My Big Fat Cuban Family: A Cuban-American Blog

Picket Fences, Roses and Contentment

When we moved into our home twelve years ago, it was the Eyesore of the Neighborhood. Many of our new neighbors told us so. They didn't even blush when they said it.

"Oh, you're the new family that moved into the Eyesore of the Neighborhood." (Okay, so maybe that wasn't a direct quote, but you get the idea.)

The house had been a rental and for a quick sell they slapped a coat of paint on it and put in some turf. There was not a thing to be seen growing in the front yard except that slab of green sod.

In spite of the size of the house ("freakishly small"), it had four bedrooms that we desperately needed and the price was right. We would have to work with the Slab O'Sod front yard.

Eric painstakingly cut, painted and installed a real white picket fence. We took our time choosing and planting our roses. We were so grown up now. We had roses that had REAL names. For sure that was a sign that we had "arrived."

When spring comes to our freakishly small home the roses practically sing with color and fragrance. I walk up and down the fence line, deadheading, trimming, smelling, and admiring. And I photograph them. Every. Single. Day. No, seriously. Because every day they seem to get much more beautiful than the day before.

Look at the red climber that shoots up 15 feet and is so thick you can't even see our roofline. It's called Stairway to Heaven and has its own story. (<--If you look back at this old post, you can actually compare how much its grown since then, but that' s not important right now.)

The Disneyland roses start off a beautiful orange color. Orange roses? I know! Slowly, they open up to reveal a fantastic blend of orange and pink. I can't get over them.

I have classic red roses, too. Classic-drop-dead-gorgeous-Cuban-woman-lipstick-and-nail-polish RED.

I kind of wander around my garden like a loon. At this time of the year, even the corners around the yard that I've practically ignored are springing back to life with so much color and beauty that it takes my breath away.

When I say, "practically ignored," I mean "put down in this spot and forgot about it." I picked up this purple, climbing geranium a few years ago to train up on the fence but never got around to the actual planting. (Shut up.) And yet, it continues to reward me. As if to remind me that just showing up is sometimes enough.

So I stroll around the front yard of my freakishly small cottage-like home and I sigh contentedly.

It feels to me like I'm cooperating with God as I look around and feel His presence as I remember the words in Genesis:

"The land produced vegetation: plants bearing seed according to their kinds and trees bearing fruit with seed in it according to their kinds. And God saw that it was good." ~Genesis 1:12

As my land continues to produce, I look around and with a sigh of contentment, think to myself, "This is good."

This is REALLY good.

Lessons from the Garden

My roses are blooming.

All of them. All at once.

And although they look very beautiful,

and some are quite spectacular,

they require my attention. Right now.

And it feels like quite an overwhelming task.

But I'll grab my pruning shears and go through each bush, dead-heading as I go. It's quite a big job when they're all going crazy at once.

I'll spray for bugs, and I'll cut some of the more beautiful ones to bring inside to create a centerpiece.

Once again, God is using my garden as a metaphor for my real life. I have to stop all that I'm doing and pay attention to the beauty that is right under my nose and metaphorically tend to the garden that is my life.

If I don't, I'm going to miss it.

Taking some time off from blogging to enjoy my garden, my husband, my kids, my kitchen, my family. I'll be back in a week or so. With stories. And opinons. And giveaways! But until then, I need to get the pruning shears and get to work.

If you want to connect with My big, fat, Cuban family, the relajo continues over on Facebook.

I also share a slice of my life every day on Instagram. I'm Smrtqbn.

 

The Cocoon

Eric found the cocoon on May 27th.

We had never seen anything like it before. It looked to me like a jade earring with perfect gold flecks. It looked so, so surreal.

"What is that?" We quickly asked Señor Google better known around here as Cuco. =D

A Monarch. Shut. UP!

It took a few weeks for the thing to begin to turn transparent and show us what was inside.

The colors of the monarch butterfly became apparent to us then.

Every day we went out to catch another glimpse of the little miracle hanging from the arm of our patio chair.

On June 13th, the miracle finally happened and the beautiful butterfly slowly emerged.

Lucky for us, he spent hours struggling to get out and dry off and spread his wings. We were privileged to have front row seats (and digital film, of course) to this magical event.

Finally, he lifted off and headed for the flowers to sit and let the sun dry him so he could head off to the next adventure of his short life.

I decided to name him "Andy Garcia," because he was so beautiful. ;-)

The Sprinklers

We have an old house in an old peanut-butter-and-jelly neighborhood.

Our neighbors tell us that before we moved in, this house was the Eyesore of the Neighborhood. (I know. Sad, but true. I'll dig up some "before" pictures of the house one day and blog about it.)

Slowly and tenderly, for the past ten years, we have worked on This Old House and turned it into our home. We lovingly call it Casa de La Loma.

