This, just in from my eldest daughter, who sent this to my email to give me a smile today.

“I’m Dr. Pepper deprived.”

This is an ongoing joke between my daughter and me.  I never heard of a Dr. Pepper until we moved to Texas, having been raised on Pennsylvania Dutch root beer and sarsaparilla and red birch beer. 

My daughter, however, seemed destined for Dr. Pepper.  Early one morning, at the age of 26 months, she climbed on the kitchen countertop, then scrambled up to the top of the frig, opened those little doors in the cabinets and found a bottle of cough syrup that was over 30% alcohol.  She proceeded to drink it, thrilled with the cherry flavor that in my book is just about identical to Dr. Pepper.

This is the only time so far in raising a house full of children that I called poison control.  They said she would not hold the cough syrup in her stomach, and after that happened she would fall asleep for the rest of the day due to the alcohol and medicinal content that already had been absorbed into her blood stream.  It would be a “dead” sleep where it would be impossible to wake her.  They were right.  They also called every hour that day, once a day for the following week, and then followed up several times after that.  This is one way that they compile information about what will happen and what to do when your child does the unspeakable.  So my daughter claims she performed a valuable act of courage for their database.

I might mention that this was the only day that I can remember in this child’s toddlerhood when she was still. 

Because we are continually moving toward healthy eating goals, there is not much Dr. Pepper in the life of a Spangler these days.  Now, for me that’s no problem since I prefer an occasional root beer for a treat when I’m not working on a kefir or a grapefruit juice.  But for Karen, well she only has a DP on her birthday and then a few other occasions when we go for mother-daughter talks.  So she really does sympathize with the poor kitty.  And she loves Siamese, hoping to own one someday.  

Now you know why a picture is worth a thousand words, or maybe at least a few hundred.

For my entire adult life I have tried numerous makeup techniques to disguise a lack of symmetry on my face – my right eye is more almond shaped and my left eye is more round.   That is, until early this morning when I ran across this photograph of Her Sovereign Majesty Queen Elizabeth II.

I have adored Queen Elizabeth for many years.   Now I love her even more.  I’m throwing the makeup techniques out the window.

Yet the best part of my early morning discovery was that six year old Abigail came over to the computer, saw this picture, and said, “Ooooooo.  She’s lovely.  Who is she Mama?”

“She’s the queen.”

“Ooooooo.  I like her necklace.  And she is so pretty.  Look at her crown, Mama.  On top of her pretty hair.  I would like to see her castle.”

“Yes, Abigail.  (long sigh)  She is ever so lovely.   She has always been lovely.  And I walked through her castle when I was in England.  And I saw her crown too, at least one of her crowns.”

All of a sudden astonishment ….   “Why, she’s just like you, Mama!”

“How so?”  (Thinking of the asymmetrical eyes.)

“She has curly hair and she is getting old and she is beautiful, just like you, Mama.”

I’ll be laughing the rest of today.

For mushroom lovers, portobellos get the edge.  As they mature, their flavor intensifies.  And while the little white mushrooms compete for attention as party food or a side dish, a huge portobello demands a knife and fork for one large mushroom per portion.  So, armed with a parcel of portobellos and a loaf of homemade white bread, I ventured into the kitchen to see what I could make with these giant brown umbrellas.  I also kept my copy of “Cook’s Illustrated” by my side with its words of wisdom in my attempt to make the ultimate stuffed porto.  The side dish would be fried rice with scallops and snow peas, and I think my associate threw in some almonds and who knows what else.

The portobellos freshly wiped…

…and the ingredients for the stuffing.  Olive oil, salt, fresh spinach slightly steamed, chopped mushroom stems, crumbled white bread, diced onions, minced garlic cloves, rose, chopped fresh thyme, crumbled feta cheese, heavy cream, toasted walnuts, lemon juice, and black pepper.   Somehow there was no room for chocolate.

To avoid a soggy filling, moisture had to be extracted from the mushrooms.  One of the reasons that mushrooms hold moisture so well is that they have a layer of water-repellent proteins on their surface that keeps moisture from going out.  At this point I requested an assistant who scored the mushrooms to break apart the surface so that moisture could be baked out. 

