Home is where the heart is: Weekly Photo Challenge

Home.  That’s a subject near and dear to my heart.  I find I think and write about this subject often because home seems to always be on my heart.

I wrote a four-part series on home during the first year of my blog.  Writing that series proved emotional for me and at the same time cleansing.  I needed to put my emotions about home down in words so that I could process all that was transpiring at the time and move forward with life and its many changes. 

If you’re interested in that series, entitled “Home, Sweet Home,” you can click here  to read part one and then continue reading the other three installments  by clicking the next post at the bottom of the page.

Home is the subject of this week’s WordPress photo challenge. Gleaning through my photo files, I found several pictures which personify ‘home’ to me, so it was difficult to choose one or two. 

Should I post a photo of the home where I spent most of my growing up years?  That home is the one I have been anchored to for most of my life.  It is the house where my father was born and the one where he passed away.  But it belongs to a different family now, so I didn’t feel comfortable posting a photo of it on the internet.

Should I post photos of my current home?  Or one of the other homes across the country where we resided at one time or another?  Or a photo of something that means home to me?  Or a photo of my family because, truly, my family signifies home in my way of thinking?

British Prime Minister Winston Churchill once said, “There is no doubt that it is around the family and the home that all the greatest virtues, the most dominating virtues of human society, are created, strengthened and maintained.” 

I wholeheartedly agree with that statement.  That’s how important I think home and family are.

So it is settled.  I invite you to view my photographic interpretation of ‘home.’ 

The first photo at the beginning of this post is the front door of our home, hopefully a welcoming place.  The second picture, below,  is one I managed to capture when all three of our adult children came home for a holiday and saw each other for the first time in many, many months.

The love and warmth of being together again as a family.  Yes, for us, that’s home, no matter where it is.

©2013 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

Wordless Wednesday: Home for Christmas

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Wordless Wednesday: Red, white and blue

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Wordless Wednesday: Look down!

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Wordless Wednesday: Porch light’s on, come home

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Wordless Wednesday: Home

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Snakes alive! What if??

Image source unknown

Hello, my name is Mama’s Empty Nest.  And I have a habit I need to confess.

Yes, I am a what iffer.  I’m one of those people who always thinks “what if?”  I’m sure I’ve driven my kids insane by telling them to plan ahead, be prepared for any emergency because what if this, that or the other thing happens?

You know, keep a blanket in your car trunk because what if you get caught in a snow storm.   Carry a bottle of water with you because what if you’re stranded somewhere and the temperature soars.   Make sure you have batteries for your flashlight and while you’re at it, stock up on some matches and candles because what if the power goes out.

I’m like the female version of the quintessential Boy Scout.  Be Prepared.   That’s my motto.  And I can’t blame it on scouting because I never did join Girl Scouts.    It seems I was just made this way and I really can’t stop myself from thinking it.   Perhaps I need to join WIA (What Iffers Anonymous)!

Just the other day, I caught myself saying “what if?”   Early in the summer season, hubby’s garden plot starts sprouting good stuff; leaf lettuce and spinach already grow in abundance.   The strawberry patch yielded two quarts of delicious red berries in two days’ time, and there are plenty more to be picked.

Sunday evening, hubby and I leisurely lounged on our deck, watching the sun start to sink lower into the horizon, basking in a balmy breeze and cool temperatures.  Then I decided to visit the berry patch and noticed more ripe, juicy berries needed plucked.

I didn’t want to take time to change from my sandals into socks and tennis shoes, so I stepped among the thickly woven plants.  Of course when you pick strawberries, you have to bend over and search underneath all the leaves for the fruit.

And that’s when it happened.   A thought jumped into my mind as suddenly as a flash of lightning lights up the sky.  What if there was a snake hiding underneath those leaves?  I stood up immediately, voiced my thought to hubby, who looked a smidge alarmed.   (I’ll clue you in on that in a minute!)

I looked at my feet bared in sandals and gave a little shudder.  The thought of a garden snake slithering out of hiding across my toes or my hand as I checked for strawberries gave me the willies.  I’m guessing the idea probably unsettled my husband just as much.

