I've Been Called Worse

I've been called Moco (long story)

I've been called Mama

I've been called Dear Auntie

I've been called Amazon Woman

I've been called Miracle Worker

But I've never been called "Delicate Flower", until now...

As strong and resilient as I have been in the past, it seems I must come to terms with being something I've never been before.

Most people (I think), when doing a 180...when pivoting from the norm..usually have a solid, trust worthy plan in place as to what the next chapter of their lives will look like. They head into it with enthusiasm and with the necessary equipment (mental & otherwise), they foresee needing, in a strange new world they are about to become a part of. 

That just wasn't me...

Yes, I grew up on a farm. Strength and resilience form within, stemming from inside ones mental and physical being. From extreme sweltering heat in the summer and debilitating freezing cold in the winter we rose to the challenge and conquered. A farm girl is up for it. Our bodies adjust to the elements as they knock at the door.

Yes, I was outside at least 12 hours each day. With 30 minutes (to an hour) for lunch. Should the gods smile on us, allowing our strength to replenish for the remaining hours needed to take care of business.

Farm business. Outside business. Business that was necessary to keep the family alive. And we did it without complaint. At least no complaining where any adult could hear us. Okay. Where Dad could hear us. He had a knack for solving a complaining spirit. And, I'm glad he stayed the course...

As the years turned me into a young adult, I left the confines of my training grounds. I was no longer needed outside to work the fields, the log woods, or the milking barn. Dad had begun the process of selling everything because of his failing health, and I was the only child left at home, required to milk (by hand) 20 head of holsteins...before school.

It was at this time, I became an "inside" girl. 

For the most part, it agreed with me. Sure, there were jobs I seriously dreaded facing. Most of them, actually. I hated factory work. I loathed waitressing (at least in the beginning). I did love the connection made with humanity (mostly), and the thanks I received of doing my job well; tips were amazing. This type of job became my norm for many years, mainly because of the freedom it gave me to work as long as I wanted and money was great. Because I was a worker.

Trained by the best. My Dad. Work was not a dirty word. It was a gift given by our Maker.

I left the restaurant & lounge business to train in cosmetology, later becoming a salon owner and stylist. For 50 years. It was a good run.

I don't know when my body decided it was going to start a rebellion against outside work. But it did. Maybe because it had become accustomed to controlled air conditioning in the hot summer months, and wood burning heat in the winter, rarely having to deal with the outside elements. At least not for long periods of time. And now I was asking it to conform back to working in nature, once again, only now with aging resources. 

For whatever reason, what my body had left to give me, decided to build a fire pit inside my core ready to ignite the minute I stepped into the heat of the day (hoping to change my mind) I suppose. If I pushed on regardless, and chose to stay in the heat (working...or just standing), within 15 minutes my skin felt the burn from inside as well as from the outside. Blisters showing themselves proud.

Looking back, I do believe it was telling me that enough was enough. The years this amazing conglomeration of cells, veins, muscles, blood and bone, had given to the cause, now decided it was time for a little R&R. A time for working a little less in the natural heat of the sun, and more in the unnatural cool of an AC. 

The problem with that was when it came time to retire (ugh...I still have a hard time saying that word), my mind was not ready to say, "Okay. You've earned it." My mind was trained to continue even in the hard places. Even when the body is weary. Or hot. Or both.

But change did come.

It has now been a full year, and I think I have finally come to grips with my world looking vastly different. My mind, and my body, have finally come together (while negotiating), and agreed they weren't finished. It was time to live again. Time to reconnect. Time to push until something foundational begins to surface, with both working towards the same goal.

Maybe this "new world" isn't that strange at all. Maybe this unlikely pivot, isn't a time for giving up. Maybe it's time for the culmination of what 79 years on this planet has produced for someone previously known as "Wonder Woman" & "Miracle Worker".

I can work with "Delicate Flower". For a season 😉

As always, here you will find me...in Mary's World.

P.S.

Isn't the next chapter of a book usually better than the one before? 

My Little Mansion...from the Backside

To some, it may not look like much. To me, it's a mansion. 

