Mothering

We have mothers, we are mothers, we’re connected no matter where or when by the common experience of mothering or being cared for.  I’m thankful for a mother whose love, acceptance, creativity, sense of humor and encouragement shaped me as a person and a parent.  And the joy that motherhood has brought me for all of these years leaves me lost for words.

I’ll just show you what I mean.

Mom and Grandmama

Me and Grandmama

Young Family

Me and Mom

By 25 my mom had three!

My mom and sister

3 Generations

Long Day

Family Portrait

Signs of the Times (& VW Vans)

These landmarks, signs and vans caught my eye on a recent trip to Austin.  My husband says that if I had my way I’d live in a VW van.  He may be right.

Mellow Johnny’s Bike Shop. Classic.

What’s your favorite?

Totally Austin

Where retired surfers go to eat

Saturday Morning Market

Sun-ripened tomatoes, yellow squash, swiss chard with wet mud still clinging to the roots…  I love visiting the farmer’s market on Saturday mornings.  Today’s top find was fresh peaches and last week we discovered homemade apple pie and new potatoes.  I can still smell the beeswax candles that I tucked into a package for Mom.  And my family can tell you about my somewhat irrational love affair with Berryhill grilled (really – grilled)  “fish tacos of the gods” (according to the Houston Chronicle).  Berryhill’s cooks must sign a non-disclosure agreement and the recipe for their secret sauce is closely guarded.  The tacos are that good.  And they’re available for only $2.00 at my local market.

I appreciate the seasonal variety, just-picked produce, handmade goods and regional specialties.  What I enjoy most is the energy and the human interaction.  It’s nice to place money in the hands of the person who baked your pie and to see the regulars that line up to buy kettle corn, Texas BBQ sauce or Philly water ice.  I like getting tips from the shopper standing next to me and to learn how to cook the vegetables available this week from the people who planted and picked them.  There are musicians playing, food cooking, talking and laughter.  It’s a sunny Saturday morning and it feels like community, celebration and home.

Sugar Land Farmer’s Market

As delicious as it looks…

Water Ice with a Philly Accent

Berryhill Baja Grill

Sowing Beauty: The Unofficial Story of Lady Bird and the Texas Wildflowers

This time of the year, when wildflowers are in their prime along the Texas highways, I think of Lady Bird Johnson.  Now my version of the story bears no resemblance to the truth, but I’m sure it’s a much livelier picture than the weeks of debate in Congress, the budgeting and resulting projects.

I imagine the First Lady getting up one fine morning late in September and saying, “Lyndon, I can’t stand it.  The Highway Beautification Act was passed by the Senate weeks ago, but y’all are still talking.”

“You know I’m pushing as hard as I can – these things take time…”

“Well, my dear, I got tired of waiting.  I figure if you want something done, best do it yourself.  Keys to the Caddy?’

“Oh Lord, what now?”

“If you can help me move that big bag from the trunk, I’ll get someone to drive.  Here’s a cup.”

“What the hell for?”

“I’ll leave getting rid of those ugly billboards and junkyards up to you.  I’ve got a project of my own and I’m using my own special blend.”

“Of what?”

“Seeds, Lyndon.  Seeds!  This is exactly the right time to sow wildflowers in Texas, and I’m going to do some beautification of my own.  No public works projects or construction crews needed.  You’ll see it – about March or April.  Hop in.”

I imagine Lady Bird and LBJ riding along the highways of Texas for a few days in September, laughing and talking and sowing beauty from their Cadillac convertible.

Now for a little of the real story.

Before signing the Highway Beautification Act on October 22, 1965, President Lyndon Baines Johnson made some remarks that are still relevant today.  “In our eagerness to expand and improve, we have relegated nature to a weekend role, banishing it from our daily lives. I think we are a poorer nation as a result.”  After signing the bill, he planted a kiss on Lady Bird’s cheek.

Lady Bird Johnson made it clear that “beautification” was the wrong word and not the “cosmetic” solution she had in mind.  She pushed for “clean water, clean air, clean roadsides, safe waste disposal and preservation of valued old landmarks as well as great parks and wilderness areas.”  She succeeded in making this country a more beautiful place and was known as The Environmental First Lady.  Her legacy lives on in the bluebonnets, scarlet Indian Paintbrush and pink primroses that bloom each year along the roadside.  You can also get a glimpse of the flowers she loved so much and feel her spirit at the Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center in south Austin, Texas. 

Thank you, Lady Bird.  Earth Day should be dedicated to you.

Call the Midwife

If you have the opportunity to see the BBC series, “Call the Midwife,” I highly recommend it.  No fear – this is no graphic or gratuitous reality show.  Instead, it’s an engaging drama based on the memoirs of nurse midwife Jennifer Worth, and set in the poverty-stricken neighborhoods of East London in the 1950′s.  The series follows the stories of young midwives fresh out of nursing school living with the Sisters of the Nonnatus House convent and serving the families in this working-class community.  “Call the Midwife” shows us a rough area of post-war London through the eyes of Jenny, who has never dealt with poverty or hardship.  As difficult as it may be, she and the other young midwives put judgment aside and learn to serve the women and their families with skill, compassion and the help of the experienced nuns.

The writing is superb, the casting perfect, and the stories draw me right in.  All of the main characters are wonderfully brought to life, but my favorite has to be the blunt Sister Evangelina, played by Pam Ferris.  I’ve only watched 3 episodes so far, but find myself laughing and tearing up regularly at the touching portrayal of birth, death and everything in between.

The Art of the Hospitality and the Holiday Home

After my last post, you know that my friend Els is a creative person, gifted at the art of hospitality.  I couldn’t resist posting a couple of pictures of her home, decorated for the holiday and ready for guests.  Lovely!

An Easter To Remember

Lovely gifts: Gnomys by Annekebouke

Today I remember an unusual Easter, 21 years ago, in a Dutch village far away.

We were young and living the grad student family life in Lawrence, Kansas, with a 2-year-old daughter and another baby on the way.  My husband’s studies were nearing an end and he accepted a job offer – in the Netherlands.  I had traveled out of the country only once, and the thought of an international move was daunting.

We were heading to the unknown and this was pre-internet, so my resources consisted of a few books about Holland at the local library.  A Dutch acquaintance offered to introduce me to a “relative of a relative” who happened to live near the town where my husband’s office was located.  I wrote a letter introducing myself and asked questions about midwives, housing and a few other concerns and sent it air mail to Holland.

A few weeks later, the phone rang.

It was Els.

She had located a midwife and made an appointment, found all of the information I needed regarding housing and answered my other questions.  “I noticed that you arrive the day before Easter.  I always have a brunch and will come by to pick you up at 9:00.  Ok?”

At 9:00 on Easter morning, Els arrived in her van and transported us to her home.  The entire day was a bit of a blur, with an Easter egg hunt in the garden, a wonderful breakfast with extended family (and very welcome strong Dutch coffee) followed in the afternoon by a boat tour around the canals of Leiden.  We didn’t leave until bed time and by the end of the day, we were exhausted.  But Els understood jet lag and although I could barely keep my eyes open I thanked her later!

She also understood moving to another country, and we discovered that we lived not so far away from each other in the U.S. for a few years.  She understood raising a family with lots of creativity and limited means and donated furniture when she realized we had left almost everything behind.  Els adopted us like her own family from the moment we met.

This morning we had a quiet brunch with just the three of us at home.  Els had a houseful of visitors, decorating with her usual creative flair and hiding the eggs carefully in the garden for the little ones to discover.  We’re far apart but I was there in spirit, remembering a wonderful Easter so long ago.