View from the Prairie Box

I’ve surrendered part of my sunny kitchen counter to future hopes of tomatoes and radishes, zinnias and marigolds. It still amazes me that tiny seeds can yield a seedling, and then a large plant with flowers and maybe edible fruits and vegetables. A little moisture, a little sunshine, and there they go, the seedlings unfurl their leaves towards the light. Livia tends to these babies with great care as well and it’s fun to watch her excitement at the new life.

Spring is all about new life. I found myself explaining to Liv the difference between Easter Sunday and our Easter/spring celebrations of bunnies and eggs. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve loosened up about a lot of things, but I still believe it’s very important to teach my child the importance of Christ’s resurrection apart from the hoopla of colorful eggs and chocolate. Some folks do their egg hunts and baskets on the first day of spring to separate the concepts for their children (great idea, by the way). So far we separate them by repeated conversations about Jesus’ death and resurrection—and by holding our egg hunts on a day other than Resurrection Sunday (thanks, Grandma and Grandpa!).

Livia learned the real purpose of the cross as I explained Jesus’ death to her. It’s amazing how the cross has become something we talk about and refer to with casual ease, and yet it was an instrument for a horrific death for criminals in the past. As a Christian, I can see a certain beauty to the cross in the same way I can refer to tomorrow as “Good” Friday. Still, I struggled with sadness as I explained how the Son of God was hung on a cross to die. At times in parenting, you wonder if you’re explaining too much. But Liv grasped the concepts in a very easy way and moved on to laugh out loud at a silly picture of Doubting Thomas pointing at Jesus’ scarred hands. We talk more about Thomas’ gaping mouth now than we do the cross. LOL.

Bring on the bunnies and eggs—we certainly have fun with them. Come Sunday we’ll be celebrating the resurrection of Christ and the truth that our awesome God has conquered sin and death.

I will lift up my eyes to the hills—
From whence comes my help?
My help comes from the LORD,
Who made heaven and earth.

He will not allow your foot to be moved;
He who keeps you will not slumber.
Behold, He who keeps Israel
Shall neither slumber nor sleep.

The redbuds in North Carolina were phenomenally beautiful.

It feels like 21 degrees or so outdoors in Lincoln due to wind chill. Brrrr… Think I’ll keep posting photos of spring on the east coast until the weather warms up here.

These shots are for my mom and dad. Though certain types of dogwood plants grow in Nebraska, the type pictured below do not. We scoured Lincoln, Nebraska, for dogwoods like these and haven’t found any. They must need a warmer clime to grow in. Nonetheless, I have two dogwoods in my yard. One is a red-branched bush that grows like crazy—it’s the happiest plant ever, I believe. And the other is a small tree we planted a short time ago; I’m excited to see what it will do this year.

We’re expecting a spring snow storm tonight in Lincoln. Perfect timing for posting more Chapel Hill spring photos.

The following photograph shows my favorite sculpture, of the ones I saw, on the UNC campus. Not only is it beautiful, it is a fitting tribute to the men and women who helped build the university, the African-Americans who weren’t recognized back when the campus was established. The small figures are holding up a huge round table which is surrounded by stone seats. Not a comfortable place for a picnic, but stunning to the eye nonetheless.

The next three photos were shot around campus; the last one threw me for a loop momentarily. Sitting pertly atop an art building are the most peaceful and quiet pigeons I’ve ever seen. Stone pigeons don’t leave droppings—brilliant. The final shot was taken in Charity’s kitchen. She’s been throwing some beautiful pottery on the wheel and it’s fun to be able to eat off of dishes she created. I have a Charity P Original in my kitchen now.

I flew out to North Carolina last Friday to visit Charity and Andy in their spring-fresh, academic-filled, adorably-neighborhooded town of Chapel Hill. It’s hard to know how to blog about such an experience besides relating it in the most shallow, obvious terms possible because I don’t know how to share publicly the depth of my relationship with Charity. Suffice to say, Charity is the closest thing I have to a sister as we grew up together since age 12. We actually got annoyed in high school by friends who’d see only one of us, then ask, “Where’s Charity?” or “Where’s Rebecca?” I think that was the point where we found a few non-mutual friends. Ha! As my beloved sister-friend, Charity knew it was high time for me to see her new home in North Carolina, where’s she’s lived with her husband for almost four years now.

Andy and I conspired via email, surprised Charity with news of my visit a few weeks ago, Jeremy graciously let me go, and I hopped on a plane for a wonderfully relaxing weekend.

The photo above is my favorite of Charity and Andy. I think it captures their cozy, sweet marriage. The one below cracks me up and makes me happy. Who wouldn’t be happy her friend found a great guy who dips and smooches her in the front yard, not once but twice for the camera?

The final pic is proof that I actually visited Chapel Hill. There are red buds and dogwoods blooming nearby a quaint little stream in the background. Today it snowed in Lincoln. ‘Nuff said.

I stepped away for awhile to smell the daffodils.

More photos and stories of my trip will be posted in the next few days.

Yesterday was awesome. The weather was phenomenal, Jeremy was finally feeling healthy again, and my little family played and worked together all day long. Lovely.

I’ve been interested in Barbara Kingsolver’s Animal, Vegetable, Miracle for some time now. Finally I checked it out from the local library and, now that I’ve completed the spellbinding page-turner The Game of Kings, I am knee deep (or perhaps ankle deep is more accurate) in the story of the Kingsolver-Hopp Family’s year of eating locally. On this first day of spring, I find myself nodding in recognition at the author’s description of her own spring thaw: “I’m a soul on ice flung out on a rock in the sun, where the needles that pierced me began to melt all as one.”

As a mom, I couldn’t help but laugh when her youngest daughter, on the following page, refers to jonquils as tranquils.

There went the last of the needles of ice around my heart, and I understood I’d be doomed to calling the jonquils tranquils for the rest of my days. Lily is my youngest. Maybe you know how these things go. In our family, those pink birds with the long necks are called flingmos because of how their real name was cutely jumbled by my brother’s youngest child—and that was, yikes, twenty years ago.

So will we always call worms cutie pies after Liv’s pet phrase?

**Though I highly recommend The Game of Kings, the first in the Lymond Chronicles by Dorothy Dunnett, I should include a warning: it took me a very long time to get invested in the story. The only reason I pushed through was that Bryonie and Haley loved the books—so I knew the novel deserved my full attention. Though the first half seemed beyond my reading skill and I felt fairly lost, my perseverance was rewarded by the fast-paced, intriguing story-telling of the latter half. Now I’m off to find book two in the series.