The Garden Lives On . . . As Do We . . .

Though my gardening efforts have been sidelined since the acquisition of Hankie Mutt:

And shall most likely remain so upon the doubling of our canine pack:

The action amongst the flora and fauna of our partial acre of Middle Tennessee continues to bustle and buzz along.  I thought a guided tour might bring a smile to your face, beginning with this tenacious bumbler I happened upon during a walk earlier this week.  He's actually rolling around in the dropped stamens of a magnolia blossom -- the bloom so large as to allow for this wanton and leisurely collection of pollen.  (I took this with my iPhone and edited with Instagram.  It's my favorite pic of the week.)   

Next up, a series of sparrow shots.  I never tire of these ubiquitous consumers.  Their energy is admirable and their chatter amiable.  Each year, I look forward to watching them feed on the sunflowers and other sprouted seeds which spring up from their spilled meals.  It allows me a more natural peek at their feeding habits.

My husband laid eyes upon the goldfinch for the first time this summer.  You'd have thought he'd discovered actual gold!  It rather tickled me.  Though my mother's feeders play host to a generous population of both the bright yellow males and the olive-oil-hued females, our yard usually doesn't attract them.  But this year they received the memo and sent three couples to enjoy our avian bed and breakfast amenities.  Thus far, my camera has only captured the males in various activities.

Other birds are far less flashy.  Far less vociferous.  Yet still noticed and beloved.

As much as our feathered friends tickle my fancy, their food sources (for some species) interest me just as much.  The insect world is rich with diversity and color.  And the lines of curious onlookers aren't nearly as long as many folks are a bit fearful or repulsed by the poor dears.

Lest I forget the green of it all, how about a few shots of the plants perking along.  My Japanese fern has spread itself out quite generously -- I'm thinking it's time to divide and multiply this beauty!

This riot of color caught my attention while the suds were collecting atop the dirty dishes in the kitchen sink.  My butterfly-bush-gone-wild lavender sprays contrasted quite handsomely against a background of my neighbor's hot pink blooming crape myrtles.

And reining over it all in the peaceful calm of the night sky was the moon.  Waxing.  Waning. Promising a chance of coolness for the next several hours before his cousin comes on duty.

And finally, apropos of nothing more than sheer fun, a few images which I don't think you should be without.  I mean, who DOESN'T want to see a sauteed mushroom from my Five Guys burger in the shape of a cowboy boot?  Or one of the multiple manifestations of my morning hair? My neighbor boy's corn snake warming up to a bit of bling?  The world's sweetest lab?  My favorite guitarist?  Earth Divas splitting their sides wide open in companionable laughter?  Evidence that my mom-in-law lavishes way too much affection upon her grand animals? My son hamming it up with the athletic grace of his man-almost-boy form?  A 'hidden door' on our town square?  A scarred crystal pendant sunning itself at my daughter's wedding venue? . . . and the remains of Gracie Helen's favorite stuffed toy?

Good night.  Peace out, rainbow trout!

Contemplating Freedom Across The Board

Happy 4th of July, my fellow Americans.  I sincerely hope you relish every last bite of that hot dog or shrimp kabob or grilled chicken.  Enjoy your water sports and wear any resulting injury as a badge of honor.  Hug the stuffing out of those relatives and friends who join in your fun.   And try not to burn your fingertips with those colorful sparklers.

And while you're embracing all of that, maybe take a moment to truly familiarize yourself with the parameters of your freedom.  I know that seems to be at odds with the defined nature of freedom, as the very word seems to suggest an unfettered ability to do any and all things.  But the freedom which allows us to take a day off of work and eat ourselves into oblivion on a hot summer's day (or a humid rainy day as is my case) while cooling ourselves with sweet tea and Budweiser came at great cost.  Those 56 patriots who affixed their names to the Declaration of Independence back in 1776 risked their lives for the principles in which they believed.  If the course of our nation had gone differently in the ensuing months and years, they would have been considered traitors to the British government: the penalty for which is death.

Thomas Jefferson -- who, interestingly enough, died on July 4th in 1826, as did John Adams that same year and James Monroe five years later . . . three U.S. Presidents giving up the ghost on our nation's birthday -- wrote that in the years yet to come he felt that Americans WOULD and SHOULD celebrate the day through praise and humility before God and with celebration galore from coast to coast.  So, you carry on with your fireworks and potato salad with the blessing of one of our founding fathers.

And though we debate endlessly about the other half of that particular thought, the one pertaining to U.S. citizens heaping credit on a heavenly Father, there can be no mistake that one of the unique origins of our country rests firmly on the faith that these early American men had in Christ, as opposed to Buddha or Mohammad.  How many of us consider this when we debate religious freedom and how it applies to our laws and legal practices?  And what hard line approach do we adopt when we do consider?

