Month: July 2026

The Two Books in the Trash: Part 2

| Flower Roberts

This post is a follow-up to an earlier post. THE LINK IS BELOW.

I am sorry for the delay caused by throwing the books away.
I had to order them on the internet because they were printed over sixty years ago.

Time Circles Take Their Time

Copies had to be ordered.

In this post I will discuss again my original reaction. A later post will be about my thoughts now after several years of wondering what the possible meaning of this sign could be? Was it from my mom or my dad? How did these two books get into that room? Landing in a wicker trashcan made them visible from the outside or they may never have been noticed. What a coincidence!

The answers are always in the details. Here I will describe each book and my initial reaction to it.

Front and back of the Kenneth J. Foreman
book about marriage vows.

I do wish I had the book jacket of the original book from the Enwood house, if there was one. This one is so much more interesting. This is from the third printing in 1953. The first printing was in 1950.

My initial reaction to this book was not pleasant. This book was a wedding gift from some friends of my maternal grandparents to my parents. The view of marriage in the 1950’s was very different from my views in 2023. I was not happy to have to revisit these old views of matrimony. I felt like I was being chastised and corrected from the grave. I was not sure if I wanted to be married at all at that point. I certainly was not about to backtrack to an antiquated version of marriage. This supposed sign actually made me furious.

Vietnam Era book by Thomas A. Dooley M.D.

The second book was also a propaganda powder keg. I was too young to fully understand Vietnam as the war unfolded and damaged the lives of thousands of people. I did understand tragedy and death. The books by and about Thomas A. Dooley tried to add a positive spin to the war story.

The Dooley story was carefully crafted to show how good Americans were and how evil the enemy was. The stories were fabricated or atleast slanted. Later information exposed that Dooley was actually a spy not just a selfless humanitarian. He got enemy information by locating his clinics in strategic locations. His crew did treat the ailments of locals and provide much needed nutrition packages. Every story has two sides. This one is tricky.

So now you know the names of the Two Books in the Trash.

I will follow this with my take on the meanings now. I have decided to treat each separately even though they ended up in the same trashcan. Stay tuned.

Be patient.

Remember, Time Circles Take Their Time.

FLOW

Costume or Camouflage

| Flower Roberts

I have addressed this issue before in two posts, ‘Hiding on Stage’ and ‘Whose Clothes Are These?’ are the titles. (Links below)

I usually have an identity conundrum when the seasons change and while shopping for clothes, shoes and/or jewelry.

I catch myself whispering ” You wish you were that person, but you are not.” as I touch some outrageous article that I want but would never wear. Any attention-getting item is considered ‘Costume.’

Most of my warddrobe is for blending. I shoot for natural and neutral. Small, unusual details are the allowed. “Do not notice me, but if you do, here is something interesting.”

I miss my costume days. At least there was a fake sense confidence as my chosen character moved through the scenes of my life. I do not mind the camouflage periods. I feel like an invisible, silent observer. It’s like being in the audience versus on stage, less pressure, more entertainment.

Another conundrum is coming. The weather on the mountain will change quickly. I will return to Wildwood to “shop” in my closests. Things will be chosen or purged.  “Who am I now?” will be the theme…again.

I have accepted this ‘Costume or Camouflage’ phenomenon. I am happy to still be asking the question of “Who are you now?” instead of being stuck with a supplied, inflexible answer.

Look in your closets. Are YOU in there? Really?

FLOW

Whose Clothes are These?

Hiding Onstage

From Many to Only One

| Flower Roberts

I was shocked to find only one Jewel of Opar ‘Limon’ plant while I was home. This lovely plant used to self-sow everywhere. I feared it might become an invasive pest with its long root and many, tiny seeds.

This one ‘Limon’ was growing in the middle of a pot of tiny sedums and weeds. Its bright yellow leaves caught my attention. Once I was reminded of ‘Limon’, I searched for more. There were none. Only one had survived my neglect.

I am so grateful that this one jewel of a seed survived in that pot of sedums. I pulled the whole mess from the pot and cracked the soil in half. Then I carefully removed and replanted the ‘Limon.’

