OPENING

As Pete and I readied our home and various hand-crafted creations for our first ever open house, we made some important self-discoveries. I (Leenie) am, by nature, a private person and, by temperament, an introvert. Pete carries the ball, socially speaking, most of the time for our duo. 

But one thing we share in common is an intense love of and appreciation for our home. We love it on the messy, chaotic days of newborns and toddlers, and we love it on the, admittedly rare, days of sublime order and clean, uncluttered surfaces, neatly made beds, and shiny, smooth floors. It's all good for us because it is home, a place of people-before-things, a haven and creative workshop in one, and the gathering spot of our most beloved and favorite people on the planet. This works for us.

However, as we sorted stacks---of books and magazines, socks and containers, seeds and shoes---we looked around with more critical, metaphorical eyes that can't appreciate or sense the laughter ringing in the walls from decades of celebrating the blessing of family. Or appreciate why a treasured plastic dump truck still enjoys pride of place in our unruly garden, even though the original owner has long since grown and flown. 

And then there are my little green friends, the wild herbs, both medicinal and culinary, that grace the beds and borders, paths and woods. (I have foregone the habit of referring to them as 'weeds'. For the full text of that lecture you can sign up for one of my wild plant talks or walks. Ha!) I have been gathering wild foods and medicines for more than three decades and have grown comfortable with the serendipitous and capricious nature of plants that decide a walkway would make an excellent home for a delicate Lobelia inflata specimen. Or the foundation path by the outdoor water spigot proclaimed, "Perfect!" by a fabulous Mama Elder (Sambucus nigra) for raising a brood of seedlings. 

Life is a come-as-you-are event. We will never be ready in the sense of everything being perfect. Showing up and finding something to love is what it is all about. Pete and I reminded one another that we love our home just as it is and we can stay with that even as we open the door to others. It won't match every taste or need, some may feel more negatively critical. That's okay. It has taken me a long time to learn to appreciate what is, on any given day, and love it rather than consider the infinite list of what is not. 

In the midst of getting ready, the inevitable happened..."unexpected interruptions" that were not interruptions at all, but the natural results of caring and being connected to friends and clients who happen to have an unscheduled need or request. Although these opportunities had not been on my to-do list, it was a joy and honor to pause and attend. People before things. At the end of one long day a dear friend asked me, via online chat, how I was doing. I said I was okay but, of course, I was not getting everything neat and pretty as planned. I told her that I wished everyone who came to our open house could see the beauty in the commonplace that we see, the celebration in the mundane. She said something that I will always cherish. I won't get it verbatim but she told me that some people wear rose-colored glasses and see life in a way that no one else can understand, but that I hand out those glasses to everyone I meet, just by being myself, so everyone can appreciate what I see. It doesn't take special glasses to see that this woman is a very special friend. 

So, if you're free today and you care to come and enjoy a rosy view of life as it is, swing by between noon and 4 p.m. for some tea and treats. We can talk wood and wild herbs, sunshine and gardens, or whatever else you fancy!