Nancy

Porch Pumpkins

October 26, 2023 by Nancy 8 Comments

As a child I wouldn’t have imagined growing or buying a pumpkin for any reason other than to turn it into a jack-o-lantern. How we’d look forward to cutting off the top and getting the squishy insides out so we could begin to carve a scary or happily grinning face, secure an old candle stub inside, and bask in the glow! Those pumpkins would sit on the front porch until they shriveled up and looked like toothless old men.

Who knew pumpkins would one day become sought after not for their ability to greet trick-or-treaters, but to add color and design to a front porch and to sit there, imagine this, uncarved? Yet this is what has happened. Now farmers grow pumpkins in white tones and shades of green to add to the perennial favorite, orange. Design-oriented homeowners, especially those blessed to have front porches with steps, mix these colorful gourds in with mums in shades of gold, white or magenta, hay bales and corn stalks to create gorgeous displays that announce fall is here.

If I’m blessed to go to the South during October I’m amazed by the extent to which people go to create these colorful autumn arrays. Not only do porches of homes have pumpkins stacked up to greet visitors with the warmth and hospitality of the season, but every shop and business gets into the spirit as well.

One year I went to a little town in northern Tennessee with my sister and brother-in-law. In Allardt, founded as a community of German immigrants, they annually hold the Great Pumpkin Festival and vendors sell pumpkin-designed everything! T-shirts, plaques, candles, lawn banners—all feature pumpkins welcoming visitors who come to see which farmer grew the largest pumpkin of the year. And the entries are huge. Each year the winning pumpkin weighs well over a ton! Because who doesn’t love a great pumpkin, Charlie Brown?

So whether you grow ‘em or buy ‘em, treat yourself to a plethora of pumpkins this fall. Create a front porch that delights all who drive by and welcomes all who visit with the very essence of the harvest season. Don’t have steps? No problem. Position a wooden ladder or upside-down bushel basket on your porch and stack pumpkins of all sizes and colors around and on it. Or create a pyramid of pumpkins up against the wall. And don’t forget to add some colorful mums or a cheerful scarecrow. Happy fall, y’all!

Donkey Days

September 26, 2023 by Nancy 20 Comments

Some volunteer assignments are such a good fit that you feel like you should be paying for the privilege of being involved. That’s how I’ve felt since I started spending Friday mornings helping with the “Seniors at the Ranch” program sponsored by the Flying Horse Foundation at Flying Horse Ranch north of Colorado Springs.

I first heard about the program from my granddaughter Ellie who works with kids in the Equine Assisted Learning program at the foundation. She knew I had a passion for both horses and seniors so thought the senior program would be a good fit for me, and sure-as-shootin’ she was right!

As a van load of seniors from a senior living facility first arrives at the ranch with their staff assistants, they are quick to exclaim about the beauty of the surroundings. Whether exiting the van under their own power or with the help of a walker or a wheelchair lift, the amazement is the same. Just the drive through the beautiful countryside to arrive at the ranch is a joyful break from their normal routines, but then the real fun begins.

First they make their way to a beautiful, comfortably furnished patio outside the 10,500 square-foot, stunning barn featuring a stagecoach, carriage, and covered wagon. Then the visitors are introduced to two of the permanent residents of Flying Horse Ranch, miniature donkeys Bridgette, 29, and Carlie, 28. These precious creatures are just the right height for sidling up to a seated senior for a scratch on the head or a nuzzle. As the seniors sip on lemonade or coffee, staff member Heather Howell answers all the questions they have about the donkeys and the 1400-acre cattle and horse ranch. It’s especially entertaining when we serve Bridgette and Carlie their mushy snack, as they no longer have teeth to chew anything harder. Many of the senior guests identify with that problem and laugh!

Before meeting our dynamic duo I had no idea that donkeys bear the distinct shape of a cross on their backs. Called the mark of Christ, legend has it that God gave them this marking because it was a donkey that carried Mary into Bethlehem and another that Jesus rode into Jerusalem. So the donkeys provide inspiration for a faith message, too.

