A walk-through the Des Moines Botanical Center

The other day over lunch, I took a walk to the Des Moines Botanical Center.

 
    

When is Home home?

On a Tuesday years ago, my family and I left Nevada, drove to Iowa, arrived on a Saturday. Although it was my first visit to the state, I started college that following Monday. During our cross country trip, we joked about the Midwest, the corn, pigs, farms, flat land; the typical joke one makes who has never lived in the Midwest or spent a significant amount of time here. Little did I know, I was on my way home.

“Aren’t you from Nevada?” Yes.

“Why would you want to live in Iowa?” Because it's beautiful.

“If I had the chance, I would leave.” Yeah, but you’d be back.

I have fielded these questions now for almost two decades. Once known as Jessica Montana from Nevada who lives in Iowa, I am now called an Iowan. I used to laugh at the former statement; in fact, take pride in having so many states in my salutation. As for the latter, I responded with an emphatic, “No! No I’m not!"

Though, now, I don’t know if I would object.

When is home home?

Last week, I went to lunch with two colleagues. While walking to one of our favorite restaurants, we spied a purple flower, perhaps considered a weed to most. Low to the ground, each flower was about two inches in diameter and a matching purple center. A colleague said, I think it's chicory. The three of us took a minute and collectively said, that's pretty. Huh? Interesting. A simple walk to a restaurant revealed beauty along a sidewalk.

Fast forward to later in the afternoon, a thunderstorm was rolling into downtown Des Moines. I checked the radar online; deep purples, bright reds, fiery oranges and yellows moved across the screen. Weather reports revealed the storm moving fast, west to east, with 70 mile per hour winds. In locations where it hit first, rain poured sideways.

A group of colleagues gathered near the windows to watch the storm move past our building. As we watched the gray anvil clouds move in, I said, “Gosh, it’s nice to see clouds.” A colleague responded, “Oh, that’s right. You’re from Nevada; you’re probably not used to clouds?” Immediately, another colleague answered for me, “Yeah, but she’s acclimated to Iowa by now.”

Josh Gates wrote, “Travel does not exist without home....If we never return to the place we started, we would just be wandering, lost. Home is a reflecting surface, a place to measure our growth and enrich us after being infused with the outside world.” See Destination Truth: Memoirs of a Monster Hunter.

The windows my colleagues and I stood in front of were my reflecting surface. Standing there, as if lightening struck in my brain...my home is simply the place I find beauty that fills my heart. It is not defined to the borders of a state...Montana, Nevada, or Iowa. It is not the length of employment, home ownership, number of years spent in one spot, friends, or bank accounts. And, I definitely hope it is not bright, shiny objects that catch my eye. Squirrel! Well, maybe some days it is. Yet, on most days, it is noticing the beauty of weeds decorate a sidewalk or thunder clouds swell over a downtown skyline. 

Maya Angelou wrote, “I long, as does every human being, to be at home wherever I find myself.” 
Years ago, I moved to Iowa. Little did I know, I would find my home here. Once my family and I poked at the corn growing along I-80; however, now I revel in knowing that the neighborhood raccoons peel back the husk to check if the kernels are ripe for eating. Beautiful!

When is home home...for you?

You guessed it...it's Chicory!

Nibble. Nibble. Said the raccoons.

Other Favorites…

“Perhaps home is not a place but simply an irrevocable condition.”
― James Baldwin,Giovanni's Room

“Home is a notion that only nations of the homeless fully appreciate and only the uprooted comprehend.” ― Wallace Stegner, Angle of Repose

“She didn't belong anywhere and she never really belonged to anyone. And everyone else belonged somewhere and to someone. People thought she was too wonderful. But she only wanted to belong to someone. People always thought she was too wonderful to belong to them or that something too wonderful would hurt too much to lose. And that's why she liked him-- because he just thought she was crazy.”
― C. JoyBell C.

"She was still hugging the cat. "Poor slob," she said, tickling his head, "poor slob without a name. It's a little inconvenient, his not having a name. But I haven't any right to give him one: he'll have to wait until he belongs to somebody. We just sort of took up by the river one day, we don't belong to each other: he's an independent, and so am I. I don't want to own anything until I know I've found the place where me and things belong together. I'm not quite sure where that is just yet. But I know what it's like." She smiled, and let the cat drop to the floor. "It's like Tiffany's," she said.
[...]
It calms me down right away, the quietness and the proud look of it; nothing very bad could happen to you there, not with those kind men in their nice suits, and that lovely smell of silver and alligator wallets. If I could find a real-life place that made me feel like Tiffany's, then I'd buy some furniture and give the cat a name.”
― Truman Capote, Breakfast at Tiffany's

Small Herb Garden

Cilantro on the left, Basil on the right!

So Close to Blooming

Happy Earth Day!

Reduce. Reuse. Recycle. Rethink Earth Day!
Planting is just around the corner! So excited!
PS...I'm posting this via phone (test run), so we'll see how it goes!
Take care!

My Summer's Quest

My quest this summer is to learn about what is growing in the garden. I mean really learn. Right now I am in the phase of thinking everything is cool, pretty and just merely wonderful because Mother Nature is just neat. My next step, however, is to learn the what, how, when, and whys of the garden.

With that, I am starting with Rhubarb! If you're asking, Rhubarb?!? Really? Why? Well, it's early yet in the growing season and it's the one of few things growing brilliantly right now...so, yep, Rhubarb!