Baking the moisture out, 10 minutes each side.

In the meantime, my associate checked out the facts.

And he threw together the fried rice.  Cooks are like pianists, some throw things together with a creative flair while others produce exactly what is on the printed page.  My assistant is the thrower, both as pianist and cook.  I am the one that produces a replica of the original with cautious variance.  In the kitchen this also plays out in the clean-up process.  One of us cleans as we go in an orderly fashion, the other creatively re-decorates the kitchen as we cook.    We make a funny team, at least that is what our children report. 

In the meantime I cooked the stuffing in a skillet, stuffed the now drained mushrooms, and topped them with buttered bread crumbs. 

The broiled mushrooms.

The fried rice.

The happy chefs.  And it was yummy!

This post is for the benefit of my daughters who have asked me what the first year of marriage is like and what it is like to be a new bride.  To be sure, every woman would answer this from her own perspective so this is definitely my own personal experience and thoughts on the first year.  One thing I’d like to mention up-front is that I have repeatedly heard women remark that the first year of marriage was hard or miserable or a terrible time of adjusting.  Daughters, be encouraged – this does not have to be true at all.  I enjoyed our honeymoon, our first year of marriage, and our first anniversary.  I even remember our first disagreement and that does not taint that first year at all.  So, here are some thoughts, girls, on the first year, and a few pictures since your father loves photography and there is a large album full of pictures from that first year. 

Dad has written about our honeymoon on his blog and how he chose a quaint Vermont inn with lots of history but only one road going through the town.  Our friends had chosen Caribbean islands and that sort of thing for their honeymoons but Dad knew that we would enjoy a non-commercial, cuisine-excellent, New England countryside vacation.  I also suspect that the Vermont trout streams were heavily calling to him and he could not resist.  I had no idea of where we were going but I had a clue when he said don’t pack a swimsuit.  It was not south that we were going.  I was hopeful that we would end up in New England or even Canada, but also hopeful that if it were Canada it would not be Niagara Falls since I had been there so many times it was worn out.    Dad’s choice was a great one and as all of you know I would pack my bags at a moment’s notice to go back to Grafton, Vermont. 

Upon returning home we unpacked and finished moving our wedding gifts and my belongings into our home.  Now, for a Spangler, everything evolves around a piano, even unpacking.  This piano has a story.  This was the piano that I took lessons on when I was five years old.  My teacher, Anna Marie DeVerter, was an elderly woman who lived in downtown Harrisburg, very close to the capitol building.  She had come through a line of pianists from the very old European masters and she was quite eccentric.  After she moved into a nursing home, my father purchased her piano and gave it to our pastor.   When my pastor moved into nursing care, my father acquired the piano once more and gave it to me.  This was one of the worst pianos by this time as the action was so sluggish and stiff that my fingers had to hammer it and it was impossible to produce any dynamics.   I was able to teach some beginning piano students on it.   We sold this piano for…. well I’ll tell you later.   Notice that the brand new pots and pans are placed in low priority on the floor underneath the piano.  

It’s important during the first year of marriage to study your husband and get to know his likes and dislikes even more than during your engagement when you are busy with wedding arrangements and so forth and are only gaining glimpses of who he is.  It’s important to support your husband in his hobbies and those things that refresh him.  These things are crucial to his health and his well-being so you will want to support, encourage, and learn these things.  With your father, I learned right off the bat that he loves history, music, nature and photography.  So one of the things I immediately got used to was musical rehearsals all over the New York City area, museums, long hikes and being “clicked” at frequently.  I had never been photographed so much in all my life and I had to be ready at all times with a smile.  You will note that I never had a knack with a camera, so there is little pictoral record of your father, but evidently he found me an interesting subject and so the albums are full of your mother.  I had never wanted to be a model and certainly don’t have the looks so I find this whole thing quite funny.  Here we were hiking in the Bear Mountain area in New York.  Columbus Day is the height of the leaf color so I think this was taken in September.  No, we did not find any bears.

