This is my town

re
Thats Gabber on the truck bed representing the American Leadership Volley Ball team.

I was 17 the day I loaded up into Loris van and left home . Mom handed me a family picture threw the open car window just before we pulled out. I was all to happy to start a new life somewhere else. Im not sure how far up the scale Rexburg Idaho is on the great escapes list but it was just the ticket for me in 1982. Quite possibly I was telling myself something that I have taken many years to figure out.

Scottish Days are big around these here parts.

Montgomery Gentry put it pretty well.

Where I was born, where I was raised.Where I keep all my yesterdays.Where I ran off 'cos I got mad,An' it came to blows with my old man.Where I came back to settle down,It's where they'll put me in the ground: This is my town

Im a small town girl. I like the quiet, I like to see the stars in a smogless sky, I like the smell of hay. I want more space than I want malls.

Now for some Spanish Fark is country folk for those in Genola its a big city . Today I went to sit out in the neighboring streets to watch the "Fiesta Days" parade . The great thing about a hometown parade is its a snapshot of what the place is all about. I took afew pictures and I have to say I chuckled more than once. Mostly my heart swelled with pride, I liked what I saw and what the city was saying about who we are.

Missionaries and Pioneers sing as they walk

I think some of my family who live in places like Burley ,Kanab, and Farr West know what Im talkin about. You can chase alot of beautiful adventures and see wonderful and unforgetable places, but there is nothing as comforting and healing as home.

Who decides what is a weed and what is a flower?

Almost every night at dusk I take the dogs for their evening adventure in the fields. I walk and enjoy the surroundings. Most of the field is full of dried pricker bushes and stubby grass but their are also these "weeds" that grow up in the sidewalk or out in the middle of unhospitable dry land. Im quite amazed at the colors shapes and the persistance of a weed. Thats when I thought to myself what makes a flower a flower and a weed a weed? After all the connotations are extremes. Weeds are often knarly, uninvited, misplaced and have glareing in perfections. Flowers are mostly glorious blooms with succulent foliage. They usually demand the best of circumstance to prosper.

Monday Kate called me from the infermary at Camp .

It was 98 degress and 75% humidity there in New York. She is at the pool all day and had been in to much heat. We talked for almost 2 hours. It was wonderful. She talked about her boys with enthusiasum and delight. The dances they do, the songs they sing, how one refers to himself in 3rd person and another dresses in full rain gear every day just in case it should rain. She loves her job and refers to it as a blessing. In the early morning she does instructional swim and it is her glory time. In the water one on one they learn together about one another. I know these "boys" are preteens and some are upwards of 30 years. Kate and I have a kindred bond to the world of Autism. My work at Scenic View with my"boys" was one of the finest experiences of my life. In the learned world and by all accounts and diagnostic criteria Autism is a disorder.

Diagnosis, disorders, diseases they are weeds in a human world. Something that didnt go quite right. A reflection of imperfection. Some days I just wonder who's really in charge of defining what normal is. Why is normal so great anyway? I know why I like normal, it is easy. I am unhindered to move about just as Iam. I Love a normal day no pain , gliding along, almost without thought or requirement. I dont wish for abnormal it can be so painful awkward and tiresome.

But just from my vision I want to say something about those whos lives have taken moments, time periods, or have entire lives of abnormal. Iam touched by the effort, the strain and the daily pain even at the hands of the "normal". Diagnosis, disorders, disease looks pretty noble to me.

God must have known whom of us could still bloom in the sidewalk and uninhabitable places .

Noodle on the Lot

So what moves at 5 miles per hour in a church parking lot and confuses neutral for drive?

That would be Gabber on her first driving lesson. She needed 5 full minutes to adjust the seat mirrors and steering wheel. Can I just say with loving kindness that kid is squaty. She is also very careful. We had an 8 year old intruder enter the parking lot on his scooter and she put the car in park until he left the lot. She never hit a curb but would have creamed 3 cars in a not so simulated parking situation. I loved how fresh everything was for her. It was fun just to review the steps of putting a car in gear out loud. My favorite question was " Can I ever put the mirror so I can just look at my hair ?" Not if your car is actually moving Gab! Oh mercy mercy.... Anywho the noodle is pushing her way into adulthood and Im loosing grip on the break. Tomorrow she wants to write a contract and open a savings account so we will let her have a cell phone.

My garden struggling beautifully

There are days when Im at the most peace with my life. I see the world in pleasantries. Im comfortable in my surroundings and accept things just as they are. I love those days. So here are my thoughts on one such days analogy.

Life as you may have heard me say is about struggling beautifully. We are not suppose to expect complete order in surroundings and people we cannot control. The very expectation is the promise of disaray in our mental status. What could it possibly take from us to arrive at perfection in this life and then try to sustain it . Surely that is the work of a more exalted being.

I love my yard because it is a constant reminder of the struggling beautifully principle. The first 3 years we lived here in Spanish Fork I could not get past the misery and embaressment of dirt. All around me neighbors had created visable by my eye "perfect" Garden of Edens, and I was banished from the garden to wallow in the dust. I hated it! Every day I looked at the tv screen sprayed with particles of dirt or I drove into the neighborhood arrived home and only saw the ugly.

When we got grass I went crazy in my euphoria of lushness. I had edging for massive flower gardens placed everywhere. We planted some of the space with smaller more affordable tress and shrubs. Then I proceeded to weed and weed and weed for hours. Every weekend you could find me digging and pulling, with my sweaty wet hair and face sliding off into my shirt . I had so much to do trying to keep up I didnt take time to really enjoy it. I had what I said I wanted but I exceeded my capability.

Now, some things are more established in the yard and well... I have more grounded expectations. I have been surprised each new summer to see what returns and what doesnt. Sometimes things like a mandaville that should never return do and sometimes I kill off a whole bush of shasta daiseys. This year we got all the sprinklers running, paid for chem lawn and we watered to a beautiful lush green. Then over night the lawn started to turn brown in patches. I turned to google and diagnosed a fungus and Shawn treated it and Im excited to watch the grass slowly restoreing itself.

Taylor turned a 5 year weed patch into a whole new flowerbed last week. It doesnt look like the extravagance I had planned in my head and if I had to wait for it to be extravagent it would have been 5 more years . Tay removed rocks, tilled, added dirt and planted little tiny flowers that he picked out (after I drug him to home depot. ) It will take years for the space to fill in so Im back to square one weeding and watching it evolve.

My gardens remind me of people I love. Taylor likes delphiniums and bright annual flowers, Becca loves the smell of a lilac and we have a lilac actually named the Katherine Havemeyer that she picked out to remind her of her sister. Kate chose foxglove and bought me a clematis and a hasta for a birthday present. Shawn has planted the japanese and the October glory maple trees for my anniversary's . Gabby rolls her eyes at the thought of a flower garden that she might have to be involved ins up keep. She did plant 4 different Martha Stewart pumkins for a young womens 10 hour project last year, and not a one bloomed after all her hard work. I have trees and decorations that were gifts from family. I have one very lovely bird house I admire on the kitchen counter that may wait till next year for a home, and Im ok with that. I love the hard earned rewards that usually come in full color . Tullips short stay , swaying iceland poppys, drooping hostas, fragrant lavender, huge tolerant yarrow, delicate oriental lilies, endless purple verbena, bright double pink cone flowers and bushy bright dahlias. All of my yards success is uncertain but promising. It is however garunteed to be struggling beautifully.

Note to Amy I could not add Michael Maclane music to this sappy post. "It is what it is"