Packing, Letting Go, and What I Take With Me

This week and next are the final days of packing and leaving this house. But what lies ahead are even 

better than what lies behind, and I take with me a heart full of love for home wherever we make it. There are also little tangible reminders we take with us that will find their spot in a new place. Writing and computer time limits almost convinced me to take a break from my blogs for a couple of weeks at least.  But the quiet breaks taken to collect thoughts and images are restorative for me, so I am posting a collage of pictures to take you with me on this journey of change.                                    

Mother's Day Gift

As so many will this weekend, I am thinking of the gift of my mother, and her mother before her. I think of what a gift being a mother has been for me. And I am so proud and grateful for the young mothers who are part of my life right now because they loved and married my sons and became the mothers of my grandchildren.  I could paper this page with pictures of these mothers. Instead, I have a picture of this white iris which once bloomed in my grandmother's yard. It would be an entirely imaginary story, but it could be that it was cultivated in her yard by her own mother, who lived with her until her death in 1940, the year of my birth.  Because that great grandmother was born in France, and would have known her French heritage, it could be that she loved the iris flower, the French royal standard fleur-de-lis.

Iris grow not from bulbs, but from rhizomes which must be thinned out by dividing every few years.  So at her Bullard, TX farm,  Grandma Terrell would have divided her white iris, given some to my mother, who did the same by giving some to my sister before she moved from her home in Jacksonville.  Last year, my sister moved and divided iris in Round Rock, TX  to share with me before she moved.  Last week,  Joe "dug" Grandma's White Iris so that we can take some to our new home.  My lovely daughters-in-law will receive presents from husbands and daughters - probably flowers and pretty trinkets and breakfast in bed.  But they will also be given a small ZipLoc bag  filled with  brown twisted roots and shoots, a gift of story and perseverance.  Happy Mother's Day!

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Traveling Trunk

This traveling trunk came from my Teal grandparent's home, although when I first met it, the trunk had been passed down to their youngest daughter, Lela.  Almost 50 years ago, she saw some work I had done on a smaller trunk that had been given to me and asked me if I could "make hers pretty." The trunk was already travel worn and weary by then so that was a tall order for someone who knew little about working with the rusted metal corners.  Antiquing was in vogue then so she wanted me to antique the trunk with a base color of pink!  Cringing a bit at her color choice, I agreed to work on it.  Years passed, and Lela died.  Since her only son was stillborn and no one else wanted it, the trunk escaped being thrown away and came to me. That was early 1994.  Our family had just returned from living in Indonesia, moved to the Houston area, and started a business.  We had 3 grown sons and a very busy family life. The trunk sat for many years.

Now our sons are married, we have 5 granddaughters, and another grandbaby on the way. We are selling this house to move to one we have bought to share with our youngest son and his family. In the process of cleaning and clearing, we have passed on or given away many family things that have stories.  The trunk is big and in ill repair, and at first, no one wanted to take it home with them.  But this week, it will go to our oldest son who is a very talented artist and craftsman.  If anyone can make this old trunk look like the treasure it is, he can.  Because it is a treasure. There are so many stories it could tell.

 I can wish that I had paid enough attention years ago to ask the questions I now have. Questions such as "who was the original owner of the trunk?"  It could have belonged to either of my grandparents because of the times in which they lived.  Thomas Jefferson Teal was born in 1877.  Ida Mayfield Teal was 7 years older, born in 1870, making their young adult years the time when this barrel stave type trunk became popular for traveling. But it could also have belonged to their families.  I know very little about these ancestors. So it is too late to ask the questions.  I can only know that the trunk may look empty but that it carries a world of stories inside.

I can't wait to see what it looks like after my son imagines the stories.

Changes!

It is no secret that our garden has been a delight for us here in the place we have lived for 11 years. The sign in our front yard announces we are choosing to pass on the care and enjoyment of this back yard to the family that will live here very soon. There is an important word in that last sentence:  "choosing."  We have made this decision after prayerful deliberation and feel that it is the right thing for us to do.  Of course, we will miss many things about this home and garden, but we are excited about our move, knowing that it will be a new place and a different landscape.

 Yes, it is very different!  That is exciting, too, knowing we can choose the fruit trees and roses and garden spot and once again make it "ours."  The most exciting part of these choices is that our youngest son Ben and his wife and 2-year-old daughter share them with us. To see Nora running in the grass with the wind blowing wisps of hair across her happy face has already made this place feel like home!  The work of moving and putting two households into place is not over, but we are thankful for helping hands and plenty of hugs.  The joy of journey as a family!  The satisfaction of homework, in the deepest sense!