At the American Museum of Natural History I turned around and “click.”  This museum is incredible.  The historical musical instrument room is phenomenal.   Ooo let’s go!

At the Bronx Zoo.  Were my thoughts “Put that thing away!” or was it that the monkey behavior rubbed off on me?  Hmmm… I can’t remember.  Either way, it is an amazing thing that so many neat animals live right in the heart of New York City.

 

One of the things I learned right off the bat is that your father likes to invite people over.  I think this came from his parents, who are incredibly hospitable.  I came from a home that never practiced hospitality that I can remember.  So I was at quite a loss over this whole thing.  In fact, before we were married I wallowed in self-pity that I would never meet my mother-in-law’s abilities to cook and entertain – and I never have.   Hospitality does not come naturally to me, but I learned from the first year of marriage that this was going to have to be something that I could do enough to please your dad. 

Here is one of those times in pictorial representation.  Taken in our home shortly after we were married, these were your dad’s friends and their wives.  Dad was the last to get married.  I was the first of my friends to marry.   Both Dad’s friends and my friends have spent their lives in the pastorate or as missionaries.  I am thankful that so many of our friends centered their lives on the Gospel and responded to their life calling to further the Church and missions around the world.  This is one of many benefits that Dad and I acquired from having been a part of a Bible College and Seminary.  It is still a joy to read about the many friends who are in every region of the world serving Christ and counting worldly possessions and fame as nothing.  Some have gone to cannibal tribes and others to regions of war and conflict like the Middle East.  Dad and I enjoyed rubbing shoulders with these kinds of people throughout our Nyack College days, and having grand theological or musical discussions in the cafeteria at many meals.   Nyack was truly a mount of blessing for us.  And a beautiful setting as well!

The first year of marriage carried into it leftover business from my single life.  When your father asked my father to marry me, one of the requirements was that your father had to promise that I graduated from college.  My dad and I had worked on this dream since I was in fourth grade: to be certified to teach music at all grade levels along with basically a Bible major (minus original languages) and a heavy dose of church music.   I did not understand the need for a heavy load of Bible classes but am thankful now that your father and my father considered this of much value to my life.  This was a five year program and I was at the 4 year mark when we married.  The unfinished business brought into our marriage was giving a senior recital and student teaching in grades K through 12.  Your father made sure that the recital happened, even though I did not desire to do it at all.  I have never been much into piano performance, prefering accompanying and choral directing, but I had pressure from the authorities in my life so I fulfilled the requirement.  My father was thrilled.   Girls, it is important to stay under authority the first year you are married.  Sometimes it is hard, but you will be blessed if you do.  It will also establish a pattern in your new married life.

The student teaching was much more palatable.  I loved the kids.  Just loved the kids.  This was an elementary school concert.  The master teacher was conducting a seasonal piece.   I enjoyed the faculty in this school and made quick friends with teachers from all grade levels.  I was invited into many classrooms and talked educational theory with a lot of people.  That is when I figured out that something was wrong with educational theory but I was not exactly sure just what.   Then I came home and talked it over with your dad and we started down the road of acquiring a biblical world view of education.  One of the blessings of student teaching was that I was given the opportunity to work with several mentally handicapped students and received an unmatchable reward of witnessing a non-verbal 9 year old girl learn to sing and thereafter talk.  Music works wonders. 

Here is my father playing with Sassy, the Spangler’s cockapoo, on recital weekend.  I can not ever thank the Spanglers enough for the hospitality and kindness they showed to my parents multiple times… especially the week that my parents were coming for a visit and a skunk had taken up residence under the Spangler’s house.  My father, the practical joker, found a clothespin and put it on his nose.  He also somehow managed to get into their home when they were not there, fully clad in his huge clown suit with round ball nose, gigantic shoes, and neon wig.  Scared my mother-in-law to death when she walked in.  Yes, my father the practical joker.  But he also liked dogs.  Do you know someone else who likes them?

