Being Ruby Giveaway

Heads Up! My good friend Julie of Being Ruby is having a fab giveaway here, or you can link via her adorable button over there to the right. Three chances to win one of her exquisite photographs.

If this will be your first time to her blog, don't just enter and move on, settle in and scroll through her older posts or you will miss out on some glorious photos and great stories. You will also meet one of the sweetest and talented gals from down under.

Of course I have mixed feelings about linking you at this time. It lessens my chances of winning, but it's worth it if more people meet Ruby.
so get on over there and tell her I sent ya! (maybe I'll get an extra entry :0)

Suzan

Still Hanging in the Garden

I cannot seem to leave the garden these days.

Our days of comfortable weather here are short lived.

They are predicting we'll hit 90 today.

So begins my hibernation.

Most of the pink roses are getting ready for their second round

of blooms, while the whites are returning now with their next showing.

This little lady cannot decide which side of the family she belongs to.

The trees in the yard, mesquite and ash, are now in full canopy,

protecting me from the sun

trying to pierce through and drive me indoors.

Fortunately, this bush is clearly visible indoors

through the dining room window.

Don't forget to visit all the other WW's over at

Faded Charm hosted by Kathleen

---------------------------->

Meanwhile:

Roof Top Drama Ensues

My visitor returned a lone soul

He began to puff and make a racket and when I scanned to the left

A lady and a rival for her affections

They began the courtship dance;

their version of the Macarena I suppose.

The rival began to puff and ignoring the competition

placed all of his attention on the lovely female.

A wise move as she began to lure him in her direction.

He appears to be the victor and with a quick, hop

and a skip the battle has been won.

He seems unable to figure out the error of his ways.

Should he have puffed more, or vocalized louder?

He hung out here for hours calling for companionship.

I hope he found love after I went back inside.

What's in a Name?

The other day I was questioned about the Z in my name for the millionth time.

Suzan with a Z not an s. That line came from my dear friend Macky, whose real name is Maureen by the way, and has stuck ever since.

In the course of the conversation, taking place in front of a t-mobile kiosk, two generations squared off on the topic of names. My family is rich with names like Etta, Nettie, Alice, Della, Mamer, Roberta, and Iva. Instantly conjures up images, yes?

So, apparently the oldest of the group I was explaining that back in 53 (OK WAY BACK!) classrooms were filled with Nancys, and Debbies and Susans, and I mean filled. I never had fewer than 2 Susans and 2 Debbies in my classes until I reached high school. DjR, my Dad wanted me to "shine" on my own but since Susan was the only name other than Scott that my parents could agree on, and they had already bestowed that moniker on my brother exactly 1 year and 1 day prior, I was named Susan with the caveat of a Z.

This has guaranteed that my name be misspelled 99% of the time. But I love it. I own it. To many from my past, I am simply Z and if you call me that it means you are a very old friend or a very dear new friend with the inside track.

Now the younger gals inside the kiosk found many "old fashioned" names hilarious and odd as in Charlotte, Sadie, Beatrice, Dorothy, Hazel, Helen, Margaret, Doris, Victoria, Clara, and Lillian. Granted even I never considered Bertha, Hortense, Gertrude, Mabel, Phyllis and Zelda. Though I adore Mabel on a wee one, thanks to Mad About You..."Mothers Always Bring Extra Love". The young gal whose name was un-pronounceable though she was a darling gal, commented that names such as these,"belong to only old people."

The two eldest in this discussion commented on the frequency of "made up" names in fashion these days. Those, whose names like mine, will never be spelled correctly with any frequency. Nevaeh, heaven spelled backword is rising in popularity. In addition the current generation is populated with their own versions of Debbies and Susans. The Jadas, Kennedys, Caitlins, Morgans, Meghans, Laurens, Hannahs, MacKensies, Ashleys, Brooklyns, Tiffanys, Haileys, Madisons, Briannas, and Kaylees will one day all be joining AARP together.

Does our name define us? Do we morph into the names we are given or do we adapt our personalities due to others expectations of our names? I had only one criteria in naming my children...well, two, their father had to agree. I required that the name be appropriate for an infant, a teenager and a senior. It also had to have the correct rhythm of a name. Hannah Grace, Benjamin David. It wasn't until after I had named darling daughter that I discovered Hannah means grace, so I had inadvertently named her Grace Grace. So, yes I suppose our names do define us, because that child certainly walks in grace. Benjamin has become Ben, and although I persisted for several years on using his proper name he is a Ben, and has the right to be called what he chooses, and the rhythm is better his way. Once again, defining us, because he is much smarter than I ever hope to be.

