Opinion

It’s nice to be home and back to my regular activities. I was gone for over a week. Who was the culprit that planted wild purslane in every formerly bare spot in my garden while I was away? Purslane is edible, and I do include it in my salads. I said so in a recent column, but this was over the top. My garden was one sea of green.

On closer scrutiny, there weren’t any more purslane plants than there were when I left. The weeds were tiny then. But despite the drought, they had turned into big, multi-long-legged spidery plants, covering every inch of brown dirt. I could barely find the vegetables I had planted. But I showed them! Ten ounces of purslane boiled for two minutes then cooled, chopped, then mixed with olive oil and fresh lemon juice, salt, pepper, and a handful of chopped cilantro, plus a quarter cup of feta cheese makes a delicious salad. So, watch out you garden invaders!

We had another kind of invasion recently. Dave’s son Michael and the three oldest of his four children came for a short visit. Eight-year-old Harper, and her sister Amelia, almost six, have been here several times. This was almost-three-year-old-Jeremiah’s first visit. I’d seen photos of Jeremiah covered in coffee grounds from head to toe. I’d heard tales of a table fork jammed in between the dining table leaves, the product of Jeremiah’s inventiveness. I’d heard about his climb to the wall clock his daddy made, and how he bent and broke the hands right off. I’ve seen a video of him in tears over a broken banana that couldn’t be put back together. I’d heard tell of the entire family launching itself into action when the house was suddenly quiet, and Jeremiah was nowhere in sight. I went into a little action of my own.

I haven’t mentioned yet in this column about my rock painting. Give me a lump of limestone or sandstone. If I can imagine an animal hiding inside, I paint the rock to look like that creature. I call my little collection of rabbits, toads, loons, eagles, ducks, cats and mice, “Folk Rocks! Doorstops and Bookends.” It’s fun. I had a little exhibition at the McIntosh Library last year, my little creatures tucked among children’s books in the display case.

I don’t have time to paint in the summer, but I keep my paints and rocks in sight all year ‘round, hoping for inspiration for the coming winter months. My bottles of acrylics went into hiding when I imagined Jeremiah standing in a multi-colored puddle of paint. Rocks, too. We didn’t need any broken toes. I hadn’t thought about the bug spray or my garden clippers and mushroom knives. His grandpa did, though, and put them out of sight where he hoped they wouldn’t be found.

Out came the wooden Thomas the Tank Engine train set, the plastic Lock Blocks and the children’s books. The trio wasn’t here for half an hour before the living room floor was covered with toys, trains choo chooing along the wooden track, making their way through Lock Block tunnels. The girls made sure we had our now-traditional tea party. Jeremiah looked pretty cute in his flowery straw hat, dunking gingersnaps into his tiny mostly cream-filled porcelain teacup.

We took long hikes on our trails, keeping an eye out for Oyster mushrooms. We threw gravel into the river, watching the tiny, round quakes grow wider and wider, then disappear. We went to Blackhawk Park near De Soto to swim. Life jackets firmly clipped on, the children splashed in the shallow water, laughing as the tiny minnows nibbled at their ankles. Because we’d had some rain and knew it was safe, we roasted marshmallows over the campfire. The children even got into making purslane salad, with a lesson in fractions as they measured the ingredients. “My turn! Can I measure, now?” Homeschooling 101.

All three skinny, active children were so busy that there wasn’t even a giggle from the bedroom when the lights went out. I certainly had no trouble sleeping. One does forget how much energy the constant attention to children really takes. I’d like to say I was just a bundle of energy when they left. Not so. I did get all the sheets and towels on the line and off again, but I should have taken a nap instead. Thank you, Husband, for forgiving the grumpiness that comes with exhaustion.

I had an amusing reminder of our busy visitors a week or so later, when my friend, Von, an avid crafter, was scrutinizing one of my appliqued couch pillows. “What’s this hard lump?” she asked, then pulled a tiny green train car with red wheels out of the pillow slip. I don’t know for sure, but I have a pretty good idea that the little hider is the one made of “snakes and snails and puppy dog tails.”

Doreen Short

Doreen welcomes feedback at [email protected].

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