IDENTIFYING THE YELLOW TROUT LILLY

A series of essays....

THE YELLOW TROUT LILLY

....as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

Around the time your disillusioned heart was sending messages to the brain declaring total failure, and you recognized a breakdown of all that is good, wholesome, and kind in this world, you were certain that life was beyond hope with nowhere to turn...you happen across the Yellow Trout Lilly. 

She was not only beautiful, but you had absolutely no clue as to how she happened to be there. How long had she been commingling with the lofty periwinkle that thickly blanketed the ground beneath two, large burning bushes? Like two loyal, green soldiers, these bushes have flanked the red brick chimney at the shady, west facing facade of the house for years! You had spent time trying to understand why anyone would plant burning bushes along the deep shadows of your little cottage when it’s understood that the green burning bush requires plenty of sunlight in order to ‘blush’ during the crisp and colorful days of autumn.

So, with the help of your husband, it was decided to rectify the situation and rearrange landscaping that you both had not a single clue as to when or by whom it was planted in the first place. Besides, wouldn’t the physical labor alone be invigorating and ease your mind, momentarily, of the spinning world we live in? Anything can become possible within an incredibly impossible situation. You just have to believe.

Pulling, pushing, digging, and struggling to loosen the main ‘earth root’ of the bush, he, eventually, extracts it from its well-established home only to relocate it to a brighter area along the fence line. Change. Will it survive the move? Only time will tell. And, even if it does, there is absolutely no guarantee that it will decide to ‘blush’ later in the year. But, what have any of you got to lose by trying?

BURNING BUSHES HOPING TO SOAK UP THE PRECIOUS SUNLIGHT

That’s when you first saw her.

As you begin to fill the gaping hole left by the root structure of the burning bush, you see underlying, elongated leaves interspersed with the glossy, green periwinkle kind. Suddenly, you discover the ground is covered in what resembles the markings of military camouflage poking out of the landscape like a school of brown trout weaving their way through an imaginary pond of sparkling green waves that has suddenly appeared along the foundation of the house due to the absence of the bushes. Among the mixed greenery, she stands tall and proud at about six inches above the freshly turned soil.

Invasive. Invasive. Invasive. “Tending to spread widely in a habitat or ecosystem. Tending to intrude or encroach. Of or relating to a disease or condition that has a tendency to spread, especially into healthy tissue,” as explained in the American Heritage Dictionary often used for quick definitions and explanations. Is having an invasive plant such a bad thing? Unless, they are meant to be excluded from a healthy garden of perennial plants that would surely be choked by their existence. 

For you, the Yellow Trout Lilly is meant to be wild and free where she can spread her spotted brown leaves along the ground with wild abandon and produce her shapely yellow flower in early spring; destined to mark the multitude of trails that generously cut pathways throughout the state of Michigan for all to walk along and enjoy. But, it was not expected that she be a part of this landscape. She had not been seen here before now, dwarfed as she was by the green-leafed branches of the burning bushes.

We humans were not meant to live safely among this highly contagious virus that has bounded its way into our unprepared world, invading our lives with its kiss of death as it spreads wildly throughout the land. Like the periwinkle vines or even the burning bushes themselves, the mind can’t help but wander into the invasive world of the Coronavirus that keeps us isolated within our own small, pocket of the universe. Statistics have proven that our isolation is curbing the spread of the virus and working well. Relaxing social distancing behaviors now would be a huge mistake. 

Between your own isolation and the frothed messages created by a disillusioned heart, the mind is foggy, you might say, weakened by the truth. Looking death in the face will haunt your sleep and every waking hour for the rest of your life; even after it’s liquid threat becomes less apparent, your only hope is that enough people do the right thing in a timely manner. 

ONE, TWO, THREE!
SHOWING THREE STAGES OF GROWTH.

YELLOW TROUT LILLY,
HAPPY TO BE SET FREE!

