Merry Christmas

Our Stake's live nativity was last night. 

At one point, the baby started crying. 

Both parents were clearly hands on, but it moved me in a heart-felt way 

when the daddy picked up the child, held him close, and rocked him to comfort him. 

I imagine there were times when Joseph comforted baby Jesus.

This Christmas season, I'm thankful for loving fathers

Both on earth and in heaven.

Sky on Fire

Beautiful Zion

Light Within

Balloons will glow for several days for our sweet Lena. Tomorrow she will be twenty.
She understands birthdays.
When she was around six, after being forgotten at someone else's party, she said,
"I want a piece of cake."
It was late in the evening; everything was all cleaned up, but that didn't matter.
She didn't speak often. This was one of the only times she verbalized what she wanted.
We immediately gave her a big piece of cake.
Those words were some of her last before autism completely stole her voice.
Tomorrow, we will be sure to give her as much cake as she will eat.

Multi-colored Glow Wands

Walking in Unexpected Sunshine

Red Butte in Fall

Carnivorous plants in the Orangerie (probably just there for Halloween).

"Careful I Bite!!!" it says.

"Golden raindrops crabapple" tree down by the pond. 

You have to stand near it to get the effect.

 Fish food at the pond. 

Yes, the stand is not always empty.

This was the first time this year that we've seen it with food inside.

The fish were happy.

Another view of the pond.

  Great-horned owl near the pond. 

Even a handful of garden workers were there taking pictures.

"Are you bird watchers?" an older man asked us as we entered the garden.

"Not really. We're leaf watchers," said my husband.

Then the old man told us about the owl. 

"It's been there for about 2 1/2 hours," he said.

Poor tired bird. 

Talking garden workers, 

a motorized cart that beeped when it backed up, 

yelling bike riders above the garden outside the fence,

 and noisy children in a double stroller

didn't cause the bird to budge. 

Though I did see it blink a couple of times.

 Just past the bird.

Red berry crabapple tree near the exit.

Having a membership to Red Butte Garden has been a fabulous investment this year.

Spring is still my favorite time to visit.

I have two buy one get one free entrance tickets if anyone is interested.

Long Yellow Walk

Bees Knees

When I was cleaning up a flower bed for fall, 

I accidentally cut down a bunch of these flowers.

So I put them in a huge pickle jar.

I left them outside on the bench

because of this: 

10

"Mom, I jumped up about half the stairs," he said. We have about thirteen carpeted steps from the basement to the main floor.

"I heard you. It sounded like you were falling up."

"How is it possible to fall up?"

"It just sounded like you were falling up." He'd crashed loudly each time he landed.

"Mom, I'd like to start practicing a talent. But I don't know what talent to practice."

I guess the jumping made him think about his skills. He told me about a guy who is really good at spinning signs for advertising attention. Then he showed me a couple of Youtube videos of the guy's amazing spinning.

"Mom, do you think I would be good at that kind of stuff?"

"Yeah, probably."

"But it wouldn't be a good career."

"Probably not. Maybe jumping could be your talent?"

"Oh, there was this one person who came to our school who could jump higher than his height."

He demonstrated how high using our kitchen wall. Then he kept jumping around the kitchen.

All that exercise must have gotten his appetite going. A few minutes later he decided to put a frozen pizza in the oven.

"Maybe cooking could be your talent?"

"No. No way. No way. I'm not good at that."

In the process of putting the pizza in the oven, the pizza slid off the pan.

"Uh, Mom, the pizza fell in the oven."

"I guess you're right. Maybe cooking's not your thing."

He laughed.

He's been spinning and jumping around the kitchen ever since.

9

My nearly twenty-year-old daughter doesn't sing, talk, or sign. Severe autism and Down Syndrome seem to have made those things impossible for her. Non-verbal communication is all she has. Music is one of her favorite things. She responds to it. Sometimes when she hears music, her face lights up, she opens her eyes wide and smiles, or she'll rock herself sideways, moving from foot to foot and back and forth to dance. When she's really excited, sometimes she'll shake her arms. Or when she's sitting, she'll move her feet by shaking them and twisting them around quickly. We've always called them "happy feet." She's done that since she was a small baby with duckling-fine blond hair that stood straight up when it was freshly washed.

