Wisdom and order

Yesterday Mama Bear, Dallin, and I went to the Denver Botanic Gardens on one of their "free days". It was my first time (during the growing season) to see the property. I am trying to learn Colorado plants, so I took advantage of plant photo opportunities right and left. I enjoyed the various garden rooms and thematic displays (perennial garden, herb garden, prairie garden, scripture garden, rose garden, seasonal flower cutting garden, native flora garden, desert mesa garden, Japanese garden, water garden, etc.) I enjoyed having so much to touch and see and feel and hear. I enjoyed my perfect company.
Towards the end of our day I was able to catch this dragonfly on a lotus pod with just a little Kodak point-and-shoot camera. Dragonflies at the garden were plentiful and busy in their flight patterns and meal acquistion, but they were also very attentive to their resting time. I was impressed by these dragonflies that recognized their abilities and energy level and took needed routine breaks. A particular phrase from Mosiah 4:27 came to mind, "and see that all these things are done in wisdom and order; for it is not requisite that a man should run faster than he has strength...therefore, all things must be done in order." A lesson from dragonflies that I needed to remember.

A Favorite Local Adventure

At around 6:00 am on a clear day with fair winds in the open field across the street from our apartment complex, you might notice an interesting gathering of people. At first glance, you might think it is an overnight camping group packing up from a sleepover under the stars. Upon closer inspection, though, you realize that the people are actually unloading, not loading.

This particular open field is the launching pad for several local hot air balloon companies. Just as the sun is coming up, they arrive in 15-passenger vans with yellow-shirted employees and sleepy-eyed customers and lay out their baskets and colorful balloons.

By 6:30 am they have started to fill the balloons with hot air. Many mornings I have woken to the sound of blowing propane tanks from our open windows. The deep-throated sound makes me think of a tottering old near-sighted troll fogging up his spectacles to clean them.
This morning when I went out to watch, there were five balloons being filled for take-off. The balloons move amazingly fast from half-filled to full and upright. Passengers climb inside the wicker basket, ropes are removed, pictures are taken...

...And lift-off!
The balloons are all up in the air by no later than 7:15 am, each following just one or two minutes behind the previous one traveling wherever the wind may take them.
And the going rate for this unique form of flight technology?
Monday-Friday, $245 per adult, $195 per child
(slightly more on the weekends)

You told me so

When I would sit obstinately on the piano bench as a little girl arms crossed over my chest, crocodile tears running down my frustrated, scowly face, my mom would say,

"You'll wish you had practiced when you get older."
"You'll wish you could play the piano sometime later in life."

She was right.

I do and I have for several years. Age and maturity have prompted that desire. Hearing my sisters play, (very well!) in over-the-phone piano concerts have intensified that desire. Now add to that the fact that I am married to a musician, and have public school music educators for in-laws!

The good news is, I still have time; and it seems that my opportune time is now. The other good news is, I can pick my own music. No offense to those beginner tunes with ridiculous names like "Quiet Thoughts", "Sun on the Snow", or "Curious Cat", but I never really got into them. Sorry to say I never really felt that burning urge to perfect my little ditty called "String Beans." I am more inclined to pick something far above my playing ability and allow sheer tenacity to rule while I sit for three hours straight trying to hash it out. If I really want to learn a certain piece, I will. Be patient with me, it could be a month or two, but if I really want to, I can. No major progress yet, but I have a song or two under my belt and a few more in the works.

And, Mom, you were right.
You are always right.

And this makes me happy too.

First tomato harvest from the vegetable garden on our patio!

You make me happy.

Dallin and I received some fantastic wedding gifts. For example, the Airbake cookie sheets have somehow improved my cookie baking skills ten fold (thanks Aunt Sanny!) Simple as it is I love my $10 or less citrus juicer; it works like a charm and does its job in a jiffy. All the wonders of gluten-free baking are mine for the taking with our super-dandy grain grinder (Mum, you are amazing!) My sister Molly read my mind and got us the Haslam family special occasion staple, a red "you are special today" plate (I love you Molly!) We have knives in their perfected form from Cutco (thanks Mama Bear!), a cherry wood salad bowl set that makes just salad look like a gourmet meal, an ice cream maker, a rice cooker, etc.
BUT, my favorite wedding gift in the category of low (monetary) input for high (happiness) output is without a doubt our shower curtain. It makes me smile everyday. Oh, and here's a shout-out to the monkeys-eat-bananas Pagets that helped unite this monkey with her Kermit. Love you!

Contribute.