Funny how a deadly virus can invade and change lives so swiftly and yet a petite yellow flower, also categorized as invasive, albeit gradually intrusive, thrive among us without right or permission. How different you both are as you enter our lives for the first time; one to insight panic and fear while the other showers its beauty along the earth like a tiny, living jewel.

Her memorable name becomes your current mantra for all that is good, strong, hopeful, and possible during these long days of isolation and general confusion. Identifying the Yellow Trout Lilly has helped to make life bearable. How fortunate you are to have discovered the power she has to help you coexist with your fears. Nature is a beautiful thing.

Be strong and vigilant. We will get through this...together.

Copyright © 2020 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

SIMPLIFYING A LIFETIME

A series of essays.....

My Personal Library.....Books, Books, Books!!

.....as seen through my eyes!



By: Jacqueline E. Hughes


Is the art of creating a more simplistic lifestyle a product of age, change or the current economic vibe?  A bit of 'all of the above,' perhaps?



Short of being labeled a hoarder, I would categorize myself and lifestyle, under the heading of sentimentalist along with everything this title encompasses and implies! Reasons to shed tears: Romantic movies, NBC's Brian Williams' adoration of all canine creatures, pictures of my children and grandchildren, the rocks I bring home from all of my travels whether domestic or international, classic childhood toys and memorabilia rescued from the youth of my two adult children, and.....BOOKS!  Moving from home to home, as we have done several times in our many years of marriage, was often a nightmare!

Older, wiser and more comfortable in my own skin....I can recall the many 'Boogie-Man,' monster-filled nights I spent as a young girl just lying awake in bed thinking about our latest visit to a certain aunt and uncle's home on a Saturday night.  My aunt would open the front door and guide us along the shaggy, brown path to their kitchen.  This exposed carpeted walkway was lined by two to three-foot stacks of newspapers, magazines, boxes and overstuffed paper bags that saturated the entire room.  I now wonder how many trees sacrificed themselves to become the living room decor of my aunt's home all those years ago.....?!

Once in the kitchen, we were almost able to identify the chrome and vinyl clad kitchen chairs that were positioned around a table completely covered by layers, stacks and piles of familiar products and kitchen items.  My aunt would relieve several chairs of their teetering burdens and allow my parents to have a seat. 

From my vantage point in the corner, I could see a sink full of soiled dishes and the surrounding countertops hosting a display of erratically stacked pots and pans, coffee mugs and glasses that resembled a colorful and creative landscape of miniature mountains and valleys.  Floor areas around the counters and table contained some old, used and even new household items that still remained in their original packaging.  I can't recall blinking while in this house.  My eyes were so overwhelmed and entertained all at the same time!

My aunt's illness consisted and thrived under the concept that all things should be used only once, thrown away (eventually) and replaced by new ones.  This applied to pots and pans, dishes, mops, silverware, sheets on the bed, towels....and so on.  Obviously, the new things overlapped the old and created mass chaos in that humble little house that protected its five living inhabitants from the outside elements, if not from my aunt on the inside. 



The Grimm Family

I may not have understood, at the time, my fears as a young child of five or six, but my basic anxiety stemmed from the innocent realization of wondering if this could happen to my family.  My mother loved her younger sister and never treated our visits to her home as a laughing matter or a side-show at the circus.  I believe she always hoped that our uncle would eventually see past the 'veil of love' he had for my aunt and acquire professional help on her behalf.  Without having my mother to call-up and ask anymore, I can't remember if my uncle ever did.

As I grew older I remember thinking that this gene pool was not one I intended to splash around in any time soon!  Later on, as a young wife and mother myself, even our daughter's toys tossed around our small, Cape Cod living room floor gave me pause and I would scramble around in an attempt to clear the space before dinner thus securing peace of mind. 

I have never professed to being super possessed by the need (or desire) to clean constantly.....trust me!  The dust bunnies multiplied and thrived beneath most of our larger pieces of furniture and I never lost a moment of sleep over them.  Dust gathered on flat surfaces and was left unnoticed until someone would draw a creative rudimentary face by dispersing the dust with their tiny index finger, hmm....!!  This reminded me of that (one) car in the public parking lot screaming WASH ME on its rear window!  The dirty dishes were rinsed and placed in the dishwasher with the pots and pans resting upside-down to air on the drainboard.  Life was simple.  Life was good!