What I’ve loved most, however, is hearing the stories brought to seniors’ minds just by being at the ranch, looking out at horses grazing in rolling meadows, and scratching curly-headed donkeys between the ears.

“My sister and I grew up on a ranch in eastern Colorado,” Charlotte shared. “We delivered newspapers on horseback before school every morning, but sometimes when we put our horse back in the corral we set the latch so he could eventually get out. He would show up at our school a while later. The teacher would point out that our horse had gotten out again, and we’d explain that it took both of us to get him home. We never did go back to school the rest of the day!”

One sunny Friday morning a wheelchair-bound senior named Maria chuckled to herself before sharing her story with me. “I lived in northern New Mexico growing up. My cousin and I once climbed on a cow that was sitting on the ground thinking we could ride it into the barn. She was five and I was three. Of course the cow stood up and dumped us onto the ground, but we didn’t have far to fall.”

Would those memories have surfaced without an outing to the ranch? Maybe, maybe not. I just know I was privileged to be there when they did, and I’m every bit as blessed by those donkey days as the seniors who visit.

To schedule a senior group for a visit, please email seniors@flyinghorsefoundation.org.

The Amazing Race

July 31, 2023 by Nancy 20 Comments

I’m barely getting off a blog post this month but I feel I owe it to you faithful readers to provide something! Since most of July was consumed with preparing for and recovering from a two-week trip to Europe that we were blessed to take for our 35^th Anniversary, I invite you to come away with me on what I’m calling “The Amazing Race,” the second week of our trip.

The first week was memorable too as we were on a Viking River Cruise from Paris to Normandy and back again. Seeing Paris, the stops in villages along the Seine including Monet’s gardens and home in Giverny, learning French history, the serenity of the swans along the shore, the fabulous food and flowing wine—we won’t forget any of it. It was a week of pampering, and so I’m calling week one the “Luxury Camp for Adults!” Of course the most memorable and somber day was when we visited Omaha Beach in Normandy and the American cemetery above the cliffs there. The magnitude of the courage and sacrifice displayed on June 6, 1944, may never be repeated. It was a privilege to walk that sacred ground.

But once all that was over we were off on a grand adventure jumping on and off trains in Switzerland and Northern Italy. That’s the week I’m calling “The Amazing Race!” I can’t say we did it all on our own because our AAA travel agent booked the trains and hotels and made sure we had all the passes and vouchers we needed, but it was up to us to make it happen.

Grateful that we had limited our luggage to two small bags plus carry-ons, we took the first train ride from Paris to Lausanne, Switzerland, the city where my great-great-grandmother Elise Porta married Edouard Bolli on July 1, 1836. Strolling along the shores of Lac Léman (aka Lake Geneva), I imagined her doing the same in much different attire. Perhaps a bustle and a parasol? We stayed in Chateau D’Ouchy, built in 1893 around a stone tower that was the only preserved part of a castle built in 1170 to serve as a home for bishops. I’m sure Elise also saw that tower. It was all very touching to me, and I’d love to spend two weeks there researching archives. The ham and cheese crepes we had for dinner at an outdoor cafe will go down as one of our most memorable meals.

Our schedule was such that we traveled around noon each day and so had a long afternoon, evening (the sun set about 10PM), and morning in each location. Yes, it was a quick visit in each place but the timing made it seem like we were there longer. So from Lausanne we hopped on a train to Interlaken. As the name implies the city is situated in the Alps between two clear, blue glacier lakes we marveled at from the train coming and going. Colorado readers will understand when I say the town was a lot like being in Vail, plus the lakes and the history of course. Paragliding is a huge sport there and as we rolled our luggage from the train station to the Krebs Hotel the sky was full of paragliders! Our dinner that night was a “typical” Swiss fondue as they say. We walked a few blocks to a charming restaurant with outdoor seating where our hostess told us the history of fondue. Apparently when herdsmen took their cattle up into the high country they took along bread and cheese to sustain them. But the cheese got moldy and the bread dried out, so they came up with the idea of heating up the cheese and dipping the bread into it! What’s in a traditional Swiss fondue today? Bread and potatoes. Our hostess added some peppers, pickles, and onions, but no meat dipped in oil or fruit dipped in chocolate. (Which is not to say we missed out on Swiss chocolate—au contraire!)

