A House with a Heart (and a View!)

My husband and I took a road trip north this past Monday to check on our Oyster Haven VRBO lake house in Upstate NY. He put in the dock and the boats (we have four kayaks and a canoe available to renters, along with a couple of stand-up paddle boards).  He also got our pontoon boat out of winter storage at the marina and anchored it in front of his childhood home by the lake, which is where we spend our summers. Oyster Haven is only about 3.5 miles down the road, so it's easy for us to go back and forth.

We bought this incredible house (built circa 1830, with a later addition) in the fall of 2015 and opened it up for rentals the summer of 2016, originally thinking that we might eventually retire there and have it be our home base for traveling to see our far-flung offspring.  But when it became obvious that three of our five boys were settling down for the foreseeable future not far from each other in VA, we moved south to be near them in 2017, but continued to spend our summers up north by the lake.

We were encouraged by the real estate agent who worked with us on the purchase of Oyster Haven to make sure that it had some personal touches.  A VRBO owner himself, he said that it seemed that renters were more likely to treat a house with respect when they remembered that it actually belonged to someone.  If it was too sterile and impersonal, like a hotel, they might feel comfortable leaving it a mess.  We took that advice to heart, and I made sure to decorate the walls with some personal items so that it would look like a family home.

One of my favorite gallery walls is in the large eat-in kitchen.

The great thing about giving our rental those personal touches is that when we DO get to spend our week there with our kids and grandkids, it feels like HOME.  Oyster Haven is anything but cold and sterile; truly, it's a house with a heart.

Along with all the family pictures on that kitchen wall, I hung a vintage print by Jesse Willkox Smith, one of my favorite artists.  I thought the image of a curly-headed little girl eating a slice of watermelon was adorable, and that it just screamed "summertime!"

Years later, when I had a little granddaughter with similar blond curls, I made her pose for me with a slice of watermelon so that I could hang her picture next to that sweet drawing.  Unfortunately, this little gal hates watermelon.  So this was as close as I could get to having her look like she was eating it!

Anyway, I've gone off on a tangent--now back to the reason for our trip north: our first renters of the 2024 summer season will arrive in the coming weeks, and we wanted everything to be ready for them. Fortunately, all was well with the house and we didn't find any problems that needed taking care of.  We got everything on our to-do lists done and still had enough free time to enjoy an evening visiting with two of my husband's sisters who live up there.  My 88-year-old mother was also having same-day surgery across the lake in VT during our stay, and I was able to be with her and my sister (the one with whom she lives) during her time at the hospital.  So all in all, it was a good trip.

Before we left yesterday morning to head back to VA, we stopped at Oyster Haven one last time to drop off some freshly-laundered linens and organize them in the locked storage closets, so they'll be there for the cleaners to use on turnover day.  (We have a cleaning service, and they take care of everything when we're down in VA; but when we're living up there during the summer, my husband and I handle the laundry and bed-making.) The sun was just beginning to rise, and when I looked out the kitchen window I realized that I needed to take some pictures, pronto.  I grabbed my phone and ran outside.   

This was the backyard view from our deck that morning.

I couldn't decide which photo one was the most spectacular, so I decided to show you all of them.  Isn't that the most glorious view?!

I can hardly wait for the first week in July, when our entire family--five sons, five daughters-in-law, and 22 grandchildren!--will be there with us.  My whole heart will be in that house.  Enjoying that view.

Happy Homemaking (and a Little Project)

There are few things I enjoy more than puttering around my house, tidying it up here, hanging something new on the wall there.  Aside from wife and mother (and grandmother!), I think homemaker is the vocation that speaks to my heart the loudest.  I love working on any kind of project that will make my home more beautiful, orderly, functional, warm, cozy, and inviting.