The Siskind Family

My daughters enjoyed clean, comfortable clothes and were never chastised for 'just being a kid' and playing outside in the sand, dirt or piles of Michigan leaves that accumulated in the autumn along our sidewalk deprived back street in the city.  Our priorities as parents consisted of offering positive teaching and sound advice, introducing our daughters to new ideas, food, places, and loving them with as much intensity and pride as we could possibly muster.  If an early afternoon picnic downtown at the Island Park in Eaton Rapids or a visit to the Potter Park Zoo in Lansing usurped cleaning out some accumulated dust bunnies....we enjoyed the time together!

Having entered the age of ballet, guitar, youth basketball, tap dance and piano lessons....with a sprinkling of gymnastics for good measure,  my life was spent in the car going from venue to venue almost every night of the week.  Eventually, middle and high school sports became our priority as wave upon wave of 'bleacher warming' engulfed any free time we had left.  Quite often we were eternally grateful for family and friends to come over for dinner on the occasional open weekend so that it became mandatory to clean our house from top to bottom!!  Entertaining became my timetable and saving grace when it came down to a thoroughly clean home. 

To complicate matters even more, we fell madly in love with a seventeen-room Victorian era house about the time our youngest was five years old.  Selling our small Cape Cod, we moved into this massive  Beauty with stars in our eyes and proceeded to amass seventeen rooms of furniture and untold volumes of memories (and more books) as our girls lived, laughed and played within this space of over 3,500 square feet!

Papa and Brenna

Many grand-scale and imaginative plays were staged and performed in the oversized foyer with its warm, hand-carved oak staircase and switchbacks climbing up to the second floor serving as the backdrop for each scene.  We even came to envision each daughter walking down that staircase on their wedding day with family and friends gathered in the enormous front rooms and foyer to celebrate the happy occasion.

Based upon various circumstances, changes often dictate the new phases of our lives.  Eight years later, we found ourselves downsizing to a comfortable split-level home, open concept, consisting of seven rooms and around 1,500 square feet of living space.  I will not lie....it was pure hell trying to eliminate so much 'stuff' from our lives in order to complete this transition.  It turned out to be cathartic to see many items donated to friends-in-need, others sold in several garage sales and the remaining pieces surrounding us in our new environment on Donegal Street!

Our newer more simplistic lifestyle was a product of change and  produced a lighthearted and independent nature among the four of us.  This was an immense change from our eight-year-old attitude of living for a structure rather than having a structure protect us as we lived in it.  We had become slaves to a home originally built by a lumber baron for his family and based upon his prestige within the community back in 1901.  By creating this change in our lives, we had gained peace of mind! I had acquired a much less complicated home to clean.

Corinne and Alexandria

As time dictates, we became empty nesters all too soon with both of our daughters attending Michigan State University, our own alma mater.  Our hearts were filled with pride and bleeding green and white, our university's school colors, as our youngest was enrolled as a freshman.  My husband secured a new, higher paying  job and, with the economics of the construction industry in Michigan once again on a downward spiral, this was exceptional news for us!  The downside of this was that we would be empty nesting, at the young age of forty-seven, in Orlando, Florida and far, far away from our eighteen-year old daughter.....!

Crazy things began to swiftly happen as a movie being played in fast-motion....sort of the 'Keystone Cop Effect.'  Our oldest daughter, Ali, graduated from MSU winter term and secured an internship with the Walt Disney World Company and moved down to Orlando with her dad.  She helped to open Animal Kingdom in 1998 and was hired as a full-time employee of Disney Wide World of Sports soon afterwards.  I remained at my job in Okemos, Michigan and lived alone at our little house on Donegal as Corinne navigated her freshman year at State. 