So much more to say about Interlaken, but pack up those bags, we’re moving on to Lucerne. The train ride from Interlaken to Lucerne took us up over the mountains past beautiful green, alpine meadows dotted with chalets and villages built around majestic, stone, steepled churches. How we were booked into the Hotel Schweizerhof we’ll never know, but it was beyond luxurious and has a history of hosting the likes of Winston Churchill and FDR. Right on the banks of Lake Lucerne, the town features an old covered bridge and so many dining and shopping opportunities. (Due to no luggage space we were limited to buying disposables—like chocolate!) We took a guided boat trip on the lake and learned a lot of Swiss history, even seeing the manor house on the shore in Tribschen where Richard Wagner lived from 1866 to 1872.

While there he worked on many compositions, including Seigfried Idyll, which was described as a birthday gift to his second wife, Cosima, and a love letter to the lake. We had more time here than anywhere and really enjoyed every bit of it. Our lakeside dinner wasn’t memorable but Chardonnay cucumber soup for lunch the next day was simply amazing.

Don’t get too comfortable in the lap of luxury in Lucerne, however! We’re off to Lake Como, Italy, hoping to catch a glimpse of George Clooney and his family. We didn’t, but sure saw a lot of the “beautiful people” there. It seems the young women are all thin and tan, wear white, and carry a designer dog under one arm—or peeking out of a designer bag! We arrived later here than in the other cities, however, and had to laugh when we walked into the room they’d saved for us at the Metropole and Suisse Hotel (compared to the room we left in Lucerne). It was walk-in closet sized, but did have a lake view as promised, and we began our evening there with a gorgeous sunset. Time for pizza and red wine at an outdoor café on the piazza—and did I mention gelato? (That was a staple wherever we went.)

The next morning we walked around the lake and enjoyed more piazzas—one of which features a huge statue of Alessandro Volta, the inventor of the electric battery. Taxis are rare in Como, so we walked a long way downhill pulling our bags over cobblestone streets when we arrived, and it took everyone on staff at our hotel to finally secure us a taxi back uphill to the train station. On to Milan! Did you forget anything?

Milan was our last stop before our early morning flight home the next day so we didn’t really see much of it. (What we did see on the pre-dawn trip to the airport was architecture similar to Paris.) That night we Googled the closest pizzeria to our hotel, the Crown Plaza, and stumbled into a delightful restaurant with a very entertaining proprietor, Matteo. When Jim asked if they had thin crust pizza he smiled and said, “This is not Pizza Hut.” We all had a good laugh and he kept the wine coming!

Just a word about language. In Lausanne they speak Swiss French. In the other cities we visited in Switzerland they speak Swiss German. I was surprised how much of my high school French and the German I learned living in Germany in the 70’s came back to me, so I gave it my best effort!

However, most of the people we encountered spoke at least some English, so they would smile and reply to me in English. (Jim thinks he’s mastered Italian by adding an O to the end of every word. It pretty much works!) As for currency, France and Italy use Euros, Switzerland has Swiss Francs.

If you’re still reading, thank you for taking “The Amazing Race” with us! What I loved most was being on a “team” with Jim, working together to catch each train and deciding how to spend our time in each location. It was affirmation that God knew what he was doing when he brought us together as a husband and wife team 35 years ago. We came home a little weary, but feeling so blessed and grateful.

