counting breaths

when the sun rose this morning through the east window of her hospital room
her heart continued to pulse
breaths were abandoning their regular rhythm
but insisted on catching on some unseen sprocket
continuing raggedly
labor reversed

counting the spaces between my mother's breaths
wondering if this time her chest would no longer rise
wondering if the breath or pulse would be the last thing we would see
I remember being surprised
but no longer remember what lasted the longest - her breath or her heart

she had long heard angels in her dreams
singing to her
new songs and old
she impatient with us in our inability to hear them
writing them down so that she could sing them to us when we arrived

someone had come with a bouquet of helium baloons in the night
a celebration done, and they wanted to share this gift of color and celebration
with someone
and they thought of Lydia

we set them on the table as if she might see them
the nurse took one home at the end of the night shift
she would let it go when she got home,
with a prayer for Lydia

when she came back this morning, Lydia was still there
she had one more day
to breathe
to hear?
to labor
to leave

once Mom sang with me
a song she had taught me long ago
I sang into her ear and stumbled on the words
so she faintly joined me
"you forgot the words" she whispered

she often told me how long she had waited for me
for children
stories of expectation and joy

now I waited with her
watched this dearly loved body
still clinging to her life

she lived with joy
and an edge of defiance
with determination
with music
always there was music

tomorrow, four years gone
Lydia John Guenther Krahn

(Written Friday, August 26, 2016)

dusk on the deck

we wrapped ourselves in quilts as the sun went down

sun brushed dark pink against the wisps of clouds in the west
a hummingbird stopped by to drink from the pink fuschia on the deck
  lingered a while
 drank from hanging blossoms
 stayed with us for a moment, suspended
 beside the umbrella that sheltered us from a momentary falling evening mist
coyotes sang from the river valley
shadows flitted across the darkening sky
 bats emerging for their evening adventures

August ... gardens and kitchen and days to remember

Welcome to August.  My poplar tree has been throwing down yellow leaves for the past few weeks. It's an old game it plays - it has such a large storehouse of green leaves that it turns some yellow just to mess with me, and starts throwing them into my back yard by early July. 

I took down my morning glories yesterday.  They have been self seeding rampantly every year since our daughter's wedding 10 years ago, but there are little unseen creatures eating away at the leaves and flowers this year.  So I took down the whole mass of plants and moved the planter over to the deck where the yellow black-eyed susan can take over the trellis.  I'll give the morning glories a break for a year or two, and give the bugs a chance to find forage elsewhere.  

The restless night-time winds and storms have bent my hard-fought yellow blooming begonia  - but it is not broken!  My potatos are listing starboard as well.  But the little potatoes underground should soon be ready for taste testing.  Tomatoes and peppers are turning color and ripening, my seeded cosmos are beginning to flower, gladiolus spears are throwing their first rows of unopened flowers skyward, and sunflowers are poking their heads up over fences and brightening many corners of the yard.

This is a season for marking time in our home and family.  In June Randy and I celebrated our 25th anniversary with a wonderful trip to Quebec - la belle province. 

View from the Chateau across the St. Lawrence

A couple from France offered to take our picture,
after we chatted with them for a bit about our Quebec holiday.

We caught Whitehorse live, at a fun little folk festival in Montreal.

Chateau Frontenac

Under a canopy, sheltered from the rain at the top of Montmorency Falls

Darlene behind a cannon ... 

Night sky in the Laurentians, close to Lac des Plages

August 1 marks 14 years since our family arrived in Saskatoon.  July's VBS marks one year since I began my work in children's ministry at Lakeview.  Our Josie and Mitch celebrate 10 years of marriage this month.  August holds my birthday and my sister's birthday, and my mom's last day here. So I find myself sitting at Long Island in our kitchen, thinking of the many ways that God has shown his faithfulness in our lives over the long haul.    

My friend asked me for my fruit platz recipe this morning.  It is my mom's recipe and I've had it written on an old recipe card for more than 30 years.  Bears the notes and stains of regular use. Carries with it memories of my mom's hands spreading the dough, and many evenings of laughter with friends over a lifetime.  

