The Pointy Poncirius

| Flower Roberts

I went home this past weekend to switch out some of my cold-weather clothes for some warm-weather clothes and to do some plant maintenance. Things went well even though I did sustain three injuries. Two of these involved my mean plants.
Mr. Flower tried to assist and supervise but things happened if he turned his back. This is how it goes when you lose yourself in your work. Injuries are expected. Supervision is needed.

The finger that got smashed was the same one that I trimmed the tip off of years ago. I always receive a souvenier from my cacti when I get near them. I do remove the outer tips from the Century plant’s lowest leaves, which are also dangerous. My worst injury came from the meanest plant in the yard, Poincerius trifoliata.

I deserve this stab as punishment for purloining one of the fruits from a southern plantation and smuggling it out in my brazier. The little bitter orange was forgotten until that night when it rolled across the floor of the hotel room while I was changing into pajamas.

These are technically deciduous shrubs, but send up long sucker shoots which need managing. Also, the center needs to be cleared enough to allow airflow through it. These plants can be used as a formidable hedge and the fruit can be made into marmalade if enough sugar is added to mellow the bitter.

I dressed for battle in double gloves and my Pawpaw’s old hunting jacket with a squirrel pocket in the back. It is made of thick canvas. Mr. Flower has suggested a hard hat for next year’s trimming.

Pointy Poncirius trifoliata

I was innocently butchering the shrub by the fish pond when I was mercilessly stabbed in the head. It did hurt, but I continued on with my work like a good little warrior.

The long limbs must be chopped up to burn if not carefully placed out of the way to be used as a fence. The thorns can penetrate a tire. Its nickname is Flying Dragon. I should have been discouraged by this name, but I am a fool.

Some thorns are over 3 inches long.

No one realized I was injured until I turned around to speak to my husband and neighbor. They both gasped. A picture was taken. Then Mr. Flower decided to take over the clippers for the next shrub, which is on a bank.

This shrub cannot be trusted.

We carefully arranged the removed sucker shoots around two hydrangeas which get eaten down to the ground every spring by our hungry deer herd. One hydrangea is pink and the other is blue. I have not seen a bloom on either in years.

Blooms may mean fruit.

There is one new development with the Poncirius. It is blooming for the first time. This makes things complicated. You see the fruit might fall or be carried off and the seeds may germinate. This pointy plant can become a pest in the south. I am surprised at my biologist self for bringing it home. I intended to keep them in pots, but they got too big and mean to bring in.

Mean

People tend to make their own problems. I know what I must do eventually. But this year, I just want to see if it will make those cute little bitter oranges. Don’t judge!

BLOODY FLOW

Hiding Onstage

| Flower Roberts

Hiding in plain sight involves two things, clothes and mannerisms. If you are supposed to be a person of authority, that just leaves clothes. Meakness onstage is not an option. Fake it ’til you make it!

If you are a women, camouflage clothing entails the ‘muted colors no-clevage look.’ Pants and shirts are a bit too big and leaning in the unisex direction. Holding attention without being flashy is tricky. There must be subtle details like an interesting brooch or custom button or unflashy/untrashy jewelry.
This describes my ‘hiders wardrobe.’

Sometimes items purchased were way too big and required altering. My trusty seamstress, Nadwa, asked repeatedly, “Why you buy your clothes too big?”

Now that I have given up the stage, I am purging these carefully selected and augmented costumes. I look at each one in dismay. I even try some things on hoping to find a redeeming quality. They feel too much like uniforms with bad memories clinging to them.

Here is my set of blazers I call the ‘ Grand Jury Jackets.’  This stint of hiding was the most problematic of all,  that year was much more complicated than the ‘Middle School Momish’ collection or the ‘College Lecture and Cat Lab’ assortment.

Grand Jury hiding was tricky. As assistant foreman I was required to get up from the desk which was center-stage during each officer’s swearing in and walk to retrieve the appropriate files from other jurors on stage.

The auditorium was filled with other jurors. The witnesses were law enforcement officers. I will add that most of these men and women were impressive and dedicated. The testimonies involving felonies were sometimes hard to listen to. I did almost hyperventilate several times.

So now that I have explained the purpose of the ‘ Look at Me but Don’t See Me’ wardrobe,  I would like to share some photos. These costumes were not cheap and required careful selection and augmentation.

No special order. I served July to June. I will not share the year.

Peach with rolled up sleeves. Two custom buttons.
Perfect match of peach flecks
BIG, boring blue with no buttons. The previous month must have traumatized me. Totally invisible outfit.
I wore this one several times. May keep it.
Mysterious Planet button.
Almost the same blue as Boring. Custom button.
Button like a woven basket.
Red Really? Must have been for February.
This button has official looking dignity!
Dark green, wsy too big and heavy. No new buttons. Must have been depressed this month. Hell, I got depressed just looking at it!
I wish this one wasn’t so big.

Handmade button from Etsy shop MyOnblawnes by KattieQ in the United Kingdom. The button is a keeper!

My friends say I am not an introvert, but I am. I have developed coping mechanisms like these blazers to make me feel safe when I am forced to be brave against my will.

I wear myself out being brave alot. So does Rose. It’s not easy acting like an extrovert on stage when you would be happier being invisible backstage painting the props.

FLOW

Wetlands are Important

| Flower Roberts

Wetlands are important habitats that tend to disappear as humans move into an area. Natural wetlands actually help the surrounding area by slowing runoff and filtering water. I am glad Boone created this beautiful site for walkers to observe.

Wetlands play vital roles

Wetlands includes many plants that serve as food and shelter for wildlife in the area.

Boone has created a wetlands habitat along its walking trails so that the plants and animal inhabitants can be viewed up close.

I was thrilled to hear and see a pair of redwing blackbirds when I visited the area last week.

Redwing blackbirds

This is a great way to encourage wildlife to live in the area and control water runoff and possible flooding. These signs help visitors identify the inhabitants in the area.

I look forward to watching this area change throughout the spring summer and fall. Stay tuned.

FLOW

ALL on ONE Wall

| Flower Roberts

I needed to go to a place that grounds me. These are shaky times and I needed some mental mooring. I went to where I always go when I need peace.

Tuesday morning, I was shaken by the unthinkable. War.

Evergreen Island


I went to Evergreen Island to clear my head. By some strange miracle, I was the only person there. This has never happened before. I guess folks were at the polls or watching the war unfold.

Stone wall full of life

I do not take my safe life for granted. I am disturbed by the unrest everywhere. Humans baffle me. Nature makes more sense. I brought my camera with me especially to photograph this stone wall.

Fern, lichen, algae and moss coexisting

I have studied this wall for years. It brings me peace to see a mix of species living together in harmony.

Foliose and fruticose lichens among moss

There is moss, ferns and lichen living on these old stones. There are forms of algae, fungi and bacteria that cannot be seen. I also see signs of animals living inside the wall.

A hole in the wall home

These living things coexist and share nutrients, space and moisture.

The stone wall plant and fungi condo

This symbiosis between species has taken thousands of years of adjustments to attain balance.

A heart in the wall

I wonder how long it will take humans to learn to live together?

FLOW

More Green on the Queen

| Flower Roberts

My plants that got moved to the mountain have been in a slump. I have been puzzled by their lack of progress. I water and feed them consistantly, but no new growth had shown up for months… until lately.

Limbs in limbo. Ho hum

Three weeks ago the Night Blooming Cereus started sending up some little flat blades. Sprouts started sprouting!

Sprouting

The Queen of the Night started putting out new leaves and stems.  I was happy to see anything new. This plant has doubled in size! The lovely baby leaves are soft, bright green and shiny.

More green on the Queen

Then the leaves elongated and put out leaflets.

Leaves and new leaflets

Even my new starts sent up shoots. What inspired this development?

New stems.

I know the days are getting longer.  I choose believe this is my first sign of spring coming.


The Cereus seems to suddenly be serious about growing. Let’s hope they get this excited about blooming.


FLOW

Pacing on the Porch

| Flower Roberts

I am not one to stay inside. The weather on the mountain has been a bit harsh lately. When the ground is slick with snow and ice I have to stay on the porch with my new hips. The decking out there still has streaks from my pacing with my walker during my months of convalescing.

When the storms come from the north, I can pace out on the porch and not get wet. Weather from the west is a different story. The wind blasts across that porch like a freight train. If you get near the railing at the western end you feel like you could almost be lifted off your feet.

During some of the snowstorms this winter, I actually sat on the porch in my coat and watched in silent wonder. That did not happen during this last winter blast that rattled the screens and made me thankful for the brick walls. My neighbors lose siding during these hell benders. They call me ‘ The Third Little Pig.’

This morning the weather has finally settled and I felt the need to go out. The porch in front of the door and to the east was still covered in snow. No problem. I now have a racy red Valentine shovel delivered to me by Mr. Flower. Don’t judge ladies. He also brought flowers and chocolate. LADIES, he has had forty years of training, so curb your envy.