My little part of the world is loved not because of how it's built, nor because of where it stands. It is loved because I believe it was prepared for us, for this particular season of life.

The homestead waited in a fast moving real estate market, refusing to show what it could be. It waited for us to arrive. It waited for us to decide what we would do, or could do, to change it up, once we said, "Okay." It knew I would resist owning it. The curb appeal was lacking enticement. It knew I would resist the possibilities of what it could be, simply because my heart was set on something a little more grand. It waited for our love to fully arrive.

I'm so grateful for its (and God's) patience with me.

Today, sitting on our backyard swing, enjoying the cool morning breeze as it sweeps Mimosa fluffs past me on their way to anything they can attach themselves to, I snap this picture. 

We've occupied this land for 13 years, paying off the mortgage at the beginning of this year. She's completely ours now. Feels so good. So freeing...

Having recently gotten a face life, our little mansion stands stately, maybe just a little too proudly. She loves her new look, as do I. Like a shiny new penny, she glistens. 

It's been a long time coming, yet she is so very grateful for the years before. It shows in how well she accepts those little nuisances the Mimosa's throw at her, and the gum balls that litter her yard, trying to make her feel less beautiful. And those pine needles! Oh, they do love to gather on her roof, trying their best to smother her breathing capabilities.

But, today? She shines bright! Welcoming those who need a bit of peace. Demonstrating how one can overcome life's little distractions if they but choose to look closer. If they would just take a breath, close their eyes, and listen.

A house is a building of brick and mortar, or in some places, it's a house made of only limbs & straw. It is the people who turn it into a home. A home where those who abide therein, call forth their many talents, created by love. Their creative talents that are meant for such a time as this.

A house that love turns into a home.

Or a mansion. Depends on whose eyes one is looking through.

Being a child that was born during the aftermath of the Great Depression, where soup lines were formed to feed the hungry, and gas was rationed for those who owned a vehicle. I was a child trained under the wisdom of parents who only had what the land could provide for them. "Waste not, want not" was a mantra in our household. We were grateful for the food put in front of us, never questioning if there might be something more (or different)...never realizing just how "poor" we were. 

I was a child that got giddy with excitement when her dad said, "Go ahead. Reach into my pocket and however much your hand can pull out is yours." Pulling out only one dime felt like I had just won the lottery. Most days, it meant we could go for ice cream after chores.

This child looked at the world a bit differently than what I have observed in this day and age. Times have indeed changed. Or maybe it's just that I have grown up and have been granted more than what was experienced as a child. But I will never forget my roots. I'll never forget the life lessons taught as one growing up knowing self-sufficiency. 

Regardless of life's pitfalls, my heart is full of gratitude for the life given me, and the provision that is always right in front of us...waiting to be accepted. The ups, the downs, the hardships, the fears, the hopes, the down right disappointments, at times. All of it. 

God always sees us through the difficult times and rejoices with us in the good times. His hope is that we will trust in his provision, especially when all our eyes see is lack. Do what we are able and leave the results up to Him. 

We only need to keep our eyes open to see beyond the "curb appeal" as to what can be, if we but put our hands, and our hearts to the task. God provided, now let's see how to make it our "mansion."

As always, here you will find me...in Mary's World.

#mylife #myjourneyamongtheunseen #grateful #theforgottenway #seeingbeyondthenatural #Godprovides 

It Started with a Dying Azalea Bush

Funny how one thing leads to another.

It was a bush I was fighting to keep, only because it partially hid a bedroom I didn't want passersby to see into. It was becoming pretty straggly, even after D trimmed it back. It was old. It was tired. I understood.

One day, a couple of weeks ago, Dennis took me out to look at a gaping hole that had eaten its way into the front of the bush. I knew it was time. So we called our guy that had helped set a foundation for the incoming greenhouse around this same time last year. 

As Andrew looked the front of the house over, and after I had shared my vision with him, he said, "You know what would make the landscaping look really great?" In unison, he and I both said, "Paint the house."