The first year was a time to become more acquainted with family and one of the blessings was spending time with Gene, Dad’s younger brother.  Here is Gene and Sassy in the snow, and one of my favorite memories from The First Year.  Your uncle is quite talented in many areas, and one is that he has been in sales during his adult life, and currently sells emergency vehicles which is such a neat application of his talents.  It has been said that he can sell snow in a snowstorm, so maybe that is why I like this photo so much.

The Spangler home covered in snow.  This was such a wonderful place for your Dad to grow up.  A small distance beyond the house the terrain goes down to a creek full of fish and critters and then you can see the rising mountain beyond.  When the Spanglers sold this home, we were heart sick.  A secret hope was that we would move back and purchase it ourselves.  But it was not to be.  One of the things I very much enjoyed as a newlywed was being invited over for one of Mom’s delicious dinners.  There were many times that family friends were also invited and I was much surprised to be literally kissed and slobbered over by the Italian ones.   So my advice to you when you are in The First Year is “just go with the flow.”  Having moved to Texas where there is all of this hugging stuff going on in greetings which is not considered proper where I come from unless you have not seen someone for years, I am still trying to just go with the flow!  I will say though that the Texas hugging is nothing like the Italian one.  The Italian stuff takes the cake.  Or maybe I should say it takes the tiramisu!  I LOVE tiramisu!  By the way, the Italian people totally won my heart – they are a wonderful family who have been faithful friends to your grandparents.

During The First Year, your father was working on elevators in New York City.  When not working, he was involved musically in many things.  One of the ways I served him was that I accompanied the youth choir at church and learned how to Spanglerize the vocal parts he wrote for the teens.  This took some effort as I would much rather read and play rather than create and play.  I can’t remember a time I did not accompany James to some rehearsal somewhere, but my favorite rehearsal was when he was invited to play for a black group down in the City.  Being in an urban black church was like nothing else I had ever seen and heard.  A requirement of my sacred music classes in college was to visit synagogues, Catholic masses, Eastern churches, various evangelical churches, and all kinds of religious services, but there was never a requirement to attend a black service.  I admire their joy and their sense of heaven being just ahead, as depicted in so many spirituals.  And I admire your father’s ability on keyboards to reproduce so many different kinds of music. 

One of the things that became evident to me in The First Year is that the commitment your father had made to God to put the Church first and work in the Church …. it was a reality in his life, something that he put into action.  This follows in the footsteps of his father and my father, both very godly men who were more concerned about souls than worldly things.  Your father has not faltered in his commitment to the Church and this is one area that I have followed him – sometimes joyfully and sometimes hesitatingly (well, OK, sometimes being dragged), but still following.   I’ll tell you more about this following stuff later.

The first full year of holidays will be something in The First Year that will be a time when your new family unit will be establishing your family traditions.  We had a headstart on this since we spent our engagement enjoying New York City during the Christmas season.   This is the street near the BIG tree with the horse carriages and many decorations.   There is nothing in this world like New York City.   How thankful I am to have had a romantic engagement in NYC.  Such happy and spectacular memories.

You may find something particularly difficult for you to do in the first year of marriage and into subsequent years of marriage.  For me, one of those things is heights.  I married someone who worked on elevators in elevator shafts in very tall buildingings, I would guess 50 stories plus high with multiple elevator cars in one shaft zooming up and down.  I married someone who does not fear scaling cliffs.  I married someone who has never felt woozy on a scenic drive.  (Ever notice that the definition of a scenic drive is that your vehicle is going to go towards heaven and then teeter-totter you on a cliff and this is defined as scenic.  To me this is the definition of a sick stomach or passing out, whichever comes first.)   So, naturally a Christmas tradition is NOT to enjoy the tree shaped lights on Macy’s from the street which makes perfect sense to me, but to view them from the top of the Empire State Building.  So here is looking DOWN on the lights on Macy’s.  It’s a huge display – many stories high.

Years later when we were at the Grand Canyon and the sun had not yet risen, I finally gave your father to God as he hung over the Canyon, camera in hand to get the perfect shot of the first ray of sun on the walls.   It was so dark that he did not really even know what he was hanging on to with his toes.  As the first rays of sun broke forth over the Canyon, a lady next to me, whose husband was also out on a ledge hanging by his toes, took a look at me and said, “Honey, I gave my husband to God when he hung over Hoover Dam.  Better to do it early in your marriage.”