The Pensive Pansy

June 19, 2023 by Nancy 13 Comments

Flowers have a language all their own. While I enjoy them all, it is the pansy that speaks to me most loudly and most soulfully. It’s said the pansy stands for thoughts. In fact the name comes from the French word penser, to think. So no wonder pansies inspire so many thoughts and memories.

We had an unusually rainy May in Colorado, but between showers I was able to plant a few pansy plants in the shade garden by our front door. I don’t know why the practice of calling someone “such a pansy” when he or she doesn’t rise to a challenge ever came to be, because pansies are resilient. Mine took the deluge of rain day after day bravely and now they are flourishing. When I travel to even slightly warmer climates in winter, I’m always amazed to see pansies thriving there. They persevere.

While they do so whimsically, pansies also reseed themselves. When we moved into our home I was delighted that our closest neighbor had planted pansies in the two tree rings in his front yard. Sadly he passed away a few years later. The first year he was gone I asked his widow if I could fill the tree rings with pansies in his memory. Of course she said yes. But pansies are edible, and rabbits know that all too well! As our rabbit population increased over the years, my neighbor and I decided we would go with marigolds instead. Still, some of the previously planted pansies poked up among the marigolds, making us both smile.

Maybe because they stand for thoughts, pansies have a way of connecting hearts. The pansy is the official flower of Delta Delta Delta, the sorority my mother, two sisters and I all joined in college. So my mom and I had a “pansy thing” between us, often giving one another gifts with a pansy design. A year after my sisters and I had convinced my mother it was time for her to move to assisted living, she asked to go to lunch with the three of us. “You were right to encourage me to make that decision and I’m sorry if I made it hard on you,” she said. Then she gave us each a gift—a beautiful porcelain pansy blossom.

I love all pansies, even the similar but smaller “Johnny Jump Ups” I nestle in to my French garden pots, but my husband knows my favorites are “pansies with faces.” So we stroll through all the nurseries near us until I find some. That’s because of the Legend of the Pansy. It’s said that pansies grew around the base of the cross the day Jesus was crucified, and that His blood dripped down on them, giving them their distinctive, face-like design. Yes, it’s a legend. But it’s one more reason to love pansies, to let them speak to us—even spiritually, and to think of them fondly.

Maybe it’s May

May 18, 2023 by Nancy 13 Comments

For those who may not know, we don’t really have a spring season in Colorado. As a friend of mine said, what we have is “winter wrestling with summer.” Eventually summer wins, but not without a struggle.

In March I begin to see Facebook posts from friends on the East Coast or in the South showcasing their crocuses, tulips and daffodils bursting with color. Soon the photos are of azaleas, dogwoods and redbuds in full bloom. Should I look up from their photos to gaze out my window, however, I’m more likely to see snow falling—not apple blossom petals, but real snow!

I try to be a good sport, and I’ve certainly been here long enough to know what to expect. The survival rules include not switching your closet over to lighter weight clothes too soon, or holding back a couple of turtleneck sweaters and some heavy jeans if you do. And never taking your coat to the cleaners. You’re just asking for a blizzard if you do that! So we wash the flannel sheets but put them back on the bed. We keep the snow boots in the front closet. We tell ourselves “we need the moisture.” And we wait.

Long ago my husband decided it was best to send me off to a location with real spring rather than to watch my stiff upper lip quivering for two months, and for that I’m grateful. This year my friend Kathy and I took a long road trip to Texas—emphasis on long. Wearily stepping out of the car in Waco, I immediately noticed the rejuvenating smell of green.

The next day we visited Magnolia Market. There and all over town the magnolia trees were in full bloom and the gardens were spectacular. After passing brown fields one after the other in Colorado and New Mexico, we were breathing in spring! Our next stop was to visit our friend Jimmie in Tyler, the rose capital of Texas. She took us to a wonderful rose garden, and we enjoyed seeing everything blooming in her yard and sat by her pool. All together it was the perfect cure for our winter blues.