Last week Dallin and I visited the campus here in Boulder, which I have admired from afar ever since I moved here. The architecture is what I would expect from the front range/almost the prairie/but sort of the desert. It has Romanesque roots, but tries to be southwestern and kind of pueblo-mission, and also reminds me of Frank Lloyd Wright, with lots of straight lines, and stable horizontality. Okay, that was really random, and unfortunately we didn't have our camera during our walking tour. Just trust me, it fits the landscape. All the buildings are terra cotta and wheat colored, which is impressively beautiful against the summer green of the Flatiron Mountains.
During the course of our walk we found the word "CONTRIBUTE" in large block capital letters stamped conspicuously in the sidewalk. I have been thinking of that ever since--or it has been haunting me, more like. I guess I am overly sensitive to feel guilty over a word stamped in a square of sidewalk, but I have been wondering, "Am I contributing?" "To what should I contribute?" Sometimes I feel the need to validate my efforts as a human being. So I am mulling here about me and that contributing state of being.

• I recycle. And I love to do it. I think I might even be a little bit of a recycling Nazi because Dallin will sometimes be in mid-arm swing over the trashcan with a tuna can or a milk carton and I, in shock, will call him out on his grave misdeed (over-dramatization).
  
• If possible, I ride my bike or walk rather than drive the car. I am contributing to clean air (and my high altitude lung capacity).
  
• I plant flowers. I have an organic vegetable garden. I am making a contribution to honey bee survival. I am making a contribution to the beauty of the earth even if I only have a very little bit of earth to tend.
  
• I keep a journal, and have for the last fifteen years. I am making a contribution toward my family history work, record keeping, my writing skills, and good penmanship.
• I run a tidy home. I love to clean. I am contributing to bad germ elimination. I vacuum regularly. I get a little delight from clean counters and a mopped floor.
• I still use the good old post office of the United States to regularly send homemade cards, handwritten letters, and care packages just because. I contribute to the smile of surprise at the mailbox.
  
• I say please and thank you. I smile at strangers. I give people the benefit of the doubt. I contribute to those little old-fashioned nice-ties that make small ripples for good.
• I love my family. I love my friends. I love my Dallin. I contribute to the happiness of the people in my circle of influence.
  

Snapshots from a time and place

When I walk to the end of our road and do a 360 degree turn at sunset on a clear night, this is my view. The clouds in this part of the country are more often than not spectacular and full of color. I love the rural open space feeling; it is an interesting mix of Utah and Iowa. Mountains, plains, meadows, bluffs, and lots of unobstructed sky.
I have started to get a feel for the character of this place. The common vegetation are scrubby, hardy trees like cottonwood, Russian olive, blue spruce, and scotch pine. Some more cultivated ornamental trees include linden, ash, honeylocust, crabapple, bur oak, white oak, and many kinds of maple. Perennial flower gardens are common and lovely. I have been pleasantly surprised to see many flower gardeners here who grow things like penstemon, columbine, Russian sage, lavender, yarrow, coneflower, and clematis.
There is a distinct local culture and clearly defined preferences here. For example, vehicle of choice? Subaru Outback, complete with all-wheel drive, bike rack, and dog hanging out the window. Most common routine purchase? Organic produce. Favorite Friday night hang-out? The prepared food section of Whole Foods. Restaurant of choice? Anything Tibetan. Favorite weekend pastime? Hiking, biking, kayaking, tubing, etc. Stereotypical residents? Hippie eco-tistical free spirits. Most common exercise establishment? Yoga studios. A historic must see? Chautauqua Auditorium, which has hosted summer music programs every year since 1898. Claim to fame? Bolder Boulder 10 km road race every Memorial Day since 1979. Beware of the...? Halloween naked pumpkin run, a tradition since 1998, (runners have hollowed out pumpkins on their heads and shoes on their feet...nothing more...) What will you NOT find here? Wal-Mart.
Eclectic. Interesting. Beautiful. Earth-loving. Colorful. Health conscious. Peaceful. Home.

Perfect

Yesterday in Sunday School a portion of the lesson came from 1 Kings 17:8-16, which is the widow of Zaraphath's faithful response to fed the prophet Elijah. We watched a short Old Testament DVD account of this story and then had a discussion of doctrine and impressions. My overwhelming thought was simply this: The timing of the Lord is perfect. The feeling satisfied my little pocket-full of purposes for my fast. I have nothing more to elaborate on that point. Those seven words are sufficient for me.
The timing of the Lord is perfect.
I know that.