Your arms were always open when I needed a hug.
Your heart understood when I needed a friend.
Your gentle eyes were stern when I needed a lesson.
Your strength and love has guided me and gave me wings to fly.
[Sarah Malin]

This photo of my mama (Rachel Misegades, 1906–2001) was taken sometime in the 1950s.

Mama was a hand weaver, knitter, crocheter, leather tooler, book binder, teacher, …. I thought she could do almost anything. The thing she did best was problem solve. She did what seemed the most sensible to her even when she didn’t like the choice. Then she adapted her attitude to what she’d decided to do. I remember when she decided to quit driving and she sold her car. Later, she rented a place at a senior-living center, sorted her belongings, sold her house and moved. I ask her how she made all of those hard choices and kept a positive attitude. She replied that she asked herself what her mother would do. Isn’t that ironic. That is exactly what I do. Happy Mother’s Day, Mama. I wouldn’t be me if you hadn’t been you.

Loveliest of trees, the cherry now
Is hung with snow along the bow,
And stands about the woodland ride,
Wearing white for Eastertide.

Now of my threescore years and ten
Twenty will not come again.
And take from seventy Springs a score,
It leaves me only fifty more.

And since to look at things in bloom
Fifty Springs is little room,
About the woodland I will go,
To see the cherry, hung with snow.
[A.E. Houseman]

Of MY threescore years and ten, threescore five will not come again. That surely gives a person pause when winter seemed to never end then spring burst full bloom upon us. The thought struck me as I inhaled the French lilac scent, I’m not big enough. At least my capacity to truly appreciate is not big enough. When the blooms and the warmth finally came, I was overwhelmed with the idea that, no matter how long I stood there and soaked up spring, I was way too small to absorb even a fraction of the beauty.

My friend Ron gave me flower photos that he has taken in the past couple of weeks. He took a hundred more, but there isn’t space here to show them all. Next winter, when I come in to warm up from shoveling snow, I’ll open Ron’s flowers on my computer screen and remind myself that spring is an abundant reward for making it through winter.

When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils…

And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
[William Wordsworth]

Daffodils are the national flower of Wales. This photo was taken today at Bellevue Park in Newport,Wales. The lad licking the blossom is my grandson, Owain. Our daffodils aren’t up yet in Indiana so I’m enjoying looking at Owain’s spring.

Becoming a grandmother is wonderful.
One moment you’re just a mother.
The next you are all-wise and prehistoric.
[Pam Brown]

Cole Duke Smith was born February 26, 2008 at 8:44 a.m. He weighed in at 10 lbs 9 oz. and measured 20.5 inches long. Last Monday and Tuesday were busy for the Smiths in Wilmington, North Carolina. Beverly and James presented our family with another member. Grandpa Smith visited from Charlotte, and Grandpa and Grandma Duke drove from Bicknel, Indiana for the big event. Grandma Misegades (that’s me) shoveled snow and dreamed of holding Cole in his hometown that has 70-degree weather in February. Meanwhile oldest grandson, Joshua, stayed over last night. We read more chapters in Uncle Wiggly. Today, we are going to get a boy haircut and tour the downtown library. Busy. Busy.

It’s such a grand thing to be a mother of a mother.
That’s why the world calls her grandmother.
[Author Unknown]

I confess. I’ve been preoccupied so I haven’t been writing posts as frequently. I’ve been making major changes and reorganizing stuff. Meanwhile, my newest grandson reminds me that he is growing up already—here he is at two and a half months. Doesn’t he look like one of those pixies in a greeting card illustration?

Sometimes the poorest people leave their children the richest inheritance.
[Ruth E. Renkel]

I went through a variety of adjustments when I grieved the loss of my mama in 2001. It was the little daily things that reminded me of her absence. I rarely carried a purse when we went someplace together because I could turn to mama and ask for anything from a Kleenex to chewing gum, and she would pull it out of her handbag. Chap stick, hair pin, aspirin, pen, note paper—you name it and she had it. She was like a mobile Walgreen’s. After she was gone, I had to remember to carry those things for myself. I carried her purse for a long time until I’d emptied it. That took me a year.

