Hot

It is hot. Very, very hot. Hotter than I ever remember. This really has been the worst summer ever. Texas is in an "exceptional drought". Triple digit temps for a month and no rain for longer. This week is a heat advisory. A heat advisory for almost the entire week. I can tolerate heat, but this is ridiculous.

Our mower was out of commission for a many months. The Calvins came over and helped us fix it two weeks ago. Hannah was out every day mowing. She was so excited to mow. I was excited for her to mow. Until I saw the brown that was lurking at the bottom of the green. All was seemingly still green. I didn't realize that everything had dried up at the bottom of the jungle. There are huge cracks in the ground. My fruit trees are dying. My garden is small and so I've managed to keep it somewhat alive.

Summertime is when we should be outside the most. The weather is so miserable that none of us can stand to be out.

Birthday Doughnuts

We made doughnuts for Joseph's birthday. This is the first time I've tried this. I found a recipe at allrecipes.com. (Love that place).

I used a biscuit cutter to cut them out. I did't have a round one small enough for the holes. I did however have a diamond shape cookie cutter. We didn't have doughnut holes, we had doughnut diamonds. Popped them into a vat of hot oil and sprinkled with powdered sugar. I used to have this wonderful little sifter/shaker thing from Pampered Chef that I used for powedered sugar. One of my children destroyed it. Actually, I think it was Joe. I was about to wish I had another, but maybe it is appropriate that the destroyer of the powdered sugar shaker did not benefit from it.

The boys and I liked the doughnuts. The girls said that they were too crispy. The crispy outside was my favorite part. Crispy outside and nice fluffy, almost creamy, insides. Yum.

This is my second attempt at this post. The first time I wrote a beautiful and eloquent piece on the the birthday boy's first day. Let's just pretend that I rewrote it. I'm sure I'll feel nostalgic on his next birthday. I always do.

Happy Birthday to my beautiful, wonderful, kind-hearted, wild boy. Momma loves you.

Mother's Day Drive

We travel a bumpy and slightly winding country road to get to church. On this day the sun shines brightly in a big, blue Texas sky. Prairie grasses wave in the gentle morning breeze. The trees are green and leafy. The bluebonnets have faded but there is still plenty of color. Texas paintbrush, primrose, black-eye susans and some that I don't know dot the pastures.

Joseph is "girl-trapped" between two of his sisters in the way back. Jacob and Sarah seem to be having a contest to see who can be the silliest. I look back. Jacob is wearing bright blue racecar slippers. I look at Kermit.

"He brought the slippers to me. I put them on his feet", he says defensively. I decide there are worse things to wear to church. It's all the same to the three-year-old and he won't remember anyway.

We slow down for some construction. It seems that someone has decided to smooth some of the bumps on this road. A yellow butterfly catches my eye and then we are gone. We pass a field of mesquite trees. (Can mesquite trees be a forest?) Their scraggly limbs meander up, topped by feathery leaves that hang down.

We arrive to the highway and are almost to the church. Two exits down and a few more fields and we will be there. It is about 25 minutes from start to finish. We drive this every week. Sometimes more than once. We've lived here five years. It never gets old. Everytime I find some new detail. Everytime I think how good Heavenly Father is to me.

Snow Days

We have had a week of snow and ice here in North Texas. Schools were closed all but two days last week. More is expected this next week. All I can say to that is, "ugh."

I'm tired of snow. I'm tired of being in the house. I'm tired of the kids being in the house. I want blue skies and dry roads. It doesn't even have to be very warm. I just want to feel the sunshine on my face again.

Little J doesn't seem to mind the snow. It was six inches thick on the ground Friday. (Don't laugh friends from the north. That's a lot of snow for us in the south.) He bundled up and went outside. When he got off the steps he threw himself face forward and rolled around in the snow. It was like watching a pig wallow in mud. He so obviously enjoyed it. I almost remember liking snow that much. Not anymore. I crave the warmth.

One good thing about being housebound, my version of cabin fever is to clean furiously. I mean, what the heck else did I have to do? Other days I can find worthy diversions. Outside is so much nicer than dishes. Except when there is snow and ice.

By now, even the kids are tired of the snow.l

I'd Walk a Mile

This is something I did for my writing class:

I'd walk a mile for a chance to hold my grandmother's wrinkled hand. The hand once was strong but now has grown soft and frail with age. Each line, spot and knot is a map of her history.

In one line I see her youth in Depression-era Oklahoma. Chasing her younger brother through the woods next to their farm. Turning every page of every book in the school's small library. Sticking a broom handle down cracks in the dry ground just to see how far it would go. In this knot she is making a fist to warn off the other girls from her beau. Then that fist relaxes as she waves good-bye to that boy who joined the Marines at the tail end of World War II.

Those hands have held babies, dried tears and tucked into bed children and grandchildren. She's cooked many a supper, played many a game of cards and raised more than one glass of whiskey. Her hands taught me the joys of dirt and homegrown tomatoes, how to hold a crochet hook and thread a needle and the fine art of making white gravy.

Love is spoken in those wrinkles. I look at my hands and hope that they can one day be as beautiful.