I was talking to my daughter-in-law Regina (wife of son #1) a few years ago ago about minimalism, which is a home decor style that has become rather popular, and how we both agree that there are definitely things about living more simply that appeal to us...but that we really don't think the minimalist mindset works for the way we like to live and the homes we like to make for our families.  (Full disclosure: I only remember this long-ago conversation because I just found a rough draft in my archives, which I never published; and what I had started to write about back then fits in with what I want to say now...so I copied and pasted, then edited, some of that old never-seen post right here.  #cheating)

Anyway, Regina mentioned a blog post she'd read that addressed this topic: that is, how having lots of things about you that have special meaning, that remind you of loved ones who gave them to you or of memorable trips or events, or having furnishings that are family heirlooms that have been handed down to you, can bring so much joy to your everyday life and create a warm and inviting oasis for you and your family.  Not that a minimalist approach can't work, too; but as this blog post explained, it isn't for everybody.  (And if you like knickknacks, that doesn’t mean you’re a bad person! LOL )

Wow, I thought: there I go again, getting lazy about my blogging--because I'd had this very topic in mind for a few months as well, but now I worried that if I finally wrote my post, I might seem like a copy-cat. (But then again, it's not very likely that anyone other than my daughter-in-law would read both posts, so I doubt I'd have been accused of plagiarism!)

I never wrote/published the post.  But I guess I’m writing it now!

As I get older and closer to that time when I won't be able to take anything with me where I'm going, I sometimes have an urge to purge myself of all the excess: all the pretty dishes and serving pieces that don't get used on a daily basis; all the figurines and porcelain dolls and knickknacks that aren't really useful--but even if they are, aren't really necessary, because like most 21st century Americans, I simply have too much.  Way more than I need to live a comfortable life.

But every time I look around my house at all the lovely things that fill it, I am reminded of the people who gave them to us or where we were when we bought them. Everywhere I look--really, everywhere--the story of our blessed life, our history as a family, unfolds around me, and it's as if the house envelops me in a giant hug.

I am not really a huge "decorative throw pillows on the bed" person  (too
much to take off and put back every time you make the bed!).  But I just 
found this lovely lacy crocheted sham in my late M-I-L's things, and I decided to use it on one of our guest beds.

I could never become a minimalist, I'm afraid.  I do worry that I'm too attached to material things, but I can't imagine clearing away all of the stuff that adorns my walls and tabletops.  There are too many memories and emotions associated with just about each and every item that surrounds me, and that's why I'm never quite as happy anywhere as I am when I'm in my own home.

I go overboard on some home goods, I admit it.  I have a weakness for blue-and-white transferware dishes, for instance.  Exhibit A--my dining room table at Thanksgiving:

I love to decorate the walls of my house with plates.  I drool over pictures like these in magazine spreads Internet searches: 

I think blue-and-white plates on the wall look fabulous. But something stops me from going completely overboard.

Maybe I am a minimalist?!  It looks like I’m not even trying, 
compared to those Internet images!

At the beginning of this post, I mentioned projects. Recently, I worked on one that was so much fun and so satisfying.

Very early in our marriage, more than 40 years ago, my younger brother gave me a small wooden wall shelf he'd made in his high school shop class.  It was for holding tea cups and saucers; there were hooks for the cups and grooves for the plates.  At some point--between all of our various moves, I can't remember exactly when--the top piece broke off and got lost.  So when we were living in NH, I decided to hang it upside down, remove the hooks, and use it to display small knickknacks.  Since our move to VA in 2017, it's been out of commission, hiding in a storage area under the stairs in our basement.

For some reason, I thought of that little handcrafted shelf a few weeks ago, and I decided to get it out and refurbish it, and then put it to use in our "new" house in VA.

Using the bottom as a guide, I was able to trace a new decorative top piece on a scrap of wood I found in the garage (left over from some other house project); then my handy husband attached it for me.  I added a wooden floral embellishment to it and gave the whole thing a dark stain (as it would have been next to impossible to make the new pieces of wood I'd added match the original stain on the rest of the shelf).  Finally, I screwed the cup hooks back in place.

When it was finished, I thought it was so beautiful--that it looked almost like some Colonial antique!  I couldn't wait to get it up on the wall.

