Dirt, or, How I Spent My Weekend.

My sisters and I congregated at Nicole's house this weekend for a little digging in the dirt. Each spring, Nicole's gardening plans expand a little more, and this year it involved the planting of trees. Lo, these many trips to Lowe's and back, and a few psuedo-arguments later, a bing sweet cherry is safely transplanted triangularly between the driveway and the front walk. The real challenge--besides getting two people to listen whilst one person talked--was managing the overhead electric lines. Apparently the city thinks it best for lines to run directly over the middle of your front lawn, and not down on the edge along the street. Deep power lines call for short trees. But at the end of the day, we planted a beautiful tree that will have REAL fruit growing on it! We also planted dahlia, fuschia, Mediterranean heather and grasses, started a compost pile, and dug up some ugly old bushes. Yay for spring time!

All this potential for beauty around us made me realize that, in short, I've been limiting my vision to it. Having responsibilities and no money should require that I take time to sit on my front porch and read a book and identify cloud shapes, not the opposite. Why would I do this? Well, the answer is probably one that most adults would give. But I am going to do it--be open to all my surroundings instead of living with blinders on.

Wordsworth is SO NOT my favorite poet. But my favorite English professor loved this poem, and it seems like such an apropos poem for this weekend.

Daffodils
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced, but they
Out-did the sparkling leaves in glee;
A poet could not be but gay,
In such a jocund company!
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

Metablog Monday

How could I not have a label for coffee? Added.

You might have noticed I added a logo for an organization, "Just Love Coffee." Should you desire to explore their website, you will also observe that clicking on the logo takes you to a "storefront" page for the Osburns. This kind, creative, loving, stable, neat family is part of my church family. Oliver, the youngest, is in my Wednesday night Bible class. He can sing the words to all the songs now, and make the arm motions. When I tell them that "God did" or "God made" he tilts his head down, cuts his eyes to the side, and says, "Aaaaaand Jesus." I swear, he even once put his hand on his hip while saying this. Ellis, the oldest, made me lip balm for Christmas last year. Julie's Etsy shop has all sorts of warm, colorful happymakers. Wade says a mean prayer. Just an all-around great family.

Now for the link. A couple in Nashville adopted two daughters from Ethiopia. Mr. Couple (name? sorry) grew up around his father's coffee-importing business. In studying Ethiopian culture to help understand their children and the adoption process, Mr. Couple knew that the strong role coffee has played in Ethopia, its relatively cheap availability, partnered with Americans' love affair with delicious, rich, exotic coffees, and families facing significant adoption-related expenses: Win-win-win.

These delicious, fair-trade, organic coffees are purchased by the pound. You can sign up for a one-time sale, a 1lb/month year-long "coffee club", or even a 2lb/month year-long coffee club! You probably got there already: About 45% of the profits from any type of purchase goes back to the Osburns to help raise a little money for the newest family member to come home safely

More-than-awesome coffee (sign up for Ethiopian Sidamo and Sumatran) and a more-more-than-awesome-and-deserving family and one very lucky little kid? Bliss you can sip on.

My family...sigh

Are awesome! My brother just found me a washing machine for a ridiculously low price, and is hauling it over to me tomorrow. (Which is a hint, of course, for him to haul it over to me tomorrow!) It's a little scuffed, but smaller than my Carter-era Gigantor! And it's white. Believe me, the hours spent being annoyed by the white stove next to the beige washer have been...well, superficial. I make it up to myself by saying that the white machine will set off the green of Layla's fingerpaintings better. Whew, better. I feel the need to name it Betty. We'll see it when it arrives.

Okay, so I'm really excited about tomorrow

Tomorrow is the 3rd Annual Adams Holiday Extravaganza, also known as the annual Christmas project. Each year we take turns choosing the project and the recipient. Last year, Mom chose. She picked this group, and we all went out hunting down warm pajamas and creative books. This project was great for two reasons. One, we could each purchase individually what we could afford and had budgeted for. Two, I had a coupon, two gift certificates, and LB had just put everything on "final clearance." Don't judge. The cheaper it is, the more you can buy. I got lots of super pairs of pajamas for $16. On Christmas Eve, we delivered them to Lorrie Shadko, who directs the Memphis chapter of the program. For me, comfort in its most primal level comes in comfy pajamas, bedsheets, and good stories. It was a joy and an honor to get to pass that on to children whose lives are desperately short on comfort and joy.

This year, Tom picked. It has a funny backstory. Tom called me at work one day to bounce the idea, and I confess I thought it...not likely to come to much. Frankly, though a good idea, I was pretty sure the State was going to shut it down. But I liked the idea at heart, and I'm really glad he decided to go through with it. Adamses are workers, and we love a project. But usually our projects don't always bring us into much contact with the beneficiaries. Like with the pajama recipients. Thanks to Tom's idea, this year we will.