When we moved in, the landscaping (if you can call it that) was just freshly laid sod that we had to hand water because they laid it right over the sprinkler system. (Did I mention it was the Eyesore of the Neighborhood?)

So every evening, Eric and I would go out and take turns watering the lawn. Holding a hose and just aiming it at grass had a zen-like effect on me, and I would work out in my head where I would plant the roses (that would all have fabulous names), and I would pray, and I would mentally design the white picket fence that my husband would one day build for me.  =D

"Maybe we should just get sprinklers."

We came to that mutual conclusion after dinner one evening when we were both tired and were making a rock-paper-scissors decision about whose turn it was to water the lawn. (By the way, I really just like to say the word, "sprinklers." It sounds whimsical to me, somehow.)

Anyway, we got sprinklers.

But we didn't get a timer for the sprinklers, which is a quick and easy set up in this day and age, but that's  not important right now.

(A timer! Why didn't we add a timer? *slaps forehead*)

Let me tell you why....

This forces us to go outside every day to turn them on, right?

Which is something we'd never have to do if we had a timer for the them.

And if we never went outside, we'd miss stuff like this:

And, I don't know about you, but I hate missing a really great show. ;-)

Uber-geek confession: I make everyone who comes over go outside and smell my roses. Is that weird?

"We can complain because rose bushes have thorns, or rejoice because thorn bushes have roses." 

                                    -- Abraham Lincoln

Feliz Pascua!

My garden is fragrant and full of new life.

I am crazy-happy with all of the beautiful colors and of course, torn by the usual dilemma:

Do I leave the flowers on their bushes to bloom and grow and fade naturally? (And therefore let my neighbors enjoy the beauty that is Marta's Garden in the spring?)

 

Or do I trim off some of the gorgeous blooms and bring them inside so that I can enjoy and appreciate them in a close and personal setting and let my family get the maximum benefit? 

Or do I just split the difference? Share some. Keep some. Yes, I think that's best.

As usual, my garden is once again a fitting metaphor, not just for my own personal life, but for the promise of new life that Easter brings.

To all of you faithful MBFCF readers:

Have a happy and blessed Easter.

Now let the heavens be joyful,
Let earth her song begin:
Let the round world keep triumph,
And all that is therein;
Invisible and visible,
Their notes let all things blend,
For Christ the Lord is risen
Our joy that hath no end.
~Saint John of Damascus

Cheaper than prozac

I've been a little down lately.

My roses are not yet in bloom. *sigh*

And the sweet peas and gladiolus have not yet broken through the still unseasonably cold (this is California and it's already March!) ground.

What's a depressed flower-lover like me to do?

Inspired partly by the gorgeous Gerbera Daisies that I used as a centerpiece for my mom's birthday party. 
(BTW, she took those home and quickly had her gardener plant them in her own garden.)

And partly by my own impatience. (she said, sheepishly...)

"It's time for a run to the nursery!"  I declared this loudly and authoritatively so they would know I meant it.

By the time I returned, Eric had already psyched himself up. Jonathan grabbed a shovel.  Lucy grabbed the camera. ;-)

First, we (when I say "we" I mean "Eric") took down the silly fake grapevine that had been hanging over the arch since Adam's birthday party back in July. (I know. Lazy. But I kind of liked it. Don't judge me.)

We (ahem...) planted a pair of climbing roses on either side.

Then we got lots of flats of annual color for the beds.

And deposited a few of those Gerberas in key spots.

My back and my knees are a little sore, (yes, of course I planted too!) but can I just tell you how delighted I am by those spots of color?

I sit and imagine the sweet peas trailing their fragrance over the picket fence and the roses all colorful in their respective corners.  Now I'm completely distracted from the depression that was threatening to overtake me. Instead I'm enthralled by the possibilities that late spring will bring to my garden.

Yes, you may color me HAPPY! 

Is it me?

You know how much I'm loving my white picket fence and so I was thinking how much fun it would be to plant a wall of sunflowers along the fence.  Can you picture it? A little sunflower army lined up to greet us each day. (Okay, well, I was sort of fantasizing about that, but that's not important right now.)

So we planted the sunflowers and they started to grow FAST. Within the first week the little plants each had a couple of leaves and then later that afternoon, POOF! they were gone.  What the...??

I coerced the story confession from our sweet little Mexican gardener (but frankly, after this sunflower incident, I'm going to give a little more thought to his actual qualifications to be a gardener besides just being Mexican and owning a weed whacker). 

He whacked the tiny plants which were planted in the bed in front of the picket fence in an orderly line - he deduced weeds and proceeded to whack my young seedlings into oblivion. 

This is why my line of sunflowers looks like this today: I know. What's wrong with this picture??
 
