Stuff That Makes Us Hillarys: May 2015

...in the beginning...

We are the Hillary family. I can't actually claim all of us to be Hillarys, we've meshed with the Stimpsons, the Doxstaders, the Merrimans, and the Lowreys - but the more you hang around us the more we kind of rub off on you, and poof - you become a Hillary. Which, after reading some of the things that we do might sound like a pretty frightening thing. The disclaimer is that I cannot embarrass any of my children, and I promised. Then I uncrossed my fingers. We love the following people in our family.... Del & Nicole, Matt & Bethany & Drew, Em, and the Noahman Ashley & Mike and Baby Mackadamia and soon to be..., Mandy & Ryan, J-man and Dimples, and Ryan and Katie - yes we own two Ryans! Not pictured: Zoey the German Shephard, Opi the newly adopted puppy, BG & Baby Red the Macaws (the latter two Zoey would eat if put in the same picture). Welcome to our Blog. Don't take us too seriously.... life is meant to have a never ending, bottomless tub of buttered popcorn and laughter.

Friday, May 15, 2015

mmmmm..... dirt.

It's time to dig in the dirt. Oh I love dirt. I have my rituals of picking out my seeds, and my veggie starts. I love the smell of the greenhouse and adventures of finding two gardening gloves that actually match in my shed. I pull out all the stops on tools, shovels, claws, rakes, and the hose. My lawn greens up and I feed it and mow it. It looks like velvet now that I actually have a mower that all the wheels are the same height. I buy 4 new perennials every year, something strange that will come back every year and get bigger and then I split it up and make it grow somewhere else. In inspect my trees and look at their bark and make sure they are healthy and strong... going to need some apples this year. I uncover my birdhouses covered from the winter and know that the bees will live there yet again. I love planning out my garden - it's not my dad's big old garden - but I have sprinkled a baggie of his dirt in it once just for his magic. I hate tomatoes - but I always plant them and watch them blossom, grow beautiful red and then I smash them. My favorite moments are right before I bury any seed or plant any plant. I pull up my chair right next to the garden and I just drink in it's vibes. Crazy eh. I visualize what this or that would do in which spot - or rotate spots from the year before to rest the soil. Then I go into my kitchen and look out the window and think of what I want to look out and see all summer long. Then I get to work lining up seeds the right distance apart and the right depth, rake over the soil, and wish them luck. My little garden might not be very big but it yields growth like crazy. I sing my songs to it, and I rid it of it's weeds, and I give it wonderful eggshells to help it grow. When I step into it - the world disappears and it's just quiet to me. The quail love to nest in the raspberries and their babies can be seen running along the little indents where the seeds will come up. I love this gene in me, and the love my dad gave me for growing things. I love that my kids love dirt under their fingernails also. I love to plant... I'm excited to plant... I'm waiting to plant... I'm wanting to plant... but it's been raining for 3 solid weeks and all my seeds and plants are still tucked in a warm safe place until the sun shines enough to plant them. Except for the tomatoes.... I left them out in the cold. Leaves me more time to decide where to plant things I guess. Can't mess with Mother Nature.

Sunday, May 10, 2015

Hey Me Mudder...

Some people dread different things - events, or expectations - life happenings, certain days. Today, it's the day I knew was coming and there was no stopping it. On a day when people honor their Mothers and hug them and do special things for them... I am without, for the first time ever. But I also know that most people that dread things, survive and look back on those times and say - it made me stronger. I woke after about only an hour of sleep last night. I watched the clock tick over to the 12:00 am red glare, May 10th, 2015. "Here it is", I said. I spent the rest of the night looking at pictures, playing videos over and over, and actually testing God's patience in asking to just hear her voice once more. I talked out loud to her - silly but true. I told her how sorry I was for letting her down so many times, and for not canning enough beans, and for taping up the hem of something instead of sewing it like she would have. I told her that I actually didn't like her meatloaf, and when she made liver and onions I almost called child social services. I thanked her for being the smile at the ball park, or the track, or the basketball or volleyball games. I remembered her laughter and tears about life choices she had no choices in. I spent a lot of time wishing her hand on my face, and to hear the words, "You just made my day" when it was actually her that had made mine. I still didn't hear her voice, I still didn't dream of her. I fretted over the cupcakes I needed to make and if they would be pretty enough or in the right paper, and I knew she had given me that silly thought. Our last words together were in prayer - I always had such a hard time leaving and driving the long ride home alone. I would gather her hands in mind and kneel next to her wheelchair and we would pray together. That is one thing I will always be thankful for - our prayers were precious, as they were expressions of love and concerns and brought peace and hope in our dark times. Yesterday I wanted to see my daughters, the mothers of my grandchildren, the next generation of my mothers genes. So. Much. Beauty. When I'm with them, the crater in my heart from missing my mom is gently filling. They buffer the pain, they tenderly expose the path ahead of hope and love. Mom's day is a very special day. Gratitude is such a small word for such a huge person. Each memory of my mom is now a treasure, to reopen when needed and to hold dearly. It's a gentle reminder that I need to be better at making a few treasures for my own kids, and grand kids. But just for today, this long first time, this exhausting day of moments and thoughts and regrets and thankfulness... I might just be a little girl, her little girl. Tomorrow - I'll be a Mom again.