My Mother was named Alice Kae. She dropped the Alice and was known as Kae, until her marriage when she legally changed it to Kay. Mom felt herself to be a different person than that of an Alice I suppose.

What's in a name, what's in yours?

A Happy Challenge

"But before that I have to tag five other bloggers to go forth and produce their 10th photo post!! So if they'd like to participate, the goal is to find your 10th photo in your 1st photo folder and discuss what you were thinking when the photo was taken. I'm passing this tag onto ;
Suzan at Old Grey Mare "

I have mentioned my friend Julie before. Besides being just plain wonderful this gal's talents blow me away! Saturday I see she has a new post, and I scroll down through each photo as always, devouring every one and what's this?
I've been tagged.

My first reaction was panic, because after I peeked at the other gals she tagged, I felt my photographic abilities paled in comparison. But fully engaged in the spirit,
I went to my archives and with much trepidation looked to see what my 10th photo in my first folder was. That's the deal, you have to take your 10th photo and talk about it.
I thought with my luck it would be another of my "before" client pictures and I'm sure they would not be happy for me to post any of those. For those of you who do not know this about me, I organize for people and if they've hired me it is to help with a shall we say "mess?"

Bless darling daughter! The 10th down in 2008 was one of hers, (and mine).
My very first assignment for the local magazine "polished" was being discussed and I needed to send over some ideas and photo suggestions. I asked darling daughter to take some quick shots of some of my memory bowls.

I had never used iPhoto before and after several hours of
playing around with effects and adjustments this is what I ended up with. Not only did I get the job, they used our photos and Hannah was given her first photo credit!

I was lucky enough to contribute to six more issues
before the magazine fell to poor economic times.

I still make these memory collections for clients.
They're always very personal and always a big hit!

Thank you Julie - you're the best

Please visit Dash, Jeanne, Cecellia, and Sharon

to see what they found for their 10th post, and meet some new friends.

Please visit all the other WW hosted by Kathleen @ Faded Charm

link over there to your right----------->

If they wish to participate and if they have time;

for these are very busy women

I wish to tag:

Erin at Erin's Art and Gardens

Carola at Boxwood Cottage

Kathleen at Faded Charm

June at Laughing with Angels

Carole at Maynard Greenhouse

Suzan

They Got Me

They got me.

Over several years I watched and listened with interest
and great admiration at all the creations that came
forth from their studios.
I bought a few beads and trinkets here and there over the years,
but proudly maintained my single shelf of bead paraphernalia,
vowing never to start another hobby.
I occasionally produced a pair of earrings here and there,
a necklace for darling daughter, but nothing of note.

I don't know what happened.
I was invited to a a gathering of the evil bunch to create
that bird necklace remember that? It was fun and we ate after.

Shortly after that, there was a glass and bead show in town.
I attended, spent a considerable amount and we ate after.
It was loads of fun.

A couple nights ago, another impromptu gathering of the devils
and they worked on bracelets and I worked on these three.
We ate while we worked.
Now, understand these gals are true artisans, real designers,
their stuff is PHD level and I'm in pre-K.
BUT

They got me.

I also never showed you my finished bird necklace.
Not as involved as Heather's original design, or Jan's
version, but remember I'm a newbie.

Now they're telling me about the great bead show in June.
They're evil I tell you, evil...but they've got me.
Sarah, Heather, Jan, Suzie, even you Tanya.
Lead me where you may, just be sure we
get to eat after.

Water under the Bridge

That's what he said. Water under the bridge. Thirty seven years ago he walked to his car,
drove away and we never spoke again. Today we are exchanging emails
after finding each other on Facebook.

A college love affair - crazy, confusing, youthful mistakes and regrets.
All those shared memories of that single bubble in time.

Trying to condense 37 years into an email. Marriages, divorces, births, deaths.
How do you make your life sound interesting yet be truthful. Do you tell all?
Do you embellish? Keep it lighthearted, or spew out all the grit and grime?

Summing it all up, your failures, your blessings, a balance of both,
trying to leave an impression of contentment, a good life.
Why should it matter? 37 years later, someone you have thought of,
but never contacted is suddenly in your address book,
their letter waiting in your email.

It has thrown me off kilter. Forced memories long buried. Why did I? Why didn't I?
Forced examination of self. Not always a comfortable exercise to be sure,
and in this case, quite difficult for me.
That last year we knew each other, was one of my most tumultuous.
I was not always kind to those who loved me
and Karma quickly smacked me down in return.