Then there are her drawers. I inherited her bookcases and dressers. They were full—very organized and tidy, but filled to the top. For a long time, I didn’t have the heart to sort through them. I only opened them when I needed something. Gift wrap, thank-you notes, a protractor, magnifying glass, darning needles, an allen wrench—ask for it and it was in one of her drawers. A guest broke a shoe lace and we found a new pair in one drawer. Her drawers grew in fame among my guests. It almost became a game. Chalk, colored pencils, a ruler? They were there. Assorted sizes of nails and screws were sorted into little bottles. Playing cards, kaleidoscopes, lady’s fans…

I doubt if I’ll ever sort completely through her drawers. It would ruin the fun. It would also take away the feeling that Mama is still looking after me even though I’m well past the age of needing a mother. Come to think of it, maybe I’m not.

Whatever else be lost among the years,
Let us keep Christmas still a shining thing;
Whatever doubts assail us, or what fears,
Let us hold close one day, remembering
It’s poignant meaning for the hearts of men.
Let us get back our childlike faith again.
[Grace Noll Crowell]

I’m posting these photos for our family and friends who are far away from sunny Indiana on this blessed holiday. As we gathered this morning, we missed the folks who weren’t here and made sure we ate a portion of our breakfast feast (complements of Ruth) for each of you—especially these homemade sweet rolls and the yummy breakfast casserole.

First to arrive were sister, Louise, and friend, Ruth (above right). They were being entertained by a wrestling match between Kitty and Toby dog when this photo was taken. Don’t worry, Kitty out-weighs Toby so it was an even match. I must confess that we opened a couple of presents while we were waiting for the others to arrive. Some of my knitting went to these two loved ones. I received a darling tea pot and sweet sheep to add to my collection.

Joshua was fascinated by the nested Santas, hand painted by my friend Carrie. Then he passed out presents to his mother and new brother. A word to Grandpa—that tattoo on Josh’s neck is fake. Also, he was very excited about the helicopter you gave him, and he was delighted by the Spider Man video game from Uncle Jamie and Aunt Beverly.

Baby Michael Alexander is 25 days old today and has gained a pound. Here he is with his mama, Rachel. Among his many gifts, he received a pair of blue, hand knit booties from his Great Grandma Rachel. Though she has been gone these many years, I found them stored in one of her magic drawers—awaiting just such an occasion I am sure. I’ll write about her magic drawers in a future post.

Daddy Solomon is installing batteries in a new toy. Weren’t we clever to remember to buy them? And here is a truly happy grandma. What more could I ask than a babe in arms, a clever 7 year old bursting with energy and my furry buddy.I’m planning to spend the rest of the afternoon pretending I’m an artist while I try out the new drawing pens sent to me by my real artist friend in Iowa. Then I’m going to Ruth’s for a Christmas supper—standing rib roast. The blessings just keep coming and my heart is full.

If, as Herod, we fill our lives with things, and again with things;
if we consider ourselves so unimportant that
we must fill every moment of our lives with action,
when will we have the time to make the
long, slow journey across the desert as did the Magi?
Or sit and watch the stars as did the shepherds?
Or brood over the coming of the child as did Mary?
For each of us, there is a desert to travel.
A star to discover.
And a being within ourselves to bring to life.
[Author Unknown]

Celebrate the happiness that friends are always giving,
make every day a holiday and celebrate just living!
[Amanda Bradley]

I’m still decorating the big tree—making more bows. Hanging ornaments reminded me of browsing through a photo album. Some even brought tears to my eyes as memories of Christmases past rushed in. I even found the Christmas sock I used to hang as a child—65 years has faded the red to pink, but it is still beautiful to me. When the church bells ring across the street on Christmas morning, I’ll be ready for folks to arrive for breakfast and laughter.