Make Every Day Earth Day

On By AnnIn Activism, Earth care, NatureLeave a comment

As protests go, the record-setting attendance at No Kings 3 events held across the nation and around the world in March made history. Here in Cowley County, the two events people could join attracted 350 protestors, double the attendance at the last No Kings event in October. Events nationwide drew an estimated 8 million people. But these notable efforts were dwarfed by another historic protest: Earth Day 1970, when 20 million people gathered in local events to demand action on environmental issues.

Their efforts worked, and led to the passage of the Clean Air act, Clean Water act, and Endangered Species act. Climate change was a concern back then also, as Global Warming, but before meaningful action could take place the progress brought about by those first Earth Day protestors halted when billionaires took note. “What? You mean we can’t just use all this to make more billions?”

Today, fifty-six years after that first protest, “Climate change is the biggest story there is, affecting every single person, no matter where you live,” writes journalist Vernon Loeb, of Inside Climate News. And yet this huge issue looming over our future gets buried by daily humanitarian, economic, and political crises.

As Robert Hubbell puts it: “One of the challenges we face is simultaneously competing in dozens of ‘sprints’ to react quickly to Trump’s illegal actions while also running a marathon. We can rack up dozens of ‘short-term’ wins, but if we aren’t planning for the long term, we risk losing everything.”

Adam Kinzinger reminds us, “Trump’s hostility toward science and academic institutions has been well-documented. Science had borne the brunt of Trump’s anti-intellectualism as federal research programs have been gutted and thousands of scientists fired from CDC, NASA, EPA, and NIH. Grants to study the problem of climate change have been canceled and data has been cherry-picked to justify reducing pollution controls.”

One of the most recent attacks on our scientific and research communities was the reorganization in early April of the US Forest Service, just in time for the wildfire season with its annual disastrous impact. The action comes at a time when the snow-pack equivalent after last winter is 50% or less for all of western US except isolated pockets. Some areas have 0% of their typical snowpack equivalent. We’re going into fire season already dry.

After attacking all the bipartisan acts that passed 50 years ago and hollowing out our research capabilities, we are the only country that clings to a false promise of petrochemical prosperity. It’s as if our country is voluntarily handing the future leadership of civilization to China, who is now leading the world in alternative energy technology.

With every crisis we’ve faced since January 2025—ICE attacking US citizens and peaceful immigrants, building concentration camps on US soil, the Epstein files, DOGE leaking our personal data to unqualified techs, voter suppression, axing DEI, war crimes, our president threatening an entire civilization in our name—it’s easy to push the looming climate crisis into the background.

It’s a little bit like the old adage about the forest and the trees, only now, we can’t see the flames roiling across the distant landscape when we’re throwing buckets of water on each new tree that ignites in our backyard.

But Jess Craven reminds us, “Folks, we can’t let that happen. We need to be able to do both – to defend our democracy AND preserve a livable planet for future generations.”

This Earth Day, we should spend time savoring our relationship with our awesome home planet. Astronaut Christina Koch who made history in the recent successful Artemis II moon mission shared her thoughts as she viewed our fragile planet from the moon. “I found myself noticing not only the beauty of Earth, but how much blackness there is around it and how that made it even more special. It truly emphasized how alike we are, how the same thing keeps every single person on planet Earth alive. We evolved on the same planet, and we have some shared things about how we love and live that are just universal. And the specialness and preciousness of that really is emphasized when you notice how much else there is around it.”

Take a moment wherever you are to marvel at the miraculous—birds, flowers, renewing life. As Robert Hubbell wrote, “We are truly fortunate to be living on a small planet near a hospitable, middle-aged star in the Orion Arm of the Milky Way. We should pause more often to reflect on that fact.”

And when you’re done reflecting on our living planet, consider taking more steps to defend its life-supporting systems. As indigenous peoples remind us, Earth has taken care of us for generations. We should respond with reciprocity and take care of our Earth. A few simple things to consider: download the Climate Action Now app and take a few actions they share every day. Subscribe to the Substack “Daily Dose of Climate Hope,” and Vernon Loeb’s “Inside Climate News.”

