Janet's Blog

For several months now, I have been walking a couple of miles around the neighborhood almost every day, snapping a few pictures along the way, and marveling at the beauty of God's creation. On the warmer winter days, and even in the spring, I walked in the early afternoon, as long as the wind wasn't blowing too hard. But now that summer has arrived, sunset is definitely the best time to walk. Sometimes, the clouds almost upstage the Monument. Jackson, our 10-year-old Shih Poo, looks forward to the walks as much as I do. In fact, he comes running to my side as soon as I quietly slide open the curtain to take his red leash from the closet hook. It has almost become a game for me to see if I can grab his leash without him noticing, but so far, he has always won. Jackson, ready for a walk. Jackson loves to make the neighborhood dogs bark, and strains at the leash as if to join them in their fenced-in yards. But we both know that he is really a scaredy-cat at heart. That...

It was my second trip to the hospital to see Meagan and Grandbaby #4. As I entered the room, two-year-old Lydia yelled at me, "Out, out!" I looked to Meagan for a translation. As it turns out, what Lydia really meant was, "The baby is out of Mommy's tummy!" During the three days since then, I've heard Lydia tell several people, "Baby out!" She holds that new baby as often as anyone will let her. When she is playing, and looks up to see him, she starts giggling, pointing at him, shouting "Baby!" or running to give him a hug or kiss. It's obvious that Lydia loves her baby brother. Evie, too, loves to hold the baby, and pat his tummy. Tobin doesn't seem to be as excited as the girls, but he keeps bringing one of his favorite stuffed animals, laying it close to, or even on top of, the baby, before running off to play, not stopping even long enough to have his picture taken. This newest Stobel baby is already cherished. ...

I was speed-walking my way through the neighborhood last night, just at dusk, with my little Shih-poo, Jackson, in tow, thinking about some long-lost sights and sounds, and even smells, and it occurred to me that I've experienced countless things that my grandchildren will never encounter. Oh, I know, they will undoubtedly be faced with a wealth of experiences, throughout their lives, that I can't begin to imagine. Just think of the stories they will tell their own grandchildren someday... But today, I wonder if Tobin, and Evelyn and little Lydia, and the newest grandson, due any day now, along with any of their future cousins, will ever get to milk a cow by hand, as I did, with limited success, when I was three or four. And, I wonder if they will ever get to hold a newborn piglet, or hear the eager snorts of a dozen little pigs as they crowd together to nurse from a patient sow. I don't remember bottle-feeding my little lamb, Lola, but I suppose there is some chance ...

I can see clearly now, the rain is gone I can see all obstacles in my way Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind It's gonna be a bright, bright, sun-shiny day. I think I can make it now, the pain is gone All of the bad feelings have disappeared Here is the rainbow I've been prayin' for It's gonna be a bright, bright, sun-shiny day. Look all around, there's nothin' but blue skies Look straight ahead, nothin' but blue skies... Johnny Nash, 1972 It was a few months after my last eye surgery, the transplant that replaced the damaged layer of corneal tissue in my right eye. I knew I was seeing better than I had in a long time, at least in that eye; my ophthalmologist assured me that my distance vision was 20/20 without glasses, and my close vision was nearly perfect with reading glasses. But that day, as I was driving south, from Scottsbluff to Gering, I noticed the snow dusting the Wildcat Hills at the end of the road ahead of me,...

(God) provides rain for the earth; he sends water on the countryside.   Job 5:10 Northern Michigan is known for its precipitation, averaging 110 inches of snow every year, and 33 inches of rain. In fact, the sun only shines there 163 days a year, on average. When I taught kindergarten in Traverse City, my students knew how to dress themselves for the weather, wearing one-piece snowmobile suits in the winter, with their hats, mittens, and snow boots, and raincoats and boots whenever it rained. I remember one little, blonde boy named Christopher, all smiles as he came in from the bus one rainy morning, wearing his bright yellow, hooded slicker. He could hardly wait to show me the treasures he had collected while he waited at the bus stop near his house. He thrust both of his hands deep into his coat pockets and gleefully pulled them out again, full of wiggly, slippery worms . Obviously, his mom had sent him outside to wait for the bus while she remained inside where it was dry, w...

I'm sure you've seen a cute picture, perhaps in a child's story book, of a darling little fairy sitting on a stylized toadstool. But, just in case you don't know what I mean, here's a perfect example: Very cute, but very wrong ! I am currently fighting my own, private, toadstool war, and it's anything but cute.  When we lived in Michigan, I was amazed at the variety of colorful mushrooms we found when we hiked in the woods. Those large, inedible fungi were eerily beautiful. Even the edible morels, considered to be a delightful delicacy among those who knew where to find them, were at least interesting to look at, as well as delicious. But, thankfully, the mushrooms in Michigan stayed out of my yard. For the past couple of years, ever since we had to remove the huge hackberry tree that  shaded our back yard, I've been fighting some prolific toadstool colonies that feed on the decaying, underground roots of that old tree.  This spring has been wett...

I was just a preschooler when we left the farm, but I still remember the beautiful red and yellow tulips that grew there, in the houseyard. Even then, I loved spring, with the fresh smell of rain showers, followed by sunny, blustery days; the greening grass, the little new leaves sprouting on each tree branch, and, of course, the flowers. A spring garden, not too far from my house The daffodils and tulips were the best because they were the first to bloom. The purple lilacs smelled the best. Even when we lived in the hotel in Norfolk, and later, in Fairbury, where we had no yard of our own, Dad would find some abandoned farmstead close to town, where he would cut arm loads of gorgeous, fragrant lilacs to bring home for Mom. I can still smell them, sitting on the kitchen table in the old, pink, ceramic pitcher that always listed a little too far to one side. Spring has always been the best time of year, if only because of the flowers.  Flowers appear on the earth; the seaso...