So, someday you might find that your husband is very different than you in something.  And that’s OK.   Give it to God.

In the spring, Dad made sure I walked the aisle, completing his promise to my father. 

Your father has fulfilled everything that my dad asked.  My father had a sincere desire that I not only be provided for physically, but that spiritually I would be cared for and that my spiritual commitment would persevere.   I will never forget as we were leaving our wedding reception that my father grasped my new groom’s hand, gave him a penetrating look and said with a tone of voice I had never heard …. “Take care of her.”  Boy, he had never talked in that tone of voice even when I was a kid and had gotten into trouble.

It was not too many years later that I had the joy of reversing this situation and watching your father graduate from college.  In order to get to that point, our days in the Northeast were numbered.  James had chosen a college in Texas for electrical engineering so we were about to make a big move.  This was planned as a four year temporary move as we would be moving back to the Northeast when he graduated.  We took a few days and returned to Vermont for a second honeymoon.  The Inn was just as lovely as the year before. 

And the resident German shepherd was still there.

Girls, don’t be afraid to dream.  On our first anniversary we found the perfect house and said we would come back and retire there some day.  Today I know that this is not going to happen, but I treasure this dream just as much as the day we dreamed it.  This place says “come home” to both your father and me.  New England has such a classic spirit to it.  What I wouldn’t do for a triple level Cape Cod house like this one!  I have seen only one true Cape Cod in Texas in the 25 years we have been here.   I had wanted to build one when we did our house, but we ended up with Texas Country instead of New England Country.  And there is a difference.  So I guess we’ve been “Texanized.”

Here is what we sold the piano for … a truck and a trip to Texas.  

 Our first year of marriage was concluded with crossing the Mason Dixon line, traveling through Atlanta and then down to Interstate 20 through the southern states.   I had never seen these southern states that were flatter than a pancake and had dwarf trees, had never seen the muddy Mississippi, and really had little idea of what we were getting ourselves into.  But that’s another story for another time.  Here is perhaps a “sign” of what was to come.  This was taken somewhere in Virginia or North Carolina on the long trip to Texas.  God’s Hand of Providence was clearly being played out in our lives.  And yes, I was on the wrong side of the guard rail close to the treacherous wet rocks.

To some up my thoughts on the first year, and some helpful hints for you to store away, here is a brief summary.

1.  Establish housekeeping and do it well… with or without a piano.

2.  Get to know your husband and support those things he enjoys… even if it is a camera.

3.  Make his spiritual commitments #1 in your heart so that you can serve him well in his life purpose … even if you have to learn things that don’t come naturally to you.

4.  Stay under authority…. even when you really don’t want to do what is requested of you – you’ll be blessed if you do.

5.  Get to know his family and friends… especially if they are Italian.

6.  Start setting family traditions… even when the perspectives are different.

7.  Accept ways that your husband is very different from you… expecting it to take you to new heights.

8.  Don’t be afraid to dream… even if it seems like it will never come true.

9.  Follow him wherever he goes… even if it is south.

It is obvious that I have chosen to write about the good and right things that we did The First Year.  To be realistic and honest, I do need to report that there were many times that I failed The First Year because I sinned or I was selfish.  Selfishness is one of the hardest things to root out of any relationship, and one thing that I have noted over the years is that when people are selfish in their marriages, they miss the mark in other relationships and situations that they come against.  Perhaps I am aware of this because of my own repeated selfishness.  I have sometimes wondered if this issue isn’t the real key to having a healthy Church …. for husbands and wives to be in a right relationship with each other where their “selves” are diminishing and they truly serve each other sacrificially.  I won’t philosophize on that, but it is something to thing about.