First off, who knew the leaves of rhubarb are toxic (the leaves contain high concentrations of oxalic acid crystals which can cause serious problems when eaten, causing the tongue and throat to swell, even prevent breathing)?!? I did not, but I've never really eaten the leaves either (thank goodness), but other parts of the plant have culinary uses (yum, strawberry-rhubarb pie) and medicinal (a laxative...not so yum). They are perrenial (I knew that), but I did not know they grow from short, thick rhizomes.

According to wikipedia (don't judge), "rhubarb is usually considered to be a vegetable; however, in the United States, a New York court decided in 1947 that since it was used in the United States as a fruit, it was to be counted as a fruit for the purposes of regulations and duties. A side effect was a reduction on imported rhubarb tariffs, as tariffs were higher for vegetables than fruits."

Outside of Wiki, there is a website specifically and solely dedicated to Rhubarb, The Rhubarb Compendium. This site features Rhubarb as a perrenial vegetable and is home to over 300 rhubarb recipes, from liquer to pies, breads to candy. Apparently, rhubarb "...originated in Asia over 2,000 years ago. It was initially cultivated for its medicinal qualities, it was not until the 18th century that rhubarb was grown for culinary purposes in Britain and America. Rhubarb is often commonly mistaken to be a fruit [see above] but rhubarb is actually a close relative of garden sorrel, and is therefore a member of the vegetable family. Rhubarb is rich in vitamin C and dietary fiber."

One of the coolest factors I learned about Rhubarb is the medicinal uses. According to the Rhubarb Compendium, the root can be used as an antiseptic, astringent, diuretic, laxative, purgative, tonic, and many others...





Week 1

Week 2

Yet, the most striking uses of rhubarb do not include ingestion, but everyday things around the house...cleaning your pots and pans, dying your hair, an insecticide. Visit The Rhubarb Compendium for edible and non-edible recipes! Enjoy!

Week 3



The Aquarius Who Wiggles through the Water

I have never enjoyed waking up...although, I am thankful I wake up but (God forgive me) I hate the process of waking up. Yet, every Saturday morning, I have the opportunity to go to a pool and teach adults how to swim, my labor of love. My love for swimming does not stem from getting paid to teach or my access to a pool but it is a hope of passing it along to another individual. I have learned swimming, or even just being comfortable in the water, is a lifelong investment no one can take away from you. It is your investment into your health, well-being and longevity (not to mention its ease on your body’s aches and pains).

I have swum all of my life. My mom had me in the pool at 6 months. From there, I became fish. I taught my grandparents when I was 8 years old how to dive to the bottom of our backyard pool using a nickel as bait. I taught swimming lessons at my hometown pool starting at 16, then off and on throughout college and now, after a brief haitus, today.

Aquarius babies are genuinely free spirit. Generally, they are known to be "friendly and humanitarian, honest and loyal, original and inventive, independent and intellectual." They are ruled and run with their emotions. Although I do not believe everything my daily horoscope tells me, I do believe there is some truth to being a free spirit, which probably explains my love for swimming. Swimming is the closest thing to flying as a person can get. And flying is the closest thing to being free from restraint as one can obtain.

Always having a pool, or the ocean, at my feet helped too. I was as tan as a brown leather purse, my hair as blond as California sand. I would pretend to be a mermaid, with legs glued together, wiggling my way through the water, holding my breath as long as possible. The light in the deep end of the pool was a porthole to The Mermaid City (see Aquarius’ are original and inventive). I remember watching the movie The Big Blue (1988) about a man who was more dolphin than human. I thought, hey I could do that…stubborn, silly Aquarius. My mom encouraged this love by letting me ride on her back while she dove deep under water. My aunt and I would play Sea Storm, our own made-up game where we sat on a floatation device and when one of us yelled “SEA STORM!” we would rock and tumble and flip the floatation device trying to throw the other off while trying to stay on.

While I might not include mermaid swimming or Sea Storm into my lessons, I can only hope my love of swimming transfers from me to other swimmers every Saturday morning (that’s the humanitarian side of me peeking through).

PS...does anyone see the irony that I'm an Aquarius baby who loves the water? Any lions out there who love to RRrroarrr! (sorry, bad joke!)

Thanks for reading!

A Winter Song*

She pulled the curtain aside to look into the dark blue night. From the golden comforts of her home, the snow seemed light years away. I don’t care; I’m going to do it, she thought, with a twinkle in her eye. Hastily, she pulled, shimmied and wiggled on her long john leggings, hoodie and wool socks. She grabbed her giant parka and ski cap from the hallway closet and, with gloves in hand, turned the doorknob and stepped outside.

With her body bundled in layers of thermal wear, only her face could feel the gentle yet chilling breeze say hello. As the moisture left her lips, she whispered ‘hello’ back. She looked left; she looked right. The day’s snow had fallen just in time for dinner. Her neighbors up and down the street were nestled in their homes. She was alone.

Without a cloud in the sky but with the help of the moon, the new snow glimmered, dazzled across the yard; as if snowflakes waved their jazz hands and sang, “bop, bang, dazzle, razzle, boom, pop” on a stage. She looked up and nodded. The stars noticed. They watched.

She stood listening to the tree branches swish and sway with the wind. She faintly heard car horns honk and squawk in the distant background. She laid down a top the soft snow and danced, moving her arms and legs with the imagined beat; up and down; up and down. The stars clapped in chorus; the flakes moved with her rhythm.

She enjoyed the lingering music as long as she could, until the chilling breeze wafted in, stinging her nostrils. It’s time to go inside. Then, it settled into her lungs. You must go inside. Too crisp. Too cold.

She delicately rose, carefully looking back at her gift. Satisfied with her creation, she looked up. The stars twinkled; thank you. She nodded and walked back into the house.

The stars enjoyed its new song, smiling at the snow angel she left for them.

*just trying something different