Wishing all of my readers a very Merry Christmas!
Most people have a few things they do to prepare for Christmas. That likely includes decorating a tree, Placing special items in certain places about the house. As a child and later as a young mother there were sugar cookies to decorate, a gingerbread house to make, and yes, fruitcakes to bake. There were shopping trips, children's concerts and programs, wrapping and more wrapping, work and church parties, a special column for Meridian Magazine, book signings. Some of those things have been changed or omitted this year because of the virus or personal circumstances. One tradition my husband and I continue is visiting the graves of those loved ones who are buried near us. Yesterday we took a tiny fir tree and a big snowflake to our son-in-law's grave at the military cemetery. Our next stop the Taylorsville cemetery to leave a small token on a sister-in-law's grave, and finally we finished up this morning with a trip to Murray where my husband's parents are buried. The cemeteries are as beautifully decorated as they are for Memorial Day. I think there are a lot of us who still want to share this special day with those with whom we once exchanged wrapped gifts, laughed with, and prayed with.
Here are a few of the pictures I snapped this morning of some of the decorations on our front porch and two of the graves we visited.
As I've pondered the many things I'm grateful for I find myself remembering my mother and her flower gardens. We moved frequently, yet no matter where we lived Mama planted flowers. I grew up surrounded by lilacs, roses, sweet peas, chrysanthemums, daisies, bleeding hearts, geraniums, petunias, pansies, and dozens of other flowers. I learned to appreciate their beauty, their smell, and the hard work they symbolized to provide a spot of beauty no matter what might surround them. She taught me to look for wild flowers in the mountains and in the deserts. From her I came to appreciate houseplants for their splash of color and promise of life no matter how dreary the winter. I'm thankful for the lesson she taught me through her flowers. No matter how much ugliness there is in the world, there are also flowers. Because of her I too plant flowers around my house and my dining room looks like a greenhouse. My sisters too are known, far and wide, for their lovely gardens. Today as a mark of gratitude for the beauty God provides and my mother instilled an appreciation for in me I'm posting some photos of my flower beds and some of the flowers I've raised and enjoy.
On top of all the election craziness, an earthquake, and Covid 19, I fell almost four weeks ago. I broke a rib, sprained my right wrist, tore up my left hand, and turned my left knee and part of my leg black and blue. It was a weird accident. My husband and I were returning from a long walk when a bit-of-fluff puppy ran away from a group of boys playing with it a few houses away from my home. I was watching the puppy and worried about it running into the street when I tripped against a section of raised sidewalk (dang tree roots!) The boys, their mother, and grandmother ran to help me. Anyway I wound up with a trip to the hospital ER for x-rays, stitches, and a brace. I'm doing much better, but it has been a rough few weeks with severely limited use of my hands.
Here's today's review (typed primarily with two fingers.)
I've been neglecting my blog, I'm afraid. Here's a peek at my Meridian Magazine post today: https://latterdaysaintmag.com/latter-day-saint-fiction-great-stories-with-universal-themes/
I'll be so glad when this pandemic and the election are over. I'm really tired of both.