 

Lydia's Fruit Platz

2 cups flour

¼ cup shortening (I use butter)

1 tsp salt (I never add salt)

4 tsp baking powder

2 tbsp sugar

1 c buttermilk or cream 

(I generally use milk with a tbsp of vinegar added, and let it sit for a bit while I mix the dry ingredients.  If I have cream that is close to expiry, I’ll use that too, and that makes the dough much firmer and a bit harder to spread into a cookie sheet.  But the texture of the dough is very nice!)

“Mix as biscuit dough and spread in bottom of large pan.” 

So mix dry ingredients, cut in the butter, and then mix in the buttermilk.  

Spread into greased cookie sheet.

"Spread dough with 4 cups fruit, and sprinkle with 1 ½ cups sugar and 1 tbsp flour."  

(I never use that much sugar – maybe ¾ cup sprinkled onto rhubarb?  I take a ½ cup measuring cup full of sugar and sprinkle till it looks right.  Add another ¼ cup sugar [Sorry - isn’t that just classic old recipe specific?]  I've used apricots, rhubarb, saskatoons, plumbs, haskaps, haskaps & rhubarb together make a delicious and beautiful combo ... blueberries, sour cherries ... )

You can start mixing the crumbs while you are spreading the dough.

Crumb topping:

1 cup flour

½ cup white sugar

¼ cup butter

Sprinkle crumbs on top.

Bake at 350 for 30 minutes. 

(Mom often set it onto broil for a minute or two at the end, just to brown the top a bit and then the platz didn’t get soggy as quickly.  That has been the downfall of several platzes for me ... note to self ... NEVER walk away from a platz in an oven set to broil!!!  Set timer and stand in front of the oven glaring at the broiling pan of almost done platz ready to save it from becoming sadly torched.)

runaway raspberries

It's as though they take a deep breath and then go underground as far as they can before coming up for air ...
"Sick.  Only made it half way through the trampoline dungeon of darkness."
"Close... made it under the slide."
"Everyone dive!"  And a clump emerges on the other side of the attempted barricade.  In the sandbox.

Thing is that I like raspberries so much that I don't discourage this behavior.  I intentionally planted them in a place where I thought they might be self contained... but no.  After a few years of acclimatization, they know where the light is.  And bolt for it.

In the battle of mint vs. raspberries, in this "fend for yourself" patch of the garden, raspberries emerge victorious.  There is not an emerging leaf of mint anywhere.  I decided not to let the creeping bellflower engage with raspberries.  Since bellflower stalks had managed to grow THROUGH the logs that attempted to stop the spread of whatever was originally planted in this border, I decided I was not going to make this a level playing field.  Raspberry trumps bellflower.  And now possibly sand box.
Bad idea Darlene.
Maybe I'll just give them a little bit of sandbox.  And see what happens.

Worth it! (last year's crop)

a season of books

All the Light We Cannot See, by Anthony Doerr  
I am fascinated by stories of children in wartime.  


Stony Ground: The making of a Canadian Garden, by Douglas Chambers  

... the making of one Ontario garden.  
Purchased at a Thrift Store somewhere along the road from Bethany to the West Coast on a Bethany Players tour, by invitation of Lisa Braun (her fun encouragement notes to people on tours included instructions like this:  "Buy a used book at a thrift store along the way.").



Holy Listening: The Art of Spiritual Direction, by Margaret Guenther
Read this with an online book club, facilitated by singer and songwriter and newly hired Director of Education at Renovaré, Carolyn Arends.  Loved that the author has the same last name as my mom.

The Harry Lehotsky Story, by Paul H. Gobe
The life story of a man who moved his family into the inner city neighborhood where my daughter and her husband lived.  

Ruth, and I & II Samuel
Epic sagas of famine, family, struggles for power, tracing God at work amidst the tides of human history.  Finding David ... shepherd and poet, warrior, and musician, with fierce loves and loyalties.  My perspective of King Saul is shaped significantly by a paper of one of my students.    

The Garden of Eden, by Sharon Butala
Ethiopia, and farming in southern Saskatchewan, and women surviving

When Books went to War: The Stories that Helped us win World War II, by Molly Guptill Manning
A fascinating documentation of the impact of books - burned by the Germans in the early years of WWII, and distributed to the soldiers on the front by the Americans.

Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World that Can't Stop Talking, by Susan Cain
Helpful for understanding some of the wonderful people in my world



Come Back, by Rudy Wiebe
I had to put it down after a couple of chapters.  I will go back, but it is heart wrenching.