My parting thought is that there is quite a bit of verbage swirling around in various home schooling circles and on websites/blogs that seem to deduce a young woman or a young bride into a certain set of requirements in order for her to be successful.  Although many of these ideas are good, remember that God created you with a specific set of talents and leanings which will suit you for your mate and it won’t look like anyone else’s.  There is danger of having a feeling of falling short or not being good enough or fretting over things that you don’t have a passion for.  Don’t waste your time on these kinds of thoughts.  Continue to love Jesus, stay under authority, and develop the abilities that God has given you and let the rest for someone else to fret about.  Please the Lord and you will find yourself well suited to the first year of marriage.   I hope to write soon about things you can do to nourish yourself in your Christian walk and ways to stay refreshed throughout your adult life because as you are serving your husband you can not serve if you yourself are empty and dried out.   But this we will save for another conversation.  I love you, girls!

Perhaps my favorite part of home education is when I read poetry to my children.  This is a regular, daily event in our house.  Poetry brings the highest level of language to the eye and ear.  It places the loftiest thoughts in their minds and it stirs the emotional spirit of my family.    The beauty of nature is revered in verse, and the sufferings of man are explored.  I have found no better way to engage the mind toward religious contemplation than through poetry.  The fundamental questions of life are asked.  There are so many ways to bring poetry into everyday home education:  singing or reciting a hymn, reading from anthologies of great verse, turning to the whirlwind in Job, dramatizing a sonnet, or rhyming an original verse.    Whether it is the siting-at-the-edge-of-your-seat “Casey at Bat” or the fantastical “Jabberwocky” (no I’m not sure of the pronounciation of the words in that one, but who cares?) or  the questioning “Who Has Seen the Wind?” — the mind is lured to think sharply and follow complicated linguistic patterns.

This is not to say that the comic poems are passed over.  No, not at all.  Every child in my house can recite “Ooey Gooey was a worm, a mighty worm was he.  He stepped upon the railroad tracks, the train he did not see! OOOOOOeeeeeyyyyy GOOOOOeeeeeeyyyyyyy.”  And then there is “Celery raw, develops the jaw, But celery, stewed, Is more quietly chewed.” (Ogden Nash).  There are also large quantities of limericks frequently enjoyed in our home. 

Recently I introduced my children to Frostiana — Seven Country Songs, a musical composition by Randall Thompson, which takes the poetry of Robert Frost and pairs it with the language of music.  The results of this work are superb and I have both sung these in formal choir settings and directed choirs in these pieces.  It would not have been as satisfying and enriching of an experience if my children would have initially met up with Frostiana with an actual recording or performance, so over the past few weeks we have studied Robert Frost’s life and poetry ahead of listening to Thompson’s rendition.  I labored over this with great anticipation of finally playing the musical rendition of the poetry, and was at war with the temptation to just go ahead and play it ahead of savoring the poetry on its own.   I don’t know how I did it, but I did wait until the right time to play the recording. 

Finally the day came when our family took a country drive around Lake Lavon and James and I smiled at each other as we slipped the CD into the player.  As much as I love Frostiana, even more so I delighted in the expressions on my children’s faces as each piece climaxed and then fell in action and resolved.  There were giggles at the end of “The Telephone” as we all had a good laugh at Frost’s way of inviting himself to a friend’s house (was the flower on the sill a daffodil with its trumpet-like petals?  and just how did Frost on the other end find the exact flower in the field that was ringing?), but it was “Choose Something Like a Star” that left the children breathless and deeply satisfied.  I knew this would be the case.  This was the piece I conducted in college as my final exam in choral conducting.  I had to write a complete term paper on the musical expertise of this piece.   This also is the piece I sung for competition in high school choir.  This was the piece that I rendered the piano accompaniment to the East Texas choir that won district competition.  Yes, I am too familiar with the satisfaction of great poetry and great music when they join so well as they do with Frost/Thompson.   And perhaps this is why Robert Frost himself at the premiere performance of all of the Frostiana pieces stood up right in the middle of the concert at the conclusion of “Choose Something Like a Star” and said, “Sing it again!”  And so they did. 

