proud

You watch your kids grow and each day your pride grows: their character, earnestness, good hearts, dedication, the list is long. I'm sure you feel that way with yours, no? It's not about accomplishments, it's about who they are as human beings. And then if you have grandkids (or spend time with cool youngsters), you get to see it all over again: the character, earnestness, good hearts -- I really mean it when I tell them -- I'm so proud of you!

And Ed -- big frame, occupying just a small space on this planet and in the house -- always the same corner of the couch, thinking through one thing then the next, inventing, ever inventing and correcting, so that whatever project or company he puts his effort to keeps moving forward, benefiting so much from his ideas and patient efforts to implement them. (He's working right now on proposing a huge shift for the company into which he has put most of his efforts in the years since I've known him. Clever ideas are always percolating inside that quiet head of his that is never really quiet inside.)

The cats? Well, sure. From feral to sweet. A great leap. Good job, guys!

Chickens? Okay, fine: I suppose even chickens. They keep themselves safe and work hard to clear the land of ticks and as a bonus, always leave a few eggs behind. 

 

 

 

The point is, you need only look across the table or over your shoulder to spot magnificent effort and earnest desire to do well by others. And today, I looked over my shoulder and across the table and I felt a surge of pride! 

Speaking of pride, my friend visited me this morning and commented on my pride socks -- you know, the ones from Bombas where the left foot is one color and the right -- a different one. I tried to take a snapshot of the socks, but then changed my mind and photographed my friend instead. It was so good to see her here when the garden is in full bloom!

When I learned she was coming, I sprung to action, snipping away at hundreds of spent lilies before her arrival. I mean, I so wanted her to walk through cleaned up beds. And she did.

 

(I dont group lilies by color: yellows, pinks, reds, oranges, they all coexist. together. best pals!)

 

(there are very few places in the garden where you wont find a day lily or a phlox)

 

Breakfast, with her, on the porch.

 

 

 

Immediately after I went to Snowdrop's summer French camp. It was the last day of the program and family members were invited to sit in during the final hour. (Her dad and I came; her mom was busy with the two other kids and visitors.)

Of course, it's safe to say that in one week of French camp Snowdrop learned absolutely no French. What words she picked up will quickly be forgotten. Too, the levels of French knowledge in the class varied. Some kids couldn't put a sentence together if you paid them (Snowdrop belonged to this category) while others came from having spent years in France. On the one hand, I felt a whiff of sadness that schools here did not teach foreign languages from grade 1, on the other hand, I was proud of the little girl for reaching out to new friends and for trying hard to participate, despite the obvious obstacles.

Here, she is singing (with others) a French song about pirates finding treasure. Because she is wearing a mask, I couldn't actually tell if she was singing anything at all!

And there you have it: I have in my life so many for whom I feel such great pride. From head to toe, from inside and out.

(The last photo is from an evening walk Ed and I took among prairie blooms in our local county park. We were barefoot until we stumbled upon a patch of thistle. Ed continued barefoot. I was glad he'd stuck a pair of my sandals in his shorts pocket.)