MEN just because you covet every tool does not mean your sweetie wants a vacuum cleaner for Mother’s Day.  Yes, you got away with that with your adoring mama, but do not try to pull that two-for gift crap on your wife. If she needs a vacuum cleaner let her pick it out. What do you know about it? She’s not surprising you with a weed-eater.

I digress.

This morning hauled my Valentine shovel out to that porch and cut me a walking path heading west.

Now I can pace on half the porch when the ceiling gets on my nerves. I am grateful for this gift. My other snow shovel was a bent wimp. The flowers will fade and the chocolates will be eaten, but my love shovel will endure!

My Valentine Shovel

FLOW

Letting the Ashes Go

| Flower Roberts

I went to the place that my Daddy wanted his ashes spread yesterday. I took my lunch there and ate in my car. I got out and took some photos. It is peaceful, private and conveniently located near their house. Daddy was always thoughtful like that.

Daddy’s chosen resting place.

The plan was for the whole family to gather at this location. We were instructed to play his favorite hymn sung by his favorite soprano. Mama negotiated the length of her speech, three minutes max per Daddy. Then we were to take turns silently sprinkling his ashes. I found a blue heart dish with three circles just for this part.

This ceremony has not occurred yet. It has been hard to get all of us on the mountain at once. When we finally all got there, the weather was bad. I had nightmares of Daddy trying to sleep in snow. So we postponed the event until spring. Then Mama died. There went three minutes of the ceremony.

Now we have two urns full of ashes. Daddy’s is bluebird blue and Mama’s is pink, of course. Mama claimed she wanted to be sprinkled with her sister’s ashes at a different, less convenient, location. Did she mean this, or was it the dementia talking?

My daughter, Rose, gave me a pep talk about letting the ashes go last night. They wanted to be set free and sprinkled in nature she said. I know they liked this idea. I do too, on beautiful, sunny days.

For now, I will sit quietly with the blue and pink urns while I remember my parents. I am not ready to let the ashes go.

Pink and blue. What would you do?

What will we do with the urns then? Store them to wait for the next dearly departed. That’s as creepy as keeping a coffin at the ready in your garage. Yes, we know someone who got a good deal on one!

I do not know when I will be ready to let the ashes go. I will continue to visit the spot to acclimate myself. My sister will have to make the call on Mama’s sprinkle site. She haunts me enough already. I don’t need anymore guilt with her name on it.

FLOW

The Hybrid Ice Bird

| Flower Roberts

I missed Winterfest here because of a snowstorm. By the time the ice on my road had melted enough for me to get downtown, only the giant demo ice sculpture in the park’s gazebo was left. I saw it shining in the sun as I got out of my car.

Ice bird after melting.

The gorgeous upper wing looked like glass. The big bird was surrounded by water from its melting. I stood with a young mother admiring what was left when she asked, “What kind of bird is that?”

Big wing, small beak

The details of the wing made it look strong with long feathers like an eagle in flight, but the beak was thin and pointed. The head looked more like that of a dove. The beak was not the hooked, flesh-tearing shape of a raptor.

Pointed head and beak like a doves.

So after days of melting in the warmth of the afternoon sun, this bird had its details softened. The wings still looked big and strong like an eagle’s, but the beak looked thin like the dove of peace without the olive branch.

This hybrid ice bird made me ponder America at this point. Can we be both strong like our national bird the bald eagle and still be a symbol for peace like a dove?

What will it take for this country to morph into something both strong and peaceful? I hope we figure that out.

FLOWER

The link below is from the town’s facebook page so you can see other sculptures including a smaller version of the bird in question.

https://www.facebook.com/share/p/1C3evejwhx/

Those Crows

| Flower Roberts

I live among a group of crows.

Where they roost I do not know.

Crows in a storm.

I see them fly in the strongest wind.

They walk in snow for food to fend.

Crows come in numbers to my yard.

They dig in snow when times are hard.

I see them here and there all day.

They seem to never go away.

Until the sun sinks in the sky,

then somewhere else they all do fly.

They will return when the sun does, too.

When day is here, the night is through.

Those crows are brave. Those crows are smart.

Those crows could not survive apart.

They stick together for food and place.

They share their booty and their space.

Why can’t we humans learn to know

the lessons from our American crow?

FLOW

Here is a wonderful children’s book about crows.  I love the title.

The Hoax of Hope

| Flower Roberts

I am skeptical about everything. I collect information carefully and take notes and pictures. I did these things when a video popped up about a new treatment for dementia, Alzheimers and Parkinson’s disease.

Dementia will likely be my fate, Parkinson’s is my friend’s. I desperately search for anything that might interfer with the progression Parkinson’s symptoms and memory loss.

We slowly lost parts of our mother over many years. It was heartbreaking to watch. I do not want to drain my family’s energy and resources by becoming a burden. We have worked really hard for what we have.

The video included two famous doctors that I respect. It also included a mention of indigenous population with high dementia incidences in Guam. Two famous actors were interviewed who claimed they had been helped by the supplement.

The cause of supposed memory decline was caused by numerous pollutants, especially cadmium chloride. Cadmium is a toxic metal. The video claimed the metal could be removed by a special honey and damage restored by an herb. Too good to be true!

Then a white and purple bottle appeared. I took a screen shot of it. Thank goodness I did this. I tried to save the video, but it disappeared. I sent it to my sister.

I searched for the bottle on the internet. The purple and white bottles looked slightly different than the photo I took. The fake FDA sticker strategically covered the brand name.

I researched backwards… Gupta, Collins, Guam, honey… FAKE, FAKE, FAKE, FAKE.

Wouldn’t it be great if REAL hope only cost $19.99 a bottle!

What a cruel way to make a buck.

FLOW

My Daddy’s Chair by the Window

| Flower Roberts

I have been spending alot of time in one of the chairs we call ‘Daddy’s Chair’ by the window in my parents’ bedroom on the mountain. More snow came last night. I watched a firetruck and ambulance drive by with lights on. There was a car slid off the slick pavement in the curve up the road. I could see the flashing red lights through the snow and passing cloud. It was getting dark.

Traffic lined up in the white and darkness waiting to pass.  The emergency vehicles finally left, but the line of traffic stayed. Two big dump trucks went around the line, on the wrong side of the road in the dark. They must have had a mission involving the mishap.

I kept leaving the window to do chores and coming back to check the line of stopped cars and trucks. Some turned around and left. Others pulled up to wait. This went on for over two hours.

I washed dishes. They were waiting. I took a shower. Still waiting. I read a chapter. Still out there. Were they cold? Hungry? Tired?  Probably yes to all three.

On the community website folks ask about the safety of those involved. No complaints or whining. Just concern and sharing information. Communicating while patiently waiting.

I saw it all from my daddy’s chair by the window. His morning lookout. Daddy would sit here to drink coffee in the mornings. My sis and I would sneak in with our own cups and sit on the edge of our parents’ bed. Sometimes our poor mom would still be in bed and have to scooch over to make room for us.

We would discuss what Daddy had seen out the window and what he hoped the day would bring. We would catch up on the neighborhood news. Swap stories and quietly laugh as others slept.

I thought about those times as I kept coming back to that chair to peek out the window into the darkness, hoping not to see a row of lights still stranded out in the cold.

My being here on the mountain keeps my parents near me. Especially when I sit in my Daddy’s chair by the window.

FLOW in more snow.

I Stayed to Learn

| Flower Roberts

I could have headed south before the storms. Back to my other home where someone else would haul the wood and build the fires. But what would I gain from that, being comfortable and cared for like a cat?

The fiery beast.

I was raised to be smart and strong. But mishaps have happened.  I feel I have lost those attributes.  I have things to prove to myself. Even now…Especially now.

This collosal storm has raged for days. I have studied the ice, snow, wind and rain. This has not been a relaxing experience, but a necessary one. I belong in the world, not protected from it.

The first wave of snow was heavy and dense. It glistened as it blew and clung to the trees. The temperatures dropped and the wind picked up. By that second white afternoon, I felt I must prepare for power outages. Water was stored in every bathroom and the kitchen.

I rolled out the kerosene heater on its cart and lit it to be sure it worked.  I got out flashlights and candles.  There must be heat and light.

All pipes in the basement were safe except the one climbing up the front wall which supplies an outside spigot. That pipe was double-wrapped with paper bags and packing materials.

Packing materials for insulating pipe against outer wall.

A fire was layed in the beast of a woodstove my father bought used from some mountain folk down a dirt road. I remember we thought he was unwise to buy that giant rusty box. My daddy always saw the veiled possibilities in things.

Rusty box stove that Daddy refurbished.

I hauled in seven more wheel barrow loads of firewood into the basement. I placed the wood in lawn chairs, so I would not need to lift heavy pieces from the floor. I had been saving cardboard and scrap paper to start fires with. Such is my habit of burning or recycling as much as possible.