The most difficult decision of my life lingered right around the corner when I would have to leave my baby and begin a new chapter of my life in Orlando.  This change in lifestyle may have contributed to a period of depression so deep and painful that the guilt spawned from it lingers with me to this day.  Once a Mom....always a Mom, and there is no denying the physical and emotional affect leaving a child has on a woman. 

Depression, ultimately solving nothing, had to go!  Securing employment with ISSA Homes in Celebration, Florida was amazing therapy.  New faces, new circumstances and new friendships helped out considerably and, after all, I had Dan and Ali around me on this ride. We flew back to Michigan as often as possible and brought Corinne down here for visits.



Courtesy: Tiny House Giant Journey

Now, nearly eighteen years later, and seriously near retirement, yet another simplifying lifestyle change must be made.  Oh, yes....it occupies most of our evening conversations and takes-up a large percentage of our silent thought process throughout the day.  It's not exactly about designing and building our own 'Tiny Home,' after all, or is it?  Could downsizing to, let's say, 550 square feet of living space solve our dilemma?  But what about all of my books?  I am tempted to consider living in a tiny home every time I see one on Facebook.  It's the playhouse I never had as a young girl and....it would be so darn easy to keep clean!! 

This new change is all about our five Grandchildren!  Yes, they all just happen to live back up in Michigan....!  Our heartstrings are plucked as soulfully and lovingly as the strings of a Joe Bonamassa guitar when it comes to missing and loving these five, sweet faces. 

Embarking upon yet another new phase in our lives, Papa Dan and I have some serious sorting out (major purging, as well) to do.  I'm chalking this one up to 'age' with a huge dash of Love and a whole lot of Cuteness stirred into the mix!

The Loves of our Lives

Copyright © 2015 By Jacqueline E. Hughes
All rights reserved

REBIRTH: PROLOGUE

Series of short stories....

Through My Eyes....

By: Jacqueline E. Hughes



The woman sits at the breakfast nook sipping her second cup of coffee of the morning and stares out at the swimming pool which lies beyond the thick panes of glass of the cozy little room. The gentle rainfall is sifted through the screen enclosure and reminds her of confectioner's sugar being used to decorate baked sweets. Instantly her outdoor scene is illuminated by shafts of golden light as the cloud cover parts just enough to allow the glorious sun to take stage front and center. She's been down here long enough now to have witnessed this spectacular scene often and never takes for granted the heavenly merging of water and light that has certainly produced a Kodak moment up in the sky somewhere beyond the roofline of the neighboring houses.

Deftly unscrewing the cover of the carafe in front of her a half a turn, she proceeds to pour herself another cup of the steaming brew while subconsciously humming an old familiar tune. John Fogarty wants to know if she's ever seen the rain coming down on a sunny day? as she twists the cover closed once again. Chuckling to herself, she takes pride in the fact that the music produced in the '60's and '70's thrives today and has gratefully been passed down through the years to remain as popular as ever.

Often she thinks of herself in this same way; produced in the '50's yet thriving sixty-one years later and humming a CCR tune while sitting under an unseen Floridian rainbow. This makes her very happy and a smile slowly spreads across her smooth, unblemished face.

She lifts the coffee mug up towards her and sees the picture of two of her young grandchildren emblazoned in living color on its front.....a perfect gift for Mother's Day. A perfect gift because they live so far away now. Life has changed so much for her within the last twelve months or so, at least how she had come to perceive her life to be. She has never been afraid of change, at least not before last year, that is. For her, now, change has become unbearable at times. After all, she is living in a new, unstable world and lifestyle changes have blindsided her life so often lately.

Gently scooting away from the glass tabletop, the woman walks to the sink to rinse out her precious mug and proceeds to place it in the dishwasher. She knows that Life can be wonderful. Having five adorable grand babies to love proves that. Having an adoring, attentive husband proves that. Knowing that together they have raised two fantastic daughters, also proves how important her life has been for so many others who comfortably reside within it. Doesn't it? She asks herself why does she feel so sad most of the day? Is it normal to be able to smile while thinking of rainbows, music and beautiful babies and then do a one-eighty into the dumpster ten beats later? She thinks that it never use to be that way....... Now, it's a fact of her life.