This one-of-a-kind gifted shelf that reminds me of my brother adds such a nice touch to a dining room that already makes me ridiculously happy.  (And it's possible that I am ridiculous!  But I have such a fondness for dining rooms.  I know for the most part, the "open concept/living and dining areas combined" thing is more popular among modern homemakers; but I am a sucker for a formal dining room.)

I do realize that at my age, I should be working on detachment from all things material.  I have watched my mother lose her home, after my dad died and we knew that she wouldn't be able to live alone anymore.  Almost everything she owned was either taken by one of her children, given away to charity, or sold in a garage sale.  I know it won't be all that long, relatively speaking, before that will be the fate of all my treasured household goods.

In the meantime, however, I'm just going to enjoy having my things about me, as Mary Kate Danaher would say (in the best movie ever, The Quiet Man). 

If you've seen the movie, you know that Mary Kate's precious heirloom china is blue-and-white.  Naturally!

And I suppose that's as good a way as any to end this post!

Junior's First Holy Communion

We had another red letter day in the Pearl family yesterday, when our second-oldest son's firstborn (who was named after him, and thereby has the handle "Junior" here at the blog) made his First Holy Communion. 

Don't you love this idea?!  They can take a picture of him holding this
picture when he gets confirmed; and then holding the Confirmation
picture when he gets married (or ordained!).

Junior is the oldest of five boys (with a tiny sister in Heaven), and he is the most patient, caring, loving big brother imaginable.  I have watched him in action with the younger ones, and he will definitely roughhouse and wrestle with them because, well...they're BOYS (and I don't care what people say about the two sexes being just alike, without society's interference; boys love--and need!--to roughhouse!  It's in their nature and it's good for them).  But he never goes overboard and always seems to be aware of his superior size and strength; he instinctively holds back just enough that it's still fun, but not dangerous.  Junior is a leader and the younger brothers all look up to him.

This sweet young fella might be all boy (active and sports-obsessed and competitive, and not at all averse to getting dirty), but he also has such a tender heart.  We were with him and his brothers at their house not quite a year ago, when the call came from the hospital that baby #5 was another boy.  His eyes immediately filled with tears--not because he minded having another brother in the family, but because he wanted his sister Monica (who passed away in utero in 2019, but is still very much a remembered and beloved member of his family) to have a sister.  It took lots of gentle encouragement from everyone who loves him to convince him that Monica would be just as thrilled with another brother as she would have been with a sister.  He kills me, that kid.

I think of sweet Monica, who is no doubt a tiny saint in Heaven, looking down on her ragamuffin crew of little men and loving them fiercely.  Junior and his four brothers have a mighty intercessor and protector up there.  And when the occasion calls for it, they sure do clean up nicely.  She must have been very proud of them yesterday.

XO

Especially of her oldest brother, Junior.

We weren't supposed to take pictures during Mass, so I have no shots of our sweet grandson reverently receiving Our Lord in the Eucharist.  But Papa and "ReeRee" got a picture with him afterward.

It is the greatest joy on earth to have so many much-adored grandchildren, and to see them being raised in the Faith by our boys and their wives.  God is so good.  We are blessed beyond measure.

Happy Sunday, dear readers!

How the Bread-baking is Going So Far (An Update from the Farm Wife)

First of all, if you can cook or bake without wearing an apron, and you have clothes that aren't stained beyond recognition, my hat's off to you.  It's hard to even tell in this picture (which I made my patient husband take before he headed off to the gym) just how covered with flour I am.  Flour, and who knows what else.

Anyhoo, I thought you might like a little update, after this breathtakingly interesting recent post (wherein I compared myself to a farm wife.  LOL!  I mean, really--LOL!).

I am now on my fourth round of bread-making (two loaves at a time), and I'm getting a bit more confident with each try.  We're just about to finish up the last of my third round of loaves, so I had to get baking today or we would find ourselves in the sad position of having no bread at all in the house!