Will this be enough wood?

I was exhausted by about 3:00.  I felt the tipping point of the ice-loaded trees was eminent. I opened my bedroom blinds and got under a blanket to wait for the sound of snapping trees.

Too much ice.

Sounds started slowly and softly. The wind picked up and pattering noises got louder and faster. This was not the loud crackings that I had expected.

I got up and looked out. Instead of limbs falling, the ice on the trees was slipping off the branches and crashing to the ground. A rain was loosening the ice’s grip on the limbs. The thuds and plops went on for hours. Rain had arrived just as the ice had gotten too heavy for the trees.

This miracle rain had saved the trees and the power lines. Now the grass was a mat of hard-frozen ice with sprinkles of shiny ice shards on top.

The next snow came at dark and continued through the night. This snow was like fine glitter that did not cling to things. It sparkled and blew like fairy dust filling the sky and making dunes in the low places and against any barriers to the wind.

Snow left in the lee.

The snow and winds filled the skies for another day. The winds roared like a train that next night. Snow blew through the screens and filled the space against the windows.

Laundry room window with packed snow.
Layers of snow behind the screen door. Snow dune behind it on the porch.

Dunes drifted from place to place. Their shapes and textures changed throughout the day. Holes in mounds seemed to form for no reason. Points jutted out of piles as if the wind had been blocked like a lee behind a stone, but no stone was visible.

Sculpted snow dunes and icicles at picnic table.

The wind is still blowing tonight. I am sure the dunes will be different in the morning. The sun should shine tomorrow. Some ice may melt.

A snow drift covers the road . The red stake marks my driveway.

What did I learn? I learned where the wind follows the contours of our property. I saw how it split around our house and strengthened as it headed down the slopes. I now know how the water flows and where the snow drifts and where the ice melts last.

I had to prove that I am capable of taking care of this house and myself. I will no longer let fear tell me what to do. I need to rely on myself.

I am glad that I did not lose power. I am grateful that my driveway and road are somewhat clear again. I will adapt to any changes that happen. I appreciate assistance but do not expect it.

My family predicted I would be lonely on the mountain. My husband insisted on checking on me during a lull between storms. I enjoyed his company but worried about his driving in the snow. We want everyone safe but there will always be risks.  Worry and fear are not anyone’s friends.

Snow dune moving this way all day long.

I was raised to be smart and strong, but mishaps happened and I forgot who I was for a bit.

I had to stay on the mountain with myself to remember.

FLOW

Watch the Evergreens

| Flower Roberts

If you are in ice right now. There is one thing to watch. The posture of the evergreens.
These trees have evolved through ice and snow. They are designed to bend downward instead of breaking.
Right now I am surrounded by evergreen trees covered in ice. They are holding up well. When the load starts to be too much, the limbs will bend down and rest on the limbs below. They will start to look like a closing umbrella.

Trimmed bottom limbs

If you trimmed off the bottom limbs, there will not be lower support and the whole system may collapse. I have a trimmed evergreen out one window and an untrimmed tree out from another.

Untrimmed lower limbs.

These two trees will tell me when/if the ice is too heavy to hold. Once the cracking starts, other types of trees are in danger also.

When this collapsing starts, the probability that you will lose power increases greatly because limbs and trees will come down.

We are also expecting wind later. Wind is not a friend to ice-covered trees. If the temps get really low, sap will freeze and trees will explode.

Mix of trees and shrubs

It is time to watch and listen to the trees.

FLOW

Crows Walk in Snow

| Flower Roberts

I have watched crows walking in snow many times this winter.

Three crows in snow

They walk along the ground and sometimes bend over. I wondered if they were poking around for food.

Why did the crow cross the road?

I saw one walk across the road and peck at the asphalt. Was it eating snow?

Crow tracks

Later I found these three sets of tracks on my patio.

Three sets of crow tracts crisscross patio.

All I know is, crows walk in snow.

FLOW

Now, Then and When?

| Flower Roberts

I know what now looks like.
It is snowing again.
This is expected on the mountain.

All this snow is a new thing
for Flower the flatlander.

I meant to get out yesterday.
Back then the good intentions roads were black and clear.

Now that everything is white again,
I’m not sure when I will do
what I meant to do yesterday
when I could have gone out.

Sometimes, it is best to let things lay
and just tell yourself,

“Not today.”

FLOW

My Sparkly Pink Obsession

| Flower Roberts

It has been going on for weeks now. I have been calling it the ‘Pink Sparkle Emergency.’ I have been searching for all things pink. Pink was Mama’s favorite color. I thought it was just a habit, this looking for pink in January. Her birthday is in January.

I found a pink heart dish for her gift. I got out a pink candle holder I made years ago. I will light the pink candle on her birthday. I thought the obsession would stop.

Ready for Mama’s birthday

It got worse. I needed a pink shirt and pink snowflake jewelry. Shirts came. Wrong pink. The jewelry did not sparkle enough. I shopped until my new hips hurt looking for the right sparkle and the right pink.

Finally, I have the right pink. The right pink? What does that even mean?

The right pink?

I was hoping the emergency was over. I hoped I could finally relax.

Last night I had a pink sparkle dream. There was a little pink sparkle dress. Maybe it’s from too much Wicked watching and Golden Globe viewing?

When I woke up this morning, I saw it in my mind. The perfect pink, the perfect sparkle.

Mama’s perfect pink sparkle dress

It was my mama’s evening gown. I called home and made Mr. Flower take photos. Just to be sure it was safe.

I have not been searching for the perfect sparkly pink. I have been searching for my mama.

Tomorrow is her first birthday after her leaving us. Grief does strange things.

FLOW

Accommodating Fear Again

| Flower Roberts

I write about FEAR because it has been and will continue to be a part of my life. My family and I have experienced an inordinate amount of uncertainty and emergencies. The fear is always here, but we do not cower and stop because of it. We do not give it power.

Our family members have learned to pack fear in a bag with the needed supplies and get on with our lives. If you have read our book or blog, Seizure Mama and Rose, you know exactly what I mean. Fear is the uninvited guest at each event and the elephant in every room.

I have my own new fears now that I am being brave with my two new hips. The presence of fear requires the presence of bravery. My new fear is that old-lady worry of “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up.” Only my version does not occur in my kitchen. I fear falling on a mountain trail by myself. Please do not bother to”muther me” by telling me not to go. Keep your fear for someone who needs it, I have plenty.

I have been using a trekking pole at Evergreen Island. The trail is flat and open. I love walking there, but I need more nature than that.

I have a new gadget to try on the trails. I will share how it performs in the coming weeks. I was lying in bed inventing this and decided to google search.for a walking stick with a seat. Someone beat me to this invention. I love that its name is ‘Ta-Da’ because that’s what I yell when I do hard things or fall down and get up.

TA-DA hanging on its handy hanger.

So this is my new weapon against fear of falling in the forest. I can use the seat to sit on when my hips hurt, also. This accomodation lets me continue to do what I love by removing the fear barrier. Sometimes it is better to accommodate fear than fight it.

Sit with handle forward. No leaning. Very sturdy.

FLOW

Lovin’ a Lichen

| Flower Roberts

I have always had a fondness for fungi. Lichens are a mix of fungi and algae that  grow on rocks and trees.

My favorite forms of these little hybrid beings are the fruticose kind. These are shrubby and sometimes pendulent.

Fruticose lichen


This beauty was on a fallen stick beside a trail I hiked this afternoon.

Flat foliose form on the right of fruticose.

I love how its growth cascades off the former branch it was growing on.

May be Usnea strigosa lichen?  You tell me.

Lovely color and form!
I am lovin’ this little lichen!

FLOW

Thinking Pink

| Flower Roberts

My mama’s birthday is next week. She would have been 94 years old. Her favorite color was pink, so I am in the habit of looking for pink gifts in January.

Pink shimmer snowflake.

I was stopped in my tracks by this lovely pink snowflake in front of a shop named The Funky Tulip. 

Charming

It is a great day for swinging in a pink swing. It is almost 60° on the mountain!

Lured to the window by sparkling pink.

I was drawn closer by the display pink decorations in the window.

Of course I had no choice but to pop inside. Pink and sparkle together gets my undivided attention.

Sweet box

I found more pink furniture and items inside.

Pink!!!

If you love pink, this is your kind of place. There were other colors too but I ignored them.

Dreamy dress. If I were thin!


I will keep thinking pink this month as I remember my mama.

Flower

New Color for the New Year

| Flower Roberts

The pair of Storytellers’ Chairs have returned to the mountain fully restored and ready for more. I have been busy saving the stories as well. Legacy isn’t just about  things.

In the 1960’s the chairs were a plush green. They sat in my grandparents’ livingroom overlooking Hibriten Mountain. My maternal grandfather was the main storyteller.