Television is usually too stimulating for her, so she'll "watch" TV while sitting behind the couch.Today, we wanted her to be more comfortable and sit on the couch with us. The Mormon Tabernacle Choir was singing "Sweet is the Work," "Rejoice the Lord is King," and then "Master the Tempest is Raging." Maybe it was being so close to the TV or maybe it was the music, but she was shaking all over and had a big smile on her face.

"Look, she's leading the music," said my son. My two younger children were sitting on either side of her.

She did appear to be leading the music with her right hand going up and down, up and down to the rhythm of the song. My younger children took her arms and helped make her motions bigger, helped her continue to move them to the rhythm. Her smile got bigger and so did theirs.

This evening, while I've been sitting at the computer, she's been playing the piano. She was softly touching one key at a time, sometimes repetitively and going from key to key with the tips of her fingers. She seems to prefer the high notes, but maybe that is just because she was standing on that side of the piano.

"She's good at playing the piano," said my eleven-year-old son.

"Yeah, she is," I said.

"It's just nice listening to that. Don't you think?" he said.

"Yeah, I think so." She plays like gentle rain.

"I'm going to help her play the piano," he said. He took her hand, helped her play a few keys louder than her own playing, and then went back to what he was doing. After he left, she stopped.

"Why'd you stop Lena? Do more," he said. He was working on a project in the kitchen.

I missed her playing too. I walked over to the piano, helped her sit on the bench, and then went back to the computer. Once again, she started playing one or two keys at a time, very gently. She stopped every once in a while and just looked at the keys. Then started again. It was a very pretty song.

After a while, she got up off the piano bench, found a toy on the floor, and sat down to tap out a rhythm only she understands.

8

"It's really dark. Maybe we shouldn't do this," said my daughter to her friend Elizabeth.

I agreed but kept my mouth shut-- feeling sure they would abandon the plan.

"No, it's okay. I brought flashlights!" said Elizabeth. She came over to our house prepared to spend the night.

The goal was to find things outside that would match colorful little pieces of construction paper in the bottom of an ice cube tray. My daughter planned this activity for earlier in the day, but Elizabeth arrived late. How could they see well enough to match and find anything? How could they stand the cold?

Wearing jackets and carrying flashlights, they went out through the sliding back door. My son went with them. I could hear them talking and laughing all through the front and back yards.

They came inside about fifteen minutes later full of smiles and with a matching object for every color. I was surprised.

"Look how pretty," said Elizabeth. She showed me the pink rose she picked in the cold darkness.

I was glad I kept my pessimism to myself.

7

Picked and Found

I am the visiting teacher of a woman who races triathlons. My current visiting teaching companion is from Russia. Sunday was our first visit with the racer.

"So, why do you do these races?" the Russian asked. "Do you win a medal or something?"

"No, I just qualify for more races. It's stupid," said the racer.

"No! No! It's good to have dreams. It's good to do things like that," said the Russian.

The racer just smiled.

Years ago, I found and began following the blog of another woman who does ultra cycling and running. Even she admits she doesn't always know why she does some races. She cycles across countries and runs up mountains all around the world. She even rides in snow. She feels most at home in wide open spaces, likes to take photos of the beauty she encounters, wants to push herself to discover her limits, and enjoys writing about her experiences. My friend the racer told me once, "It's the only thing that makes me feel good."

"You inspire me," I told her, because she does.

Last Saturday, my racer friend thought nothing of riding her bike for 100 miles (including up Immigration Canyon) and running 8 miles. That was a regular training day. Her dream is to qualify for the World Championship Ironman in Hawaii. She's come very very close to qualifying in the past-- I think she said she was only three points away. This December, she'll try again at a triathlon in Mexico.

"I'm lucky if I can get up our hills in the neighborhood when I ride my bike," I said.