Make every day Earth Day this year.

The Story Behind Sundrop Sonata

On By AnnIn books, fiction, Music and pianos, Sundrop SonataLeave a comment

A whole decade has passed since the launch of Sundrop Sonata, the first suspense tale in my series of piano-oriented novels. With the recent release of its 2nd edition under the imprint of Prairie Island Press, I have had a chance to review and update the story and found it astonishingly relevant to our situation today, ten years later.

The storyline of Sundrop Sonata came to me in a rush the summer of 2003. My mother had just died after a prolonged decline with congestive heart failure. That summer my family traveled from our Kansas home to Oregon, to visit friends who summered there in a cabin on the coast. Much of the road trip in Sundrop Sonata was inspired by our travels that summer, from the basic route, to the idyllic setting on the Oregon coast, to the river raft trip on the McKenzie River. Though we weren’t fleeing for our lives, in my imagination we were. Perhaps this was one way I set about healing the hole in my heart from my mother’s death. It was an escape from reality.

Also on that journey, we did a bit of racing through Idaho to arrive in a town with a movie theater in time for the late show. The first episode of Pirates of the Caribbean had just hit theaters and we wanted to see it. We loved the show.

The mesmerizing plot in the film gave my developing story a few notable quirks and by the time our journey was over, Sundrop Sonata had written itself in my mind. A few details had to be fleshed out, and the whole thing had to be converted from scenes in my imagination to a manuscript, but the story was there. And I was excited. I was convinced that it was a good story. My challenge was to write it so that others would enjoy it too and appreciate an escape from the reality grinding away at their lives.

That brings me to today, 2026. Once again, many of us could use a harmless escape from the severity of the atrocities brought to us daily on our news sources.

What else do we need in today’s world? We need to believe that the good guys will win in the end. We need to believe that no matter how dire the situation, we will be able to prevail. If all you have is the sincere desire to help someone else, and to make the world a better place for the coming generations, you will be able to find a way. Humans are resourceful and resilient.

Another message I wanted to share in Sundrop was the issue of integrity. We all may be lured into situations that could end up hurting those we love most. But it’s okay to resist. It’s okay to honor your morals, to stand up to temptation. If it’s important to you, you will find a way.

I wrote Sundrop Sonata for readers who enjoy the same kind of stories I enjoy, so in essence, I wrote for myself. Who am I? Who would enjoy the story? I wrote for women, for piano and music lovers, for those with adventurous hearts, and most importantly, for those who want to believe that integrity matters.

I wrote for those who believe that our words are as good as a contract, that oaths hold power accountable, and that the choices we make have ripple effects around the whole planet. I wrote for readers who believe that good-hearted people exist in every location and every time in history, and for readers who believe there are things more important than exercising selfish power over others.

With these things in mind, it’s clear that the story remains pertinent today.

What will readers gain by reading Sundrop Sonata? There are three Easy takeaways. I hope readers gain Encouragement to take action on issues that they care deeply about. I hope that they benefit with a few hours of Escape from the dire situation we face in 2026, and I hope they are ultimately Entertained as they read.

Three E’s from Sundrop Sonata:

Entertainment

Escape

Encouragement

Sundrop Sonata: a Novel of Suspense, 2nd edition is now available from Lulu.

Notes from the Heart of America

On By AnnIn books, Prairie talesLeave a comment

Recently, I ordered a book that was reviewed in a post by Jess Piper, author of the substack “View from Rural Missouri.” The book, Dear Marty, We Crapped in Our Nest, was written by Art Cullen, editor of the Storm Lake Times in rural Iowa, and published by Ice Cube Press.

Cullen was awarded the Pulitzer Prize for Editorial Writing in 2017 for his series on agricultural surface water pollution in Iowa. Rural Missouri, rural Iowa, and rural Kansas have many common concerns. Cullen’s hometown of Storm Lake, Iowa with its newspaper is very much like our hometowns in Cowley County. His subtitle calls the content “Notes from the Edge of the World.” Given that much of it is pertinent across the entire plains region, it seems more like Notes from the Heart of America.