I just looked at Dennis. He knew. We've had this discussion for several years now, but neither of us wanted to spend what it would cost to do something so time consuming. But that dang Azalea bush was now demanding something change quickly.

Plans were drawn up, and approved. A long-time neighbor of ours gave Dennis the phone number of a friend of his who has been in the painting business for 20 years, or so, and we dove headlong into a complete home make-over. Exterior only. Full house power-wash and paint job, and then front landscaping. It was time. Past time, actually. 

The painter and his power-washing guy, was first on the list, while our landscaper drew up a precise design, and had his crew make a trip out to pull all remaining bushes from in front of the house. It had to be a clean sweep of all things bushy. Now the painters had full access to the house.

Side Note: If you have ever thought about power-washing your house and driveway, but thought it an unnecessary project, you should reconsider. I was amazed at the difference it made. Everything (and I mean everything) looked so fresh and clean! Top to bottom. Even the screened in back porch. Everything looked almost new, with a 1900's vibe.

Time for the paint to show us what a difference it could make on an old house desperately needing....something. Choosing the "just right" paint color was a decently difficult task. After several considerations, we settled upon a color called "Cityscape" from Sherwin Williams. We had never met the guys assigned the task, but they were thorough, detailed, and so very friendly. What a job they had! We have a fireplace, so the brick on the chimney had to be painted as well. They made quick work of it, though, and was finished sooner than I had imagined possible. Everything had to be gone over twice. Once for the prepping and putting on a primer, and then the actual paint.

Rain got in the way a couple of days, but all is well that ends well. Right? We had to reschedule our landscaper, but he was facing the same rain issues with a previous job he was trying to get done. So it all worked out just fine.

I will get to water the newly planted trees and bushes, every morning for at least 2 weeks, simply because they were put in the ground a bit late. No worries, though. Even with watering (front and back yard together takes about an hour), I still go out a couple (or 3) times a day and just look at everything. It's so refreshing to see our house looking a bit more like the neighborhood. Well...SOME of the neighborhood. 😂 

The custom made shutters will go up when they arrive, and then....we will be done. I think. I hope. 

I did take a pretty cold shower a few minutes ago. Which can mean only one thing. Our tankless heater is about to retire. UGH!!! 

Let me know what you think of the before and after pics, below. Quite a difference. Yes?

As always, here you will find me...in Mary's World.

P.S.

Shutters hung and I'm questioning the stain color of choice. Hummmmmm....They may end up being re-stained black. We shall see. We shall see. 

What do you think? Let the dark brown shutters stay? Or stain them black?

BEFORE PIC

BEFORE PIC

BEFORE PIC:

Now that you know these are the "BEFORE" pictures... This is the Azalea bush that started it all. That and the rotting shutters you see behind it. 

Poor little house. I'm so sorry we ignored your needs for so long.

ARGGGHHHH... Can you believe the condition of those shutters? I'm sorry you have to see how your retired hair stylist let her house become something you might see on the "wrong side of the tracks." But life can be messy at times.

Time had come to let go of a bit of the money meant for retirement. Change had to happen at some point. Agreed? 🤦‍♀️ 

Just call me the tight wad that lives down the street.

And now, for the AFTER pictures. Please proceed with a tiny scroll...

AFTER PICS

AFTER PICs

AFTER PICS

South end of the house (where the dying Azalea bush was), now stands a Japanese Bloodgood Maple. Sorry about the light reflection on my camera lens. Makes it a bit hard to see.

These are only babies waiting to show us their full beauty. They are so pretty! So amazingly beautiful! 

North end of the house where other bushes were...some not so bad, others needing gone. So we had them all taken out so Andrew could work some magic for us. 

It's so fun going outside now, and just looking at the house.

Neighbors must be thinking that's a bit weird. That's okay. I like weird. Occasionally...

Front view of the house (now that I'm not embarrassed to show it). 😏😆

Unless one stretches the picture, it's hard to tell this used to be a red brick house. Partially. Some siding.

Soooo...dark brown shutters, or black???

Comment below. We all have an opinion. What is yours?