Of course there are good things about our non-spring, too. If kids on spring break aren’t heading off to Florida or Arizona with their parents they may go skiing. Spring skiing is something to be experienced at least once in life. It’s not uncommon to see girls skiing in bikini tops or shirtless young men in shorts. This time of year at high altitude the sun is warm and the snow is slushy but cold. As skiers near the bottom of the slope the aroma of brats and hamburgers on an outdoor grill wafts up to meet them. Ahh! Not bad at all.

And the spring snow is pretty. During one April snowstorm this year a bright yellow goldfinch paid us a visit just to say, “Don’t worry. Warmer weather is on the way!” Already I see signs that summer may soon have winter on the mat. Our grass is finally starting to green up and the little crabapple tree in our front yard is in its God-given glory. Maybe it is May at last.

In the Garden

April 6, 2023 by Nancy 18 Comments

The hymn “In the Garden” has always been a favorite of mine. Whenever I choose it to close out a lesson from The Hope of Glory in an assisted living setting, it blesses the ladies there, too. Faces brighten, voices are raised, and we even come up with a bit of harmony. It’s a beautiful, touching hymn, but I had no idea of its origin.

Thanks to the book Amazing Grace, 366 Hymn Stories for Daily Devotions, I was able to learn the whole story, and I discovered an Easter morning context.

In 1912 when author and composer C. Austin Miles was asked by his publisher to come up with a hymn that would “bring hope to the hopeless,” he opened his Bible to one of his favorite passages in John 20—the account of Mary Magdalene encountering the risen Jesus at the tomb that first resurrection Sunday.

“As I read it that day, I seemed to be a part of the scene,” he writes. “I became a silent witness to the dramatic moment in Mary’s life when she knelt before her Lord and cried, ‘Rabboni!’ (which means Teacher).” (John 20:16) Divinely inspired, he set pen to paper and wrote the poem, “In the Garden.” That same night he wrote the music. Knowing this, I now look at the hymn with a deeper understanding of its meaning. Come to the garden with me as we explore the three stanzas and the familiar refrain.

I come to the garden alone, while the dew is still on the roses; and the voice I hear, falling on my ear, the Son of God discloses.

What gardens in your memory call out to you still? More important, do you hear the Lord calling you to meet with Him in His garden in the early morning light? He’s available any time, day or night, but it’s so much easier to hear His voice before the activity and noise of the day obscure it. Mary ran to the tomb at daybreak. Surely I can make it out to my chair in our living room.

He speaks, and the sound of his voice is so sweet the birds hush their singing; and the melody that He gave to me within my heart is ringing.

I can’t hear the birdsong outside with our house still closed up from the cold, but from my chair I delight in seeing the birds through the window. Annie, the little orange cat curled up on my lap, watches them with me. I read. I pray. And sometimes I hear His voice in reply. Earlier this week I was praying about what I should write for my Easter post. I heard three words in my spirit: in the garden. Ask and you may hear Him too. If not immediately, then perhaps some time during your day. Trust me. When He speaks, you will know.

I’d stay in the garden with Him tho the night around me be falling; but He bids me go—thru the voice of woe, His voice to me is calling.

How Mary Magdalene must have longed to cling to her Savior by the garden tomb that morning and to abide with Him forever. But it wasn’t her time to dwell with Him in heaven. Instead, Jesus “bid her go” to the disciples and tell them He had risen just as He said. And so she ran to them exclaiming, “I have seen the Lord!” (John 20:18) This Easter, could He be asking those of us who know Him to do the same? To share with others the personal encounters we have had with Him? I believe so.

Now, this beloved refrain:

And He walks with me, and He talks with me, and He tells me I am His own, and the joy we share as we tarry there, none other has ever known.

Were sweeter words ever penned? If you’ve yet to experience an intimate moment with the Savior, this Easter ask Him to meet you in the garden—the one He’s placed in your heart. He’ll show up. Will you?