Grannypaw in green

In the 1980’s the chairs were covered in a rosy velvet. They were in my parents’ home in Charlotte.

Daddy in rosy Hong Kong

Now, they are a lovely blue and sitting in the family room of my parents’ dreamhouse in the mountains of North Carolina.

New blue and the Zebra, too.

You may recognize the Zebra table nearby.
Having these important family heirlooms restored and placed here makes me feel like more time circles have been completed.


I have fond memories of times with the former owners of these chairs. I miss my precious relatives who are no longer living. I especially miss my mama, Dottie Ann/ Kiki and her younger brother Uncle Jim both of whom we lost in 2025.

Uncle Jim and Dottie Ann/ Kiki/ Mama

These family pieces being restored and ready for more years with our family brings me both peace and joy.

Many thanks to Blue Ridge Upholstery in Vilas, North Carolina for doing such an excellent job for us.

Good as new in blue

READY FOR 2026!


FLOW

Lights in the Darkness

| Flower Roberts

I appreciate holiday lights when the nights are looooooong.

Sleigh and horse

I love these because they are beside a lake which reflects the colors.

Stagecoach and horses


This resort’s lake has ducks and swans that call it home. I was glad to catch a duck in a photo.

Sleigh, reindeer and a duck

We saw both the real swans silently swimming this afternoon.

Blurry Swans


It is important to focus on lights in darkness. Just as it is crucial to look for hope during periods of sadness.

Soldier guarding the gate


Look for the light!

HAPPY NEW YEAR

FLOW in the glow

Kitchen Sinking Christmas Lighting

| Flower Roberts

One of our family traditions is to ride around town looking at Christmas lighting and decorations. We found a new favorite this year.

We visited the known hotspots along the main streets. There are two streets with rows of giant, blow-up Santas with an occasional snowman. There is a neighborhood of assorted lighted balls hanging from the trees. We even found a street of blow-up nutcrackers in town.

We visited the usual yard near us with dozens of the old-type of plastic lighted figures. (I have posted on this one before.) The choir on the bleachers was missing this year, but the snowmen, ceramic look-alike trees, toy soldiers, teddy bears, angels and a nativity scene were present in the presentation.

My husband and son found our new favorite while looking for something else. That is how life works!

This neighborhood was developed in the hundreds of acres of nature that surrounded our home for decades. I was glad to see the sparsely populated development in the previous woodlands getting into the holiday spirit.

Several of the yards were over-the-top lit up. There was even a lighted herd of deer where a real herd probably bedded down back in the day. They had a good assortment of Santas and snowmen and lights of all colors strung across roofs and trees. Just when we were getting to the deadend of the road, we spotted a bright glow on a hill.

Wowza! The over-the-top yards got topped by the most ecclectic grouping of lighted figures ever. These folks did not stop with tradition!

There was a gingerbread house with two dancing cookies.

The tree in the middle of the yard held colorful lighted ornaments. There were several angels. The gold one had flapping wings. The lighted mailbox’s door opened and closed. There were cute teddybears here and there.

The giant word JOY was behind the tree and Merry Christmas was down in front. Big lighted candles and snowflakes were scattered about. These images were fancy versions of the expected holiday decor.

This should have been more than enough cheer to spread, but these folks were not done yet. They had more to say this holiday.

Front and center of the glowing menagerie stood the three stand-outs of the ensemble. A golden Statue of Liberty glistening beautifully was noticed first.

Beside Lady Liberty was the silver Eiffel Tower, and beside it was a big, glowing Ferris Wheel.

WOWZA!

There is a story here. I hope I get to hear it before I leave town. I will let you know if/ when I do. It is going to be difficult to stay away until I know what inspired such a display.

Merry Christmas readers. I hope you each have an over-the-top holiday with events full of twinkling lights and dancing cookies and liberty.

FLOW

Same Sign Three Times and a Bonus

| Flower Roberts

Before I start this post, I would like to announce that I have been blogging via my phone for the past year or more. This is my first time back on a computer on the mountain. Boy, did I see past mistakes! Between the tiny screen and the tiny keys, it was hard to see what I was sharing. I have finally moved back to a computer because the book I am writing got so big it needs Scrivener for me to control it. My printer has decided to work as well, so this has been an exciting morning. There have been other technical difficulties, but that is nothing new.

Back to the three signs. Dismiss these if you wish. When events go way beyond coincidental, I call them signs from the Universe. That is what I say happened last week. I have posted about the copy of the letter that was sent from my mother to my aunt and back again. I also shared that the envelope from Canada did not have a date stamp. That catches you up for the rest of the story.

The next day two more related events occurred. The Universe knows that I am slow. First, I found the envelope that my mother mailed the copied letter to my aunt in. It had a date stamp of Dec 16, 2005. That was twenty years ago yesterday. My Gran died in 1995. Thirty years before that. I guess my Mama had been too busy to go through the box and read all the letters until then.

Both envelopes for mailing the copies back and forth.

So the third time I saw the letter I realized I needed to look closer than just to write a summary on a post-it note. That’s when the surprises started. The first paragraph blew my paternalism theory for the book out of existence.

The first sentence was, ” Well ’tis done____ for better or for worse! The letter goes on to describe their efficiency apartment and includes a hand-drawn map of it. This map is the only thing I remembered from seeing the original letter in the box disguised as a book. My goal then was just to get them in order.

The next several paragraphs glowingly described things in the apartment. Then comes the sentence, “I wish you could see my ring! … It’s platinum with five diamonds. The engraving is exquisite. It has EMD – DIP 5.10.’29 on the inside.”

Here comes number two bonus of the more than coincidental events. My sister called to tell me to look for some things I had found earlier and bring them to her over the holidays. I really wanted to do it later, but was afraid I would forget. I stopped what I was doing to go find that box and stick it in my suitcase.

The box in the box.

I opened it to be sure it was the right box and there inside that box another little box. Written on the top was “Wedding Ring (Broken).” I opened the box to find two pieces of a platinum ring with only one diamond left embedded in it. I got out my jeweler’s loop and looked inside it.

There it was! EMD – DIP on one piece and 10. 29 on the other.

My Gran’s wedding ring mentioned in the letter.

Believe what you wish. I am just sharing the facts.

FLOW

Snow Swirls

| Flower Roberts

This is my first winter on the mountain, so everything is a first for me. The wind woke me up this morning. I looked out the back window to see snow tornadoes swirling where the wind met the corner between the house and the garage.

Circles mean things to me. They are a sign that I pay attention to. I know these swirls are due to the blowing snow, the wind direction and the configuration of the corner. I also know that natural forces create supernatural events.

See partial snow circles left by the swirls.

I stood mesmerized by the swirls. I remembered back to teaching about breaking waves with water in a fish tank and how the water swirled back when it hit the edge. I thought about how wave swells are really circles under the sea. Nature does not have corners nor deadends. Wind and water find their way out, over or through eventually.

I am in a time-circle now. Here on the mountain circling through the past of my family, again and again. Trying to find my way through to a present where all the pieces fit together.

Now, it is actually snowing. The air is white and fiercely dynamic. I am in the midst of a giant snow swirl.

Tiny swirl on left then tornado in the middle.

I am where I belong.

FLOW

Making Mama’s Memorial Ornaments

| Flower Roberts

This will be our first Christmas without Mama. I am making memorial ornaments for me and my sister. They are pink, Mama’s favorite color.

I will share the steps for doing this. You only need plain ornaments, decorative napkins, glue, foam paint brushes, glitter and scissors.

Remembering Mama


I use paper plates to contain the mess.  This is a really messy project. That’s why I love it!

Do not sigh or sneeze PLEASE!


Used yogurt containers, Choboni flip and Qui, are great for glue and water. I labeled my glue containers M for matte and G for gloss. I have used both so you can see the difference.

Peel the back two layers off your napkins. Save these for cleaning up.

Peel off plain ply layers from the back.

Also remove the top hanger of the ornaments. Do not lose these in the mess!

I stick shewers and my fingers in the top holes to hold the balls.

Hold by the hole.

Cut out the central designs to be featured on your ornament. These go on first.  Plan your spacing and arranging.

Sometimes parts get cut off and must be replaced, like little paper Frankensteins.

Soldiers with new hat and new legs.

Then either hang or perch them on something to dry. This means leave them alone for a bit. Repeat again until totally covered.

Hung on a skewer.

If this were a Decoupage Party it would be time for Mimosas and snacks. Since I am alone, I am using the down time to write steps as I go. Pausing is hard for me.

Now use the napkin scraps to fill in the blank parts of the ornament. Overlap as little as possible. Glitter and glue will cover the booboos.

Glue more, hang to dry more.

Lastly, you cover any bare sections with custom cut pieces of plain background from the waste left from the napkins.

