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The late comedian George Carlin had a very clever routine about our desire to collect stuff — and then the lengths we go to to find a place for our stuff. I should have listened to that funny, but insightful monologue long before I finally paid full attention to the point he was trying to make with humor. I’d have wasted much less money during the years and caused myself much less stress in the long run.

The lesson really came home for me in September, 2005, when a tornado (a spin-off from Hurricane Rita) hit one end of our home. John and I were the only ones here at the time. He saw the funnel cloud approaching, ran inside (he had a hard time opening the door because the pressure was already building), and ducked with me into the central bathroom we always hide in during tornado warnings (a fairly common occurrence in Arkansas, particularly in the spring). We’d barely gotten into the room, hadn’t even had a chance to close the door, when the twister hit. It was noisy and scary and happened so fast I’d hardly  realized we’d been hit before it was gone, taking one end of our house and two outbuildings with it, as well as knocking over many of our trees and damaging other parts of our house.

We were so fortunate. We were not hurt. Our daughter, who was on her way for dinner in a little Saturn coupe and missed driving into the tornado by only minutes, was unharmed. We lost a lot of stuff, mostly lawn and garden equipment and the things we’d stashed in those outbuildings because there was no room for them in the house, but our most treasured possessions survived (most of which wouldn’t have been considered valuable to anyone but us). Our dealings with our insurance company were only slightly stressful, though the months we spent entangled with The Contractor From Hell, as we refer to him, were a nightmare we thought would never end (and required the assistance of our attorney to finally settle).

Fourteen months after the storm hit, our house was mostly back in one piece (there are still a few minor things we need to repair), and we’d replaced the stuff that needed replacing. But the mental picture of all those broken “things” scattered across our yard stayed with me. All junk now, even though I’d thought at one time that I just had to have them. I thought of Carlin’s description of a house — a pile of stuff with a cover on it. And I began to take stock of the few material things in life that I truly value.

I treasure the things that have sentimental meaning to me. Photos. A couple of trinkets that belonged to my grandparents and great-aunts. A little package-shaped music box my mother bought me in a Branson gift shop and on which she wrote a happy birthday message to me. My great-aunt’s charm bracelet (none of it real gold, but she loved it, and so do I). My grandmother’s glass juice bowl. My grandfather’s broken key chain with his initials on it (same as my married initials). My mother’s favorite china teacup. My husband has a few similar treasures from his late grandparents and father.

We have a large, fireproof safe that would be very disappointing to any thief who managed to break into it; it’s filled with childhood photos of my kids, legal paperwork and a couple of things passed down from my husband’s father and my mother. None of it is worth much in terms of money, but they mean a great deal to us. And yet, if we lost it all, and still had our family, we’d be okay. The memories would still be there, even without the things that trigger them.

My wood-artist husband has made many things for me — beautiful bowls and vessels and pens and Christmas ornaments — but one of my most treasured pieces is the one in the photo above. Using a modified stained glass pattern and wood he rescued from a discard bin, he cut all those little pieces on his scroll saw and assembled them to make an art deco-ish piece for me. It sits on a little brass easel on my mantel. I call her “my lady.” Looking at her makes me happy, which should be the point of all our possessions, no matter what their material value.

Thanks for stopping by. May you find pleasure in the little things in your life during the upcoming week.

September kicks off my absolute favorite season. Fall. We’ve had a rather mild summer in Arkansas, which was nice, but it’s still a joy for me to welcome the beginning of a new season. The evenings are growing slightly cooler, the days a bit shorter. My hummingbirds are draining the feeder, preparing for their long flight south. There’s something a little different about the way the shadows fall across the patio in the afternoons. It’s football season — and I am a huge football fan, especially SEC college ball (I was up until a ridiculous hour this morning watching the surprisingly exciting LSU/Washington game). I also watch NFL games when they’re on. My husband and I will head for the hills when the leaves start to turn, making day trips into the Ozarks and the charming Mountain View area. The “Bambi” I snapped above is probably not as enthusiastic about this season, but I do love watching wildlife on fall strolls on local hiking trails (I took this shot in Cade’s Cove near Gatlinburg, Tennessee).

One of my favorite television commercials shows a dad giddily riding a shopping cart through an office supplies store while “The Most Wonderful Time of the Year” plays and his two children sulk through a back-to-school-shopping outing. As cute as it is, I can’t quite identify with those kids. I always liked going back to school, and I think my kids did too, despite the obligatory grumbling. I loved back-to-school shopping. New binders and folders and pencils and lunch boxes. I still remember a couple of back-to-school dresses my mother made for me when I was in elementary and junior high school.

We always did our back to school shopping at the Sterling Store. Mother worked in the Sterling Stores home office from the time she graduated high school in 1950, eventually serving as the president’s secretary, and was still employed by the family who owned those stores at the time of her death in 2007, 24 years after Sterling Stores went out of business. I loved going to the Sterling Store in Benton, Arkansas to pick out my school supplies while Mother visited with the long-time store manager, Mr. Hanvey.

Then it was time to shop for my own kids. And I found that I still loved helping them pick out new binders and folders and pencils and crayons and backpacks, carefully sorting and labeling everything the night before the first day of school. I discovered how expensive it could become, which made me appreciate even more the sacrifices my sometimes-struggling parents made so we could have the basic necessities. But even having to count pennies sometimes, I enjoyed the ritual. I still smile when I see the colorful displays of school supplies at WalMart, and I miss outfitting my kids for the new year. I asked my son several times during the last few weeks if he needed to go back-to-college shopping, but all he did was pick up one notebook and say, “That’s all I need.” “No markers or crayons or superhero folders?” I asked with a sigh. He merely patted my head — something he does a lot now that he’s 6’1″ (compared to my own almost 5’4″).

