The Vine

When I looked at our old, vine that's been pruned many times over the past few decades 

I had to recognize again that there is life in the vine!

Seeing that new life burst forth every spring is truly amazing.

One would think that the life is in those beautiful  new shoots . . .

 but clip them off and they will wilt and die.

No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. 

Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me. 

I am the vine, you are the branches. 

If a man remains in me and I in him he will bear much fruit; 

apart from me you can do nothing.

John 15: 4-5

Picnic at Fishtrap Creek

I wouldn't be able to begin to count the number of times I've walked the path through this park, 

and yet, without a memory of ever sitting down to eat at one of the tables along the bank

. . . so it became a plan.

Four weeks ago, on the day Tehya, Paeton and Makenna left to stay with their grandparents on the island, we packed a small ice box and picnic blanket into a stroller and walked down to the park. With the sun shining brightly and happy kids running ahead . . . it made perfect sense to anyone who saw us.

There were baby ducks to observe

A turtle to be on the lookout for

the sight of which was a sure reward if you stepped very quietly through the brush. 

The first snap of a twig had him back in the water.

We spread great-grandma's handmade picnic blanket over the table

and laid out the sandwiches, potato chips and grapes.

Front row seats to the entertainment of life on the pond 

could not have been more perfect or desirable than this, 

and we came away with another memory added to many already made here.

New Cookbook Cover

Sometime in these past few weeks, all ten of us have discovered a surprise parcel in our mailbox! Along with a beautiful letter of explanation came a complimentary copy of the latest printing of the Mennonite Girls Can Cook cookbook.

We immediately took note of the dust jacket and new logo!

Turns out, the change came about as a result of meetings that our publisher's sales and marketing director had with bookstore buyers who strongly felt that a matte finish on the cover with a  dust jacket would reach a new market of buyers. And they followed through.

I think I can speak for all ten of us, how much we like the extra coverage and explanation that the flap on the jacket gives the book.

Maybe you noticed the edge of the cover peeking through as well . . . here is a sneak peek!
A dust jacket for the Celebrations cookbook is also being created, as we speak. We do not know what it will look like, so I'll say it may be our surprise as much as yours . . . but quite exciting!

In the meantime, I have my working copy by my stove,
so quick to take on the term of the original copy.

It will always be a reminder of where we began,
yet bring a smile for new beginnings.

Blooming Seasons

Sometimes I can't help but wish I could put the Spring perennials on hold. 

 

They get to that perfect stage of full bloom

and next thing you know the flowers die and that's it for another year. 

Maybe this is why we drag out the pots every May to plant flowers that will last all summer.

The colors get changed up a bit. Hanging baskets, window boxes, urns and other pots all get stuffed with new bedding plants . . . some larger some smaller. 

This yellow begonia by my back door is a new bright spot for now.

I'm still learning which flowers like the shade and which ones don't.

One interesting find  . . . as I prepared the pots that had been taken into the garage for the winter, I found a few sprigs of new growth. As I pulled them out I realized that someone had inadvertently thrown some hazelnuts on the pots and there they were . . . sprouting roots and tiny plants. I looked about the yard and could not think of a place to plant them . . . but I had to take some photos to share. The miracle of life within a seed, so beautifully portrayed here.

The First Rose

In June of 1986 my Oma, my mom's mother, died of colon cancer. 

Born in April 1914, she was 72 when she left us.

At that time we brought mom a rose bush to think of her every year 

when it bursts forth with its deep velvet red roses. 

A number of years later mom brought me an offshoot of Oma's rosebush, as we call it, 

and yesterday I noticed the first bud of the year beginning to open. 

I wish I could share the scent . . . 

a breath of heaven for just a moment . . .

like a sweet memory . . .

and then it's gone. 

But every year we remember.

Spring Clean up at the Lakehouse

When we drove up the driveway on Saturday morning,

Bob and Adalia had already buzzed over most of the yard with the lawnmower.

He and Monika had stayed the night with their granddaughters while their kids were gone for the long weekend. Seems like most of our adult kids were busy somewhere else . . . so these were the only little ones there and, for sure, I was asked where mine were.

For lunch, Mom and Abe served us meat filled Rollkuchen and watermelon on their patio, which happens to be part of the same yard. You may remember the story of how uncle Abe and Tante Kaete (as we called them, even though they were not our real uncle and aunt) purchased  the property together with my parents more than 35 years ago.

On this day both sides of the yard got a good clean up - some blackberry bushes uprooted, trees pruned, the embankment weed-wacked  . . .

There was a fire burning trash all day long. 

We were happy that there was no ban on fires this time, 

since we began with a huge pile sitting there from last year.

It was a day intermingled with work and play. While the men worked outside, the women cleaned windows and did a general spring clean inside, after which it was fun to hang out outside and watch the men work or play with the kids.

Mikyela sat at the top of the long slide (going down the embankment) for a long time 

before deciding to trust that Oma would catch her.

but once she did, she went right back up the stairs

and down again.

With my little camera in hand I meandered over to Abe's steps going to the top.

I love how they have aged so beautifully with the moss and buttercups taking over at this time of year.

Since Pierre will be officially becoming part of the family later this year, 

he decided this was as good a time as any to help out . . .

with a big smile too!

But watch out if you walk too close . . .

You never know how far that spray will carry.

But by her smile, you can tell it's all good. 

One of the last things on the agenda, was some bark mulching around the bedding plants. 

After dinner around the fire pit we sat and enjoyed the beauty of the lake

 . . . the sound of birds in the trees . . . or a lone speed boat going by.

Some roasted marshmallows, others watched.

The perfect ending to a fruitful day.