First the Natural...

In just a couple of days, I'll be another year older than this time last year, and although my mind tells me I haven't aged since 1987 (when mid-life hit), my body tells me otherwise. "Yes, my dear. You most certainly can now be identified as an 'elder' ready to stock pile Tylenol."

Although I still do well in the day-to-day, a different story emerges when my intelligence tells me I can still do the work I did as a 40 year old person. I don't particularly like being wrong.

We started a project last Wednesday (May 20th) and are set to finish it by this coming Tuesday (June 2nd), which just happens to be my birthday. We're calling it Mary's Final Wishes...only because it puts a decently sized hole in our budget. There won't be any more wishes this size, for sure.

There's one final touch to complete, then all is done! Hopefully. I may need to gather side items, but nothing as dramatic as this project has been. There may be before and after pictures, later, when things are completed. No promises...just thoughts hanging out in my head this morning.

But, like most posts of mine, this one is no different, in that what you just read is similar to most others. What I began with has nothing to do with what is mainly on my mind. Welllll....maybe a tiny bit. But not much more than that. 

Don't try to figure me out. Dennis has tried for 51 + years, to no avail.

While working on my Planner for the upcoming week, I noticed an encouragement, a challenge of sorts, I had written to myself just last week. Since retirement, I have gotten really lazy. Seriously! Well, lazy in my eyes. I haven't completely stopped moving, but it's getting too close for comfort now. 

Thus, the picture for this post. Bet you were wondering, right? I'm tellin' you ladies (and guys), once you stop being, stop doing, what you've done for eons of time, the Devil's Workshop shows up. We settle in and rest from all the busyness of past years, only to wake up feeling a bit useless. At least I have. It has taken me a full year to get my mojo back and now my body is screaming at me for ignoring it. UGH!!!

Life with purpose is coming back to a life well lived. A life filled with challenges amongst the pleasures. The year of a slate wiped clean is beginning to find actions put to the words written upon it...once again.

There's simply no one to blame, but myself, and since I am used to blaming Dennis for everything, I have been (for the last year) wallowing in my own demise. 

Note to Self: Transformation comes only after the physical is challenged.

Here's to forward movement!

As always, here you will find me...in Mary's World.

Shadows That Don't Move

I can tell when I have too much going on in my head. Too many concerns. Too many anxious thoughts. 

I do have them from time to time. This is one of them. So, now I'm up at 3:33 AM holding my head in my hands. It's not that I WANT to be up at 3:33 AM. It's just that when my body woke me as nature called, my mind picked back up where it left off last night while preparing to retire for the day. I told it not to, but, alas...it apparently has a will all its own.

Trying to distract my ever active brain, this early morning, I scheduled 3 months worth of Dr. Livingood's supplements. No worries...the last go-around was about to run out. After patting myself on the back, I ventured into the kitchen for a second cup of coffee, and remembered I thought I had heard Dennis washing his hands about 15 minutes earlier, but he was not up and around that I could tell. Better go check on him, since hearing what sounded like moaning come from an area close to his bathroom.

Walking down the hall, now, to set the coffee on it's heating pad in the study because it takes priority over making sure D is okay. Done. Now to check in on Dennis. Heading to his bathroom, I hear another noise and now fears began their job of worst case scenarios. All is mostly quiet (as it should be at this hour), a shadow emerges from the left side of my peripheral vision. D's bathroom is on the right. 😳😳😳

I don't think I have EVER, in my entire life, lifted to a boxing stance. Intruders, take notice. Both arms fixed in place, much like a real life professional boxer. Ready! Come at me!!! Adrenaline doing its best to keep me level headed, I did not scream. Another phenomenon... 

Screaming is my normal response to surprise. ANY surprise. I just scream. 🤷‍♀️ Loudly...

Still in position to knock the shadow out, it steadies itself by standing very still. All I could see was the shadow of a decently large being. Where's the scream???!!! Lodged inside somewhere, I suppose. But that shadow came really close to having a bloody nose, which, I am pretty sure would have reciprocated with a similar action. OMG!!! Could you just make yourself KNOWN???!!! 

