Planting for Mom

All week I've been thinking about what I could do to celebrate my late Mom's birthday. She would have turned 69 today. And then it came to me: I decided to plant my fall bulbs with my daughter on Saturday. We had experienced a quick shift in the weather the two days before--about 35 degrees colder to be exact, accompanied by mountain snow and valley rain. So when the early afternoon skies looked stable, but cool, I called her out to help. We pushed aside the bark, seedum ground cover, and even a first few fall leaves to find the popsicle sticks that I'd used to mark the spots in May where I wanted to fill in some spots with pink and white daffodils, persian blue alliums, and vanilla cream tulips. There's something about tucking a dormant bulb deep into the ground that seems to nicely compliment our other autumnal activities and preparations for winter. I was probably nine or ten when Mom showed me how to drop them in on top of a spoonful of bone meal. Just as she did then, I'm sure I reaped more from the experience this weekend than my 14-year old, who seemed anxious to head back inside to sit in front of the fire. I can't wait to see them bloom next spring, and many more after that. Mom would be so pleased.

John Grubb

About six years ago, while airing my remodeling woes for the basement with a gym member, she suggested I call her father-in-law. He had the knack for construction work and did side jobs for friends and family. When he came over to see what we had in mind for updating the kitchen, we were surprised to find out that he was one of the three original builders who had constructed all of the homes in our late 1970's subdivision. He has been our go-to handyman for not only the kitchen remodel, but also sheetrock repair, pantry shelves, basement cabinet installation, living room fireplace/mantle including tile and hearth. Today he finished one more project to add to that list. Whenever we have him work on something for us, it's like having "Grandpa" here. He not only cares about the project, but he's wonderful and utilizing every last scrap of material. A week ago he proudly told me how the five or six small ends from the two by fours were the only waste. When we talk through the ideas we have about what might work, he never looks down his nose or makes me feel like I'm skimping--no project is too small or insignificant. As I look at all of the improvements that have made our home more livable and beautiful, I know that it wouldn't have happened without John Grubb.