Much of Cullen’s 2025 book covered topics we are familiar with here, like the decline of our rural communities, the “Brain Drain” exodus of our young people to the cities, and the effect of Big Ag policies on family farmers. Cullen wrote about the exploitation of the deep, rich Iowa soils from what the indigenous Ioway people knew for thousands of years, to the devastation of the last few decades with much of the soil washed down the rivers to the Gulf of Mexico. The surface waters that people and livestock depend on became contaminated with as much as 40% of the chemicals Big Ag prescribed as necessary soil additives. That came with a hidden price tag. Iowa is the #1 state in the union for cancer statistics, largely attributable to the surface water pollutants.

Cullen referred to Aldo Leopold’s Sand County Almanac in one chapter. Leopold promoted harmony between humans and the land they depend on. He demanded a more ethical approach to land use, like the one practiced by indigenous peoples for thousands of years, now overshadowed by the desire for cash income. But, land is a community, not a commodity. Leopold said that the oldest task in human history is to live on a piece of land without spoiling it. We are failing that task miserably.

Cullen’s final chapter offers hope and a way forward.  We have withstood many challenges in the 250-year history of our democracy, he wrote. “What the Republic cannot endure, and which gives enemies of freedom oxygen, is the contempt that has taken hold American-to-American.”

We need to talk to each other, Cullen said. But how? That question, he says, will be answered in spaces like ours, the small towns and rural places of America, “where you have to get along even when you want to spit at each other.”

The first step is to try to look through your neighbor’s glasses. We may just find out that we all want pretty much the same things: clean air and water, safe schools, good food, smooth roads, friendly neighborhoods, easy access to comprehensive and affordable health care, and the ability to prosper.

Cullen: “There is a way forward if we will only talk to each other earnestly. We know how to fix things. The Earth can heal if we let it. . .  We can break up the oligopolies that choke independence, diversity, and rural vitality. . . We can learn from the [indigenous] people to live with the land in abundance if we choose not to attempt dominion over Nature. . . We can choose prosperity for agriculture through science and good sense.

“We have little choice but to change the practices of the last half century before we burn ourselves up.”

The Heart of a Writer

On By AnnIn Activism, politics, social justice, Sundrop Sonata, Writing1 Comment

Sleep has evaded me in recent nights. I wake with a heavy heart, thinking about events of the last week . . . month . . . year. I’m lost. And I think many others are also. This is not the reality we grew up with and anticipated for our adult years, for our children, or for our grandchildren.

One of the earliest pieces of advice offered I heard at a writing convention came from best-selling author David Morrell. He challenged every one of us to figure out why we write. The wrong answer was to make us rich. The best answer to that question is that we have to write. We can’t stop, even if we want to. There is something in our being that drives us to put thoughts to paper. Beyond that, it’s on the arrogant side to think others might want to read those thoughts.

Anne Lamott mentioned much the same sentiment in a TED talk she made. Publishing a bit of writing will never fill the empty spaces in your soul, she said. But writing will. The act of putting yourself onto paper (or a screen), whether people read it or not, whether people care or not is good for your soul, and it is the only thing you’ve been called to do in this life. Tell your story. That is the purpose of journaling, I suppose. It’s therapy.

And yet, the social, political, international, economic, and environmental climate these days make it nearly impossible to pinpoint something to write about. Where do I begin in my quest to find some sort of meaning in the cyclone of disasters we face? The therapy of writing eludes me. In the wake of the violence and killings perpetrated by our country recently, I cannot begin to think how I can offer any wisdom or encouragement. There is an avalanche of written articles available about every kind of thing. The focus of my life and my purpose have been stolen by those who would force their will on the rest of us. Add theft to their list of crimes. In an epidemic of lawlessness, the world is under siege by pirates who would have everything, down to our peace of mind.

My heart weeps.