Let’s talk glitter. It is possible to do a perfect job of decoupage and ruin it with the wrong glitter. Very detailed designs need white, extra fine glitter. Do not use irridescent unless you want to add color, or there is a simple design, or lots of repetition or you want to cover up some ugly. Some shaggy irridescent glitter totally blocks the design

Fine white rose irridescent on left, mixed sized bling in the middle called party blend /snow swirl, white iris on the right

Party Blend or bling should be used on plain ornaments as a featured texturizer.

Party blend glitter on the left on a flat white. Flat white ornament/ no glitter on the right. Easy enough for children. Ribbon can be glued around the sides.

I usually save all residual glitter and mix it on the last ornament.  I hate the ball glitter. It rolls. Do not buy it…ever.

Let the completed ornaments dry over-night. I usually use clear spray to seal these, but don’t have any here.

Almost done.

Warning, if you sigh alot or sneeze, this may NOT be the craft project for you. I am a sigher and usually send tiny pieces of napkins and glitter all over.

Blogging and decoupaging.

FLOW

The Morphing Memoir

| Flower Roberts

What happens when the storyline falls apart and you are left looking at a completely different tale. In my digging through family artifacts to write a book that was supposed to be about paternalism and over-reaching parenting in past generations of my family history, I have discovered evidence to the contrary that was never mentioned.

The thread that joined the parts has been broken. The stories have shifted. How do I piece this history back together. No one is left alive to ask about any of this.

Does every family clean up their past and hold the next generation to higher standards? What do I do with this mess?

It is funny how one conversation or one letter can change everything.

Envelope with a surprise inside. No date stamp.

I found this last night as I purged another box of letters and papers. I may have seen this letter before in the box of letters from my Gran to my great, great aunt Ethel. I got up in the middle of the night to check for a date stamp on the envelope. There was not one.

Inside this envelope was a letter from my mom’s sister thanking her for sending the copy to be copied.

So my mom found this letter after my Gran died and thought enough of its contents to mail it to Canada to be copied and returned.

Box of letters that looks like a book on bottom shelf, far left, bottom of the stack.

This flagged that letter for me. Upon closer inspection, I realized a new part of the story was in there. How did I miss this? My cousin now has the originals. I am anxious to see if this letter is in the box and if it has my sticky note attached to it. This will confirm my craziness!

I must add a side story here. I found the box of letters from my Gran to Aunt Ethel in 2024 as we were cleaning out the house to sell it.  I took pictures of everything in the house in 2022. I did not know that the box of letters was actually a box, because it was disguised as a book. So to find photo of where it was all those years, I had to go through thousands of photos, mostly plants, to find a picture of the bookcase in my parents’ bedroom.

It has occurred to me that I am the only one who can carry this through.  I am the one with the photos and memories. I would never have had the time to do all this if bad things had not happened to put me in the right place as the world has shifted around my family.

I will continue until the universe stops me.

Stay tuned.

FLOW

It’s Melting

| Flower Roberts

Water drops and snow plops are making patterns in the snow.


The deer have criss-crossed the yard many times during these past three days.


Deer spent time under our porch.

Deer tracks headed under the porch.

The two rabbits that live in the thicket bedded down in the leaf pile.

Rabbit tracks around the thicket.


The quiet is now punctuated by the soft sounds of snow cascades dumping off the tree limbs.

Even endings are lovely here on the mountain.

FLOW

Diamond Dust

| Flower Roberts

I have spent today in a frozen cloud. There are ice crystals on everything. I call this “diamond dust.”

Big crystals


Frozen fog makes the air white. Visibility is severly limited. It has been strange to be in a frosty cloud all day long. All sounds are muffled.

In a cloud.


Look how the frosty fog is clinging to the deck railing. It has stayed around 20° F all day.

Frozen Fog


Rose just informed me that more snow is expected here. I am content to stay inside to read and write. I can pace on the porch if I feel antsy.


This is my first big snow on the mountain. I am happy to be here to enjoy it.

FLOW

Watching It Snow

| Flower Roberts

I have watched the snow in silence all morning. I am truly grateful for this period of quiet peace. I have needed to concentrate on a project I have been working on.

The view from my desk.

No, it is not decorating for the holidays or decoupaging Christmas ornaments. That would be fun. I will hold off on glitter and glue until after 5:00PM.

I am rewriting my story. Not just a chapter, the whole thing. Well almost all of it.  I am culling what was myth and wishful thinking to see what is left.

This has not been an easy thing to do. If I did not feel that it was necessary, I would not be doing it. I am tackling one past event at a time and looking at it from all sides. We usually do not look at things from perspectives other than our own, especially when we are young.

Piling up quietly.

This has been hard work and has required my actually drawing scenarios and stick people and writing out what each person might have been thinking. It usually gives me a headache, but is very enlightening so I will keep at it until I get more clarification.

Watching the snow in silence is like staring into a fish tank. It somehow clears my mind like rice clears the palate.

Fluffy snow slowly falling is so soothing that it feels like balm for my troubled mind as I brave things I have refused to face.

This snow is like an angel. Nature’s way of quieting the setting and softening everything. Muting the noises and covering the colors so that things are monochromatic and muffled.

I did not say I would be making a snow angel nor snowman. My neighbor did bring me some snow cream.

I feel gratitude to my parents for leaving my sister and me this haven. It has brought me so much peace and comfort.

The results of this work are for a book that I have been working on for a long time. There have been surprises. I am sure there will be more. Bring it!

FLOW in SNOW

The Marine’s Letters Make It Home

| Flower Roberts

My sister and I met Louis’s daughter and grandson for lunch yesterday. Both of them resemble him. I felt relief to finally hand over this important part of their dad and grandfather’s history to his family.


They left us to take the notebook to share with her daughter, Louis’s grandaughter. Today, they will share the letters with his widow, Linda. Then take them home for her brother and mother to read.

Louis’s grandson and daughter.

The circle can be completed without me. I have done my part to make it happen. I did this for my mother, who saved the letters for over sixty years.

Dottie

I did it for a young, lonely marine who wrote so beautifully about his first years in the military and service overseas and then came back to a different world.

Louis in 1950

Most of all, I did it out of respect for first loves. When hearts do what they do without reserve, fear or reason. Before things get guarded, complicated and weighted.

The story of Dottie and Louis is sweet. I am not sure how or why it ended. We got conflicting stories from mama due to dementia. My mom went on to marry my wonderful father. They stayed together over sixty years until his death in 2020.

But that’s another story.

FLOW

Supplies for Enduring Bad Weather

| Flower Roberts

I am thankful to be prepared for the first bit of icy weather here on the mountain. Now that my body is worth more than my car, I will not be risking a fall nor a wreck.

I have a wonderful stash of napkins. These have been carefully selected and collected. I am very particular about my napkins.

Part of a vast napkin collection

I hope I have enough glitter. I left those awful tiny balls at home. Do not buy this type. It rolls off your table and across the floor. Enough of it could cause a fall. Stick with the flakey, shiny, traditional glitter that gets stuck in your hair and carpet.

Clear and iridescent glitter work best

I usually have both matte and gloss decoupage glue on hand. This glue should be thinned with drops of water.

matte or gloss glue

I guess I should check on my food stocks. Do I have milk, bread, eggs and kerosene? Why yes! But I am more worried about boredom than starvation.

Here are some suggestions for laying up your decoupage supplies for future bad weather.

Choose napkins with all sides decorated. Some only have pictures on the front.

All panels on one side decorated.

Also, randomly scattered small pictures on light backgrounds are easiest to work with.

Small and random is easiest.

Stripes with repetition are for flat surfaces and perfectionists. Individual stripes can be cut and used around the edge or middle.

Stripes are tricky.

Large central pictures are great as features on larger items.

Great feature picture.

Many items can improved by decoupage.

Light colored items

Do not try to work with thin glass Christmas balls. I have gotten all the way finished and cracked them moving them around. Thick glass, paper mache, wooden, and plastic things are best. Avoid dark colored objects. Stick with creamy, light colors or white.

I will add links to the end for further information and ideas.

DECA DECO

Glitter, Glue and a Friend or Two

Paper Gardens

FLOW IS READY FOR ICE AND SNOW

My Ephemeral Art Box

| Flower Roberts

Sometimes I need to play with options of an idea I am developing. That is when I pull out my Ephemeral Art Box. It contains fragile, small trinkets that can add details to cards, letters or dress up decore with a tiny accent.

Tiny, fragile treasures to add details to projects.

I added a bluebird to Daddy’s picture frame
by cutting this bird off the corner of an envelope.

Paper bluebird glued to frame.
Corner of a Christmas card envelope


Any time I find a tiny piece of art that I can use, I pop it into this box to save for later. I snip pictures off cards and envelopes, save stickers, buttons, old stamps, even pieces of broken jewelry or matches to lost earrings.
I have bigger boxes at home, but this one came to the mountains for a workshop. That will be another post.



I will share some photos of tiny treasures I save to use in future art projects.