The flour mill we purchased is a breeze to use.  You put in these wheat seeds (or wheat "berries," is what they're actually called), they get ground up in a matter of seconds, and you end up with a pile of nice, fluffy flour.  (Not as fluffy as your typical store-bought white all-purpose flour; but still, very fluffy.)  It's like magic!

Now that I'm a bread baker, I decided it was reasonable to treat myself to some new bread pans yesterday. I was at TJ Maxx and saw some speckled pastel-colored, non-stick beauties for $5.99 apiece, and I just had to get two of them.  I've been using glass pans, but I think I'm going to like these better.

Bread-baking is so satisfying.  I love seeing the dough rise.  You let it double in size a first time.  (To aid with the rising, I put the oven on warm and set the bowl of bread dough on top of it, and then I cover the bowl with a damp dish towel.)

After the first rise, you "punch it down," split it into two lumps and put those in the bread pans to rise again.  When the dough has doubled in size once more, the loaves are ready to bake.  I brush the tops with an egg wash before I put them in the oven.

I'm sorry if this is sort of boring for many of you (if you're even still here...).  I just find this whole process so amazing, and so incredibly fulfilling.  It feels like such a huge accomplishment to me, to be a able to take those hard little "berries" and then a few hours later see that they've morphed into two loaves of  soft, warm, delicious bread!  To use one of my daughters-in-law's favorite terms, baking bread is “life-giving" to me!

The new pans worked great--the loaves popped right out of them.  My husband and I both sampled a slice when they were still warm, right out of the oven (smothered in butter, of course).  Heaven!

Actually...I think man could technically live on this bread alone.  If he had to.

Happy Mother’s Day to My Five Favorite Girls

I am a boy mom.

A very happy, totally fulfilled boy mom.

God gave me five sons, no daughters, and I can say with complete honesty that I never felt I was missing a thing.  I've blogged about this topic numerous times over the last decade-plus (it's one of my favorite subjects, I guess), but I'll just bother you with one link, to this old post  (if anyone reading this one thinks it isn't long enough already and wants some bonus reading!).

I adored my boys, and I thought that having a houseful of them was a unique privilege and honor (not to mention very high on fun and very low on emotional drama!).

I was not one of those mothers who looked at her toddler-aged old boy, filled with angst, and worried, "Someday, another woman will become #1 in his heart.  He'll get married and I'll lose him."  I'm so thankful that that's not the way my brain was wired.  (And I do tend to be a worrier; so I'm very grateful that I was not plagued with those particular sorts of anxieties about the future.)  I just enjoyed my passel of boys at all of the various stages of their babyhoods and childhoods and young adulthoods (even the teen years, which don't have to be a nightmare--so don't let anyone make you believe, and even assume, that will be the case!).  I loved having them all living under our roof, but I knew they would eventually grow up and leave me. And I knew that I would no longer be the #1 woman in their lives, once they got married and their wives took that spot.

BUT!  (And this is a big but, and I cannot lie...)  #sorryaboutthat  #acomedianiamnot

Moms of boys: be not afraid of the girls who will supposedly “take your boys away from you”—it doesn’t have to be like that!  If you've raised them right, in a loving, stable household with your strong marriage as a model, chances are good that you're going to love and approve wholeheartedly of the girls they choose.

Trust that they will choose well.  Support their choices.  Think of those girls as true daughters.  And if you’re as lucky as I am, you won’t even have to try very hard to think of them that way.

I should have said up there at the beginning that I was a boy mom.  Because now I have five girls, too.  And I can no longer imagine what our family would be like without them.

Our five sons and five daughters.  (And one photo-bombing grandson.)

I was just about to share a link back to another ancient post in my archives, one written in 2013 after the birth of our oldest son's third daughter (the first two were twins, born less than two years earlier).  But if you want to skip reading the whole thing, I’ll retell the part that ties in with this post today:  

My husband and I were still living in NH at the time; we'd flown out to CO to help with the twins while our son and his wife were in the hospital with the new baby, and then we stayed on for about a week after they got home.  On the last night of our stay, our daughter-in-law Regina's mom flew in to help out for the week following our departure, so we overlapped for one night before our flight out the next morning. 