Last year, in the wake of corporate capitulation to administrative demands, I decided to look for a friendlier publisher for my stories and I found Lulu Press, a certified B Corporation. They care about the Earth and its people, and they work to make a better world. This month, through Lulu, I released a Second Edition of the first book in my suspense novel series, while continuing to work on the 4th one. Books 2 and 3 will soon join Book 1 at Lulu. The 2nd edition of Sundrop Sonata is now available, either from me or the Lulu bookstore. This is a positive step forward for me, and yet in the insanity consuming our daily news, I can’t find the heart to celebrate. I rebelled in my own way against corporate interests that have little regard for human rights or civility, but it’s a speck in the vast dust cloud that envelopes us all.

As I was flipping through the proof copy, one segment caught my attention. In Chapter 36, protagonist Izzy talks to her teenage daughter as they sit on an airplane. It reminded me why I wrote this book in the first place. Izzy is a caring mother and professional piano technician who stumbles into a situation in which she needs to find deep within herself the strength and determination to face desperate and dangerous men.

We each might find ourselves in a parallel situation today.  I need to reaffirm my values and stand for what I believe in, what is right in the world, and support others who face unspeakable situations such as Alex Pretti and Renee Good, and many others Whose Names are all but Unknown. We must remain true to ourselves

That, then, is one value of writing—and reading—fiction. To learn something about ourselves and to believe in ourselves.

Here’s a segment from Chapter Thirty-six in Sundrop Sonata.

“I feel sorry for Laura,” Melody said. “She’s always going to have to look over her shoulder, wondering if he’s watching. She’ll never be free of her dad, will she?”

“That’s an astute observation, Mel.” I slipped the in-flight magazine back in the seat pocket. “If you think about it, we’re all prisoners in some manner.”

“How? We don’t all have a maniac chasing us.”

“Maybe not, but we are limited by chance circumstances and the choices we make.”

“I don’t get what you mean.”

“You’re young and your personality is still developing. I, on the other hand, am who I am. Things I witnessed and choices I made years ago turned me into the person I am today. I’m a pretty predictable person.”

“You sound boring. Or bored.”

“Far from it. I could no more have turned Nola down when she asked for my help than jump over the moon, or harm somebody on purpose. I’m a prisoner of my own soft heart and look where it’s led me. Sometimes I wish it wasn’t so because life gets complicated.”

Melody laughed. “I can’t see you cold and hard.”

“Exactly. I’m incapable of being different than I am. I see a need and I want to help.”

“Am I a prisoner of circumstances too?”

“You’re still young enough to have lots of future options. This experience with Laura will impact your life, I’m sure. Her life has been shaped by choices people made long before she was born, so she’s got a jump-start on you building her personal prison.”

“Her dad’s life was like that too.”

“Who, Jay?”

“Yeah. His actions are almost understandable considering what happened to him and his mom.”

“You’re right. We all travel through life, on a course set by our parents. Something happens and we turn a corner, head a new direction. Pretty soon, another corner. At some point, the corners define a shape—the proverbial box. We all have unique boxes, depending on how many corners we encounter before we’re boxed in. That becomes the prison from which we view the world and make our choices.”

“Think outside the box, Mom.”

I cuffed her playfully. “Thinking or dreaming outside my box is one thing. To act outside it is another.”

“Not impossible.”

“Nothing is impossible. But to act outside my box—outside my character—would require a crisis, some event that would turn me in desperation another way and catapult me outside my defined box.”

“Something bad enough to make you cruel?”

“I can’t imagine what that would be.”

“If Laura’s dad is operating from his personal prison of rejection and misery, what kind of event would launch him out of it?”

“I don’t know—a crisis of love and kindness?”

“Nothing is impossible, right?”

~~

At the end of the story, which of these characters actually faced a crisis great enough to take uncharacteristic steps? Though I like to believe it’s not impossible for a cold-blooded killer to feel remorse and become a different person, it’s far more likely that a peace-loving and kind-hearted person will be forced to defend herself or others in uncharacteristic ways. In Sundrop Sonata, Isabel Woods must find the strength and courage within herself to take steps she never would have dreamed she could take. But, if she can do it, so can we in real life, in America, in 2026.