While I sit comfortably at my Mac, clicking between Facebook and iPhoto and blogger and today's news, places like Egypt are still fighting for the rights I enjoy every single day.  (It's hard to imagine one's military ousting any of our presidents.)  Rights that we oft times take for granted because they are so very ingrained in our daily lives after 200+ years of exercising.  But they were rights not fully accessible to anyone who was not white and male for a long while.  Skin color and gender would stop up the works for a significant stretch down the road.  And even today, in a far safer and inclusive climate, we still debate specifics in these arenas, including subjects like equal pay for the same work and stereotyping through media and personal perspective.

I visited Israel as a teenager.  I didn't want to be there.  And that time of my life was pain-wracked and miserable.  But my eyes were still opened enough that I could see the sense of nationalism and pride that the people of that land had for their own country.  Their knowledge of history, both past and present, impressed me.  Humbled me.  Made me think about my own self and how I viewed my own country.  Recently, I enjoyed outings to Germany and France.  I encountered every day people, speaking decidedly different tongues, but familiar in their actions.  People who quite liked their country of origin, too.  Their news made the headlines on television.  Their foods and customs and practices were second nature in their lives.  Husbands placed their hands with affectionate familiarity about their wives' waists as they crossed the street with their children trailing behind.  Ladies of a certain age met for coffee and dessert at outdoor cafes.  Road construction snarled traffic right when employees were eager to return to their homes.  And the sun rose and the sun set.  Just.  Like.  Us.

I spent years and tears writing to, and visiting with, my baby brother while he did time in the California state prison system.  In all honesty, I can say there was not a day that dawned without some thought as to the freedom I possessed in myriad manners which he did not.  Yes, he broke laws and had to pay the price for his crimes.  But within a system defined by strategy and paperwork, where clogging up already overburdened files and employees is standard procedure, where true blue research and debate is not always utilized in an across-the-board fair manner, I believe he was overcharged.  Period.  As were many a man and woman behind bars.  Including military veterans with PTSD who returned home from foreign places like Vietnam and Iraq, many of whom succumbed to the succor of alcohol and drugs, broken and shellshocked, only to end up in the penal system instead of receiving counsel and hospitalization in light of their service and sacrifice.  Our systems are flawed.  Duh.  Our infrastructures are in need of an overhaul.  Yup.  And yet, knowing these things, I still feel that if my son, my ONLY son and the last man to carry the Valdez name for my husband's family, decided that joining the Navy or Army after high school is what he wants to do, who am I to say, "No, son, though we need a military, let someone else's son or daughter take up the fight.  Not you."

My husband recently joined the ranks of the unemployed.  Last week, Jimmy's boss stepped into his office and told him to go home and start searching for another job.  30 days of severance pay followed him out the door.  No warnings in his file.  No poor performance evaluations.  It was a calculated business decision formulated by higher ups with motivations of a sort differing from those of my breadwinner of 24+ years of marriage.  It has been an interesting week.  This wife has found it difficult to see her husband with hat in hand, his abilities and confidence put into question by folks whose actions behind-the-scenes leave me with a bad taste in my mouth.  I have questions of my own.  But I choose to leave them unanswered as I begin the work of casting about with my man for a new source of fiscal security.  And possibly a new harbor in which to dock.  But through it all, one thought has loomed large in my mind, "I'd rather be unemployed in America than anywhere else."  Our situation -- still so much better than a good many in our nation, for sure, and that's a whole other conversation -- could be compounded in severe ways I'm glad I don't have to address because I was born and raised here.  Instead, I merely use this awareness to gain and maintain proper perspective during a rough time.

I know this seems a very open-ended and unfinished piece of writing.  And it is.  My intention was not to complete these thoughts and ideas but to proffer them to each of you as a gift.  A precious wrapped box placed in your hands.  A bright ribbon for you to pull away.  A lid for you to open.  The gem of contemplation shining before you.  A moment away from self and technology.  A hopeful bit of internal awakening in an era of external conflict and stimulation galore.  Because there are darker places in this world than America and Israel, Germany and France.  Egypt.  And not all of these dark places are geographical.

With that said, I'm off to enjoy my morning coffee, kiss my husband, peel veggies into long slender strips for a delightful salad, concoct a Key Lime pie and prepare for guests.

Today, I celebrate my freedoms on countless planes and pray for those yet in bondage, whether spiritually, physically, mentally or nationally.

Today is a good day.

“God governs the affairs of man. And if a sparrow cannot fall to the ground without His notice is it probable that an empire can rise without His aid? We have been assured in the Sacred Writings that except the Lord build the house, they labor in vain that build it. I firmly believe this. I also believe that, without His concurring aid, we shall succeed in this political building no better than the builders of Babel. . ." **Benjamin Franklin