Although I have always had a wonderful relationship with Regina, and I knew how grateful she was that my husband and I had come out to help, when her mom arrived, I was struck by the strength of that beautiful mother-daughter bond between them.  How precious that relationship is, especially when a daughter has become a mother herself.  When I went to bed that night, I was plagued by the thought that in some ways,  I had become a bit irrelevant.  I was no longer the most important woman in my son's life; that woman was now his wife--which is absolutely as it should be, and I'd be concerned if that wasn't the case!  And the most important woman in my daughter-in-law's life was, of course, her own mother.  So where did that leave me?

I felt weepy as I got ready for bed that night.

Well, I think Regina must have been a mind reader or something, aware of my need for some sign--some words of affirmation, perhaps--proving that I still had an important role to play in the lives of our children.  On the way to the airport, our son drove and my husband sat up front with him, while I was in the back seat (still brooding about becoming irrelevant).  With no fanfare ("Oh yeah, Regina said to give you this"), my boy handed a little gift bag back to me.  What was this? 

Inside the tissue paper I found a small rustic wooden sign with these words painted on it: FIRST MY MOTHER-IN-LAW, NOW ALSO MY FRIEND.   Well, dear readers...if I said there weren't any tears over that unexpected gift, I would be lying.

And there have been many more happy tears shed in the ensuing years, brought on by the sweet words and gestures of not only Regina, but the four other girls who eventually joined our family.  These amazing gals have all become dear friends and so much more.  They are outstanding wives to our sons and devoted mothers to our 22 precious grandchildren.  They visit us often and generously share their children with us.  They make it very clear that it is important to them that their kids' grandparents are a big part of their lives.  They seem to really like us!  (And if not, they are great actresses!)  Truly, we are inordinately blessed in this regard.

My daughters-in-law text me often (more often than my boys do, to be honest--ha, ha!  Are you surprised?).  If a day goes by and I haven’t heard from at least one or two of them, I get a bit worried (and I miss them!)--that's how often we're in touch.  Most of the time, it’s just random chit-chat, family news, and information sharing; but sometimes, the words are profoundly moving.

Here are snippets from just a few of the texts I've gotten over the years; they warmed my heart so much that I felt the need to screenshot them for safekeeping.  (I used to keep special letters I'd received in the mail stored away in a shoe box...I think of these texts as letters, 21st-century-style!  And I'm storing them here at the blog. )

If you don't come here often: we moved to from NH to VA in 2017
in order to live close to three of our five boys.

After the birth of a new grandchild, we don't need thanks from our girls.
We want to thank THEM, for wanting us to come and meet the baby ASAP!

How blessed am I?!  These girls make me feel so loved and appreciated.  Relevant, even!  (Ha ha!)

I was just getting ready to wrap this post up when another sweet text from one of our daughters-in-law popped up on our family stream.

I didn't "lose" my boys; I gained five girls.  And just like with our sons, they're all favorites.  It's a five-way tie.

Happy Mother's Day to the best daughters-in-law a boy mom could ever ask for.  I thank God for you every day!  XO XO XO XO XO

Princesa's First Holy Communion

One of the great joys of having so many grandchildren is watching them receive their Sacraments.  So many Baptisms!  So many First Holy Communions!  What could be more wonderful?

Last Sunday, our little Princesa, the second-oldest child of our middle son, received the Body and Blood of Jesus for the very first time, and it was a beautiful day.

First of all, the blog name I picked for her surely fits, for she did indeed look like a princess in her lacy white First Communion finery.

Our sweet girl was very reverent and serious while receiving, and then after she got back to her seat, she folded her hands and bowed her head in prayer.

Then she looked up, with a joyful expression on her face--just the sort of expression one should have after receiving Our Lord for the very first time!