It’s true I don’t like spiders and snakes.  My hubby gladly protects me from spiders and other critters, but he positively loathes and fears snakes.  I learned that fact early in our marriage.

As newlyweds, we lived in the southwest – rattlesnake territory.   One weekend we decided to take a walk through a wooded area near our apartment.  As we were maneuvering along the trail, a small snake (although not a rattler, fortunately) suddenly appeared out of the brush and scurried out onto the path in front of us.

His unexpected appearance startled me so that I literally froze.  I just stood there, mouth gaping open, staring at the snake, unable to move.  When I finally came to my senses, I realized that my strong, valiant military husband was gone.   Gone!  Left me standing there in a staring contest with a snake!

One sight of that slithering reptile and my hubby hightailed it out of the woods.   As fast as he could.   By the time I conjured up the good sense to join him, I realized he was already standing in the apartment complex parking lot.

I’ve never let him forget that story and it has provided some good-natured fun-poking over the years.  But the story illustrates how much he hates those creatures.   His first thought was “get the heck out of here” and I can’t blame him.  I still jokingly rib him for not protecting me from that reptile or at least grabbing my hand and dragging me with him.  Oh well, he reminds me, even the extremely brave and adventurous Indiana Jones had a fear of snakes.

I’m happy to report we did not see a snake in our garden the other day, but I suspect from now on, I may have to take the hoe with me just in case…you know… what if??  When I was growing up, I remember my mother took care of garden snakes that way.  She was fearless and chopped their heads off with the hoe.

I tried this once when a tiny snake surprised me, but by the time I found the hoe in the garage and went back to do some serious damage to him, he had long disappeared. That experience just provided more fodder for my “what if” scenario….see what I mean?  Be prepared!

And that reminds me on this 7^th page of Chapter 6 in my book called Opportunity, I need to become more like my mother.  If I could just make a coconut cream pie from scratch like her, my hubby would be thrilled.  For now, he’ll just have to be happy with my good intentions of “taking care” of the little garden snakes, as long as he protects me from all the other stuff.  But if we ever meet a big snake, we’ll both be “out of here!”

©2011 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

If that mockingbird don’t sing

Image via wikipedia

Atticus Finch told his daughter, Scout, “Shoot all the blue jays you want, if you can hit ‘em, but remember it’s a sin to kill a mockingbird”  in Harper Lee’s great American novel, To Kill a Mockingbird.

But I wonder if ol’ Atticus ever suffered sleep deprivation because of one of those noisy birds.

The last few nights here at Mama’s Empty Nest, it hasn’t exactly been quiet.  We’re enjoying some summer-like weather and sleeping with bedroom windows thrown wide open.  Fresh air streams in and I usually sleep well because of it.

But right after I settle into my comfy bed, punch up my pillow just the way I like it, close my eyes, whisper my nightly prayers, listen to the steady whoosh of hubby’s CPAP machine and prepare to nod off to dreamland, it starts.  Noisy, raucous bird calls.

The first night this happened,  a strange sound outside caused my eyes to flutter open. What odd animal was making that noise? Then I heard a bird chirp…and chirp….and chirp.  Next came a “chuck, chuck, chuck” kind of sound followed by what I thought must be a bird trilling.

“What the heck is going on out there?” I thought.

Why were those crazy birds singing so late at night? Our calico kitty was safely snuggling indoors for the night, so it couldn’t be her presence causing the birds’ tizzy.  Was there some animal threatening their nests or what?

Every time I closed my eyes and thought I’d nod off, I heard the sounds again. Over and over and over it lasted, keeping me on the edge of sleep but never really able to dive into that restful, deep sleep until early morning.

Upon awakening, I asked hubby if he heard the odd chorus of the night. He did notice it but then drifted off easily as he is prone to do.  Lucky man. He falls asleep effortlessly and I must admit I envy his ability to do that.

The next night at bedtime, we opened our windows once again.  Within seconds, hubby fell asleep while I listened to another nocturnal crescendo of loud chirps, squawks, cheeps and trills.  It sounded like I was in the middle of the jungle or at the very least the zoo!