The racer smiled and looked understanding. "There are some tough ones here."

Today, I walked past the racer's house. She just happened to be leaving at that moment and was dressed in exercise clothes. She was wearing clogs, not bike shoes or sneakers, so maybe she was going swimming.

"Hi!" I said.

"Hey," she said.

"I'm walking to the post office. It's good for me. It's my kind of exercise."

"Awesome!" she said. I think she meant it.

I felt a little silly and maybe even stupid with the wind blowing strongly and the dark clouds gathering. Then I thought about the blogger who races in all kinds of weather. I could be my kind of tough. I walked faster than usual down the hill to the post office. On the way home, I climbed through rain and hail and enjoyed finding a few things. Walking up that hill has never felt easier.

6

My eleven-year-old son and his friend were folding paper airplanes at our kitchen table after school. His friend asked something that seemed random, but maybe had to do with flying and far away places.

"Where in New York City did you live?"

"We didn't live in New York City."

"But you lived in New York?"

"Yeah."

"Is New York City in New York?"

It was hard not to laugh.

"Yes! But we lived near Syracuse, in upstate New York. New York is a state, not just a city."

"Oh, okay," said his friend.

I don't blame him for not knowing the difference. People often assume we lived in the City when we tell them we moved from New York. The eastern United States feels a long way from Utah. When I was young, I had a vague notion about the state and that was only thanks to a childhood trip to Niagara Falls and LDS Church history sites in Palmyra, news reports of record winter snow, and a college housemate from Buffalo who everyone (including me) assumed was from the City. I could never figure out why she seemed naive and wasn't street wise. After living in upstate New York for five years and visiting the City, it's hilariously obvious they are entirely different, totally unrelated places.

I was thankful for my son's friend's question. It brought back many happy memories. I miss riding my bike through the beautiful, green, rolling countryside full of wildlife; I miss walking through forests with on-fire-like leaves in fall; I miss canoeing on blue green lakes (how I miss Beaver Lake!); I miss pick-your-own farms of strawberries, blueberries, apples, and pumpkins; I miss small town festivals with great bands, goats, alpacas being sheared, warm cinnamon donuts and apple cider; I miss living in our big new home with its hardwood floors, awesome bathtub, and fabulous granite kitchen island; and  perhaps most of all, I miss our dear, old New York friends.

My son's friend has gone home and the paper airplanes are long crumpled on the floor. Time to make dinner.

5

"It's hard to do my regular stuff when you're home," I said.

"I know," he said. "Sorry."

He's not feeling well and stayed home from work today. We're glad he still has a job. Unfortunately, he used up all his personal/sick time looking for work during the impending doom of the layoffs. So today he's on "vacation."

"It's okay. I'd just rather be with you," I said.

He needed medicine and we needed groceries, so I left.

I walked around the store for an hour, came home, hefted groceries out of the car, and put everything away up and down and up and down the stairs.

"I'm tempted to count shopping and putting away groceries as my exercise today. That should count, right?"

"Yeah." He's so agreeable.

Moderate, sustainable exercise is where it's at. Any exertion out of the ordinary counts as far as I'm concerned. Some days, I do count shopping. Today, I felt like I needed to do more.

"I'll probably feel better if I go outside," I said.

I went for a bike ride. The sunshine alone was worth it. So was the beautiful, light breeze, the warm but not too warm air, and the clear blue skies. Glorious. I wouldn't have wanted to miss seeing the huge, fox-like cat run across the road; listening to the whistles, chirps, and chatters of the birds in the trees and bushes; feeling my legs ache in a healthy way and knowing they are getting stronger; seeing the painted patches of orange and green on the mountains; or watching a little boy gleefully race ahead of his grandmother as she walked him home from kindergarten. More than anything, I enjoyed the feel of the sunshine soaking into my bones, helping my body produce vitamin D-- "the sunshine vitamin." And I'd never noticed until today a breeze can gently lift the hairs on my arms.

Being home again with him is good too.

"Oh! A bird just crashed into our window," I said. It was a tiny thing-- maybe a finch.