Home: Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow

These blossoms perch all over a bush given to me by my friend Debbie Andrews.  The occasion was the timing of our move into the home we have loved since 2005 and Debbie's move away from this area to Louisiana. The plant is called Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow because the petals open colored in a pale shade of lavender, changing daily to darker shades of purple. It is blooming right now, reminding me of friendships that last through changing time, and also of the way the place of our home can change.  Two days ago a for sale sign went up in our front yard. We have planned this change and prepared for it for months, but somehow the sign says "this is real, this is happening now."

I think of all our jobs and moves and the places we have made our home in the 52 plus years of our marriage.  We have lived in Oklahoma, East Texas, Oregon, Indonesia, Thousand Oaks, near Los Angeles, California,  all 3 major cities in Texas (Dallas, San Antonio, and Houston) and smaller towns surrounding those metropolitan areas (Missouri City, Kirby, Sugar Land, Plano).  We have had small houses and larger ones, small gardens and larger ones.  Although some places may have been
more familiar to us than others, in every place we made a home.  The presence of our family and the ways we lived and loved each other there made each place a home no matter what the neighborhood looked like.  We found friends and neighbors, churches where we could worship and serve, grew gardens and and gathered around kitchen tables as our family grew and changed.

After many years of moving frequently, we came to Sugar Land and although we have moved once during the time, we have rooted here.  For 24 years we have loved being part of this community.  Now we move again, not too far away (still in Fort Bend County) and because we have been in this area for so long, we already have a number of friends in our new area. We are still near our church. We will miss this home and our garden, but we look forward to planting a garden as we make our home in a very different place. We are excited to share our new place with our youngest son, his wife, and our 2-year-old granddaughter.  I am thankful for all the homes of yesterday, for this time in this home today, and for all our tomorrows in our new home.

I include a link to a post in one of my other blogs: Transplanting

Things Remembered

We have, with a good deal of help from others, cleared out, cleaned out, and spit-shined our home so that it is ready to be listed for sale next week.  There are a few things we need to finish cleaning - the garage shelves, refrigerator, the brick on the front porch.  We still need to clear some of the plants in back that are in pots which we will take with us to help start a new garden. But the walls are bare of our many family pictures, drawers have been emptied and cleaned, counters polished - all to make our house welcoming and at the same time, a clean slate for others to envision ways in which they can make it their home. My 2 oldest granddaughters came today to help for awhile and were taken aback at the change.

When I was sorting out saved stuff in my closet, I came across several items loosely wrapped in a piece of tissue paper, itself saved from a long ago gift. I held the bits and pieces in my hand and realized they made a collage, a portrayal of my emotions and mixed feelings about leaving this home and this part of my life. There were pieces of a lovely painted glass globe a friend gave us many years ago that was a tiny painting of the lovely old East Texas Victorian house we bought and moved to for a far too short time. During the months we were there, I researched and wrote the history of the place, submitted it to the historical society, and received a State historical marker - not for me, for the house. In a later time, the pretty piece was knocked from its stand, leaving only shattered pieces which I kept.

There were some pieces of filigree silver jewelry from our time in Indonesia, all tarnished and worn. There was a tiny safety pin with beads strung on it, one of the many "friendship pins" that our youngest son and his friend exchanged in first grade, when we lived in yet another place.  And there was a piece of foil where that same son had written "To Mom, Love Ben."   I do not remember what it was attached to, but I kept the crumpled paper with his writing during his college days.  All these were folded in the wrinkled tissue printed with the name of shop where it was used to wrap a purchase:  Things Remembered.  I decided I would keep my little packet but I really do not need these reminders.  They are indeed, "Things Remembered."

April and Poetry

In these first days of April, I am thankful for the reminder that it is National Poetry month as well as National Poetry Writing month.  It has been a good time to pick up a book of favorite poems and spend some unhurried time enjoying it.   Once, I  took an online poetry course in which I learned more about writing the Japanese poetry form, haiku, as well as its related forms.  I signed up for the course thinking I needed to learn more about using fewer words (OK, I hear laughing from somewhere!)and because I wanted to understand this form of poetry better.  I enjoyed it so much that I am still scribbling haiku on napkins and the back of my grocery lists!  Here are a few. I like photographing an image, then writing about it. Most of my poetry now is posted on my other blog, www.stonesandfeathers.wordpress.com.  I invite you to join me there as well.

pomegranate flower heavy

with one rain drop

 promise of scarlet fruit

 forgotten October pumpkin

 collapses in decay

green sprouts inside

wind troubles pond

ripples widen

orange fish swim away

dusty windshield

 heavy raindrops

muddy rivulets chase each other

bees gather

lemon blossom bobs,

wafting fragrant promise of bounty

In honor of this season of Spring and Easter, why not try a new beginning and write a poem?  If you don't want to write, then explore the writing of a new poet, or an old familiar one. The last few years,  I have come to love the poetry of Mary Oliver, Ann Weems, and Luci Shaw.