Breaking the Silence

The cardinal rule of blogging is to regularly post entries. The erratic blogger is sure to lose readers, so bloggers are encouraged to post at least two or three times each week.

When I first began blogging, I decided to try to post regularly. I also promised myself that I wouldn't be a complaining blogger who is always telling readers about all the difficulties or frustrations of my life. And I determined not to be a blogger who wastes everyone's time by beginning most posts with an apology for the length of time since the last entry.

My last entry was nearly three weeks ago on May 10, however, which I believe calls for some explanation.

Here's the brief, but necessary explanation: I underwent surgery on May 12 and I haven't been feeling well enough to be in my office much since.

The nature of the surgery was personal and I really don't care to talk about it or answer questions about it. The important thing is that I am finally beginning to feel a bit more normal. But it will be some time before I can sit in a regular chair for any length of time. I spend most of my day lounging or napping in my recliner. Since I still struggle with periods of extreme fatigue (that often include headaches, chest pains, palpitations, and labored breathing), I don't feel well enough for any work yet.

I've never been quite as faithful of a blogger as I should be, but I have always been very thankful for the regular readers who stick with me in spite of my sporadic silences as a blogger.

I'm briefly braving the chair today to break my long silence and let you know that I hope, the Lord willing, to return to more regular posts soon.

Tulip Time pictures

What fun to be a grandma during Tulip Time!





Here's a picture of Grandpa Mathes (my husband, David) holding our fourth grandson, Layton Sponsler on Thursday afternoon.












Here's the Sponsler family at home, all ready for Tulip Time.

And the Sponsler family strolling in the park.

And a popular tourist attraction, my grandson, Layton!

And here's a Dutch mom and daughter.

Tulip Festival

It's Tulip Time in Pella.

That means the weather can be either stifling hot and sunny or crazy cold and windy. Yesterday and so far today, it's the latter.

Thursday's weather, however, was pleasant: mild temperatures and sun. I went uptown briefly with my daughter and her month-old grandson.

Yesterday that grandson, Layton, was a star. His dad and mom and I took him uptown, warmly dressed in a sharp black costume with white suspenders that matched his daddy's and deeply ensconced in the old baby carriage that I used to take our children in the Tulip Time baby parade. We met my neice Kelly and her baby Anderson (only two weeks older than Layton) on the square and took some pictures of the moms and babies in their Dutch costumes.

Many, many took pictures of Layton in the carriage. Kelly suggested that we tape a sign to the front of the carriage: "$1 per picture. Proceeds go to my college fund."

By the end of our brief time uptown, we wished we'd done just that. It is not exaggerating to say that about a hundred pictures of him were taken. Nearly everyone who saw him, stopped to remark about how cute he was, most of them taking pictures.

Our daughter, Ariel, is a cometologist at a local salon and walking around during Tulip Time gave me a glimpse of her huge clientelle. About every ten feet, we had to stop for another client to greet Ariel and look at Layton.

By the time we finally made it over to the starting place for the baby parade, the wind had increased so much and the sky was so dark that Ariel and Nick decided not to walk through the parade route with the baby section. Ariel had been extremely sick earlier in the week and I was glad they made that decision. When we got back to the van and began driving home, there were sprinkles on the windshield.

We may have missed walking with the baby parade, but we had a great time walking with the baby star.

Honeysuckle

The journaling reflections I regularly (if not daily) record are saved on my computer under a file called "Honeysuckle," for the honeysuckle plant outside my office window.

There are two windows in my office: a double set on what is roughly the west side (which is behind me when I sit at the computer) and a single window on what is roughly the south side (which is on my right when I type). The double set behind me is at the front of the house and I often keep those shades down, but the shade on the window at my right is nearly always open because I want to see the honeysuckle when I work.

When I struggle for the right word, I turn my head and look at the honeysuckle while seeking inspiration. I especially love that ancient bush this time of year when the woody stems burst into green leaves and pink flowers. When temperatures are mild, I open the window and inhale the fragrance.

But I can't even see the honeysuckle today. It suffered a severe pruning experience on Saturday when my husband was cutting down the dying evergreen at that corner of our house. I must walk to the window and look down if I want to see the honeysuckle's few green-leafed stems and the two remaining pink blossoms.

I hope that it will grow into view again some day. And I'm sure there's a moral in this story, but I don't have the heart to explore it today.