The steam rising from the pond taunted me as I began my run in the sub-freezing temperatures.  At 14 degrees Fahrenheit, any steam escaping my nose was immediately crystallized to (delicately, I’m sure) encircle my nostrils.  The sun was just barely coming over the horizon at 8 AM.

It was my day to increase my run to seven miles.  The basically one mile loop around the Wilson Springs fishing ponds is less than five minutes from my house.  I don’t have to deal with traffic while running there; plus, others can come along with me and run or walk at their own paces, but we still see each other frequently.

I wore my Soft Star Moc3 running moccasins this morning.  I had been running completely barefoot most of the summer during my training, reaching a five mile distance without any footwear, working up to participating in a barefoot 5K in October. When the winter weather came, I found my feet got both numb and painful if the temperature went below 32 degrees.  Advice from Maple Grove Barefoot Guy was greatly appreciated and I donned my winter running shoes with less guilt.   Barefoot Bob gave me hope about spring transitions.

At first, I REALLY didn’t like the loss of barefoot feedback while running, but the comfort of warmth has compensated for much of that.  AND I was pleased to find that even with ski socks from smartwool.com, the Moc3′s were allowing for good ground feel. My tootsies were not too hot and not at all chilled, yet the soles of the shoes were thin enough that I still had to watch carefully where I put my foot, enforcing good barefoot running habits.

The path starts off as asphalt next to the parking lot, but there is a constant scattering of gravel, along with proof of duck traffic.  I wished I had brought something to cover my face, although every other inch of me was covered or double covered.  My average 9:12 minute mile pace warmed up my legs and fingers after two miles, but I couldn’t tell if my face was warmer or just lacking feeling.  I reached up to rub it once in a while to verify it was still there.  I have lost nearly 20 pounds since last April and get colder more easily now.  I briefly wondered if I could borrow the weight back for insulation during the winter…

My running was fairly silent.  As I rounded various corners, the ducks found my sudden presence startling.  They would rise en mass with a rush of wings that resonated deeply over the open water.    I offered my reassurances, but they remained unconvinced.  Observing the effort it took for their heavy, boat like bodies to take to the air, I felt comparatively light and aerodynamic  as a runner.

The path winds by a field with horses on the right, then about 3/4 of the way around a dirt road branches off to the right, skirting some of the less heated ponds and making the loop a solid one mile, if not slightly more.  This frozen tundra runs along behind a few houses.  The ground is uneven and hides some larger stones.  When I tried to run in the flatter ruts, the tall grasses whipped in my face, giving me the full safari experience.  No, wait, there weren’t any lions or elephants.  But there are scraggly trees in front of the glowing orange globe of the sun.

After banking around a large outer pond that is partly iced over, the path joins the asphalt again and turns over a bridge.  The fallen trees criss-crossing the deep, splashing brook appear impenetrable.  If I didn’t know better, I would have no idea of the parking lot and well traveled roads just a couple hundred feet beyond.

As the circle is completed, morning breaks out in full glory over the water.

If one must run in 14 degrees, this is a nice place to do it.

Our mid May visit to the Idaho Botanical Garden was on the day the Moody Blues concert was canceled. Its a good thing it was canceled, or the Garden would have been closed in preparation. As it was, we were among a very few uninformed who came to the Garden anyway.

The weather was only slightly warmer than during our March visit, but there were many more flowers in bloom.  We followed the same course through the garden, but skipped the “natural garden” path up the side of the hill.  We hike in the local hills regularly and see that sort of landscaping there.  Maybe the following photos will give you some ideas for your garden.  I’ve tried to mention names of what I know or what was labeled, but welcome help identifying the rest (or corrections…).  You should be able to enlarge pictures by clicking on them.

orange poppies and purple columbine

Not that many of us have the space for such a display of wisteria…

A closer look at the deep purple columbine.

Yellow lilies provide color right now in this border.

Unidentified lavender bush.  May have to go back and ask the personnel at IBG.

Formal hedges staging frilly clematis and my blonde brownie.

White clematis with a touch of purple.

Exotic purple clematis.

Giant allium

A peaceful corner for hostas.

Contrasted with these rows of mature hostas.