Jewels of Opar ‘Limon’

The weeds were removed and the sedums replanted. The ‘Limon’ has doubled in size since I removed its competition. I must make certain Mr. Flower and Rose are aware of its value.

It is the only jewel left. Another close call on Wildwood. Having treasures that can die is difficult. I should have collected stamps!

FLOWER

Gran’s Jewelry Box

| Flower Roberts

Gran’s jewelry box stayed in the bottom drawer of Mama’s dresser. I think itade her sad. Mama’s fancy black jewel box was displayed on the top. Now, Mama is gone and her house has been sold. My sis has her black, musical jewel box and I have Gran’s white one. It will stay in my closet with my jewelry tools.

My Gran’s jewelry box

Every time I open it I feel the past seeping out. The inside of the box smells like Chanel powder. That is the Aunt Ethel and Gran auroma. Mama did not have a signature fragrance because many perfumes made Daddy sneeze. I think of this, too, when I smell the Chanel.

This box full of unusual, vintage costume jewelry. I remember these pieces being worn by my Gran, Aunt Ethel (in photos) and Mama.  I have converted some clip-on earrings into pins or pierced earrings. I will wear those.

Some of these pieces are broken, but have salvageable parts. I have tools to work on these. Little by little I will fix them or let them go, just like I have done with my plants. It is a necessary purging process. We cannot keep lugging the past around in the present and dragging it all into the future. That is referred to as baggage, not treasure.

Nice compartments and hooks for necklaces.

Here are the photos of some of the old pieces of costume jewelry.  I find them interesting. They will probably look familiar to those of you who have inherited your grandma’s or mother’s jewelry.

There was only one earring, so I made it into a brooch.
I think this was Aunt Ethel’s favorite set. I am keeping it.
Red branch coral from Czechoslovakia
I used the jeweler’s loop to identify these.
I wear this necklace. It is heavy.
I made a brooch out of one of these.
Glued pin to back.
I have seen many pins like this on the internet.
These were clip-ons.
Crazy “fish egg” necklace with broken clasp.
These are lovely fake pearls. Clasp is broken. One string has a repair knot.

Gran’s jewelry box does not take up much space in my house. In my mind it looms large. I hope I will do right by its contents. There are quite a few things that I inherited that seem much bigger than their actual size. They have a presence. Sometimes good, other times not.

FLOW

The Comic Book Sign from My Daddy

| Flower Roberts

This happened in 2024. I was reminded of it today while purging an Enwood box in the Wildwood library. I am years behind due to circumstances beyond my control.
I am irritated by mess and chaos. Since the library is full of my mess and chaos, I figured no one else would deal with it. I purged a big plastic box of remnants from the Enwood. This had in it the comic book that was part of the sign from Daddy.

It was 2024. I was working alone in Daddy’s woodworking shop beside the house on Enwood. It was still dirty and messy. This is not how my Daddy usually kept things, but his arthritis, age and eventually cancer had limited his energy. Cleaning up sawdust and putting away tools moved down and eventually off the “TO DO” list. The shop was an overwhelming place for me. I started with cleaning because it could be mindless work. Organizing required thought. Cleaning was automatic. I talked to Daddy as I worked. I spent a lot of my time in there scolding him for not giving me more “Man Lessons.”

I did not know how to use many of the tools. I did not even know the names of some, much less the value. I felt unprepared for the tasks ahead. I was mad and cried a lot. I do not remember if I was having a pity hissy fit when this happened, because my train of thought was interrupted by a crashing sound on the other side of the shop.

I turned around to see that the top end of one of Daddy’s fishing rods from the top shelf had swooped down and slammed its end onto a comic book that happened to be lying out on the workbench.

I am new to this sign business. The obvious thought was that Daddy was telling me not to throw away the comic book. I looked through it for money. I looked up the comic book on-line. Not worth much. Was the fishing rod of value? No. Maybe he just wanted me to quit whining?

Today, I pulled that comic book out again and wondered what significance it may have that I have not discovered yet?

I took took photos of the front and the back for the blog. That’s when I noticed the advertisement for the Red Rider BB gun on the back.

