The Lady Baltimore

Last August, when I took my in-laws to the local farmer’s market, they bought my husband and me a lovely hibiscus, called a “Lady Baltimore,” for our garden. The seller at the market promised that it’s a perennial in this area. I’ll admit to being skeptical at the time.

By the end of my in-laws’ visit, though, the plant looked like it wouldn’t even live to make it out of the pot and into the ground. But it did live, and I was delighted when it bloomed several times last August.

Although it was a single stalk last year, the seller promised it would grow back more bush-like this year, with multiple stalks. I was just happy when one stalk poked up through the ground this spring and started sprouting leaves and then buds. I’ve spent many mornings since the first sign of green giving it ample water to grow tall and strong.  Continue reading

A place where people love their trees and leaves

Two weekends ago, I visited St. Paul, Minnesota for the first time. I had a wonderful time seeing the sights, including the stunning St. Paul Cathedral and railroad magnate James Hill’s house on Summit Avenue.

Although my husband and I apparently brought the heat of the South with us when we came, there was still a stubborn remnant of what had been a 60-foot pile of snow that the plows built in the Sears parking lot over the winter. The St. Paul Pioneer Press even covered the story of the snow pile in the paper, which is how I knew what I was looking at when we happened to drive by the Sears parking lot later that day. My southern-girl mind can’t quite wrap itself around the idea of snow surviving a 90-degree day. But then, I’m also used to snow being white, not black from road scrapings and other dirt and debris that made up the remnant of St. Paul’s snow.  Continue reading

A letter to high school graduates

Two very special young people in my life have just graduated from high school. Both are heading away to college – one across the country after spending two years at a boarding school near home and the other, a five-hour drive from home, his first time leaving the nest.

Because there’s so much I’d like to say to them and never enough time with them sitting still to listen, I’ve decided to write a letter to them here. If it resonates with you, share it with the young people in your life. I also invite you to add your own thoughts and advice for high school grads in the comments section.

Dear Z & K, (and M and C and A and all the rest of you!)

I have absolutely loved watching you grow up – from the days I held you held you as newborns to now, when it’s a quick hug and you’re gone. You have grown into a strength and beauty and brilliance that shines on all those around you.  Continue reading

You’re taping what to my foot? Ramblings from a first-time MRI

I had a lot of surprises in store for my first ever MRI today, but the biggest surprise was the Vitamin E pill the assistant taped to the bottom of my foot to mark the place where I feel the most pain. Apparently, it helps the radiologist know where to look when reading the MRI without messing up the reading. Seriously?

I never went to med school, but I’d like to think that a doctor could read the MRI of my foot without needing a pointer in the form of a pill taped to my foot to identify the problem area. It also made me wonder if they could miss other problem areas – there was no vitamin E taped to the spot of second-most pain, but what if that’s the real source of my pain?

Being nervous about something so new and strange, I did a bit of browsing online yesterday. My only experience with MRIs before yesterday’s reading was with the TV show “House.” If you watch the show, you know that dreadful things typically happen to the patient in the MRI machine. Convulsions, seizures, heart attacks, hallucinations. I figured nothing that dramatic would happen to me, but I still wanted to know what to expect in a real-world MRI.  Continue reading

Summer’s golden lining

I’ve got a confession: I don’t really love summer. Or more specifically, I don’t love summer where I live. It’s hot, ridiculously humid, and it’s one long mosquito fiesta from May (sometimes April) through October (sometimes November).

As a runner, I’m an odd bird because I’d much prefer to run in 20 degree weather than in 80s and higher – and trust me, there are a lot more days here that are above 80 than below 20. I know some runners who won’t even run outside in the winter but relish a warm July day to head out into the sun. Not me. There are only so many clothes a person can take off and still run outside.

I’m actually not running these days anyway. I’ve been sidelined with an injury for the last four weeks, and I’m looking at possibly two more weeks without running. If any of you are or know runners who have been sidelined, then you’ll know that climbing-the-walls feeling I’m fighting every day. And feel free to send my husband sympathy cards for having to deal with my general grumpiness at being among the walking wounded. He definitely deserves them. Just don’t send the kind with glitter – he’s not a fan.  Continue reading