She notes that the sun has conquered the best efforts of the morning drizzle and is quickly drying off the shell embedded pavers that surround the custom-shaped pool. She remembers how much fun it was to design their pool almost seven years ago and to implement texture and color into the design with good use of tiles, Pebble-Tech finishes and brass Fleur de Lis fountains adorning the backdrop she now associates with having her morning coffee. She remembers the many hours her husband slaved landscaping around the pool deck perimeter as a stone retaining wall was built to contain the earth around the structure because the elevation of the backyard rose some three feet above the level of the foundation of the house itself. At least they could retain the young live oak tree that lives to the right of the pool on a small hill. She's amazed at how that smallish tree now lords over pool, yard and house today.

Grandchildren, pets and armies of small lizards have marched repeatedly along the network of narrow stone paths they created to nurture her desire.....no, her need to assimilate a life in France, complete with a small bistro table and two small chairs glazed over with characteristic rust from living out among the elements for so long. The table is tucked behind the house and resides under the infamous oak tree. She can remember purchasing each one of the cobalt blue ceramic pots of various sizes and shapes that flank the paths offering a visual of deep color on the outside, as well as muted colors from the seasonal arrangements of plants and flowers growing from the aromatic soil within. Often her mantra is "nothing dies in Florida" and she has many resurrected plants to prove this theory considering her thumb has never taken on any known shade of the color green. She chuckles to herself whenever this theory is wishfully applied to humankind. "What an interesting world that would be" is an understatement.

Detecting movement out of the corner of her eye, she turns slightly to see three scrawny squirrels playing a game of tag along the tall fence behind the pool. If her dog wasn't napping under the window in their spare bedroom, he certainly would be, tail wagging wildly, begging her to be 'let out' beyond the massive sliding glass door that separates him from his chattering foe. She harbors animosity toward the critters herself recalling the damage to property they've inflicted by chewing through the plastic water lines of the solar panels up on the roof used to heat the pool. "Those damn rodents!," her husband would shout, secretly wishing a timely demise to each and every one of them. She thinks his Irish intensity is still both sexy and cute and remains a huge part of his charm after all of their years together.

For her, life has become a compilation of positives vs. negatives with her emotions running the gambit from very high to very low in a matter of minutes. And, she knows that because she voluntarily removed herself from working outside the parameter of her home office over eight years ago, whom she believed to be close friends and ex-working associates, blew away in time like crisp autumn leaves in a soft breeze.......like so many things in her life. No one to talk with or pour her heart out to when highs became lows and she needed them most; whenever her soul and spirit craved the understanding and sympathy of another female. She knows that she's always been told what a 'good listener' she is herself which has contributed greatly to her profession. More often than not, she became the listener during rare workday lunches or Saturday morning breakfasts at the airport Cracker Barrel where comfort food and a sympathetic ear were served-up as if both were a part of the restaurant's bulky, extensive menu. But these sessions dwindled and disappeared as 'life' got in the way and everyone navigated towards tiny pockets of family protectiveness as rough economic times began to threaten the security and innocent hopefulness associated with living from day to day. Old friendships just blew apart in the wind.

Taking her wandering thoughts with her, the woman navigates the short hallway that connects the main living area to her working office space. She finds their shaggy housemate is now warming the soft wool area rug that anchors the oversized oak desk and warm leather chair......her second home.......as he patiently awaits her routine arrival. She firmly believes that in the time it takes to drink three mugs of steaming hot coffee and throw her own "pity party" while doing it, she's more than ready to tackle, hmm, twenty-five to thirty solid pages this morning?! If she is lucky......

Copyright © 2014 by Jacqueline E. Hughes
All rights reserved

Photo © 2014 Jacqueline E. Hughes