"What?" he said. He didn't see what happened and it must have taken a second to register. I'm sitting right by the kitchen window typing. He was eating his lunch at the counter.

"It was a bird. It crashed into our window, but it flew away. It's okay," I said.

"It must have been on its cell phone," he said.

4

My teenage daughter is an artist who often questions her obvious talent. On our way to high school this morning, the sun was trying to break through dark clouds.

"Doesn't the sky look other worldly?" I said. 

"Yeah, it's really cool," she said. 

"Yesterday, I was reading a blog of a missionary serving on an island off the coast of Panama. When she sees beautiful sunsets and the sea, she feels Heavenly Father definitely loves to paint." 

"I never thought of that." 

I knew she'd understand. I believe in her abilities as surely as I am grateful for the beauty of the sky.

3

Whenever the church nursery door opens, Daniel remembers his parents left him there. He's only one. Maybe he worries his parents will never come back. Two hours later, they always do.

I was a little late today. I opened the door to come in the room. He stopped playing happily with his cars and started to cry.  He didn't want to play with anything anymore and hid behind the rocking chair.

"Where's Daniel?" I said. "Where did Daniel go?"

Marli saw him run and hide behind the chair too.

"He's over here!" she said.

"Oh, is he under the table? No, he's not under the table," I said.

"He's over here!" Marli said again.

"I think he's hiding under the slide."

"No, he's over here!" She pointed to him.

"There's Daniel! He's behind the rocking chair," I said.

He was still crying but he ran up to me and let me hold him tightly in my arms. I stood with him until my back started to ache and then we sat in the rocking chair. I cradled him there for fifteen minutes or so. For a while, I thought he'd fallen asleep, but he was just relaxed.

Samantha brought us a toy helicopter with a propeller that whirls like a fan. We played with it until Daniel was happy enough to get down and play with other toys.

He stayed happy for a long time.......until someone else opened the door.

2

He was making a list of things he wanted for Christmas and finding out how much those things would cost on the computer. Christmas already? Yep. My son likes stuff.

"Are you sure you don't want to come on a bike ride with me?" I asked again.

"Yeah, you said it was going to be hard."

"Not that hard. There are a few hills on the first part then it's all down hill. We can turn around and come home if you get tired."

"Nah. I'm busy with this."

A few minutes later I asked for the third or fourth time, "Are you sure you don't want to come with me?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"You're going to miss me when I'm gone."

"Nah." He laughed a little to soften the blow.

"Okay, bye," I said.

I went out to the back porch where we keep the bikes, put on my helmet, and kicked up the bike's stand. A few seconds later, the sliding door opened. There he was.

"I changed my mind. I'm coming with you," he said.

"I thought you were busy."

"I finished."

"Yay!"

"You seem really happy I decided to come with you."

"That's because I am."

We rode through the neighborhood, past his school, up through the neighborhood where we used to live, down past the park, past his school again, hung out at the skate park to watch skaters for a few minutes, rode past our church, and then rode up into our current neighborhood. Not including the skate park stop, what normally takes me 30 minutes took 24.

Along the way I kept turning around and asking him if he was tired. "No," was the answer except for one time he said, "My legs are kind of tired."

When we arrived home I said, "We did that faster than I usually do."

"That's because I was with you. Normally you're alone and don't have anyone to impress."

I smiled on the inside.

"Did I impress you?" I asked him.

"Not really."

Well, I impressed myself.

And now he's added "skateboard" to his Christmas list.

1

For lunch, we ordered a steak sandwich plate and a dinner salad at Crown Burgers. We would share the sandwich, share the fries, and enjoy our own salads with Greek dressing. Lunch is a beautiful thing. The cashier didn't look Greek or Spanish-speaking like a lot of people who work there. He was white and probably in his mid twenties. His hair was a little long; his face a little stubbly. He didn't ask if our order was to stay or go.

"You just want waters, right?" he said.

We both nodded.

"Do we look like water drinkers?" I asked.