I struggle with the benefits versus the negatives of all this technology.
Being on Facebook and having a blog, I am still under the impression
that the benefits are in the lead. But all this goes deep, the intimacy we share
with virtual strangers, the risk of judgment by others. Scary stuff.

You are not assured of happy outcomes when you reconnect. Living so far from
my home town and having no family left there I have never attended a school reunion.
All those friends, long lost, are frozen in time in my memories.
They have not aged, they have not changed.
With FB, suddenly their photos are there and I study them with intensity,
shocked at first at how they've aged, ignoring what they would think
if they were able to see my photo, which I do not post.
I am awed by the bravery of all those who post their not always
flattering images for all to scrutinize. I am not that brave.

Bravery is required. To honestly type out the truth, with it's shame and triumph.
To face yourself on this Facebook as well as put your best face forward.

It IS all water under the bridge, these histories,
but those currents can swiftly take you somewhere
that you are not always prepared to visit. Keep your life vest handy.

Suzan

Garden Visitors

My garden is showing off. All the blooms bursting open,

teasing with color mixes never before seen around these parts.

Roses boasting with size and abundance.

This morning's sunlight spotlighted a garden visitor.

Tucked tightly into the bottle brush blooms, a home

of twigs and strings and paper. Last year this was the nesting spot of
a mockingbird family. Not yet sure whose home it is this year. This is a
brand new nest of different shape and size, and obviously,
like all good real estate it has
location, location, location.

This visitor showed no fear of me, intent on a cool sip of water.

Going way down for the slurp

Begin the head tilt

Bring it way up, so it trickles back and down
Open for the big swallow...

HEY! Are you looking at me?

There Are Moments and Miracles

There are moments.
Aha moments! I'll never forget the look on her face moments.
My world will never be the same moments.

Darling daughter has many assignments in her studio art classes.
She was welding a hot air balloon earlier this week.

While video chatting last evening she said "Mama, I want to show you something."
With the sweetest of smiles she pulls a large canvas into view and there I am:
17 years old, my Senior Year photo painted onto canvas.

Darling daughter had taken to college a coveted old sewing tin from my Great Aunt.
In it were small treasures, mementos from home,
and squirreled away in there I suppose was this picture.
In the photo, I am a year younger than she is now and it is not difficult to see
that she is my child, my likeness, and yet, not me.

Of all the images in the world to paint for an assignment, darling daughter chose this one,
and even added a few letters of my HS nickname Rennie in the corner.
Peculiar she would do that since it was discussed pre-birth as a possible name
for her ...along with Paisley, a paternal name, also considered.
I have been thanked many times for NOT using that one.

I will never forget this moment. Her peeking behind the canvas,
holding it up so I could see the entire piece on my computer screen,
all the while saying "it's not finished, but I wanted you to see."

What I saw was,
my darling daughter seeing me.
Not just as her Mom, not just a middle aged, often poorly dressed,
occasional authoritarian figure, with jiggly bits and double chins.
She saw me as we all can see ourselves with eyes closed and hearts open.
17 and beautiful, bursting with dreams and plans.
That summer of 7o I don't yet know that
many of those dreams will come true and many of them won't.
I don't know that I will be so blessed with my children
and will mourn both parents passing way too soon. I am frozen in time,
unaware that hearts really can and do shatter, but keep on beating out a new rhythm.

There are moments when you feel your children inside your heart
as you felt the movements inside the womb.
Tangible, thumping, beating, a living part of you.
I see my child as the young woman she is, as the little girl she was,
as the woman she is becoming. The miracle is; she sees me.

She told me as she worked on the canvas there were difficult areas
she struggled with and she was able to go to a mirror
and study the length and breadth of her nose, of her brows, to copy.
The miracle is; she sees me in her, and wanted to capture the moment.

Must Be the Rain

There is a large birdhouse trellis under there.

Can you see it?

These little white charmers are new this year.
They seem to like their new home.

New cilantro and parsley garden being invaded

In 2 months this baby will be over 4 ft high and equally wide.

Love the metals in the garden

Roses hidden in the shadows. So much foliage this year.
We've had a full year's worth of rain in 3 months.

Dozens of these babies ready to burst into bloom

I have been blogging frequently about the garden this year, much to my surprise.
I don't think of myself as a gardener, though I've always tinkered.
( and cruelly sacrificed many a plant in my day)

But lately everything is doing so well; the deep greens, glossy leaves,
larger and fuller blooms are everywhere.Perhaps the grass that I recently removed,
absorbed too much water all those years and starved all the other plants.
Something has changed, because I can still be neglectful.

It must be the rain.