How Does Your Garden Grow?

I previously mentioned that the Sias house came with some lovely, mature trees but nothing more than weeds in the planters.  For the first few months in our house, I talked about attacking the weeds but I was too timid to take any action.  Then, during the last weekend of March, I had an ambitious moment: I bought a rake and a hoe and I started digging.  

At first, working in the yard was a novelty; I suppose I watched too many 30 minute miracles on HGTV.  The novelty wore off quickly and I then realized that working in the yard IS A LOT OF WORK!  I mean, dirt-on-your-face-, sweat-on-your-neck-, muddy-shoes-dirty.   

I even mowed the grass for the first time in my life (and the second time and the third time and the fourth time and the fifth time and so on).  I love that people on the street slow down to gawk at my 100% human powered lawn mower, even though it means they are also gawking at the profuse sweat running down my face.

With a little perseverance, working in the yard has become a hobby and I've started to see some success.  Of course, some plants have succumbed to caterpillars, ants, heat, over-watering, under-watering, lack of sun, too much sun, and/or general gardening ignorance, but I won't post pictures of those sad cases.  Instead, I'll share with you some of my biggest successes in the form of then-and-now pictures. Enjoy!

   

Going Home

After Chris and I got married and moved to Lubbock, I was looking forward to our first visit "home" as a married couple.  A few months later we returned "home," and I discovered that some of my favorite things had changed a lot in a very short amount of time.  Since then, I've lowered my expectations when returning to visit a place I used to live.  I still look forward to seeing old faces and old places, but I go into it knowing that the faces and places may have changed a lot in my absence.

This summer Chris and I visited Lubbock, and so did several of our Lubbock friends who had also moved away over the last three years. Of course, some things had changed a lot over the last three years.  For example, I learned that our old neighbor Bill passed away (see Our Neighbor Bill).   Despite changes over the last three years, however, being in Lubbock with almost all of my Lubbock friends again felt so familiar and so comfortable that I felt like I had returned to an old "home."

When I told people I was moving to Lubbock, people would say, "I'm sorry." After I moved, people would congratulate me on getting out of Lubbock.  What all these people don't know is that I truly enjoyed living in Lubbock because of the very special people I met there.  Reuniting in Lubbock three years later was an awesome blessing.  I praise God for the amazing opportunity to experience on earth just a taste of what we will experience in heaven someday.

Friday Vespers at the Dixon House

Saturday Church Service.

Saturday after Church

Saturday Evening in the Youth Wing.

Our Neighbor Bill

I recently learned that my old neighbor in Lubbock passed away.  His name was Bill.  He was a lonely, old man who had severe C.O.P.D., who rode around the apartment complex on a motorized scooter, and who lived two doors down from Chris and I.  Bill spent most of his days sitting outside in the parking lot watching people come and go.  He had a pair of binoculars on the windowsill in his apartment, which I presume he used to keep watch when it was too cold to sit outside.

Bill didn't always have a motorized scooter.  I remember the day that he invited me into his little apartment to show me his new scooter.  Bill later told Chris that transporting the scooter to the apartment was somewhat tricky, requiring Bill's son to tow the scooter behind his car while Bills sat in the scooter steering it.  Bill's son apparently drove too fast while towing Bill across town, but Bill was unable to relay this information to his son because his C.O.P.D. prevented him from being able to yell.  I can only imagine that other motorists on the road were astonished to see an elderly man on a scooter being towed behind a car at a high rate of speed, with the old man unable to do anything about it.

One time Bill told me that he had to sell his prior home because "all the Mexicans" moved into his neighborhood.  This statement surprised me because Bill knew Chris and seemed to genuinely like Chris.  I kindly reminded Bill that Chris has Mexican heritage, to which Bill responded with some comment about Chris being a "different kind of Mexican."  Yes, Bill had a few racist slips here and there.

Just before I moved, Bill told me that he was going to miss Chris and I.  He told me that we were good people, and he asked to take a picture with me.  I obliged his request because if God wills that I live to be a lonely old woman someday, I hope that some nice, young couple living nearby takes the time to befriend me.