Oh, dear! This looks just like the BB gun we gave away when my sis and I sold the other guns to a gun store. I hope that thing wasn’t valuable! Maybe if I had had a few more “Man Lessons” I would have known better. Oops, I missed it again. My bad Dad!

FLOW

Three Fawns in the Yard

| Flower Roberts

The two bold ones stick together.

Two bold fawns


The third hangs back peeking from behind cover.

Two fawns running.

When the pair get out of sight,

Scared #3 behind and bawling

the third starts bawling and running after them.

Fawn drama…

from three fawns in the yard.

FLOW

Remnants of Ravaging

| Flower Roberts

I knew where Smoky Mountain Autumn was supposed to be, but there were no green shoots above ground. I dug a hole over a foot wide and six inches deep to finally find three shrivelled tubers.
One of my favorite daylilies had been reduced to this. It must have been a deer favorite, too.

Pitiful remnants of Smoky Mountain Autumn

I consider this another in a long line of metaphors for my life. I have thought of my dear friend Sandra many times this week. We had long discussions about adapting to change after her husband died. We could not foresee that her first year of widowhood would be her last year of life. We who loved them both would have to adapt again.

I am not one to immediately embrace change, but I am a realist. Change is sometimes forced. Move or lose what is left is the lesson.

Smoky Mountain Autumn has a chance to survive now that it has been relocated and protected. One of its other daylily neighbors totally disappeared. That fate would have been repeated by more every year until most were obliterated.

I made the right choice. With every choice comes some loss. It is a matter of deciding what one is willing to lose in order to maintain or gain something else.

Someday, if we’re are careful and lucky. We will see blooms again on this remnant of a life. That restoration will be the reward.

Smoky Mountain Autumn

FLOWER

Move and Clean-up Over: Re-hab Begins

| Flower Roberts

The digging up of all plants to be saved, weeding and mulching took me, Mr. Flower and the crew three days. Luckily we had several good rains the previous two days, so that digging was not difficult and the plants were hydrated. 

Job used three dozen bales of pine needles.

It was hot, hard work. We took breaks and drank lots of water. We wore ThorGrip nitrile gloves which are a must for many jobs. These are the best. They grip well and do not tear easily.

ThorGrip Heavy Duty Nitrile gloves with grip on both sides

I had labeled the plants to be moved and their fabric pots ahead of time. All the stakes and deer fence has been removed. The years of battling the herd are over. Our yard has not looked this normal since 2018.

Cut and cleaned iris bed ready to be mulched around.

I am relieved to know my favorite plants are safe. I am happy my gardens look beautiful again. I no longer sigh and shake my head as I tour the yard.

This is the first time in three years that I have been able to do this level of physical work. My hips held up to the hills. I do have several bruises, scratches and insect bites but no joint pain or hip dislocations. I am worn out but feel a level of confidence in my mobility that I have not felt in a long time.

Stakes and fence rings gone. Hooray

All the daylilies have been cleaned and inspected. The tubers have been detangled and covered with potting soil.

Transplants in great shape and safe from the hungry herd.

I have lightly watered all transplants just enough to stay hydrated. The rest is up to them. They will be kept damp and in the shade for about a month.

Stokes Aster stand was replanted in a box. Dug up crocus in pot. Keeping them under an azalea for shade.
Tiger lilies, double Splendens in a box. Bulbs covered with potting soil.

Plants that recover and perk up will be listed for adoption. I hope this can be done in the fall. I will plant a few of my absolute favorites inside the fence.

I am happy this is done. I plan to invest my time and energy in other things after this. This move is my gift to myself, my family and my home at Wildwood. I just cannot expect my family to take over the huge job of maintaining this many plants.

My hope is that the herd will disperse now that the deer delicatessen has been removed. They need to forage on native plants not gorge on exotics.

Natural balance is best.

FLOWER

Dovey has a Baby!

| Flower Roberts

I am thrilled to announce that our Dove in Residence, Dovey, has hatched her egg.

Dovey and Fuzzy


The fuzzy baby peeked out yesterday. It has followed my movements with its tiny, black beady eyes all morning.

Peeking

Dovey is a good mama. Resting on her nest as her hatchling watches its grandma garden. Ha.

FLOWER and feathered family