My Happiness Zone

I am a country girl. I loved my neighborhood when I lived in Crossett, but I wanted to be back in a place where it was just a short walk to the cow pasture or the woods. I am also a gardener. My old yard was years in the making, and when I left it, it was still not finished. My pride and joy was a huge two level water garden complete with Japanese Koi who were my babies. I had some withdrawals when I left that huge unfinished project.

When I moved, I began by transplanting my Mama Maggie's roses and my Granny Jett s irises. Once again, I had my project. I am moving a little more slowly building this garden. The yard is still speaking in the language that only people who love to help nature compose her song can understand. What needs to go where has yet to be decided, but a few things are falling into place.

The clematis vines on either side of the steps that I like to call the twins even though one is larger than the other are starting to bloom white stars that look like they fell from the heavens. The phlox by my mom's house is coming to the end of its bloom and is dropping purple petals into the shade of the maple tree. The crepe myrtle that was the first thing I bought has finally come into its glory. It stretches tall over the top of the house, and the thing I lamented because I thought it would never happen has begun; its branches are now bending into graceful arches of pink clusters. It's purple and red baby brothers have not caught up with it's growth, but I have faith that they will soon. I love these small glimpses of what could be, but one area perplexes me.

Next to my house is a huge maple tree that instead of being trimmed and tamed was let run riot as it grew. Next to it are a semi-circle of smaller maples and mulberries. The branches of these trees form a place where I can be surrounded by a tiny forest. Where I can sit in shade and see out, but others can't see in; my spot of solitude in a busy world. I have wondered what to plant there. Should I build raised flower beds or not? Would anything grow in all that shade? I don't know. And, for months I have pondered what to put there.

As I walked through the yard tonight with Stormy, my trusted canine companion, I looked at the sky over the trees that grow on the edges of what used to be the cow pasture and found beauty there in the simplicity of trees and grass and sky. It didn't need anything else to be perfect. The sky was painted the perfect shades of pink, blue, and purple. The giant oaks were a dark almost black green against the pastel sky, and the grass was a paler wispy base to my piece of heaven. I thought about what my Papa Jack must have seen when he first considered buying this land, and I think it must have looked close the the same. Perfect. Peaceful. A place where a person can make a good life.

I think I'm going to stop worrying about what goes under those trees.

The Dating Game

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single teacher in possession of good students must be in want of a husband. (Paraphrase Jane Austen).

The first week of school is always a little slow as kids catch up with each other and with what has happened to their teachers during the summer. As some of you know, there is a a group of my students that I fondly refer to as the Ms. Rounds Manhunt Society. Well, today the tenth grade chapter decided it was time for a meeting in my second period class.

In the middle of impromptu speeches about what happened this summer and one girl telling how she had broke up with one boyfriend and promptly picked up another, I hear a voice asking, " Ms Rounds have you found a man yet?"
I almost had time to give my normal reply of "you know I don't need another pet" before I start hearing discussion of my lack of a husband and students questioning why would you ask that. So instead I told the class that several members of the Society were in the room.

The conversation continues as follows:

Student 1: I found you a new guy that I'm going to set you up with.

Student 2: Who is it.

1: Billy Goat. (No. Really, this is the real name!)

2. Oh, you'll like him. He's nice.

Me: Seriously? His name is Billy Goat.

1: It's his nick name.

Me: (incredulously) Billy Goat? OMG.

Chorus of He's awesome. He's really cute. You'll like him. ( It seems several people in my class know Mr. Goat)

Me: (Looking very perplexed) Guys, really. This getting out of control.

1: You should let us set you up. He's got a really nice house, and drives a Corvette.

Me: (because they know I love fast cars) Hmmm....a Corvette. Tell me more.

Everyone laughs.

1:  I know you just saying that to be funny, but you know we are going to find you a man.

Bell rings. Yeah! I'm saved from the Manhunt Society by the bell.

1 and 2 on the way out the door. Maybe we should set her up with.........

And so it continues........

The Day Before

It's the day before school starts, and the doubts are rolling in like the ocean waves I wish I was standing in today. Did I get everything ready? Do I have enough planned for the week? Am I really ready for this?

I am sitting here thinking about the list of things to print in the morning. My class rosters,  the sign up form for the office, and myriad other things that teachers have to do. It will all get done, but if it doesn't will they know? Of course not.

Tomorrow, they will be in a world of what changed this year?  Who's new today? Talking to friends that have only been a text for three long months. Absorbed in the business of being teenagers, they will just be excited to be back.

I am going to enjoy watching the ebb and flow of chaos settle into the routine of learning. The dance of the teenage hormones that is highlighted by makeups and breakups will play out to the tune of crying on my shoulder or anger in my classroom or elation that the special someone finally asked me out. The I can't do this; I got my phone out because I was finished; and my reminding them from across the room that the only reason one smiles at one's glowing lap is because the phone is out. 

The madness of 150 teenagers a day is about to erupt into my life again, and if I said I dread it, I would be lying to you. Bring on the groans because we are reading Shakespeare today, the I can't think of anything to writes, and the he said he doesn't love me anymores (as if ninth graders know about love). I am ready for it all. It's time to bring the Timberwolves back.

Stress, Stress, and more Stress!

As most of you know, I am in the process of moving my classroom, Well, it's nine days until school starts and my room is still not ready. In fact,  the blue wall just got a third coat of paint. I had the joy (this is sacrasm in case you missed it) of watching it go on the wall. I am moving today anyway. Before I leave school today, I will have all of my stuff in that room.

 I am determined.

 I will probably have a major meltdown also.

I have been in full avoidance mode of all the stress that is circling me trying to find a place to land. It's birds that are picking little chunks out of me every time I let them get close. I think last night the next to last bird landed. Today's bird may be the one that finishes me off. The good thing for me is writing is my way of dealing with the birds. It helps me banish them back to the trees. 

The room kicked off my summer of stress, but last week I got news that I did not want to hear. I know the woman I had always considered my extra grandma was nearing the end of her life. She has been suffering from dementia, not eating, the normal signals of the end nearing, but as humans we always manage to avoid thinking about these things. Last week the word cancer reared its ugly head. She has it in her liver-a rather large tumor that has enveloped half of he liver- and in her lungs. There is no hope of treatment. I still managed to avoid the pain that comes with these pronouncements and shoved the thought to the back of my mind.  Last night, it came back full force.

The trigger for this was finding out that a friend's mom also has cancer. Seeing the pain that she is going through made it all but impossible to hide from mine. Mini-meltdown. The birds started landing. 

I realized that in a few short weeks I will probably be attending a funeral for a woman I love dearly. No more trips to the big house in the woods. No more stopping at every yard sale we see. No more being griped at because I said a bad word, and her lecturing me that it's simply not lady-like, that I should know better because I am better than that. 

I know that Monday, if the furniture is not moved to my new classroom, if I am two days from open house with a room that looks like a nuclear bomb was dropped, the last bird will come home to roost, and I will disolve away under all this stress and a fountain of tears.

Today is another mini-meltdown.

 But there is also that still small voice at the back of my mind that is saying "Why are you not letting me carry this load for you?" 

Today, I am ready to let You have part of this. Today, I am ready to lean on someone who is bigger than my stress. Today, I am giving this mess I call my life to God and leaning on Him again to carry me through all of this hurt and stress, because after all I am still His, and He still loves me.