SLOW Reading

" To read slowly is to maintain an intimate relationship with a writer." 
                                                      Thomas Newkirk

I am currently reading two books.  One for pleasure.  I am actually re-reading it.  It was so good and yet I got to the end and wonderful if I had missed some of the nuances of the story the first time through.  The other book I am reading is Thomas Newkirk's The Art of SLOW Reading.  His book resonates in so many ways and reminds me to be intentional about reading and rereading.

Lilac memories

My Miss Kim just started blooming in the last week.  Her beauty and aroma reminding me of tea parties, hide and seek games, and many warm spring and summer days of my childhood.  We had a large lilac bush in our backyard growing up which was perfect cover when hiding from one of my sisters or brother.  The lush foliage made seeking difficult.  The bush cast a large shadow.  Perfect shade for afternoon tea parties.

My lilac bush stirs memories of my mother and my grandmother.  Both graciously accepting offerings of flowers plucked off the bush and handed to them with love.  In my memory we often had a vase of lilacs sitting on the kitchen table brightening up the room.

About ten years ago my husband and sons wanted to know what I wanted for Mother's Day.  A lilac bush was my answer.  Miss Kim was chosen and planted.  Each year as she blooms the memories return.

Inkle

Sunday would have been my dad's 81st birthday.  (He passed away in January.)  My weekend thoughts were full of memories of Dad.  He was one of those good ole boys who never knew a stranger, wore his jeans most everywhere but church, and could fix or "cobble" almost any piece of machinery. 

My dad loved hosting the family get togethers.  And every get together had a euchre game or tourney.  From little up Dad made sure that the grandkids knew how to play euchre.  If you were dad's partner you soon learned to inkle.  And inkling was quite the production.  First your elbow hit the table, then your forearm, card in hand went down. As you laid your card into play you loudly shouted "inkle."  Woe, to the child or grandchild that paid no attention to Grandpa's inkle.

On Sunday I went to the cemetary, and as I walked to Dad's gravesite, I had to shout,"Inkle."

Love you, Dad.

For Sale

Our house is up for sale.  My husband and I had not intended to sell our house.  We have lived here for nearly 20 years.  Our house is all on one floor with a large great room, open and cheery, and easy to care for.  My husband has a large finished pole barn that he does woodworking in.  It suits us.

But my dad passed away in January.  He left his house with nearly 13 acres to my sister and I.  My dad made it very clear that he wanted it to stay in the family.  It is part of the original Hoosier Heritage Homestead purchased by my great grandfather when he immigrated from Denmark.  None of our children are ready to buy a house in our area.  So our house is up for sale.

My sister remarried last summer.  Her new husband sold his house and they repainted, remodelled, and reworked her house to make it THEIR home.  She'd like to stay put.  They just updated after all.  She wants some of the property, but not the house.  So our house is up for sale.

My husband and I are excited about the potential at my dad's house-- 5 acres, closer to town, the old oak tree that generations have played and gathered under.  But we are a bit apprehensive too.  We will have neighbors living much closer to us, lots of work to do to the barn and the house, and a super tight crawl space.  We've walked the land.  We've gotten quotes to enlarge the barn so my husband can still have a woodshop.  We're looking at options to widen the crawl space.  Maybe a basement?  So our house is up for sale.  We will move it if sells.