Princesa had both sets of her grandparents there for this very special event in her life.  My husband and I count our blessings all the time, knowing that not every grandparent is as lucky as we have been (especially since our move to VA, which makes us practically neighbors to so many of our beloved children and grandchildren!).

Along with her parents and four siblings, and the aforementioned four grandparents, our sweet First Communicant had lots of other family members there to share her big day as well: two sets of aunts and uncles, ten cousins, and one of her dad's cousins (who is also local and came with her hubby and three kids). We actually managed to get a photo of our whole group, which is nothing short of a miracle.

Afterward, we all went over to son #3's house and enjoyed a celebration for her, along with a very good friend of hers who was in her group of First Communicants that day.

I made the cake.  Her other grandmother made some of her famous decorated sugar cookies.

It couldn't have been more perfect.  God is so good!

And in less than two weeks, we'll get to do this all over again, when son #2's oldest boy makes his First Holy Communion.

It's a wonderful life.  Deo gratias!

Our Lady Speaks to Us, Part 2; and a Birthday!

Today is our middle son’s 38th birthday.   He is the most pleasant, easygoing, fun person to know: whip smart yet humble, a sports fanatic, unfailingly sweet to his parents, a devoted husband and father, and a friend to all.

On a dream trip to a football game at Notre Dame, his alma mater, with his firstborn, in 2022.

With his nephew, who shares his name.  Who wouldn't love that face?
(Either of those two faces, that is!)

Our boy's beautiful family.

But that boy of ours has never liked to have a big deal made about him, or to be the center of attention.  So I won’t go on and on about him in this post, because that would make him uncomfortable.  Instead, I’ll turn my attention to one of his precious loved ones, the youngest of his five offspring. When you read this post, you will understand just how special our son must be, and how well he is passing on the Faith to his children.

Happy Birthday, son #3!  We love you!  (Now enjoy reading about your little man.) 

Way back in 2011, shortly after I’d set up shop here at String of Pearls, I blogged about a rather humble garden statue of the Blessed Mother that we had outside our house in NH.  Our across-the-street neighbors were Catholic, but non-practicing and not very religious at all.  So imagine how surprised and touched I was when the mom told me that her 3-year-old boy had stopped in front of our house one day when they were out on a walk and said, "I have to kiss the Lady."  By that he meant that he had to kiss the statue of Mary that we had out in our front yard, not far from the sidewalk!  Here's that old short-and-sweet post, Our Lady Speaks to Us, if you're interested.  It's only been visited by 87 readers in all these years...)

We brought that statue of Mary with us when we moved to VA in 2017, but it had developed cracks and wasn't holding up too well anymore.  So we replaced it with a bigger, better one (a 36-inch faux granite beauty from Walmart).

This is my favorite time of year here in VA,  when those flowering bushes
bloom behind our statue, and this area looks like a "Mary Garden."

Recently, I was reminded of that poignant incident I’d blogged about all those years ago, when another sweet and pure-souled little boy (our 2-year-old grandson, who was visiting us on St. Patty's Day with a bunch of his cousins) was similarly inspired to give our Marian garden statue some love.

He stared at her face.  He patted her cheeks.

He held her hands.

And then he went in for a hug.

It was the sweetest thing ever.

My grandson didn't call her "the Lady," or anything else, for that matter; he still doesn't have a huge vocabulary. But he knew just who She was, I'm sure of it: his non-verbal actions told the story better than words ever could.

This wee fella is a little wild man, into absolutely everything, a real Bam Bam (although you won't understand that reference if you're not old enough to remember The Flintstones cartoon--I'm revealing my age!).  He's a climber (he has a zipped-up tent over his crib now, so he can't escape).  He likes to throw things (and can be very destructive at times).  He's all-boy, hilarious, and about as cute as they come.

But even the wild little heart of a 2-year-old mischief-maker can be tamed by Our Lady.  She speaks to us. And little ones always seem to hear Her voice the most clearly.