Scattered treasure
Tiny fairy stickers
Inside a tiny box
Fairy door buttons
Stickers may have borders or not.
Ferns without background may be stuck to glass on outside and art on inside and overlapped for a 3-D effect.

Tiny 3-D objects may be used to add details.

These may need extra glue.
I love these little doilles.
Antique card from my grandmother’s house.
Also save textured paper and fabric scraps.

The best thing about having tiny treasures to play with is they all go back into this little box.

My Ephemeral Art box

FLOW

Letters from a Marine: 1949 – 1952

| Flower Roberts

My sister and I found a large envelope of letters from my mom’s high school boyfriend while we were cleaning out her house to sell it. We started to read the letters while mom was still alive in a nursing home. We just could not do it. We felt like it was an invasion of her privacy. She had dementia. Sometimes she spoke of Louis like we should know him. Once she wanted to leave him a message over the phone.  She thought he needed to know where she went. Mama wanted to leave Daddy messages, too.  Both of them were gone by then. We just let her do whatever comforted her.

After Mama died, my sis and I were sorting contents of boxes we had moved from the homeplace to my sister’s house. Here was that envelope again. I opened it and started reading the letters outloud. Louis came to life right there in my sissy’s kitchen. His letters were full of what he was doing and what he was missing.

RIFLE Practice

He was riding on a ship or a helicopter, hiking, digging foxholes, cleaning bunkers, standing watch, stringing barb wire and cleaning his rifle. He was missing deer season, trout season, football games and home.

His duty in 1951 took him to Kobe, Japan and then Pusan and Yanngu, South Korea. He describes the steep mountains and cold weather often.

Three buddies

He tells stories of a pesky mouse in his bunker that dropped things during the night. This caused some drama in the dark. There was also a lizard that drank coffee.

I have put the original letters, envelopes and photos in plastic sleeves and organized them in order in a big notebook. This treasure will be going to his daughter to be shared with her two brothers.

This young Marine was a great writer and storyteller. I see why my mom kept the letters for over seventy years. This is a window into the past of a nice person who ended up serving as a Marine for over thirty years.

I have always appreciated our military putting themselves in harm’s way. This is the first time I have closely considered their time away from friends and family, as well as the freedoms they give up to serve.

This young man missed his hometown, football games, hunting and fishing seasons, his family, his friends and my Mama.

Louis and Mama married other people, but they were great penpals for over three years. I doubt my Mama’s letters made all the moves of a Marine, but I am proud to give these to the children that missed precious time with their Marine father.

Thank you Louis.

FLOWER

The Two Lost Letters

| Flower Roberts

I went through my safe this evening in order to find two letters. These two letters were opened with a knife, not my usual ripping.
I never saw them until I took a box of cards and photos home from my mother’s house in the spring of 2024 as we were cleaning it out to be sold.
The two letters were from two young men I dated while away at school. I am looking for dates on these, not just content.
There was a period of busy months when I lived in a nearby city while my mail still came to Enwood. I am hoping these letters came during that period and were simply forgotten by my parents.

My dad had the habit of turning the stack of mail face down to cut each envelope open before turning them face up to remove the contents. I do not feel that they were intentionally cut open to be read. I did find two more Christmas cards that were cut open that I had read. This gave me some comfort.

I have waited to do this. I have had so much else to decipher. I really do not know what to do with this information when I get it. I have discovered more meddling.  There were also deflected phone calls. Was my future shaped by forces I was not aware of?

I moved out of my home and into an apartment in Statesville August of 1984. I moved back to Enwood mid-November to take a job at my alma mater high school as a biology teacher. It was a much better position and I could save money living at home.

That summer and fall were a blur of preparing for my sister’s wedding in July, both of us moving away from home and readjusting to new jobs.

Date stamps on misplaced letters.

The date stamps on these letters were June 20, 1984 and Dec 20, 1984. That is when it would be understandable for my family to have been too busy to remember to pass the letters along to me. It was also a time when I was making big decisions about my future.

I will choose grace here. What else can I do? My precious parents are both gone and these two men married other women. Maybe the two letters would not have changed anything.

This is just a small part of a long story. Actually, it is part of three long stories.

Flower

Past Family Picnics

| Flower Roberts

I drove to our family’s favorite picnic spot along the Blue Ridge Parkway yesterday.

Julian Price Picnic Area

This is called Julian Price Picnic grounds. Just up the road is Price Lake and Julian Price Campground. My family spent many happy days at these places.

Gravel beach in the creek’s curve.

The Dudley side of the family picnicked in this spot often. Someone always went early to save it.

Deep part of creek.

We loved it because of the stones across the creek and the gravel beach in the curve where the water got deeper.

Loved playing on these stones.

I sorted through decades of photos to find these of past picnics. Many of these people are gone now. I will say to those of you who have not lost somebody close yet, you never stop loving them. You just have to find different ways to express that love after they are gone…Like writing and talking about them.

Boys being boys.

These photos made me smile. All these children are grown up now. We have such sweet memories of them playing in the water on those hot summer days.

The Dudley family enjoying each others’ company.

As I sat there alone, I was not lonely. My heart felt grateful again. What a great family I have had and still have.

Love you Dudleys!

FLOW

Daddy’s 5,840 Slides

| Flower Roberts

I got the neighbor’s children to help move all the boxes of slides and the three projectors to one place in the basement. I was tired of looking at them every day. They have been downstairs for months now. I am finally strong enough to go down the steps. I went down yesterday to look and take photos. I need to know what is ahead of me.

The slide closet in the basement.

Each box with a reel in it potentially holds 140 slides. There are 41 reel boxes and a shoe box of little boxes and random letters. That means there could be 5,840 slides.

Three projectors and more slides.

My sister and I purged hundreds of inherited slides when we emptied our parents’ house. These inherited slides were mostly of people we did not know in places we had not been. There were even hundreds of double slides and a binocular stereoscope viewer. At first we were careful and respectful in our purging. By the end we were thinking these folks were self-absorbed and took way too many photos of their dog and cat.

My plan is to purge and color-code these thousands of slides while I am snowed in this winter. I will keep a fire going in Daddy’s big stove as I sort through sixty years of slides. This sounds like a great way to spend snowy days. Mr. Flower bought me a lovely blue Lodge pan for cooking on the stove if there is a power outage. Daddy would have loved that.

I have done some sorting before when old friends were coming to stay here on the mountain. We hiked Grandfather Mountain with this family in our younger years. We made a slide show just for them. Their color was purple.

It was a wonderful visit. The last before my parents passed. We suspected such and wanted it to be perfect.

I am determined not to leave this purging task for my children to tackle. I will confess that the inheritance of stuff has changed the course of my life. I do not want my two children to be overwhelmed by what I leave behind. They have too much stuff of their own right now.

I will bravely tackle this task for the sake of the family that follows, so they won’t have to wonder,  ‘”Who are these folks? Where are they? and ” Who is that spoiled beagle in all these photos?”

FLOWER and the slides

Zoo in a Box

| Flower Roberts

Inside this little box is an entire zoology course.

Zoo in a box

The cards are arranged by the common names of animal phyla in order of complexity: fish, mollusks, insects, amphibians, reptiles, birds and mammals.

Sixty postcards of rare book illustrations

The pictures are copies of paintings from the collection of the American Museum of Natural History in New York City. There is information in the front of the box about the history of the museum and the processes used to make the original prints. I would call this ‘Museum in a Box’ but that title will come in a later post about another box.

Fascinating information about museum, books and printing methods

Each postcard has information on the back about the subject, artist, and location of the animal’s habitat. I love reading the descriptions because many of the animals are strange to me.

I will be at my desk on cold days perusing the zoo.

FLOW

My Paper Plants

| Flower Roberts

The green is gone here on the mountain. My other home is never this brown in November. The wind and cold have kept me inside more than I am used to. These conditions are causing what I call “green anemia.”

Plant people know what I am referring to. I do have a few special plants here, but they cannot compare to my indoor jungle back home.

Two clivias, a cereus and an epiphyllum

To address my need for green, I have a large selection of paper plants. I have put these out on the Zebra so I can walk by and get a plant buzz. I will take you on a tour of my paper conservatory.

Mary Delay Notecards

Here is the back of the box. If you have never seen her work made of cut colored paper, stop reading and look her up. I have several books about her life. You need to know her.

The Passion flower on the right is my favorite.

My sis ordered an antique book about her for me as a gift. It is one of my treasures.

THIS book has artwork from Kew Royal Botanical Gardens. It has groupings so you can pick your fix for the day.

Botanicum curated by Katie Scott and Kathy Willis

Almost every page is frameworthy.  I consider this another treasure.

Ornamental shrubs

Wildflowers

I got this WALL COLLAGE set with two sided cards and sticky circles. You can make your own diplay of plants, animals, fungi, planets… If you have a little scientist or artist, they should have something similar to play with. Cards could be sorted or copied. I can imagine a lot of thoughtful quiet-time with this.

