This pecan tree makes everything around it seem small.
When I was a girl a picnic table sat to the right of the tree and we had a garden beyond the ridge of rocks.
Now, the garden and the table are gone.
But the tree still reaches into the sky and over the barn giving plenty of shade.
In response to the Daily Post’s prompt Vegetal.
We have the world to live in on the condition that we will take good care of it. And to take good care of it, we have to know it. And to know it and to be willing to take care of it, we have to love it. Wendell Berry
The beauty that surrounds my home today is the result of my parents’ hard work.
When I was a little girl we had a plain yard. Grass to mow. An apple tree and lots of pine trees in the back. We had a vegetable garden too. But no landscaping. No mulch or fancy stones or yard ornaments. My parents didn’t have the money or time for landscaping until all of us moved out of the house.
Then that’s where they spent most of their time and a lot of their money. A new yard project was underway constantly. Dad was the do-it-yourself master at anything and the yard was no exception. They planted flowers and trees and mulched and sprayed and laid sod and added stepping stones and edgers. They were proud of their yard but mostly enjoyed sharing it with others.
A Fourth of July barbecue, an Easter egg hunt, Mother’s Day and Father’s Day, and Labor Day too. Anytime was a good time to get together and sit in the yard.
My daughter told me last week, “I love how Grandpa planted so many flowers.”
Me too.
We get to experience the bounty of their hard work in the dirt. Their groundwork makes the beauty possible.
Not only in the yard around the house. But in my heart and my memories. In my personality and my character. In who I am.
They did the hard work of teaching us, correcting us and showing us and loving us. They laid the foundation. And it wasn’t easy. And they didn’t do it well sometimes.
They were fighting some tough battles while trying to raise a family. Some we know about. Others we never will. Hardships and addictions and anger and fighting and lying and job losses and lots of bad things happened.
But good things did too. Really good things. Like working together in the yard. Christmases. Playing cards at the dining room table. Sitting on the porch watching thunderstorms.
And apologies and forgiveness and perseverance and love. And all the other good things that come with those.
All of it is groundwork. The good they did, the mistakes they made, the life they lived in front of us.
And we get to experience the bounty of their hard work in the dirt. Their groundwork makes the beauty possible.
Just two weeks ago the life inside this tree was hidden, winter still had its hold. But as spring approaches new life bursts forth in brilliance. The morning sun highlights the swirling of the top bud and the bowing down of the one below. It’s like a dance. 
What a beautiful mystery……springtime and apple trees, the wind and rain, the golden glow of sunrise, the bird’s song, rabbits and chicks……all of creation. My life and your life. All of our lives.
When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers,
the moon and the stars, which you have set in place,
what is man that you are mindful of him,
and the son of man that you care for him?
O Lord, our Lord,
how majestic is your name in all the earth!
Psalm 8:3-4 & 9
In response to the Daily Post’s Create.
I’m happy in the forest….hiking, exploring, breathing in the air, finding tiny frogs or strange mushrooms. Climbing over fallen trees and crossing creeks. The stark changes with each season are remarkable. The forest is almost other worldly to me and it’s a good place to think.
What makes the forest even better is when one or some of my favorite people are with me. Good conversations happen in the forest, too.
This is only one beautiful scene from a recent hike with my youngest daughter.
When I stop to take a photo it’s because something about what I’m seeing has to be captured. And most of the time it’s not just one thing. It’s the whole of it.
A shed and a greenhouse in the middle of a lush field on a hot July evening. No filters or edits needed.
The rosy sky and the emerald field. The tall grass in the foreground and the trees in the back. And the magnificent sun settling down. The beauty is overwhelming, the colors astounding……and I get to see things like this every day if I will just look.
I was walking on my country roads when I took this photo. My old country roads where I used to live. I was probably tired from a day’s work with more to do when I finished my walk. Whatever my mood when I started, I was in a better one when I was through.
Because I’m in awe. And grateful. And I pray I never get used to this.
The heavens declare the glory of God,
and the skies announce what his hands have made.
Day after day they tell the story;
night after night they tell it again.
They have no speech or words;
they have no voice to be heard.
But their message goes out through all the world;
their words go everywhere on earth.
The sky is like a home for the sun.
The sun comes out like a bridegroom from his bedroom.
It rejoices like an athlete eager to run a race.
The sun rises at one end of the sky
and follows its path to the other end.
Nothing hides from its heat.