Steady. Stand firm for what you believe is right.

Where do I go from here?

On By AnnIn Activism, books, Earth care, fiction, Firestorm Sonata, Nature, Sonata of Elsie Lenore, Sundrop Sonata, WritingLeave a comment

Here we are in a new year, 2026. As I consider options for my future, I realize that nothing about life is simple. If events in 2025 didn’t prove that, I don’t know what would. I entered a new decade in my life last year, and you’d think I would have it figured out by now. But such is not the case. Nothing is simple, not even in retirement. All I can do is pay attention, consider options, and choose my path.

Society frayed over the last year. Assumptions and beliefs I’d held all my life drizzled down the drain with a mess of sewage generated by the greed of people who already have too much. For most of my life I believed we were the good guys. We weren’t perfect, but we had good intentions, good dreams, and good Declarations. Our country has evolved over 250 years in our journey to be better.  The America I remember helped people, here and around the world. America provided desperate people with opportunities. We supported human rights for all. We were on the cusp of a great awakening that would stall the degradation of our beautiful home planet, Earth.

And then the money mongers took control. In only a few months, we morphed into the villain.

I had to re-evaluate my priorities. What values were still important and intact? What do I stand for? With every step I take and every breath that is still mine to breathe, I feel I must strive to protect, preserve and prolong those who are at risk, including the unique biosphere we have enjoyed on Earth.

That is why I write. There are stories inside me that beg to be shared. Perhaps they will help heal Earth, if not for me, then for my grandchildren and theirs. Ten years ago—one whole decade—I launched my first novel, Sundrop Sonata, through Amazon. Two others followed, Sonata of Elsie Lenore, and Firestorm Sonata. I’m in process of writing a fourth story in the series. The plots evolved each time until in Sonata #3, Firestorm, we catapult through environmental disaster into a bleak, technology-deprived future.

My plan for 2026, already in motion, is to pull my books from Amazon, since that huge company seems beholden to the grifters in charge. After much soul-searching, hand-wringing, and self-doubting, I encountered a viable option in Lulu.

The Lulu company was founded in 2002 by Bob Young. Its name refers to “a remarkable person, object, or idea” and can reference the company itself, as well as each creative project of the writers who use Lulu. Its mission statement: “Lulu is dedicated to making the world a better place, one book at a time, through sustainable practices, innovative print-on-demand products, and a commitment to excellent service.”

The “sustainable” part of Lulu’s mission did it for me. For the last decade, Lulu has earned Certified B Corporation status, meaning it meets high standards of social and environmental impact. To choose Lulu for my future writing projects means that I am an advocate for environmental and social change, along with the company.

My plan for 2026 is to launch 2nd editions of each Sonata novel. Hopefully before the year is gone, Book 4 will join the others along with renewed hope in our country and the world. Watch for more book news in the coming days.

Heirloom Begonia

On By AnnIn Family, Healing, Loss and Grief, NatureLeave a comment

I conclude my series on Plants that are some of my Favorite People on this last day of 2025 with a tribute to a cherished begonia and the people she represents. Long ago, my Grandma Georgia tended her angelwing begonia in the west window of her front room. The stand beneath it was likely crafted by my dad, her son, in his woodworking shop. All of her grandchildren noticed this solitary plant, the only one she kept inside. Its showy speckled leaves were indeed shaped like wings, with many colors—from green to red, and silver speckles. Grandma told me that she had received this begonia from her mother, who got it from her mother, and so on and so forth. It is a living family heirloom. The cuttings keep going over many generations, and decades, and multiple centuries. Who is to know how old this plant really is? For Grandma, it dated back to the 1800s. It’s now part of my 21st century garden.

And so the angelwing begonia is esteemed in my collection. It represents the family’s values—among which are resilience, persistence, continuity, and devotion. It is determined and dedicated, regardless of its human caretakers, and just keeps on keepin’ on, fulfilling the purpose the universe has assigned to it.

