slipped from the back seat between the door and driver's  seat to crawl into the front to sit in the hubs lap as he drove.

My BRAVE girl was home.

She was sassy and dominant and there were more than a few scraps with Tessa who was the queen of the castle.  She took to the toys and the food and most of all the yard...she loved the yard.

When the hubs took her to puppy obedience she was obviously smart but struggled with instruction.  I asked the hubs what the phrase for "sit down" was in Spanish and the hubs replied, "sientate."

Her butt hit the ground.

There it was, she speaks SPANISH!  Our sweet, smart girl was bilingual!!  And from then on, we had to figure out what she had been taught to find out that she had to hear "sit, lay down, come here, and speak" in Spanish.

Our smart girl.

That's what our groomer Kathy called her.  The SMART GIRL.

She had 3 other packmates, Tessa who was the original Higgins baby, Max our handsome Springer, and Chico our regal blind boy who I wrote about last fall.  It was an adjustment...for her and all of us.  It was bliss and chaos all at once.

My Daddy was in a nursing home with Alzheimers and I decided to take her to meet him 3 weeks after she arrived.  She arrived to his room, jumped into his bed as he woke from a nap and licked his face.  My sweet Dad who had not spoken in full sentences for over 6 months looked at me and said "SHE'S NEW, ISN'T SHE?"  When I tugged her leash to pull her off the bed, he sternly said 'DON'T HURT HER!"  She was already doing special things...

Daddy died at Christmas a few weeks after he met her.

A few months later we lost Max within a few hours of him feeling sick.

Three months later, six months after Daddy, my mother died.

Three weeks after my mother, Tessa died.  She greeted me at the door at 10:30 in the morning and was dead at 2:30.  The hubs was in Dallas.  I was about at my end.

Two weeks later, our sweet friend Edwin died when he got off the treadmill and wiped his face.  He was 57.

Soon after, my college fired me for taking "too much time" to handle my parents' passing because "technically" they died over breaks, I didn't need "time" they informed me.  In a voicemail.

The grief in our house was palpable.  Chico was left with Maya.  The new kid.  He was inconsolable.

But I watched this sweet girl scoot on the floor up to Chico and lick his muzzle, nibble his ears and neck.  She knew he was blind and knew he needed her.  Needed love.  Could not play like other pups because he was blind.  Knew his heart was broken.

She climbed into the chair with me and cuddled.  She slept with me when the hubs was gone for work.  She KNEW.  

But slowly, we started to heal and she stayed by Chico's side and cuddled me.  She went to the mailbox with the hubs and waited dutifully when told to stay while he got the mail.  She followed me all over the backyard as I landscaped my space one summer.  Life got better and she got a new pack mate a year later.  Another rescue.

Marty arrived.  All was good and the little blonde man settled in with her and Chico.  And years were good.  We healed from so much pain and she was at the helm in charge of the pack.  She herded and commanded and made us laugh.  She, who had braved the jungle and abandonment, survived things we don't even know about that left her scarred and wounded, courageously survived a hurricane and escaped another one, slept on a soft puppy bed and climbed into patio furniture to make us laugh and fill our hearts.

We lost Chico last year and she grieved and was stoic and quiet.  The Green Volkswagen Smile was missing for a time as she listened for his conversation with the hubs in the mornings and looked for him at meal time.  She laid in his spot in the living room and with her arms wrapped around his food bowl.  It broke my heart in two places...for Chico's and hers.

At the beginning of this year a new set of paws came into the house and Maya stepped to the plate and guided and herded and taught her the ropes.  She chased her in the yard as they ran in what was left of the snow  And then one day I saw her pull her back leg up as she chased the puppy in play...

The next week, the groomer found a lump on her ankle and told me to get it checked out, it didn't look good.  We took her to the U vet school for a biopsy.  And my sweet, brave girl who had never been to the vet for anything other than annual check ups, had a spot in her ankle so moth-eaten with bone cancer that we were cautioned not to let her even jump off the couch.  Amputation was scheduled for the following week.