With Vanessa's family joining in, we are going to set up shop tomorrow at the I-40 westbound Jackson rest stop to distribute more Christmas cheer, this time in the form of coffee and snacks. We have decorations, drinks, snacks, music--the works. I'm very excited about doing this, and although the weather will be miserable, hopefully we'll be a little spot of brightness. There are a few people who won't be there with us, but whose past generosity and openness of spirit will be with us:

Charlene Brown gave me a metal table-top Christmas tree last year that is lit with candles instead of string lights. Anticlimactic. But TDOT won't allow us to plug in any type of electrical cord, so her gift solves the problem!

Hope Shull got onto me once as a student about bringing food and drinks into her library. When I returned as an employee, I discovered she had actually purchased a coffee bar and was encouraging students to eat, drink, and be merry. In the library. She is letting us use all of the urns to keep the coffee and other drinks hot.

The State of Tennessee--inefficient, a "bottom ten-er", and run by good ol' boys--really liked the idea. That is, the guy at the Jackson TDOT headquarters did. And as long as we avoid the power cords aforementioned, don't solicit, and don't block entrances and exits, then they will support our efforts at Christmas cheer. They could have said no.

And I hope that our visitors will enjoy the Christmas cheer, too. I've thought a lot this year about what it means to put good things out into the world. You may call it karma or kismet or good vibes or whatever. How does our Christmas party for strangers at a rest stop ripple out into the rest of the world? I don't know, but it is my prayer that it does. I know you will put good things into the world.

Pictures to follow!

Woke up with this on the heart

For my family, my friends, present and erstwhile. For Will. For deliciously soft yarns and clicky needles. For cityscapes and beaches. For the color red. For Christmas lights. For 3yos. For hills to hike up. Even the really, really hard ones. For JustLove Coffee. For new babies coming in January. For Brooklyn, NY and Nashville, TN and Alexandria, VA. For handmade paper. For Lucinda Williams. For kitties. For The Med. For a paycheck. For my church family. For dreams to dream. For vernacular architecture. For books, books, books. For a healing thyroid.

Crying over broken ornaments: A Christmas fable

Layla: Aun Terin ("Aunt Erin"), come look at my Chwistmas tree!
Erin: Ooh, how pretty! Did you put it up all by yourself?
Layla: NO, me and mama and daddy. See this snowman's funny legs jiggle? But you can't touch. Right, Daddy? We can't touch the Chwistmas ownaments off the twee?
Daddy: Right, baby. Thank you for following directions. You can touch them, but don't take them off.
Layla: Ow ownaments have a stowy. Mama got this one at wook. We got this howse at the dewby in Kenkucky.
Erin: Do all of the ornaments have a story? What about this one? (Pointing to a large jingle bell. Located far to the inside of the tree. One would have to reach over other more fragile ornaments to get to it. Stupid Aunt Erin.)
Layla: No, but it makes a stowy! Wisten? (jingle, jingle.)
Vanessa: Layla, are you showing off our tree? (Reaches to straighten up jingle bell. Sends Layla's first christmas ornament to the floor, shattering in about a million pieces of glass.)
Vanessa: Oh, no! Not that one!
Layla: (Immediately clenching and unclenching her legs around my waist and her fists.) No, Mama! No, Mama! Don't tell Daddy. Don't tell Daddy!
Vanessa: Layla, it's not your fault. Mama dropped it because she wasn't being careful with it. It's Mama's fault.
Layla: (Now with tears in her eyes.) NO! NO! NO! Don't tell Daddy! Don't tell Daddy!
Vanessa: But Layla? You're not in trouble!

Narrator's note: My brother does not beat his child or wife. No need to get nervous here.

Layla: (Unintelligble words mixed with sobs and flailing arms.)
Vanessa: Layla, come here. It's okay.
Layla: (Something that sounds like) "Don't...Daddy...know...bwoken!"
Daddy: I'm not mad about the ornament. Let's have a hug. We're all okay. (Family group hug.)

And the three wise adults stand around looking shocked, trying to account for meaning in Layla's meltdown. We were almost crying, still mystified at the cause of such unfettered grief. Tom retrieved the broom and dustpan, and Vanessa began sweeping up the mess. Layla's defeated retreat to the fireplace was accompanied by more shuddering sobs and finally a meek little, "but ow twee is still pwetty, isn't it Aun Tewin?"

Was that the key? She knew she wasn't responsible for the broken ornament. She knew Mama would clean it up. She knew she wasn't cut. Layla was grieving the loss of perfection in her beautiful Christmas. I like to think she was mourning the loss of one part of the story her Christmas tree tells. "Environment" as a concept fascinates me: how it's created and how people respond to it. T&V's Christmas decorations create an environment not just of physical appeal, but of story, of tradition, and even a three-year old responds to it.

Words are my love language.

Your words run through me like the blood in my veins
I could swear I knew your love Before I knew your name
Before I knew your name.~Lucinda Williams

Conor Oberst's cover. My insides sort of want to explode violently.