He smiled and looked a little surprised. We probably do look like water drinkers-- white, middle-aged, dressed up in our temple best.

"You just didn't say anything so I assumed," he said.

While we sat and waited for our order, I wondered why he smiled. Maybe people don't ask his opinion very often. I worked at a fast food place and didn't always feel like I was treated like a person. It was a simple interaction, but to see his reaction made me happy.

I had mostly forgotten about that moment. I was carrying my water on the way out of the restaurant after we ate.

"Bye Waters," he called out as we walked past. He had a big smile on his face again. "Did you enjoy your steak sandwich?"

"Yes, it was great."

"Have a nice day," he said.

"You too."

I think we will.

Morning Sky

Contrast makes stories and paintings captivating. Conflict and conquering, light and darkness, clouds and blue sky, mountains and valleys, good days and bad: they are what make our views more intriguing and pleasing. We don't have to seek out opposition. It happens. It finds us. Regrets are better off avoided, but not to be feared. Positives can surprise, but most of the time must be sought after or at least noticed. Agency provides a beautiful, sometimes painful, contrast to force. We can change. Beautiful.

Low

Baby Snail

I thought it was a leaf when I walked past this baby snail the first time. 

Usually the snails on our sidewalk are huge, hard-shelled old things. 

This little guy was moving faster than most snails and kept my attention.

It wasn't very interested in my penny. 

So I kept moving it back into its path. 

 It must have decided the world is full of pennies,
so it might as well slime over this one. 

Soon after I took this picture he pulled into his shell.

One-apple Bush

Last year we had an apple tree in our backyard.
I pruned it and thought it looked happy and healthy.
In the fall, we picked a delicious half-bushel of apples. 

This year, after aggressive pruning by my dear husband, we have an apple bush.
With the new growth we decided it's more bush than tree.
I'd say he cut off 90% of the branches.
Our harvest this year? Maybe one apple.

It's the only one that grew.

It looks as if the apple bush is holding out the offering to us.

I thought I should take a picture just in case it succumbs to wind. 

Breathing Room

Out at Antelope Island State Park. The place to be in Utah.

The Sky Tonight

Reflections

 On tile and in fountain.
My young daughter took these pictures yesterday in downtown Salt Lake City.
"I honestly was just having fun."

Just inside the old tabernacle.

See the face at the bottom of the window?

Up at the Lake

 I was amazed by how close the birds were to my daughter when she took pictures up at Cecret Lake this afternoon.

That's me sitting in my favorite place up on the rock slab to the right above the lake. Memories.

Peachick at Pioneer Village

We went to Lagoon for "family day" last week. I saw this mama peahen and her little peachick near Pioneer Village. The peacock wasn't too far away. Sadly, someone was chasing them, so this was the best picture I could get before the peafamily dashed off into the bushes and out of reach. I'd never before seen a peachick. So little and precious. 

Pioneer Trek Bucket

For pioneer trek, my daughter was required to bring a 5 gallon bucket to hold all her personal belongings. Someone suggested we make a removable pad for the top so she could sit on the bucket and use the pad for a pillow. We searched around the internet for ideas of what to do and adapted what we found.

For the pad, I cut out a circle of foam board, cut up an old piece of padding, put fabric over the top, and duct taped the fabric onto the bottom of the board. Then I duct taped sew-on Velcro to the bottom of the circle and top of the bucket lid. Easy. 

For the handle, we saw this idea of tying on strips of fabric. I padded the middle portion and sewed fabric to cover it-- my daughter's idea.

She saw vinyl lettering on a bucket and assumed it was painted on. So, she made a stencil of her name and painted it on the bucket. It reminds her of an Easter basket, but we're pretty happy with the results.

Goodbye Butler Middle

My daughter and I rode our bikes over to the middle school to see how the demolition is going. The old building is coming down fast. They were even working on it yesterday. I'm pretty sure they're behind schedule. 

The new school is already built, but still not totally complete. They're working on the grounds and the parking areas.

 The words above the chalkboard in the classroom below say, 

"You are the future. Do you like what you see?"