Hour after hour, the cacophony of sound continued.  Being one of those unfortunate people who does not fall asleep easily, I tossed and turned while the never-ending racket continued.  I ventured to the window, looked out, saw nothing but darkness and continued hearing the din.  I wanted to yell loudly, “Would you just SHUT UP?!”  But I feared I’d scare my sleeping husband.

After my second mostly sleepless night, I did what anyone would do the next morning – I googled “What kind of bird makes noise all night long?”   The answer: the Northern Mockingbird.

I’m not much of a bird-watcher, although I do marvel at winged creatures soaring through the air and perching here and there in the trees.  During the daylight hours, I love hearing the birds sing in my yard, especially as I awaken in the morning.

But the one-bird party this mockingbird was hosting deprived me of my much beloved sleep.  And I couldn’t believe how many different sounds the mockingbird makes because, according to what I read at allaboutbirds.org (Cornell University’s Lab of Ornithology’s website), these birds add new sounds to their repertoire throughout their little bird lives.

“If you’ve been hearing an endless string of 10 or 15 different birds singing outside your house, you might have a Northern Mockingbird in your yard,” this website advised me.  “A male may learn around 200 songs throughout its life.”

Two hundred songs!!!  No wonder it sounded like a bird aviary outside my bedroom window!  Apparently, there was one noisy male mockingbird causing all the commotion.

Now that I’ve discovered information about my loud visitor, I’ve become accustomed to his nightly warbling and I’m falling asleep easier, but sometimes I catch myself singing, “Mock – yeah.  Ing – yeah.  Bird – yeah.  Mocking Bird, now everybody have you heard, he’s gonna buy me a mockingbird….” with visions of James Taylor and Carly Simon in my head.

Yes, you are so welcome that now you too have that song planted in your brain!  But if  you’d rather hear a sample of our nocturnal serenade, you can listen to this:

Tonight, in Chapter 5, Page 28, of my book called Opportunity, I’ll open my bedroom window and listen for the mockingbird. But now that I’ve become familiarized to his wild repertoire, I’ll let him sing me to blissful sleep.

“Then from the neighboring thicket the mockingbird, wildest of singers, Swinging aloft on a willow spray that hung o’er the water. Shook from his little throat such floods of delirious music, That the whole air and the woods and the waves seemed silent to listen.”~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow in Evangeline

©2011 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

Focus on the furrows

It’s just a rectangular brown patch plunked down in the middle of a green expanse but amazing things happen there every summer.

I’m writing about my husband’s garden in our back yard.  I view it from the window over my kitchen sink, from our breakfast nook windows and when I’m enjoying the sunshine on our deck.

In late autumn and throughout the winter season, the garden plot reminds me of an open wound – like when the skin on your knee has been painfully scraped off by a fall.  It’s bare and raw-looking and not pleasant to look at.  Even in early spring, that patch of ground looks forlorn and forgotten while the rest of the lawn bursts forth in brilliantly lush green color.  For several months, the garden is just a plot of barren dirt.

But then something miraculous happens.  Hubby’s friend brings his tractor to our country home and tills up the soil in that woe begotten area of the yard.   And suddenly, the garden awakens from its slumber.  Freshly tilled and turned over fertile ground beckons to hubby,   “Come!  It’s time! Let’s get started!”

This spring the rain has lasted and lasted.  Our garden patiently waits for the gardener, but there haven’t been enough sunshiny dry days yet for sowing seeds and planting young seedlings which will eventually yield delightful crops of vegetables.   In between bouts of rainstorms, hubby did manage to plant a few rows of leaf lettuce, spinach and peas but the largest part of the garden remains unsown.

I enjoy watching my husband (that city boy turned country gardener/landscaper) prepare his garden.  He wields his hoe to remove any weeds,  marks rows with string, digs straight furrows into the dirt, and then carefully places tiny seeds and plants into the ground.