My treasured angelwing begonia has graced my window ledge in winter and the outdoor planting beds in the summer for many years. Like Grandma Georgia, I have shared cuttings with cousins, sisters, nieces, and friends. With appreciation for the begonia’s connection to my grandmother, I saved this post for the last in the series for two reasons. One was the reminder of the cyclical nature of life on earth and the resilience of life as we prepare to welcome a new year. May the begonia deliver hope for the weeks and months to come.

The second was to honor the memory of a dear cousin who passed away one week ago today, on the day before Christmas. Like my sisters and me, she was a granddaughter of Grandma Georgia. One of my favorite memories of Maureen is her quiet request for one of the begonia cuttings a few years ago. I prepared one for her and we met in the parking lot of the Episcopal Church in Derby for the exchange. Now my angelwing begonia connects me to her as well as other loved ones who have donned their own angel wings in the great beyond.

Maureen, you will be missed.

Meet Elizabeth Mames

On By AnnIn Family, Healing, NatureLeave a comment

My tales of plant friends would not be complete without mention of my first pet plant. Meet Elizabeth Mames. When I was just 10 years old, I received a start of the classroom windowsill plant from my 5th grade teacher, Mrs. Pratt. She had pruned the potted plant that graced the window in our classroom and sent a start home with me, probably other classmates as well. It was striking with purple—not green—foliage, and tiny, delicate three-petaled flowers. Without blossoms to attract much attention, this was truly a foliage plant. Mrs. Pratt called the classroom plant a Wandering Jew. I named mine “Elizabeth Mames,” and Elizabeth Mames she has remained through the ensuing decades.

At home, I was fascinated to see white roots erupt from the purple stems I stuck in a glass of water. With guidance from my agronomist father, I potted Elizabeth Mames and for several weeks took photos of her growth. (In black and white, of course. No color photos back then. Yes, I’m that old.) She has stayed with me through several life moves, through thick and thin, through heartache and celebration. At some point in time, I realized that Elizabeth Mames would do quite well outside during the warm months, but I was careful to collect starts before frost wilted the purple leaves every autumn. Several years ago, I was amazed to see that she would come back from her underground roots when the weather warms in springtime, unless we experienced a polar vortex, as we have a time or two. So, I still collect a few stems to keep her going through the winter.

She’s not showy, but provides a lovely backdrop for my other plant friends in the summer planting beds. Elizabeth Mames has stayed with me for decades, sturdy and reliable. She helps me remember my stellar 5th grade teacher. When my own children reached 5th grade, I started looking for Mrs. Pratt and found her in another town and another state. She was delighted to hear from me and we corresponded until her death five years ago.

Thanks, Elizabeth Mames, for the memories.

Plants are some of my Favorite People #4

On By AnnIn Family, NatureLeave a comment

Plants bring me close to people who I consider adopted family too. Take Barry McGuire, for instance. The first time I met Barry I arrived at his home in Elk Falls to tune a piano he’d purchased from a music store in Wichita. The walkway to his door was lined with grow-boxes full of vibrant flowers. I learned that he was highly regarded as a sort of wizard with flowers from coast to coast, with gardens and friends all over. His Elk Falls story included a famous sunken flower garden that along with other local attractions brought busloads of tourists to Elk Falls.

Barry didn’t do much with house plants inside, but he loved the seemingly infinite variety of blooming plants on our planet. When I told him about the “red spider lily” that had so impressed and mystified me, he got on his computer and looked it up. I was a little disappointed to find out that I didn’t have a new variety of the “naked ladies” my dad enjoyed. The red variety, which blooms a month later, actually originated in Japan. Its technical name is Lycoris radiata. With that in mind, it found an important place in my piano mystery.

When Barry moved from Elk Falls to my hometown (slightly bigger with more conveniences available) he brought a small lemon tree in a container, his only house plant. He named the tree Jose Limon. I think it reminded him of happy times in southern California. Jose has to be brought inside during the cold winter months in the Great Plains region, so it stays in a pot. The tree grew and grew, though, and is now in the biggest pot I could find.