Wall collage kit

The last book I will share is a sticker book.

Unbelievable artwork

I have not removed a single sticker. It is too precious to dismantle.

Desert plants section
Rainforest section

I will share more in another post. This is how I plan to survive my first winter on the mountain. If you know someone who suffers from “green anemia” you may want to get them a survival kit of paper plants.

FLOWER

Pure Gold Pauses

| Flower Roberts

When I was teaching college biology I used to pause before an important point and alert my students that a gold nugget of knowledge was forthcoming. If I had been my student taking notes, I would have drawn an asterix in the margin, maybe skipped a line for the pause and breathed in.

I do this backwards as I read. I highlight the gold nugget and put an asterisk in the margin. If I consider the point really valuable, I flip to the front book jacket and write down the page number with a brief note or symbol.

I sometimes called these pregnant pauses because various facts were about to be birthed into a bigger concept. All the pieces finally came together to be joined forever, never to be seen as separate again. Like spinning gold from words.

Pure Gold Pauses take careful consideration and viewing a concept from all sides.  It is a skill that takes one’s full attention and relentless practice.

I just finshed a book with so much gold in it that I dried up three highlighters.  It was HOW TO KNOW A PERSON by David Brooks.  I am a fast reader but this book required quiet reading and pauses before and after each section. I will read it several more times as I wander where this book trail leads, but for now I will return to the asterisks, reread the pages I noted in the front cover and then site quietly for a time with my phone on silent.

I have always admired David Brooks, but now I love him. He is on every page of this book trying to see and be seen, hear and be heard, love and be loved. He has written other things and will write other things. This may be his magnum opus.

When I look back at my notes, page 164 got a grief post-poned note, page 165 got a WOW, page 250 got a heart.

If you have ever lost a soul-mate (mine was Sandra) you must read about his friend Pete. This part was raw and honest and helped me feel less bad about not doing everything right at the end. We cannot know what we do not know until we do know when it is too late.

Make time to pause. Read this book full of pure gold. Be ready to learn about yourself.

Thank you David Brooks.

FLOW

Writing for Non-writers

| Flower Roberts

I have shared many books that I find interesting on both my blogs. This one is about writing for folks who NEED to write. It is not about form, style or getting published. Allison Fallon has a business called Find Your Voice. She helps people write their life’s important stories.

There is real power in taking your recurring thoughts that keep swirling around in your head and writing them down. This helps clarify thinking and get you out of “the maze.”

I am on a long journey of this exact type now. It has been transformational for me to finally face past trauma and unpack the roles of each person, especially me, in order to thoroughly understand what really happened and why it affected me as it did. This is what healing is about.


This book gives good advice about how to get your story on paper and why that will make a difference in your life. This is exactly the book I need to guide me as I start a small writing group.  I will not be their fearless leader, I will be writing alongside them as part of the tribe.


I posted on a community website that if anyone wanted to struggle with me, they are welcome. I am just trying to get my stories down as clearly as possible. This group will be about just getting it done. We will not be editing nor correcting.


If you have hesitated to write about an event that needs to be out of your head and onto paper,  get this marvelous book. It will inspire and encourage you to finally start.

You need to be brave…not perfect.

FLOWER

Separated from my Schlumbergera

| Flower Roberts

This is the first time that I have been away from my Schlumbergeras while they are blooming. My daughter, Rose, sent these photos today.

Prepped with weak bloom food and less light.

They are in better shape than expected, because I prepared them for my absence while I was home last month. I cleaned them up, added a weak bloom solution and some sprinkle fertilizer.

Salmon Schlumbergera

My collection is much smaller now, but I know that the houses of my friends will be full of these bright blooms.

Blooming in cool semi-dark basement room.

I will add a several links below from days gone by when I was obsessed with these plants. They burst into bloom just when that first hint of cold-weather-blues kicks in. That is why I love them.

Saved by Schlumbergeras

Blooming Again?

Beauty By the Pot

I hope I can find that GOLD one again. If you have one from me, please save me some links next spring.

To share: Twist off pieces. No scissors. Three links minimum. Harden off for 3 days, then dust with root hormone and plant in light, loose soil.

FLOW away from her flowers

The View from My Bed

| Flower Roberts

I am hold up in the dreamhouse of my parents on top of a mountain. I have moved into their former bedroom because of the wide doorways and giant bathroom with handicap railing everywhere.

Wow fancy!

If you were describing your dreamhouse, your description might include plus rugs and fancy light fixtures.Those amenities did not make the cut here. From start to finish their priority was quality and convenience. These are the exact attributes that have helped me survive these months of mobility struggles.

Every room has a view. I can see other mountains from any bed I choose to sleep in. I feel like I live in the sky. This is such a joy.

My deer, Misty, and my present read.

It has felt like my parents were planning this house not just for their infirmities,  but also for mine and my sister’s. Since I have moved here, I have felt loved and cared for even when I am alone. I am grateful for this every day.

If you look closely in the mirror, you will see a ponytail that has not been washed in five days.

I appreciate my practical parents more and more as new challenges arise. I do not need to be impressed, just embraced by wise people who planned for what would be needed.

Feeling grateful again to…

Bop and Kiki, Carl and Dottie, Mom and Dad

I still feel your love. I hope you can feel mine, too.

FLOW

Building a Bridge

| Flower Roberts

I have been constructing a bridge from the past to the future. This bridge is not made of the usual materials. There is wood, but also words. There are metals, as well as medals. I am trying to carefully craft a legacy for my children that will not involve the purging of  thousands of useless papers and hundreds of unnecessary objects.

Something about that tedious purge process cluttered my brain. I am grateful we did not have to rush through this sorting. We also hired help which made it less overwhelming. I think clutter and chaos come from postponing decisions.

I now live in the house with all the books, dishes, photos, tools and jewelry that were kept. This is where I am building the bridge. I am sorting items that mean something to us and adding labels to them. Sharing explanations of why these objects are still here. What meaning do these have in our story?

Time is running out for this sort of task. We must write while we can remember. We must leave lessons for our future family. These objects and photos have significant stories. If these are not preserved, they will be just knickknacks and old photos of dead people.

We are just now discovering some tales from the past. There have been surprises. I think it is important for young people to understand the history behind what makes a home and a family. Parents try to be perfect, but that is never possible. Why not share the struggle? That is where wisdom comes from.

So as winter rolls in on my mountain I will be sorting, labeling and writing. I have contacted another family about a crossing of paths. I am sending things they may want to put in their bridge they are building.

There must be a crystalization and connection of past events that lead to a future. The time to build your bridge is now.

Holding these artifacts connects me to treasured memories of people and events that shaped me into the person I have become and I have influenced the character if my children based on these experiences.

I look forward to this process of preserving our significant family events for folks who have been or may be influenced by our legacy.  I will be slowly sorting and selecting the materials worthy of forming our bridge across the generations.

I plan to share steps as I go through the process. Maybe this will inspire you to cull your collections and record your favorite memories.

FLOW

My New Left Hip and My New Attitude

| Flower Roberts

Today was the day! I now have two new hips with double balls. My right hip was first replaced in August 2024 and then  revised in June 2025, after three dislocations which involved three ambulance rides to three different Emergency Rooms.

I have been in almost constant pain for ninteen months, due to an arthritic right  which was replaced with a faulty prosthetic hip and an accident which jammed my left hip just three weeks before schdeuled first replacement of the right one.  Blah!

I am not a graceful person. I have spent my life focusing on the physical work I was accomplishing. I used my body like a machine, or maybe like a man does, or like  fool does? Well that habit has backfired.

This is my sixth joint surgery; one shoulder, two knee replacements, two hip replacements and one hip revision. I am only sixty-four.

I am lying in the hospital bed tonight thinking and blogging between nurse visits, because there is no point in trying to actually sleep in a hospital.

What lessons have I learned from this long, painful journey?

First, I have always tried too hard. I will NOT place blame on Daddy who wanted a son, or Mama who wanted a little lady, or even my sister who wanted a playmate sister instead of an introvert who dug in the dirt. I have continued to try too hard through adulthood. Maybe I felt I needed to prove my worth as the youngest child or earn my value as a non-boy. I am still trying to figure all that out. Do not hold your breath for the answer.

Daddy and his girls.

I have finally stopped this over-achieverness because I could not be Wonder Woman while waddling around with canes and walkers,  grimacing and crackling like an old crone.

My friends and family have warned me NOT to fall back into my go-for-broke patterns after my new left hip heals.

Next, I treat myself like somebody else now. I have tried to be kind to my body and mind after years of mis-using them like appliances that can be fixed. There will be more careful planning and pausing from now on. I will be spending funds to hire others to do things I should not have been doing at all, much less solo. I will work smarter NOT harder.

I will stop with one LAST epiphany that I noticed about my new self today.  This may also be of value to you.