This year he plans the usual:  cherry tomatoes, green beans, carrots, radishes, green peppers, Brussels sprouts, banana peppers and cucumbers.  Every year, he introduces something new – last year it was sweet potatoes, this year watermelon.

Creating a vegetable masterpiece with his own hands bestows a great sense of accomplishment upon my husband.  He loves to get his hands dirty and see the results of his work – and of course – eat the delicious rewards!  If a particular type of plant fails to flourish, hubby doesn’t get discouraged; he just moves on and tries something different.

So his garden is a work in progress.  Watching him as he creates straight furrows in our garden plot reminds me of scripture.  “…No one who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is fit for service in the kingdom of God.” ~ Luke 9:62

There’s a good lesson for life.  Do we plow straight furrows as we forge ahead in life?  Or do we allow obstacles or distractions to lead us astray and make our paths crooked?  Do we look forward or continually glance back over our shoulders at our past mistakes and dwell on them so we can’t make our way straight?

As the farmer plows his fields, he keeps his eyes focused ahead of him not behind.  And that’s also how my husband plants his garden in straight rows looking forward at what’s to come instead of what’s been before.

I think that’s what I need to do today in Chapter 5, Page 21, in my book of Opportunity.  I need to fix my eyes forward and keep them centered on my Savior, forgetting the past, leaving issues behind.

The Master Gardener provides His garden of grace for me and He asks me to keep my eyes on Him, concentrate on what He calls me to do to further His kingdom, and ignore distractions that may cause me to stray.

How about you?  Are you plowing straight furrows or are you zigzagging along without purpose?  Focus on Him and He will make your paths straight.

“Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight.”  ~ Proverbs 3:5-6

©2011 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

Half-marathon + guitar = love

Last weekend, my country home was full of people I love.  Just the way I like it.

Hubby and I are starting to get accustomed to the solitude and quietness of our empty nest, but it’s so much more enjoyable when there is a little noise around here.   When there is lively conversation around the kitchen table.  When the sounds of a guitar being strummed reaches our ears.  When showers are running and hair dryers are droning.

We’re getting used to a clean and orderly house, but it feels more like home when we notice certain sights.  When the refrigerator and pantry is stocked full of food.  When there are backpacks and shoes strewn hither and yon.   And even when there are umpteen glasses left sitting on kitchen counters and the family room coffee table.

“The happiest moments of my life have been the few which I have passed at home in the bosom of my family.”  ~ Thomas Jefferson

Just like Jefferson, I am at my happiest when my family is home with me.   Last weekend, Mama’s Empty Nest was pretty full.   Oldest daughter arrived home from the South for a two-fold reason – first to go wedding dress shopping with her sister and to run our city’s half-marathon with a college friend on Sunday morning.

Our son, the youngest, traveled home Friday from the state next door to spend a little time with his sister.  He treated us with songs on his guitar that he’s recently learned and a few that he’s made up himself.

Later that evening, oldest daughter’s beau drove several hours to meet us for the first time.   Daughter warned us he might be a little shy.

I’m sure he must have been nervous, but he quickly and easily meshed with our family with no hint of shyness.   We found ourselves genuinely liking this thoughtful young man who has captured our daughter’s heart and who drove such a long distance to cheer her on in her first half-marathon.

I’m not certain where oldest daughter gets her love of running – definitely not from her mama.  Daughter ran cross country in high school and has been a veteran 5K racer, but this was her first attempt at marathon running and she finished in good time.  I think it helped to have beau’s support and encouragement.  He seems to be adept at making her feel special, and I really like that about him.

After all the activity and excitement, the nest emptied out once more by Sunday evening.   Son departed first, then daughter’s beau.   Daughter flew back south on Monday.

We missed having middle daughter and fiancé here, but they had an important ceremony to attend during the weekend.   Plus they are coming for a visit soon!  And when they arrive, sounds and sights of life will fill the nest once again lifting Mama and Papa’s spirits.

Someone once said, “The love of a family is life’s greatest blessing,” and in Chapter 5, Page 19, of my Opportunity book, I am thankful for the amazing blessing which is my family.

©2011 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com