I know. One SURVIVOR and a dozen more stragglers. 
And yes, he's taller than Jonathan.
So, we went for round two. And here they come!  When the gardeners arrive, I run out screaming for them to turn off the weed whacker and they just smile stupidly, but they don't whack any sunflowers because now they fear for their lives. =D

It's  taller than my almost 6 foot son. 
And I kind of like that it's the only one to made it to adulthood. But there's an entire crop coming right up behind that one, Yes, I caved and replanted. I told you

I. WANT. SUNFLOWERS.

They just make me sooo happy. It's a happy day.  ;-)

I. Hate. Weed whackers. =(
 

Give it a rest.

I was standing at my kitchen sink thinking of the myriad of tasks still unfinished on my to-do list.  These included a bunch of planting and pruning tasks in my garden, not to mention the mess I have going on in my office/studio/classroom right now.

The voice of my Noisy Internal Perfectionist (let's just call her My N.I.P.) was insisting that I get everything completely in order before school starts in a few days.  My N.I.P would not stand for anything less than her perceived perfection (I swear. she is soooo noisy!), but I was still debating between giving in to my need to rest and just listening to her and plowing ahead and therefore burning myself out.

So, I was looking out of the window at all of the undone garden tasks when I spotted a hummingbird apparently enjoying the nectar from one of the bleeding heart vines.  These are the same vines that appear to be dead for the entire winter and always delight me when they return and bloom, but that's not important right now. =D

Hummingbirds and their frenetic wing activity just amaze me.  They never appear to have to stop to rest.

I was thinking this as I ran to get my camera.  (I know....)  ;-)

When I returned to the window, this is what I saw...

It was as if he was very specifically answering my "Do they ever rest?" question.

Once again, God uses nature to humble me. Lesson learned.

Note to My N.I.P. -  SHUT. UP.

Random fun-fact:
The hummingbird is called a "zun-zun" (zoon zoon) in Spanish Cuba.
(I just like the way that sounds. =D)

They only come out at night...

On the 23rd Day of the Month of September in an early year of a decade not too long before our own, the human race suddenly encountered a deadly threat to its very existence, and this terrifying enemy surfaced as such enemies often do in the seemingly most innocent and unlikely of places...

Mission Viejo, California.  =D

I have something to confess.
I have a plant in my garden that I'm a little afraid of terrified to be around.
I know. Stupid.
I try to ignore it. I'm afraid to transplant it. (I don't want to encourage it in any way.)
In fact, I only keep it because my neighbor gave me the cutting and I am being polite.

I know. How lame is that? Besides, where did this neighbor get the cutting? What if he's really a pod person and is handing out cuttings of exotic plants as recruitment tools for his home planet?? (I know. I kind of went straight over the edge there, but that's not important right now.)

It's kind of hideous in an exotic sort of way, isn't it?
And right around this time of year those fascinating, freakish, pinkish tentacle things threaten to bloom.

But here's the kicker: They only bloom at night.  Doesn't this just have all the makings of a horror movie?
Seriously. Not until after 9 PM. And I always forget, so I have to set post-it reminders around myself.

Because when she does bloom, which is always at night, it's quite a spectacular show, in a man-eater-life-threatening-pod-people-from-another-planet kind of way. (Seriously, how well do I really know that neighbor???)

Quite lovely (and scary beyond all reason!) and with a tempting fragrance. (oh sure, they give it a tempting fragrance if they want to attract the civilization they're trying to destroy.!)

I like to call her Audrey II.

She's beautiful, isn't she? In a sort of I-only-bloom-at-night-because-it-fits-in-with-my-plan-to-rule-the-universe way.

So I go out to check on her and she's happily blooming and I can feel a horror movie shriek trying to find it's way out of my throat when I suddenly think I heard her saying: FEED ME!
Or wait...Maybe I've just seen Little Shop of Horrors too many times..... hmmm.

The White Picket Fence - Part Deux

If you've ever done any kind of home improvements, you know that it's like knocking down the first in a long line of dominoes. It's the same wedding-invitation-logic that says if you invite so and so, you must invite the next person and so on and so on.

In this case it started with the picket fence. (which I absolutely LOVE, but that's not important right now.)
Which, of course, mandated a trip to the nursery, because the second part of my Vision for My Perfect Home Exterior involved roses.

But, of course you know that I have certain Rules for Buying Roses:

• They must be colorful.
• They must be fragrant.
• They must have cool and meaningful names.

I got a deep yellow one called Gold Medal - because if picket fence building were an Olympic Sport..... =D
And an almost magenta one with a really super-sweet fragrance called Chrysler Imperial - because of my love of classic old stuff.
The white Icebergs are planted all around the perimeter of Mission Viejo (where we live).
And my very favorite (not just because the blooms are orange and pink and has a lovely fragrance, but seriously, how cool is that??) is this one:

The name?
DISNEYLAND!   ;-)

(I crack myself up.)