“To be part of a team, you must be part of a team. “

I have tried to be the whole team, instead of team a member. I have no super powers nor am I a genius. WTF Flower?

NOW,  I will focus on doing what is essential and needed. I will ask for help when I need it. I will tell folks what I need. They are not mind-readers and neither am I. Flower will quit showing off!

I have always been determined to be independent and do things without the help of others while also insisting on helping others.  Who do I think I am? I feel compelled to improve conditions wherever I am. That is not admirable. It’s OCD! Why is this true Biddle Boo?  I have usually refused help that was gladly and lovingly offered out of stubborness and pride.

It has taken ninteen months of brokenness for me to realize that the ebbs and flows of life are natural. I can quit shoveling sand against the tide like a maniac.  I can stop trying to prove I am as tough as my Daddy,  or as smart and pretty as my Mama or as extroverted and popular as my sister.

I will be just me…no pearls, no curls,  and no merit badges, but I will wear a shirt. Ha

The ladies and me.

I plan on thinking more and hiking more.

I will be pausing to observe and enjoy.

It’s about damn time!

FLOW

Bloom When You Can

| Flower Roberts

It is October 21 today. Mr. Flower just sent me this photo of one of the daylilies. This one is in the Bunny Yard, which no longer has bunnies. Instead it is visited by the neighborhood ground hog. The fence keeps out the deer herd.


My home garden has gotten very little attention from me in two summers. This bloom may not look like much to you, but to me it is a message of hope.


This ‘Breed Apart’ daylily is showing its grit. It is exhibiting resilience. ‘Breed Apart’ is  budding up and blooming in Autumn despite neglect, drought, and cold.

Breed Apart daylily


‘Breed Apart’ showed up and did what it was supposed to do. It bloomed where it was planted.

“Grow where you are planted.”

I have said this to my daughter, Rose, many times. Her life has been peppered with less than ideal conditions. She has grown and bloomed despite this.

Sometimes the “where” is not optimum. In this case the “when” is not optimum. But here are the lovely faces of ‘ Breed Apart’ in October.

Blooming in late October

I apprecite the survivors. They are beacons for what can be accomplished even under challenging circumstances.

I would like to salute and celebrate all the BREED APART survivors who bloom where and when they can.

FLOWER

In honor and memory of NOBODY’S GIRL.

The Storytellers’ Chairs

| Flower Roberts

Now that the Zebra table has been restored, I can focus my attention on the storytellers’ chairs.

Our Gorgeous Zebra

These chairs were in the lovely home of my maternal grandparents, which was full of many interesting things.


In my first memory of this pair of chairs, they were mossy green in a livingroom with green carpet. A big picture window looked out onto Hibriten Mountain. Their house was perched high on a hill. The street name was Ridgecrest.

The green wingbacks were one of the places our Grannypaw sat to tell stories. The grandchildren would gather around on the  carpet to listen to his stories and jokes.

Grannypaw telling stories in the green wingback chair.

While all this sitting and talking was going on;  my Gran, Mama and the aunts visited in the kitchen while they cooked and cleaned up. The significance of this tradition did not dawn on me until I became one of the women in the kitchen.

My maternal grandparents

When the Ridgecrest home was sold, the two wingbacks were moved to our home on  Enwood. My mama had them recovered in a soft coral-pink shade of velvet.

One of the pair eventually got moved to the corner of the den. My sis and I called this corner Hong Kong because Daddy seemed to be far away as he sat silently sipping coffee.

My Daddy in Hong Kong

The other chair was put in our livingroom which also had green carpet and a big picture window. My daddy sat here to tell stories, listen to music and listen to my mama play her piano. He would sit in this chair when we had company and tell stories.

Daddy at Christmas


Several years back the wingbacks’ bottoms began to sag. We feared a guest would fall through, so we placed footstools under their seats. This is embarassingly tacky, but it was better than embarrassing or endangering a guest. When we transported the pair to the mountain house, the footstools came, too.

Footstool reinforcements under saggy seats.

Mr. Flower and I loaded up the two Storytellers’ Chairs into our truck today. We drove them off our mountains, through some hollars and hills and then climbed up onto another mountain near Boone.

Two wingbacks and a roll of new, blue fabric.

The pair has been delivered to a furniture rehab facility to get their seats shored up and covered in a soft, sky-blue, leather-like vinyl.

Wingbacks in the workshop.

We look forward to the pair’s rehab and return. Then some of the younger folks need to take over the storytelling tradition. Wonder where we can find some?

FLOWER

Our Gorgeous Zebra

| Flower Roberts

The Zebra just got delivered. It could not be more beautiful. I cannot stop crying. The Zebra’s long journey is over. It is restored to its proper glory. My Daddy would be marveling at the craftsmanship that was hidden under the dark stain and dirt.

Those legs!

The Zebra is just plain gorgeous. The artists at Restoration House in Blowing Rock, NC brought it back to life to be loved by many more generations of our family. Thank you Klutz family!

Two artists from Restoration House, Blowing Rock, NC


I took photos of all sides, legs, tops, wooden wheels, drawer and back. (which is too pretty to be against a wall).

Beautiful back of the Zebra

It will stay in the middle of the great room beside Daddy’s chair, so we can see it and pet it for a bit.

Bottom shelf is still zebra.

The Zebra top veneer was replaced by solid oak. That old veneer was missing a corner, crackly and warped. Now, the top is solid and ready to be used.

Oak top, drawer open

I am proud of the three or more generations of my family for having the insight to save it and transport it. It is finally where it belongs.

The Zebra’s tiny, wooden wheels.

My heart is full. I only wish Daddy could have seen it. But maybe he can.

FLOWER loves the Zebra and her Daddy

Four Legs of a Zebra

Our Macho Zebra

Our Macho Zebra

| Flower Roberts

I got a call that the refurbished Zebra was almost ready. I let the experts choose the stain color. When Ruth said the name of the stain over the phone, I knew Daddy must have been involved.

Our Precious Daddy

My sister and I used to get so silly that we rattled our usually calm father. When this happened, he would get tongue twisted and use the wrong words. This would make us squeal with delight, because we thought it was so cute. Our laughing would get him even more flustered and his face would turn red. 

We have favorite stories about poor Daddy mis-speaking followed by our shrieking. One of these involved Daddy using the term mocha instead of macho. He would just grin when we repeated ” He thinks he’s so MOCHA.”

All pieces of our clean Zebra ready for Restoration House.

When Ruth said the stain they chose was named MOCHA, I laughed outloud and said that sounded perfect. I immediately called my sister to report that our Zebra was going to be MACHO.

Now, I can share the before photos of our famous Zebra foyer table. This is a big deal to me. Our Zebra will finally be restored and put in our family home.

Four dirty legs with little dusty wooden wheels.
Missing piece of Zebra veneer off the top.
One leg and the lower shelf.
The lower shelf’s Zebra veneer not as damaged.
Filthy dirty Zebra bottom of top.
Top, middle and four legs.

Get ready to see the refurbished

“MACHO ZEBRA” … HOORAY

Excited FLOWER

Grateful for the Good

| Flower Roberts

Extreme stress is not conducive to creativity.
I cannot change reality right now,
but I can focus on the good.

I am and will continue to poison myself with the daily events of horror. I refuse to totally look away from this chaos and suffering caused by greed and evil.

But, I also purposefully find the fighters for right. These are good people who have had their warrior switch turned on by an event they could not tolerate.

These are the good that I am grateful for. The people that chose to stand their ground and do whatever it takes to protect what is of value.

Volodymyr Zelensky of Ukraine inspires me by staying with his people and not wearing a suit.

AOC and Bernie Sanders who stand shoulder to shoulder with the real people with jobs and dreams.

Melanie Stansbury who refuses to defuse her fury at the monstrous atrocities that occurred to young females in her state on an exclusive, isolated ranch.

Jasmine Crockett who goes off like a rocket when entitled liars speak.

Chef Jose Andres who has taken on the hunger of the displaced all over the planet with World Central Kitchen.

The Walk for Peace Monks and Aloka walking through snow to reach our chaotic capital. I will keep that image of their robes against the snow forever.

Jessica Knurick who stands up against the bull shit spread about health by ignorant folks who are not qualified to write a prescription nor shop for healthy food.

My hero, Heather Cox Richardson. The historian who is documenting the daily shenanigans of inept people in power. She calms me down like no one else.

My new favorite duo, Jeff Newton and Rye Howard Stone, who are teaming up to lay bare the Epstein files using an AI assistant named Claude. Jeff is formerly from 60 Minutes. Rye just finished his PhD and is taking this on as he waits for the right job to appear. These two are on Substack. Watch them work. Simply amazing!

I will stop here. I could add many more groups who have been formed to right the wrongs.

These are the names I whisper into the darkness as I try to relax and sleep.

I am truly grateful for the good they are doing.

FLOW