The veterinary oncologist told us something that was so fitting for our Maya.  She said that every single day she is in awe of her patients and the bravery and courage they display and what they go through, with no complaint and they get up and keep going with nothing but love, courage and bravery.  She said they they trust her to take care of them and forge ahead, never holding on to the past or having a grudge.  They do all of this for US.  Their bravery and courage is also deeply laden with love. They endure this for us.

So I watched as she walked down the hall away from us at the U vet hospital on all four legs with the oncology tech, with her Green Volkswagen Smile, to return 36 hours later without her rear right leg and laden with stitches, a drain, and fighting to manage the pain.

Bravely walking in the exam room to us now without a leg, and with courage going on walks in the neighborhood right away with the hubs.  The pain patch did not work and she fought the intense pain until we figured it out and got her what she needed.  Later on, bravely supervising the puppy once again and stoically allowing her Marty boy to nap next to her for comfort.  No complaints, just courage and bravery, like the oncologist said.  For us.

Enduring medicine, blood work, vet visits, X-rays, she held strong.  It spread to her lungs.  She never slowed down or showed signs of what was literally eating her alive.  And then in some miracle it began to shrink and in some spots disappear altogether.  She was stronger and it seemed that she would beat this and only leave us as an old woman God called home instead of one that this horrible disease claimed as its prize.

One morning sitting with her, I played a game/quiz on Facebook about the meaning of your name.  Maya means Warrior Princess it said.  I agree.

She barked at us to bring out her cushions for the patio furniture so she could sit in the sun.  She laid in her spots in the garden with her eyes shut taking in the sun and with that Green Volkswagen Smile on display.  She barked at the puppy as the crazy little one raced back and forth across the yard.  She came to the couch and barked in demand that I get her dinner ready.  She begged from the dinner table.  She went with us on the hubs fishing boat for a couple of rides this summer and moved like she was the captain.  And though I had to carry her up and down the stairs, she laid next to me in the office as I worked and slept on the foot of our bed at night like nothing had changed.  To her nothing really had because she braved it all because she loved us and wanted more time with us.  That little bunch of fur that was supposed to be a tail...her butt fluff, twitched and made me smile showing me she was still my girl from the beach.

She was our survivor.

Two weeks ago yesterday morning God decided He could not live without her and very suddenly one of those nodules in her lungs ruptured and took her from us.  She had just the day before had an appointment with the U and they were in awe, she was A+ and I ran to keep up with her running down the hall to see Dr. Choi.  It happened so fast...  Almost 6 months to the day after the cancer was found.

I could not catch my breath.  Today I can't either.

I still go to pick her up to go up to bed at 10.  I still reach for her bowl at meal time.

Marty is inconsolable.  The puppy is clueless...she's a puppy.

Marty sleeps on the bed now.  I told him he's been promoted.  He is missing his sparkle though, his heart is broken.

The spot on the ottoman is achingly empty when I have morning coffee with the pups.  No one meets me at the door when I come home...Marty is up on the bed sleeping in her spot and we crate the crazy one when we are gone.

Her blanket where she slept in the dining room for the 10 years...the blanket whose pattern name is  "Cozumel" is laying on the back of a chair.

The garden is hauntingly quiet and I still go out in habit to make sure she is OK going potty on 3 legs.

No one barks for dinner or treats, the other two are quiet.

No one is supervising the puppy and now it is my job :)

The puppy bed next to my desk is empty...Marty did go sleep there a bit last week.  The seat next to me in the car is empty, no shotgun rider now.  No one wanting to put their nose out the sunroof.

And my schedule is much emptier now...no vet visits.

The hole in my heart is enormous.  She was my smart, brave, courageous special girl who lived through so much, survived so much and now I just have to try hard to feel her spirit visiting me.

All of the fur kids are special, no question.  They are rescues and choose us.  But she was more than special.

Maya, I am not nearly as brave and courageous as you and losing you and missing you is so painful. You taught me so much and I grew so much from having you in my life.  I am a fuller heart and a better person for having found you on a beach.

On the 10th anniversary of your arrival on that flight escaping a hurricane, I honor you here.  I love you and miss you so much.

So much.

Thank you for being my blessing and filling my heart.  You worked magic ...  you were magic here and always will be in my heart <3

Grateful to share in another's joy

Fall rowing is really my favorite time to go out.  Mostly because we go out in late afternoon and are back in by early evening when the sun is coming to the horizon.  AND because I hate getting up early in the morning to go out for the summer rows to avoid the crazies on the recreational water toys.