So, even though it’s still officially summer with quite a few hot days ahead, I look forward to those first nippy mornings, the first fire on the hearth, the first sign of color in the now-green leaves. And because it has to be said — Go, SEC! (With apologies to all my friends in other conferences).

September 1 — wow. The year is slipping past quickly!

The winner of this month’s drawing for the two connected paperbacks, THE GROOM’S STAND-IN and THE BEST MAN’S PLAN is Lucero Hernandez of California. Congratulations, Lucero.

The October 1 drawing will be for a two-novels-in-one-volume prize. Click the Enter to Win! tab above for details. And remember, if your name wasn’t drawn this month, you’ll have to enter again to be eligible for the new drawing.

We live on ten acres of land and the whole family loves fresh summer vegetables. One would think we’d have had many gardens in the twenty years we’ve lived here. One would be wrong. I suppose the fact that we haven’t is my fault, mostly. I don’t enjoy gardening. I hate pulling weeds. Don’t like getting hot and sweaty. But this year, we tried something new — container gardening on our patio. My husband’s sister recommended the method — potting soil and a panty-hose leg full of fertilizer are placed in a large, lidded plastic storage container. Water goes into a PVC pipe sticking out of the top and is captured in a reservoir in the bottom of the container. The plants are inserted through X-shaped holes cut into the container lids. No weeds, no kneeling, quick and easy watering, we’ve had little problem with bugs — it’s great! I understand instructions for setting up the containers are on-line (hubby took care of that part).

We planted tomatoes, cucumbers and green and orange bell peppers. We’ve had some very nice tomatoes, with more growing now. A few cucumbers, though those plants haven’t exactly thrived. Still, I had a crunchy little cucumber in my lunch salad today, along with one of the tomatoes, and it was delicious. The bell peppers have been very successful; I harvested three big green peppers and three orange ones earlier today, and there are tons of them still growing on the plants. Considering that bell peppers are about a buck-fifty each in the store, we’re quite proud of ourselves. I particularly love them cooked on the grill in kabobs. I should have some to freeze for winter cooking.

We’ve learned a few things about container gardening that we’ll adjust next year, but it’s actually been fun. I like picking the fresh veggies (and yes, I know tomatoes are technically a fruit, but still … ) without even stepping off the patio, lazy “gardener” that I am. And I love eating them.

I suppose I could make this post fit the writer’s theme of my blog by talking about taking the seed of an idea, feeding and watering it and nurturing it into a full-grown story … but no. That’s stretching the metaphor way too far. Today’s post is simply about the unexpected pleasure my husband and I found this summer in our easy-to-grow container garden. Have you been surprised lately with one of life’s little joys?

Only three more days until the drawing for this month’s prize of two connected books. Click on the Enter to Win! tab above for details on how to enter. And remember, everyone who isn’t drawn this month will have to re-enter for next month’s prize, to be announced September 1.

We had an absolutely gorgeous weekend in Arkansas. The temperatures were in the mid-80s, the humidity was low, the skies were clear; it would have been a shame not to take advantage of that unseasonably pleasant lull to do something fun. So, my husband, son and I decided to attend an Arkansas Travelers baseball game Saturday evening. The Travelers are a minor league team who play out of North Little Rock’s beautiful new Dickey-Stephens Park on the banks of the Arkansas River looking across to the Little Rock skyline. The new park opened in 2007, and we’d yet to visit — hadn’t seen the Travs play in several years, actually — so this seemed like a good opportunity. The weather was perfect, the Travelers won 8-1 over San Antonio (with two exciting home runs), my husband indulged in nachos, I had cotton candy, and our son downed a funnel cake and a box of Cracker Jacks. We had a great time.

I loved the ambiance of the outing. The raucous choruses from the organ. The cheers and hoots of the crowd. The clash of inflatable “thunder sticks.” The smells of beer and popcorn. The gradual fade of sunny afternoon into under-the-lights nighttime. The kids in their baseball caps who gazed at the field and dreamed of pitching a no-hitter or crowded the railings hoping to catch a foul. The adults who cited statistics and swapped stories of great games past. The costumed mascot (“Shelly” — a buck-toothed horse) who posed with children and waved when they shrieked his name. The golden retriever, Jake the Diamond Dog, who carried water to the umpires in a basket, then cheerfully fetched bats and balls during the game. All the silly contests (banana races? mascot race?) between innings. Talk about a relaxing evening away from the stresses of everyday deadlines and chores!

Watching the players amble onto the field and warm up for the game, it occurred to me that they were, in effect, arriving at their office ready to go to work. It’s an interesting way to make a living, playing a game for other peoples’ enjoyment. But then, I suppose some people consider making up stories to be an odd way to pay one’s bills. I couldn’t hit a home run to save my life — my one summer on a girls’ softball team many years ago was a painfully humiliating experience (my lack of natural athleticism was coupled with an embarrassing tendency to faint in the hot summer sun out there in right field). I’m sure there are plenty of skilled ball players who couldn’t complete a novel. And yet, in the long run, those diverse careers serve the same purpose — they provide entertainment and escape, and I choose to believe that both have a valuable place in our busy and often-too-serious lives.

I hope you are able to take advantage of the next beautiful day in your life to have a little fun and escape your troubles. And if you choose to escape into a love story, don’t forget that DIAGNOSIS: DADDY, my Silhouette Special Edition, is on the shelves for only a few more days! (How’s that for a transition into blatant self-promotion?)

One more week until the drawing for the two autographed, connected paperbacks from my backlist, THE GROOM’S STAND-IN and THE BEST MAN’S PLAN. Click the Enter to Win! tab above for details on how to enter.