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Journal for Christa-

We've spent a few days in southern Ilinois at my mom's. We walk to the road and back up the hill a couple of times each morning to stave off the damage of country cooking. In summer the orange daylilies bloom wild along the creek edges and roadsides. They aren't hybrid or fancy like the ones in our garden, but they're hardy and prolific, kind of like the farm stock of my heritage.

I always breathe easier here--quite literally because the humidity is just healthier than the harsh, dry Colorado climate. But, I could always breathe easier here--in many ways.

When our kids were little, I slept late. I never had to be out of bed when they woke up. They weren't looking for me anyway, not here. They always rose to find my dad sitting at the kitchen table with his morning cup of coffee, and mom at the stove, frying up bacon, eggs, and gravy with biscuits. And if it hadn't been for the lure of the bacon, I mighty not have roused at all.

There was always stuff-interesting stuff-to do here: feeding pigs, catching fish, riding the tractor, hunting for turtles with their dad--a place of fun, a place of love, a place of peace.

So, even though each daylily only blooms for a day--as they smile in their abundance, they make the path they line a wonderful place.