I have a rowing partner, she is like a rowing soulmate.  We are the same size, like the same things in life, and she is the kindest friend when it comes to helping me be better at the sport.  She's a competitor without a doubt.  She's raced in regattas and she played competitive sports in college.  She's a triathlete and driven.  But she is my favorite person to row with for so many reasons.

So to share yesterday's row with her was to share in her joy and love of the sport and mother nature's wonders.  She had set an ambitious goal for herself at the beginning of the season to get 100 rows in by close.  Our season here is a crapshoot...one year we closed up the 3d week of September and last year it was still great on October 25th when we closed the boathouse.  Some years we can go out in April, some years it is not comfortable until darned near Memorial Day.  Some days the wind is horrible and you walk to the water to find whitecaps and go back home to bed.

A roll of the dice...

She has been out there devotedly moving along toward her goal.  One row, she and I stopped to watch two small foxes play on shore.  One row with the hubs, they watched a beaver swim next to the boat. Once she had a duck land on the double and stand there.  One row she called us to a halt because an enormous fish had jumped just between her blade and the boat and soaked her.  She's ventured out with another gal just into the pond area before you get to the river for two full moon adventures (rest easy, they have lights on the boats.)  She loves the sport and she loves the journey we are on while rowing.

She is my Cruise Director who will stop us to watch the hot air balloons over the river, watch the bald eagles in the trees, the osprey fly into their nest at the railroad bridge.  She will halt us to watch the sunrise over the church as we leave shore.  She is my partner who will talk to me about life and all it brings as we move our way north one day, south another along the river another day, and watch the trees bloom and now start to turn their rainbow of colors.

She texted me Sunday to check and see how I was doing since my sweet Maya pup moved to Heaven the day before.  She asked if I'd like to go out Monday afternoon and told me it would be #100.  I was deeply honored to make that journey with her to celebrate.  She has been there when Maya and Chico both left us in the last year and to be asked to celebrate this not only took my heart to a happy spot, it was an honor to be the one to be there.  The hubs said he'd row next to us in the boat we own...named the Maya :)

We were so excited and to celebrate, the hubs and I went to the local florist and got a balloon to tie to the stern that said "CONGRATULATIONS!"  This was no small feat and we wanted our dear friend to have a token of that on her 100th row.

To share in the joy of others.  To be a part of their passion and celebration.  What more could we ask for?

When we pulled up, it happened another rower also pulled up, coincidentally to take out a single on her own.  The 3 of us looked at her and quickly decided the celebration would be best in the quad with all four of us rowing.  The four of us have rowed quad several times before and we make a great team and enjoy each other's style and company.

Off we went.  Through the slime the river has blessed us with at shore recently, through the weeds that have grown and catch on our blades to create an enormous effort to get out into the river.  Past the ducks who are no longer tiny and following momma and now cruising on their own.  The water was glass.  The sun was beautiful.  The trees are just starting to be kissed with reds, yellows and oranges.

And we celebrated our friend's accomplishment with a beautiful journey north up the river watching it all and laughing.  Celebration for her, healing for me.

The balloon did not remain airborne but fell to the water like a skier making waves the whole way upstream.  We laughed at the whooshing sound it made in the water as we stroked along in the beautiful sunshine.  We wondered if it would last the entire trip so she could take it home or would pop along the way like champagne to further the celebration.

We all commented over and over again what a perfect day it was.  The water, the sun, the air, the company.  But it was perfect because we shared in the joy of another and celebrated her accomplishment with such joy and laughter together.

Coming in the sky was beginning to cloud, the air beginning to cool.  We had been out close to 90 minutes, give or take.  It seemed like 15.  We pulled blades in, lifted that monster to our shoulder to go to the boathouse to clean it.  When we finished, we all congratulated Cruise Director and made sure she had her balloon.  It had survived #100.