Barry moved hither and yon a couple more times before his final move to the great beyond, but he always came back to Kansas and his rural roots. In the end, he left me all his grow-boxes, and the lemon tree. This year was a good year for lemons, and good old Jose came through with a bumper crop. On harvest day, I picked 21 fruits off the branches, much like last year in December. I have learned how to make all kinds of lemon treats: lemon bars, of course, but also lemon curd (which is much like a jelly), and candied lemon peels.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I always think of Barry when I tend his lemon tree. He seems close by when Jose blooms and puts on a crop of fruits. Barry sure knew how to bring out the best in plants and I am grateful for that.

Plants are some of my Favorite People #3

On By AnnIn Family, Healing, NatureLeave a comment

My father influenced my love of the plant world more than anyone. I can hardly turn around without seeing a plant that makes me think of him.He grew up on the family farm which had been homesteaded by his grandfather. He always intended to farm it, I suppose. But after World War II, farming changed quite a bit and no longer could a farmer expect to support a family on 160 acres. The homestead stayed in the family for another six decades, though none of us lived or worked there. He, however, studied at universities in several states, earned a PhD in agronomy, and ended up as a college instructor, sharing his love for plants and agriculture with his students. His love for gardening and plants never waned. Nor did his sense of humor.

The Stephelia (Star Flower, Carrion plant) I inherited from my father is testament to his good humor. I have to chuckle remembering him when its buds pop open every autumn. Rather than attracting bees and butterflies, the Stephelia’s “fragrance” attracts houseflies. “A stinky plant,” says my sister.But its flowers are singularly remarkable. I understand why Daddy was fascinated with this succulent. This past summer was a good year for the Stephelia and it offered a stunning display of blossoms. I felt my dad close by as the buds swelled and then burst open into palm-sized blossoms covered in fuzz. Every year lately they have been awesome, in spite of the fragrance.

Like his mother, Daddy tended a large garden every year. He devoted a circular plot in his driveway to flowers. When time came to thin the bulbs, he eagerly shared iris bulbs with us, as well as those he called “naked ladies.” Other folks refer to them as “surprise lilies.” They aren’t true lilies, but instead belong to the amaryllis family. The bulbs send up green leaves early in the spring, but then die down so that you forget all about them until the leafless flower stalks shoot up, seemingly overnight, in late July. And they are magnificent, covered with striking pink flowers.

One year, after the surprise lilies Daddy shared with us had wilted, I noticed a thinner stalk with small red flowers erupt. I’d never seen anything like these September blooming “red spider lilies” before, and had no idea where they might have originated. I thought perhaps we had a mutated version of the pink naked ladies. The red version was astounding and vivid and inspired me to add them as “characters” in my first suspense novel, Sundrop Sonata. (More on these red spider lilies tomorrow.)

With plants that bloom at different times of the year, and the Stephelia that requires care indoors during winter months,I feel close to my dad many times each day. Though I miss my folks very much, they are with me in the thriving plants they shared long ago.

Plants are some of my Favorite People #2

On By AnnIn Family, Healing, NatureLeave a comment

Plants connect me to people from long ago and far away. From a Rocky Mountain high with the Mother succulent, I think of another daughter who has moved around a lot with her husband for the US Marines. With a giant leap over my location, she is 1800 miles away from her sister, and 1400 miles away from me. She has tried to keep her young girls involved in the fascinating world of plants by creating mini-gardens in different locations. Now a first-grade teacher in Coastal Elementary School, she recently shared a photo of a blooming Christmas cactus one of her students gave her. That made me think of my own mother.

Mother wasn’t much for tending houseplants or flowers, though she always helped plant, weed, harvest, and preserve garden produce alongside my dad. About thirty years ago, a friend she’d known since her college days in the 1930s gave her a Christmas cactus start. This was long after I’d left home and started my own family. Mother shared some Christmas cactus starts with me soon after she planted her own. She has been gone more than twenty years now and when this plant faithfully blooms at Thanksgiving time each year, (not Christmas!) I think of her. This prolific plant connects me to both my mother and my daughter. The circle is unbroken.