One of the things that I appreciate about composers of the past 150 years is that the techniques penned by great literary authors are now a part of musical composition.  Onomatopoeia, assonance, consonance, alliteration, understatement, hyperbole, cliche, oxymoron, imagery, simile, personification, metaphor, foreshadowing, symbolism.  Yes, some of this is in Mozart.  But it is the more recent compositions that have expressed these so well.  And Frostiana is a prime example. 

There are times that I believe that the reward of education and teaching is when another person experiences the homogenization of language, fact, nature, human experience, and spiritual understanding.  To see the light bulb go on in the brain, the smile sweep across the face in “I got it!” and the soul reach new heights in emotion and understanding, well, it is all a teacher could desire.

On the Thompson recording was something not part of Frostiana.  Thompson’s “Alleluia” is, in the opinion of my musical husband and me, the greatest choral piece ever written.  We were able to explain how the music follows the path that great literature walks upon …. setting & character, rising action with a conflict, climax, denouement, and finally resolution.  For those of our children who have the gift of literacy and have examined literature with us in this way, the musical “Alleluia” was just the cream of the crop.  I know the music of heaven will go well beyond this piece, but on this side of heaven it is heavenly. 

Although Frost is known best for “The Road Less Taken” and “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening”  and “The Road Not Taken,”  I leave with you “The Telephone” and “Choose Something Like a Star” for your enjoyment.  The first is quite easy to figure out, but the latter if you get stuck, send me an email and I’ll give you some clues on taciturn and Keat’s eremite and what possibly the star means.  And even more, what man’s great dilemma is and how his response is so often wrong.  Enjoy.

5. Frostiana: The Telephone ‘When I was just as far as I could walk
From here to-day,
There was an hour
All still
When leaning with my head against a flower
I heard you talk.
Don’t say I didn’t, for I heard you say–
You spoke from that flower on the window sill-
Do you remember what it was you said?’

 

‘First tell me what it was you thought you heard.’

‘Having found the flower and driven a bee away,
I leaned my head
And holding by the stalk,
I listened and I thought I caught the word–
What was it? Did you call me by my name?
Or did you say–
Someone said “Come” — I heard it as I bowed.’

‘I may have thought as much, but not aloud.’

“Well, so I came.’

8. Frostiana: Choose Something Like A Star O Star (the fairest one in sight),
We grant your loftiness the right
To some obscurity of cloud –
It will not do to say of night,
Since dark is what brings out your light.
Some mystery becomes the proud.
But to be wholly taciturn
In your reserve is not allowed.

 

Say something to us we can learn
By heart and when alone repeat.
Say something! And it says “I burn.”
But say with what degree of heat.
Talk Fahrenheit, talk Centigrade.
Use language we can comprehend.
Tell us what elements you blend.

It gives us strangely little aid,
But does tell something in the end.
And steadfast as Keats’ Eremite,
Not even stooping from its sphere,
It asks a little of us here.
It asks of us a certain height,
So when at times the mob is swayed
To carry praise or blame too far,
We may choose something like a star
To stay our minds on and be staid.

Recently my son acquired his first camera and it has been a delight to me that one of his favorite subjects to photograph is his sisters.  Each week I endeavor to do something with The Fabulous Five, so this past Saturday I took them to an AKC agility dog show at the Collin County Youth Park.   We took an hour to watch the dogs (and the owners who are more amusing than the dogs) and then we took a walk through the park.  The shelties were in great number at this show so Em and I were thrilled, but it was a 13 inch beagle, Maggie,  that was sitting next to us that was petted and adored for the duration of our stay.  We stopped at the gazebo just as they were setting up for a wedding – what a beautiful place for such an event.  Matthew snapped a few shots at the gazebo and here is one where each smile matches the personality.  Emily at the endearing age of bursting into young womanhood, Annie in the freshness of girlhood, Abigail who has just grown out of babyhood, and Kimberly who keeps checking in with the older sisters to see if she is doing “it” right, whatever “it” is.

   

I requested a turn with the camera and here is one cowboy and four cowgirls straddling the wooden horse. 

The Fabulous Five.  And to think that after Karen and Kathy every doctor predicted that we would never have more children.

The blessings of motherhood are indescribable.