Thank you sweet friend and rowing partner.  To be blessed to share your joy in this accomplishment was an honor.  The hubs and I are so proud of you making your goal and so proud to be called your friends.  Our lives are fuller with you in it and sharing life with you...in and out of the rowing season and a boat.  I am blessed that you asked me to be with you on #100 because you have truly given me a gift in being such a great friend.  I am so honored to share your joy.  Cheers to you and all of your hard work this season...and do you think we could row double on Saturday...make it 101...Sunday for 102... ;)

Grateful for my space

I was just out deadheading the heliotrope.  Probably for the last time this season.  I plant it for my mom every year, she brought me some from Paris one year in sachets.  I doubt it will bloom again before we put the garden to bed but I do this to be in my space.  The smell is intoxicating at times and brings good memories of mom.

I did the same with the geraniums almost two weeks ago and their bright pink blooms are up and out and ready to provide some last beauty.  There are 3 pots of petunias that have decided to call it a summer.  Two more are still sprouting magenta blooms hanging on to the sunny days until the end.  The pots of impatiens by the birdhouse and trees in the yard are still blooming pale pink, the magenta pots behind the garage are almost ready to go to sleep for winter.

We live in a wooded area next to the river.  As I stand on the deck, a breeze blows quietly through and the elm and boxelder leaves fall like gentle rain into the yard where the hubs mowed the grass two days ago in the afternoon.  Soon the colors will be full-blown as they are in the habit of doing this time of year.  After that, all that will remain are the red oak leaves that will fall as late as the first snow or after creating a blanket of sleep for my beloved garden to protect from the hard winters we have.

There are violets that I brought from my grandmother's house when mom sold it.  I dug a clump of white and a clump of purple and dropped them in the ground hoping for a regeneration.  They have proliferated to nearly cover a good portion of the backyard and create a legacy I treasure.  There are the lillies of the valley I took from my parents house when I had to say my final goodbyes and I planted nearly 10 years ago near the violets.  I have fertilized, prayed, protected and those damned things simply do nothing more than survive and nothing more despite my best efforts. They were my mother's favorite and somehow I think she is thumbing her nose at me :)

I plant heliotrope and moss rose for my mom.  Memories of a gift and an item from her own garden she always planted.  Moss rose planted in one of her favorite containers I have from her space.  I have 3 small cast iron pots of my dad's that he used in his workshop.  I plant them most years with impatiens and put them on the patio tables for him.  Our first pup Tessa loved to rub her nose in my Gerbera daisy and I plant one for her.  Max, our second pup, loved to eat my tomatoes off the vine and I plant a plant or two in the huge pots for him.  Chico loved to lay by St. Francis in the violets, and his statue is there (there is a picture of the two of them in a previous post.)  Maya loved laying near the urn, in the violets, in the snow-on-the-moutain, next to the gazing ball...anywhere she could be near me while I worked my space.  She left us yesterday morning to move to Heaven so I think I will designate the urn hers and plant the pink impatiens she laid next to so much this summer.

I walk and take it in, the back yard with its beautiful hostas, ferns, coral bells, bleeding hearts, astilbe, and know it will return soon.  Not soon enough.

I planted asters in the old tomato garden on the west side of the house when we lost Chico last year.  Those are his.   Some made it, some I replaced a couple of weeks ago.  They are a beautiful late summer display of purple for our sweet blind boy who loved my purple roses once upon a time.

The front garden is an enormous space with no rhyme or reason except that all are perennials.  Lungwort, spider wort, many types of lilies, bee balm, lamb's ear, cranesbill, coneflowers in 3 different colors, irises from my mother's garden, columbine, rudebeckia, and several other flowers I simply can't remember the name of.  This year, despite my complete neglect of it, that space provided the most beautiful display I've had in years.  I didn't weed, fertilize or tend to any of it because my time was spent taking care of a pup sick with cancer and a growing workload.  But my space seemed to know that this house needed some cheer and for several weeks provided stunning displays of color.  I cut the stargazers to form a bouquet that last 2 weeks and filled the house with a warm, heady scent of summer and memories of weddings.  The other flowers were cut into bunches that rival those at our farmers' markets.  In the spring, the tiny grape hyacinths, crocus, and spring beauties I planted will be the first to show their tiny heads and tell me it is time to start planning what I will do and pot and grow.

The clematis has not only climbed and taken over the arbor but sprouted like Audrey 2 from Little Shop of Horrors way out next to the garage and on the other side of the man cave at least 50 yards from where it was first put in.  It is a beautiful fall clematis, lemon yellow.