Psalm 19:1-6 NCV
An unseasonably warm day of winter here in North Alabama gets me outside to explore the yard. The sun shines through the leaves of this beautiful magnolia tree. I can’t remember when Dad planted this tree. It must have been a long time ago because magnolias are slow to grow and this one is a good size.
I do remember the day I pulled up for a visit and Dad was about to cut the tree down. I asked him not to and here it is now….filtering the sun through its waxy green leaves in a beautiful pattern onto the ground below. It will stay here and grow taller, slowly taller and wider.
And I will think of Dad often because of this magnolia tree.
In response to the Daily Post’s Weekly Photo Challenge Seasons.
The renovations on the inside of my childhood home are complete. The guys we hired to do the hard stuff have done a fantastic job and it’s beautiful.
Tomorrow we’ll begin to move our life from one place to another. I’ve already moved some of the small stuff. Boxes of old pictures, books, and wall hangings are there at the new house.
But the old house still holds most of our things. And memories. Lots of memories……13 years worth. It’s been a good place to us. Lots of good times have happened here. We 
have the best neighbors in the world and the most beautiful country roads you’ve ever seen. The people here are hard working people. The kind that stop to talk to you when you’re walking on the country roads. They’ve heard we’re moving….so they stop and ask about it.
I’ll miss that. The community I’ve felt here. I’ll miss Mr. Billy and his wife, Brenda, stopping by in the fall and blowing the horn for me to come out of the house to see if I want to buy 25 lbs of sweet potatoes or some collard greens. We always visit awhile and I look at pictures of his sweet great grandchildren.
I’ll miss Mr. Jimmy. His 30 plus acres are right beside our place. He let the kids stomp and romp all over that land. They fished in his ponds, climbed on his hay bales, rode his horses, borrowed anything from his barn (as long as they put it back), and built forts there, too. They’ve long since outgrown all that but they will remember 
it forever.
I’ll miss our Christmases here. Our live tree took up almost the whole living room but it was okay because it was Christmas. And we barely had room to open the gifts when extra family was here.
I’ll miss the walks on my country road. The quiet and beauty. The cotton growing, the horses neighing, and the cows grazing. The sound in the summer of the crickets and frogs and cicadas. The pecan trees and blackberry bushes.
We’ve grown in this place. Not just older, but better. Along with the good, there’ve been hard times here, too. We’ve laughed and cried here. We’ve been healed here and loved here.
It’s all been so good to us.
I’m so thankful for the years in our little home in the country.
In response to the Daily Post’s Neighbors
I’ve always loved morning time. It’s my time…….mostly.
Recently I started running in the mornings. I begin when it’s dark but by the time I’m finished the sun is peeking over the edge of the small hills on my country road.
A sunrise is another beginning. Another chance. Another day to love and laugh and cry. Another day to live like it matters.
A sunrise could be the start of a brand new way of living. It brings a whole bunch of new opportunities. It could bring laughter and joy and forgiveness. And healing and compassion.
A sunrise is hope rising and light shining into our darkest seasons.
Since I’ve begun this new thing I’ve seen more beautiful sunrises in the past 6 months than I have my entire life.
The sunrises have been there all along. I just wasn’t there to see them.
I don’t want to miss anymore sunrises.
But as for me, I will hope continually, And will praise You yet more and more. Psalm 71:14
In response to the Weekly Photo Challenge Ascend.
One of my favorite things to do this time of year is gather pecans. We have two pecan trees across from our house that have been faithful to produce abundantly year after year.
Pecans are my favorite nut. I use them in all kinds of recipes, roast them for my oatmeal and salads, and eat them raw. At almost $9 a pound for shelled ones, I’m thankful I’ve not had to buy them the last 13 years.
Many nut gatherers will take their bounty of pecans to the local co-op to have the nuts cracked and take them home to shell. But Daddy taught me how to crack them to get the whole halves like you buy at the store so I do it myself. The secret is how you crack the pecan. I line the widest top part of the pecan up with the handles of my basic silver nutcracker and CRACK. When shelling the pecans I use the pick to dislodge the meat from the shell and clear out any of the bitters. That’s what we’ve always called the dark brown debris inside of the pecan shell. If you eat a pecan with the bitters still lodged in the nut, you will know why.
A bag of shelled pecans is a much-loved Christmas gift around these parts. In fact, I’m working on shelling the two bags I will give away tomorrow.
Now my youngest daughter loves to gather, shell, and eat pecans as much as I do. And because of her grandpa’s secret, she cracks and shells them perfectly.
In response to the Daily Post’s Weekly Photo Challenge Gathering.
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