A well dressed geranium.

Spanish eyes in the grass, but you’ll notice that it hampers the mowing schedule.

Strange bark adds to the visual effect.

My partners in exploration.

Another fun tree.

I never tire of the variety of iris colors.

Snow in summer up the rose garden steps.  Delightful.

Raspberry swirl tulips are a nice addition to this bed.

Am dreaming of the wrought iron support for peonies in my yard.

I have no idea what this is and can’t decide if it belongs in a cave….flowers up close below.

I adore pussy toes and finally got some established in my garden.

Here they are up close with some striking red  columbine amongst them.

And stepping back a bit -

A new twist on the old west theme.

Apparently planted in broken rocks – see the whole row of them below:

It looks like this straw flower has some source of inner lighting!

These girls keep following me. 

We saw this plant sprouting when there in March and it reminded us of a gooey alien life form.

and its flowers now.

The flowering roof over the Lewis and Clark display.

I have not been successful with penstemons in my yard, but IBG has a number of them that tempt me to keep trying.

See the buds up close below:

A bubbling brook -

With a camas lily on its banks.

Russian stonecrop.

Hot pink Lewisia.

A gentian blue flower

And also in the “fire protection” borders area, red penstemon and a weeping Siberian pea (tree?).

Me looking casual on a well placed bench.

If you are looking for a place for photo-ops, IBG has many opportunities.

This little fellow followed us a bit, seriously dive bombed the girls, then sat on the branch to sing an aria for us.  I think he wanted to play.

Another graceful combination.

A brilliant white shrub behind the covered swing.

Since it is actually June now, it is time to go again and see the roses in bloom.  The rose garden was looking very promising, but there were only one or two roses just beginning to show.

I have a custom made butter dish.  It sits on my counter, a beautiful and practical piece of pottery that I ordered while browsing Art & Roses, a local event at Julia Davis Park in Boise, Idaho, held the first Sunday of June.  The exhibition had too many booths of wall art for my attention span, but when I arrived at Mud Pie Arts, I and my companion lingered a long time.  Naturally, it was the eye-catching pottery that first drew us into the stall, but the genuine, comfortable friendliness of the proprietor, Patricia Sadler-Trainor, and her husband made the stop one-of-a-kind for the day.

There were rectangular platters, bowls of various sizes, vases, mugs, and…   butter dishes with lids!  However, the butter dishes for sale were only sized for one cube.  I mentioned how much I liked them, except for the limited capacity and she offered to make her first two-cube butter dish.  I paid the deposit, along with the purchase of a couple of other pieces for gifts, then began the rest of my summer.

A few weeks later, I received the phone call to go pick up my treasure.  Patricia’s studio is located behind her house in the North End of Boise, with the entrance through a garden gate.

On the spur of the moment I had asked Natalie to come along with the camera.  When we arrived, I asked Patricia if she would mind telling us a little about her business and art.   The particular details of each business or craft are always fascinating to me.

Patricia loves to answer questions about her work.  She patiently explained aspects of her processes, such as how many boxes of clay she buys at once to how she creates the textures.  Her clay comes in boxes like these, which are the last few boxes of a much larger shipment:

She uses a potter’s wheel or a slab-roller, however, she may coil or weave the clay, depending on the desired product.  If she has made flat sheets of clay with the slab-roller, she puts the clay around a form chosen from her shelves.

(wheel)

(slab-roller)

Her forms are hardened solids, themselves formed from such things as Styrofoam meat trays or whatever has potential.

Tools to press in texture can be anything from exotic designs from wood block stamps found at import stores to bubble wrap.

Besides paper bags full of powders (glaze ingredients to be weighed on a her triple beam scale), there are stacks of plastic gallon buckets, which looked like they had previously held ice cream, filled with mixed glazes.  The work tables and benches are well supplied with brushes, scrappers, spatulas, and mallets.  There are also tubs of clay scraps being soaked to bring them back to use.  We smiled to see the ubiquitous yogurt containers being reused, since we reuse them at our home for a variety of things.

That day there were not very many finished pieces to see because they were packed up to transport, but even her window sill was lovely to look at.

