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.