TUM - Patterns

What a fun, lighthearted theme for this week, and shew, I needed it.  I had no inspiration though whatsover until a light dusting of snow turned everything white and black.  Linda was the first to submit her photo, so she's up first:

LOVED this.  Daisies are my favorite flower, they are such simple happy little things so I can't wait to read about the picture in Linda's blog.  Mariette next:

I loved the layers of patterns in this photo, both in the reflection of the water, and in the scales of the beautiful koi.  Just lovely Mariette.  Now Claire:

Light swirls on a wall from a lamp I am guessing.  So beautiful.  Since I think I gave you all enough to think about in my last post, I am just going to bombard you with pictures this week, starting with my first choice and the one I submitted for the theme:

It is of our parking lot at my packing facility in Hanover.  It looks like the Milky Way, I just loved it.  Here is another of some snow-flake dusted pine needles that carpeted my back yard:

And of our front steps:

And our gravel driveway:

Some big square cement bricks stacked in the Hanover packing facility:

A tarp ground cover:

Source of said pine needles:

Patterns are everywhere when you start looking for them, and I know a study was done once about how we humans actually do look for patterns all the time, in weather, in seasons, in days, it is part of our effort to understand the world we live in, and to try to anticipate what is coming next . . . which is green.

TUM - Husbands and Children

What a crazy couple of weeks.  The usual hum-drum daily demands of being a stay at home mom and full time business woman are always exhausting, and every once in a while, when you get caught up in the details something comes right along and grounds the situation with clarity.  I want to tell you a story, which for me is both about our husbands, and our children, and gratitude, so this week I am going to do things a little differently, I am not posting everybody's photos, instead I am going to encourage my readers - all five? of them - to visit my TUM partners to read beautiful dedications to their husbands and children by visiting their blogs:
Mariette - Husbands
Claire - Husbands
Linda - Husbands

Here is my photo for the theme  . . .

These are my husbands hands.  I love to hold them, I love when they hold me.  A few years back I took a nasty fall of my horse Chelsea, while riding in the hills of a massive strawberry farm.  I was out riding alone, there was nobody around, and I cracked my hip and spine in three places when I fell.  I still don't know how I managed to get up, but I took Chelsea's reins and leaning on her for support walked about a kilometer to the nearest road, where a stable hand was fetching horses and saw me.  Apparently I collapsed in a heap.  He took Chelsea and on his cellphone dialed the owner of the farm for help, they put me in their car and took me to the hospital, knowing full well that waiting for an ambulance to negotiate the muddy back roads of George farms would have taken forever.  En route they phoned Mark for me.  I can honestly tell you I have never been more terrified in my whole life, lying in the back of that car playing 'what if' through my head and imagining a hundred catastrophic scenarios.  I knew it was serious, my hips did not 'feel right', they were wobbly and the pain was beyond anything else I have experienced.  All I wanted was my husband.  When I got to the emergency room and they strapped me to a stretcher Mark emerged from the din and took my hand, I felt enormous relief, everything would be okay.  I didn't have to be scared anymore.  But this isn't the story.

You forget moments like that when the washing is mounting up, it is 7:30pm and you haven't been able to start dinner yet, April has a project due tomorrow that isn't finished because it was nearly finished - a paper mache lizard - but the dog thought it was a chew toy (no joke, the dog ate her homework) and you now have about an hour to rescue/repair because starting over is out of the question, Mark has a meeting and is working late, and you still need to go put fuel in your car because you have an early meeting tomorrow and know you won't have time in the morning, and the cat just puked on the carpet.  It was in that moment where a hundred things were demanding my attention and I was frayed at the edges that I received a phone call from one of our new customers.  She wanted to tell me that she loved the service but wasn't getting enough in her baskets and was wondering how to get more.  She wanted to double her order - and could I load her up with greens?  We settled into conversation like old friends - weird how that can happen with somebody you have never met.  She is a mother, a wife, and a breast cancer survivor having had a double mastectomy three years ago.  Unfortunately, a recent screening has shown that the cancer has returned, it has metastasized, and her doctors have little hope for her.  They want to start her on chemo yesterday, to at least prolong life.  Prolong life.

The rest of my world dimmed out of focus as she spoke about what she is going through emotionally . . . 'the mornings are chaotic, and I put my two girls (11 and 9) on the bus and wonder how my husband will cope with it all, he is a wonderful father, but he is not a mom, will he know when they are worried because someone in their class was mean to them yesterday?  Will he know what to say?  Will he put an extra cookie in her lunch box to let her know in the middle of the day that he is thinking about her?  And as my children wave goodbye from the big bus windows I think that one day the goodbye will be forever. . .'

' . . . my husband feels it too because when we lie in bed at night, and I hold his hand, I can tell how scared he is . . .'

'. . . my children are still babies, they have puberty, boyfriends, graduation, weddings and babies to look forward to, how can I accept that I have no part in those moments?  I can't.  I have to fight, I have to hold on, I will do whatever it takes for another month, another year, another moment.  I will do anything . . .'

She is following a raw food organic diet, and is juicing greens and drinking them six times a day.  Her diet is costing her around $600 a week, but it would be cheap at twice the price if it will help.  She is interviewing doctors to find one that won't shake his head and promise his best, but will realize this is her life and will help her fight to keep it.

'My little girl asked me the other day if I will still have to drink the green juice when the cancer is gone, and I didn't know what to tell her, so I told her that it is so healthy, I would still drink it every day for the rest of my life . . .'

When I put the phone down, I cooked the dinner, cleaned up the cat puke, helped April finish her project, tucked them both in bed with extra kisses and hugged my husband tightly for the longest time when he got home. 

I am grateful for the chaos, grateful for my messy children who put nothing away, don't close cupboard doors, don't put the lid on the toothpaste or rinse the sink when they are done, grateful for their sweet kisses and gentle hugs, and deeply grateful that when I lie in bed with my husband at night and hold his hand, we still hold the possibility of growing old together between us.