Secret Keeper, by Kate Morton ... and The Forgotten Garden, and Distant Hours ...
I enjoy the surprise plots of her historical fiction.




The 100 Year Old Man who Jumped out the Window and Disappeared, by Jonas Jonasson
So unpredictably entertaining ... a man wandering through the historical landscape of our world without an intentional bone in his body. 

The Girl who saved the King of Sweden, also by Jonas Jonasson
Laugh out loudly ridiculous and you just keep reading because it is impossible to know what will happen next.


The Art of Racing in the Rain, by Garth Stein
The opposite of the 100 year old man in it's absolute straining intentionality... with a twist.

The Back of the Turtle, by Thomas King
A classically Kingishly unsettling read.

Louis L'Amour: Hondo, Sitka, Crossfire Trail.  And quite a few more.

Servants of the Map, by Andrea Barrett
Opening up new worlds of mountaineering and exploration and map making with short stories that weave through the Himalayas and characters' lives.

The Book of Hebrews
Clouds of witnesses, and encouragement to keep meeting together as the church, and reminding us of the work of Christ, and knowing that we live forward, anticipating promises fulfilled in the lives of our children and children's children.  Stay with the race set before me.

The Home Children, by Phyllis Harrison
Ways that our attempts to help children in need can go drastically wrong. A book telling the stories of many British children who were sent to Canada in the 18-1900's.

The Orphan Train, by Christina Baker Kline. Another thread of the same story

Shake Hands with the Devil, by Roméo Dallaire
Such a very awful and tragic account of something that is almost impossible to consider. 

The Definitive Wit of Winston Churchill, by Richard M. Langworth
A fun look at the words and wit of this British leader. Great quotes.

God with Us: Rediscovering the Meaning of Christmas, Edited by Pennoyer
Prayers, and meditations, paintings and thoughts about this season of the year.  Awaiting Immanuel.  I come back to it every Advent.
AND just now discovered a new follow-up:  God for Us:  Rediscovering the meaning of Lent and Easter compiled by the same editor with many of the same authors.  I think that this will join my friends.

Glimpses of Grace, by Madeline L'Engle
A book with bits and pieces of L'Engle's writings scattered across each day of the year.  I've kept this handy for a few years.

The Shoes of the Fisherman, by Morris West
A compelling novel providing a glimpse into the chambers of religious power in the Catholic Church. Hard to say why I enjoyed this as much as I did. Humanizes the office of the Pope.  

Learning to Walk in the Dark, by Barbara Brown Taylor
One of the "perpetually being read" books ... not finished but keeps it's place on my pile of books currently being read which I carry around from bedroom to living room, to the fireplace and kitchen.  It has been important to learn this skill, of learning to walk in the dark.  
Also Exclusion and Embrace, by Volf.
and 
Resident Aliens by Stanley Hauerwas and William H Willimon
A slow read - it attempts to undo world views and deep ways of thinking. These things do not easily undo. 

Mastering the Art of French Cooking, by Julia Childs
A Christmas gift from my son after we enjoyed the movie "Julia and Julia".  I started reading this again after the bombings in France.  This is also a slow read - an attempt at a change in your worldview.  For that is what changes in ways of cooking require. 

Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, by Annie Barrows and Mary Ann Shaffer
Oh I loved this... title and all.  I first borrowed it from the library only because I loved the title, and loved the technique of telling a story with letters between various characters.  Also touches on children in the war.  After reading it, found it at Sam's place in Winnipeg (hello Andy and Joanna!) and brought it home.





Bone & Bread, by Saleema Nawaz.
A 2016 selection for Canada Reads.  I am tempted to write out the final paragraph for you.  It wouldn't be a spoiler, would it? It is such a beautiful last paragraph.




Mudhouse Sabbath, by Lauren Winner
A book with a complicated history in my life.  Deeply valuable lessons learned.





Mister Good Morning:  stories of flesh, blood, and holy spirit, by Murray Pura
I only lend this one out to people whom I know will love it, and it needs to come back to me.  
Short stories, parables ... glimpses into lives, and wrestling with God, and gardens, and wealth, and a whole lot more.  

spring weeds and seeds ... and a successful astilbe

I have fought against quack grass in almost every garden.  I recognize the hearty thick blades of grass growing obstinately through cracks in the sidewalk, slipping around iris bulbs to disguise their roots, sliding under fences, squeezing between slabs of concrete, running roots back and forth along a reliable black barrier to eventually find a way under and emerge triumphantly on the flower garden side of the no longer reliable barrier.