Below, she explains the textures and glazes of a finished bowl -

Here is the blue bowl one of my daughters received for her birthday a few days ago:

You can see more of Patricia’s work if you visit her website.  There is also information about where she will be selling her creations, as well as information for other potters about her glazes.  Here is one more view of MY butter dish so that you can get a closer look at the gorgeous blues and browns on the other side:

Patricia’s studio was plainly a well used, well loved studio, a place of reveling in her art and making items that people delight to buy.  Anything purchased from her is classic now and a show piece to savor for years.

We appreciate that the problem didn’t become urgent until our youngest son had arrived at work and exited the car.  Then, we’re thankful that a few minutes later, a co-worker noticed the smoking under the hood of the  vehicle.  And, we are glad our oldest son called the fire department when he did.

He had called us first, so we were on our way with a tow rope, not knowing if it had just overheated or some such thing.  However, in the interim, he made the decision that immediate help was prudent.  We arrived to see the front end of the car covered in flames and the fire crew hosing it down.

When the vehicle was more approachable, but only by those with heavily gloved hands and breathing masks, a large circular saw was put to work on cutting the hood open.  It was a messy procedure, leaving the hood looking like modern art.  The gush of water was now applied more directly and thoroughly to the well melted engine.

The hood sections were pushed back down, we completed the necessary paperwork, and the fireman offered to call a tow truck for us.  During the half hour wait for it, we did some clean-up work.  The folks at Greenhurst Nursery loaned us a couple of brooms, the largest dust pan I have ever seen, and pulled the dumpster over from across the parking lot.

It is not easy to sweep charred car parts off of asphalt.  The edge of the dust pan was useful for prying some the melted goo from the pavement.  Never one to unnecessarily throw anything away, Greg grinned when he found a large bolt in good shape amidst the debris.

Out of curiosity, I asked the fireman how often they put out car fires.  I was amazed by his answer of “about one a week.”  That’s quite a few!  But as he says, there are a lot of cars and they do have explosions going on inside of them whenever they are running.

It is a new reminder of what it means that “our God is a consuming fire.”  Dangerous and cleansing.  That was just one little, localized flame.  He, on the other hand, can’t be contained.  That’s power.

Mosaic rhymes with Aramaic, so that lends credence to my belief that it is a language.  Well, anyway, my husband speaks Mosaic.  He wrote “I love Laura” all over our kitchen wall in tile pieces shaped into things like sunflowers, dragonflies, bees, and birdhouses.  You might need a translator to understand it, but after nearly 28 years of marriage, I have a basic knowledge of his communication techniques.

As is common with newly married women, I originally had certain expectations of how a husband would express love.  Then, I began to learn HIS languages, and came to appreciate that what he said through those was far sweeter than anything I could have imagined.   I have things like a custom designed cement gardening table, a greenhouse with a waterfall, and a fantastic mosaic.  Come to think of it, maybe he DOES speak my language!  I still like fresh flowers, but they simply don’t last as long as things done in Mosaic.

Here are a few pictures showing the kitchen mosaic project (if you just want to see a full view of the finished work, go to the bottom):

Here are some resources we found useful, although this design is completely ours (a pencil sketch was my contribution, at his request, to the project):

Mosaic Craft by Martin Cheek

Mosaic Patterns by Emma Biggs and Tessa Hunkin

Mosaic Techniques and Traditions by Sona King

I was surprised to wake up easily at 5:30.  I let my puppy out, then sent out a quick email to the Chinese tutor about the lesson schedule for Wednesday.  By then the kids were up and getting ready to go exercise at the gym.  After a brief panic about car keys, we headed out into the pre-dawn darkness to further rouse the day.

The next “mom-duty” was to recharge the gym card for our foreign exchange student, then I found a stationary bike on which to attempt new goals.  I rode 10 miles within 42 minutes, in spite of a mechanical miscommunication between me and the bike at mile 5.  My legs were not so jello-like that I couldn’t walk, but I proceeded cautiously down the stairs to the weight room as they trembled some at each step.  There I fought the ongoing battle with marshmallow triceps,  as well as other arm muscles that all have names like dinosaurs.  I pass by the kids frequently in the weight room, checking on their form and routines, helping them know when to ask the trainers for input.