Of course not. That would have been way too easy. We don't do easy in this house...

Synopsis: Mind cleared. Ready to start the day, now.

As always, here you will find me...in Mary's World

P.S.

One decently large shadow for sale.

The Prater Name Tells All...

 

I've heard this to be a true statement, more times than I can count. The curiosity comes from why I am told this. Why is this something I need to hear? Is it because I like to talk...maybe a little too much?

Years ago, I sent off a DNA test for a look-see into our family history. Ancestry.com turns out to be an amazing site. Oh wow! So many interesting surprises coming down from my ancestors. 

One that intrigued me was the meaning of our last name. "Prater: the one who talks a lot." 🥴

Well...that puts things in perspective. LOL So, is there simply no hope that we Praters will ever experience wisdom? I'm going to say that cannot be a true statement. Completely, at least. I know of a significant amount of people baring the Prater name that have wisdom coming out their pores. 

While it may be true that the quiet is able to attain more wisdom, simply by listening, I can agree...but simply not as a stand alone truth. If one does nothing but talk, leaving no air space for anyone else in the room, how do they learn anything about those who are not talking? For which I need to apologize for this past weekend in the mountains. You know who you are...

But, questions were asked that took more time to answer than a mere sentence or two. However, I do wish I had shortened those sentences. I do wish I had heard more of the stories of those sitting quietly. I had questions, too. Their answers were much shorter than mine...even though one of them had Prater blood flowing through his veins. Must not have been a significant amount. Maybe more Johnson blood? I need to find out what THEIR name means. Hmmmm....

Looks like I still have work to do...

As always, here you will find me...in Marys World.

Stories for the Generations

MOTHER'S DAY 2026! 

It's a day that brings moms into the limelight. A day that recognizes if it weren't for mom's, this world would eventually die. Mom's built this world, in a sense. Am I right?

I've wished, so many times, to be able to hear my Momma's voice again. To be able to see her standing in front of me. Being able to visit, like we rarely were able to do during my growing years.

This year, my Mother's Day gift from our girls was unique. A gift I wish my own mom could have made use of. I had never heard of Remento before today. Created by a very inspired and talented young man, specifically for his mom, is now offered to the masses. How cool is that?!

A message from Lindsey & Warner and Meghan & Reagan...was tucked inside the intro. "I'm gifting you Remento so that we can have a book of your best stories. Simply talk to share your memories...no writing is needed! Together, we'll create a life story book that captures your voice and memories for generations to come."

At first, I was a bit concerned. Concerned that I wouldn't be able to come up with anything, or with things they would want to know about. But then...Remento (and Lindsey) has made it soooo easy by giving "prompts" for what the girls would like to know about. Meg may also be in on this, just didn't see her name in the collaboration section. Maybe she'll be feeding Lindsey questions she'd like answered, and along with Lindsey's, the stories will happen. 

I'm pretty excited about this. I can either do an audio, or a video of what I want for the day. My choice. Which is great...cause some days I'm pretty chill and the evidence shows in the mirror. 😁 Thankfully, it will only be 3 days a week. I can do that. Yet, I think I did read where I could record anytime I want. Doesn't matter how many times a day, or how many days. The prompts never go away. I can even hit "pause" if I get distracted (which is likely), and get back to it when I'm ready to.

Remento will save all my stories, videos, and audios...to be compiled into a book at the end of the first year of recording. I can upload pictures of years gone by, or anything I want. They may even get to see some of my beautiful flower garden projects. What an amazing idea!!!

In book form, each story that has taken the audio (or video) and put into written words, will also have a QR code that will give access to the video (or audio..whichever I've chosen that day) for that particular session. See what I mean?!!! 

Hopefully, this will be a cherished book, as it says, "for generations to come." I may be gone, but my girls (and their girls) will always have access to me...through this very thoughtful gift. Memories fade, but now they don't have to.  

Thank you, my beautiful girls!!!

As always, here you will find me...in Mary's World