The lilac bushes are now enormous and when they bloom in spring they form a wall of purple that we can smell the whole 126 feet up the driveway to the deck.  It's scent will fill the house on a breezy spring day when the windows are open.  I cut bunches and put them all over the house to keep spring as long as possible in our home.

We have a lovely deck with the house plants on the railing.  Chairs that are "retro" now but came from my grandmother's porch sit there in bright primary colors.  There are string lights of hot air balloons that run all over from deck to tree, to tree, to tree and back to the garage that make the yard magical in the summer night.  In winter we replace the delicate hot air balloons with the silly plastic string lights of tiki masks, palm trees, sea shells, pink flamingos and the like knowing they will make us smile through the snow and harsh winter but weather the season better than the delicate summer strings.  The deck sports a lighted palm tree with the trunk lit in white rope lights and the 4 wire "leaves" in green rope lights.  The hubs calls it my "Jimmy Buffet Christmas tree."  When the woods are bare in winter and it lights up on the timer at night, you can see it from the road next to our house.  It has been there nearly 10 years and makes me smile every single time it lights up.  The deck has a beautiful dining set we eat dinner on nearly every summer night.  What a funny eclectic spot :)

The patio has beautiful furniture that we lay on and we light the chimnea filled with pinion wood and listen to the crickets and frogs in the night air.  The hubs put up a huge piece of foam core on the back of the garage a couple of years ago and we love our summer nights with the laptop and projector showing movies on that "screen" in the warm evening air.  Movie night on the patio...nothing like it.

There is a bird house where the chickadees nest and the sign from our honeymoon spot and second home that cautions, in Spanish, that the space is to be used by hotel guests only :)  Our honeymoon space was wiped out by hurricane Wilma never to return, this is our memory in our space here from our time spent in paradise there.

I planted forsythia bushes for my father-in-law.  When he died in April one year in New Jersey, they were in prolific bloom and could not help but think of the irony of his move to Heaven and the beauty of what spring was sending.  Each year they get bigger and fuller and remind me of his love and laughter.

My aunt's beloved rocker is on the front porch.  The hubs goes out and sits in it to smoke an occasional cigar.  His time with her...they loved one another.  There is the huge wind chime on the corner of the garage that sings a deep and inspirational melody when I am laying on the  patio.

I have my mother's Japanese lantern on the patio behind the garage, she treasured it.  I have funny things that are memories all over my space...the park bench in the front yard under the maple tree that the hubs bought me one year.  The maple tree where family pictures were taken a few years back.  The little statue of a bone that my daughters bought when  Chico died and is in his "space." The statue of a little girl that was my mom's, the one of a sitting girl that my brother bought me for Christmas.  It's not one of those gaudy, 500 pieces in the yard spaces.  It is a few of those beautiful pieces with memories spots.

There are the visitors, the deer we feed and the silly black squirrel running everywhere.  The chipmunks tormenting the pups.  The bunnies who nest in my garden.  The birds I love to watch.  Cardinals that nest in the arbor every single year and whose babies we have watched quietly as they took their first flight with mom and dad calling to them from the fence.  The robins that come by the dozens to the bird bath.

My space is glorious, healing, quieting, calming, rejuvenating, peaceful.  I read there, walk there, nap there.  The pups love it out there, the ones in flesh and ones in spirit.  Each year there are the traditions of it and the new entries into it.  There is a legacy there, my own created and one from a place I still call home and my heart aches for still.

Today we are going to the ballgame since we have had tickets from season's start.  The last game of the regular season.  Sooner than later we will put my space to bed for the winter.  But later tonight and tomorrow, I will spend some time healing my heart there.  God gave me a great place and I want to spend some time in it before it is called to rest and sleep to get ready for a new year and my new adventures in it.  I want to walk and take in the last of my space's beauty and remember my sweet pup that moved to Heaven yesterday and her love for my space and supervising me as I worked in it.  Her memorial is to come but I think the words will fill my heart being in my space, and the one she loved so much with me.

I am grateful for my space and the incredible beauty in it and what it provides me as a palette.  I am beyond blessed.