I discovered too late the wiles of the creeping bellflower.  By late summer, or early fall when we moved to Saskatoon, I'd see an occasional beautiful stalk of a blue bellflower'ish thing growing.  I didn't pay it much attention till I had dug up most of the day lilies, and yellow iris, and there was this plant that kept coming up.  By the time I started digging around to discover the root system of this thing, I discovered that repeated picking of the stalk just strengthed the thick tap roots a few inches down.  It would bide its time, and just send out innocent looking heart-shaped leaves, and thread-like roots and keep growing.  You'd only THINK you were successful in pulling it out as the stem stretches a bit and then breaks off at the surface. and the tap root just grins and keeps growing.  Sends out innocent looking leaves regularly knowing that eventually one clump will get away on you and grow into a give away bell flower stalk.  And if you try to uproot the tap, you will always have small threads ready to start up again.  Anytime.  Anywhere.    I tried roundup but it came back just as happy as before.  Now it has crept into all sorts of beds, as I constantly move soil around.  Apparently smothering it with newspaper may work.  I'm trying it on one patch.  I'll let you know how that works.

So, defining a weed: a plant that makes itself at home in a place where you'd prefer it did not.
Like an African daisy.  It began as one plant in my wildflower garden -  the year before it had been a flower in my neighbor's front yard.  ok.  that's fine.  I enjoy plants that need little encouragement to grow.  But it seeded out into the lawn, and crossed over into another bed and began to compete with the lilies and  iris.  and lawn.  Who does that?  Pulling them out relentlessly this year.

Bleeding hearts are naturalizing in my yard.  NOT a weed.  They are very well behaved, and grow in places where nothing else is happy, competing with some plants that look like forget me nots in bloom but turn into little burrs that ride on socks and pants all around the yard.  sneaky things.  but I digress.  Bleeding hearts.  They seed out in moderation, easy to uproot if I don't like the home they have chosen.  I planted one pink one in our first year, and a friend gave me another one a year or so later.  In the meantime, some white ones found their way into the yard, and are multiplying nicely.

What else is growing spontaneously ... I pulled out a rogue clematis this spring.  Well, not really rogue but old and woody and roots infested with that creeping bellflower.  A friend gave it to me years ago and told me that it would seed out all over the place.  In all its years in my front yard it never did. Till this year.  I dug it out, and now I'm finding babies everywhere.  Not sure what I will do with them.

Columbines are some of my favorite spring flowers, and growing them seems a bit like herding kittens.  They don't really pay attention to where you plant them.  They just meander over to a place they like and hang out there for a season or two.  I planted a pink and white one, and it lasted a year or two before disappearing.  Then a purple one showed up under the spruce tree.  And had a family.  a group of them show up most years.  One sturdy plant decided to grow in the north shade of the house under my white swinging bench.  It gets stepped on and side swept and generally treated badly by accident but it stubbornly decided that this was home. Kind of like my cat on my lap when I'm trying to work on the computer.  There was a group of purple and white ones growing among the bleeding hearts for a couple of years too, but they seem to have permanently disappeared.  or migrated.

And after years of trying to satisfy the persnickety astilbe, it seems to have found a place where it is happy.  It came with a friend who found dappled sunlight in my yard, and told me that it might like it there.  Well.  It has emerged on time and healthy... as opposed to the reluctant and late and passively resistant behavior of other astilbes I've tried to welcome.  I have purchased and borrowed, planted and transplanted ... and killed many astilbes.  (What is the plural of astilbe?  Astilbi?  Astilibus?)  You know that you taste success when you are going for two.
Apparently it likes dappled sunlight.  I know.  

Ladybugs everywhere

still

there is a strange vibrating stillness that courses through mind and body
as my children fly far afield

I am so completely not in control
unfamiliar with both the amazing and the mundane of their days

where are they sleeping  what are they eating  whom do they meet what roads do they walk on what kind of sun shines on them who are the people they spend their days with what are they thinking about how are they being shaped Lord watch over them and guard them and shape them and let them see what they need to see and become strong and courageous

and this of course is completely necessary and important.  and wonderful