Once home again, we proceeded with breakfast, chores, showers, and Bible reading.  Ah, I love discussing the truths of the Bible with the kids.  They respectfully reminded me, however, of keeping on schedule and not going overlong in my enthusiasm.  This was not before my 17 year old son wondered if we could sometime go through all of Paul’s writings and mark sections where he is being fantastical or sarcastic in his effort to make a point.  They all had encouragingly thoughtful comments and questions.

Half way through the morning I reveled in their initiative and dedication to their study efforts, today’s reward for many years of training.  I fielded questions about math, while I managed our stock account for Greg, his preferred way for me to “spend” money.  At this point, I realized what a truly lovely day I was having.  I worked on doing some laundry, helped Carlie clean the kitchen and thought, “I feel like super mom today!”  Before you get too upset with me, realize that I have had a share of trying days, surgeries, sick children, people being mean to me, etc, etc.  I would never seriously attribute any of my blessings to my own efforts.  Really, today was no different.  It was more like I had been imbued with special power that was carrying me along, causing me to accomplish, giving me a needed lift to do what was important.  I was willing to go with that!

Next, I reviewed the translation and corrections by our tutor of a couple of Chinese letters I had written over vacation.  I enjoyed getting a little help from Ian towards the end, again thinking about the Providence that had sent him our way without us asking.  Then there was more helping kids by correcting their various assignments, give direction in subjects, and helping with graduation requirements for the senior.  A phone call from the college child, from her designated location where she was signing up for classes for next semester, decided my next small project of organizing a copy of her high school records again.  Some frustration here, as her process is rather complicated by Boise State University handing over the culinary arts program to the new College of Western Idaho.  No one seems to have a complete picture of how to counsel the kids caught in the cross-over, so it is a bit like treading water at the moment.  The fact that all of her high school transcripts, laboriously prepared by me two years ago, were easy to find, nonetheless lent a satisfaction even to this.

Now, I didn’t have to make dinner tonight because I almost always cook double or triple portions, cutting down my cooking time for the week drastically.  I DID make four large golden loaves of sandwich bread.  Years of practice with that, and I do it by memory… hardly ever forgetting the salt.  Today was a success in that area, too.  This and lunch had gotten the kitchen messy again, so I cleaned that and put more laundry through the machines.

Right about then I noticed a vaguely familiar feeling of fatigue.  Ah.  I wasn’t super mom after all.  I’m pretty sure “supers” don’t get tired.  Still, I sorted some clean laundry into individual kids’ baskets, while listening to a daughter read a classic book of literature to me, Jane Eyre.  It’s her assignment, but it’s my story time!  That was interspersed with coordinating a fairly new driver helping to transport a younger sibling to work as a maid for an adult sibling who is married and lives elsewhere.  When that was all done, I made a quick trip out for fuel for the snow bound vehicle and bought milk.

My husband chivalrously claimed that I’m really super mom all the time, I just don’t realize it.  He meant it very kindly,  but I’m not sure I want the pressure that goes with that.  Today I will take pleasure in the relatively smooth and productive day, but I expect tomorrow I will be just plain old me again.

Wednesday evening we went by the mall to get Ian, our foreign exchange student from Taiwan, some winter clothes, Taiwan being a tropical island.  Among the things he needed was a better pair of shoes, which he picked out at Footlocker.  It was getting late, but we were only behind one person waiting for the cashier, so things looked hopeful.  I zoned out a little in an attempt to be patient, but after a few minutes realized that there was trouble with this person’s credit card.  The machine wasn’t reading it.  After several problem solving attempts, the two burly young men working on it pulled out (gasp) a carbon copy form and the device to make appropriate marks on said carbons.  I laughed.  It has been quite a while since I’ve seen one of those.  My boredom was further relieved as I watched them try to figure out how to use it.   Which way is right-side up for the card and how do you pull that bar piece over the forms?  Another phone call to the management got them through the process, though in a somewhat embarrassed state.  They were pleasant young men, but their bearing and attire indicated that they were used to self-confidence.  It did make them feel better to know that they had entertained us while we had our unusually long wait.