Tag Archive | garden

How much trouble would I get in for “liberating” the globe mallow growing in the post office lawn?

And why do I have a package from Spain?

When I checked the mail yesterday (in other news, I checked the mail yesterday) I found a pick-up slip for a package.  I’m expecting a book, so I thought that’s what it was for, and was a little miffed that the mail carrier didn’t just put it in one of the bigger boxes and leave me a key.  The date on it was July 1st, which seemed a little soon to receive the book–it was only a day or two after I ordered it, but, perhaps the Amazon 3rd party seller was on the ball.

When I got to the post office, and after hearing boxes fall at least three times in the back room, the clerk came out with this:

Yeah, I don’t think that’s my book.

While he was processing the package, I noticed it was from Spain.

I don’t know anybody in Spain.

Well, anybody who’d send me a package.  (Lopes, I’d be open to a package from Spain if you’d be willing to send it to me)

That’s neither the name or the city of the one guy I know in Spain.

I signed for it, thinking it might be for my roommate.  It’s not her name on the label, but what I call her isn’t her name.  She’s from Taiwan, and I refer to her by her American name.  Perhaps she has a Spanish name, too.

But then I realized that it was postmarked before she moved in.

So…yeah.  I wish I hadn’t signed for it now.  I don’t know what to do.

I’ll ask the roommate if she knows anything about it, and, I guess if when she doesn’t I get to take it back to the post office and explain why I signed for it when it clearly doesn’t belong at my house, despite having my address on it.   That’ll be fun.

So, this mysterious box, that’s passed through customs is sitting in the middle of my living room, and will likely go back to the post office unopened.

I don’t know what’s going to happen to it from there.  I mean it’s been from Malaga, to Madrid, to New York, to Orem, and from there, who knows…

The poor little guy just needs a home.  Just not my home.  The home of the people on the address label who don’t live at my house.

Edit: oh, this is globe mallow: This particular one is growing in the Leamington cemetery, not the Orem Post Office lawn.  It’s my favorite local wildflower, and I’ve seen it sold as a xeriscaping plant, but never growing as a weed before.

I probably don’t have enough sunlight to keep it alive, anyway.

Edit #2:

The Mystery of the Spanish Package will officially remain unsolved.  The roommate, as predicted, didn’t know anything about it, so I took it back to the post office.  It’s on it’s way back to Spain.

I’m too much like my dad.  Mom or Sis would have had it open before they left the Post Office parking lot.

I know it’s a long shot, but if the D. Antonio from Malaga, Spain who sent a package to someone with the same last name in Orem, Utah, The United States, reads this, can you please let me know what was in it?  Thanks.

Making weak things strong

Somehow, I got talked into going to my parent’s house for a couple of days.  It’s like they read this blog, and saw that I was going crazy(er) sitting around my house just talking to the dogs.

My parents bought the house they are living in now from my grandparents–it’s been in the family since it was built.  Because of this, I know a ridiculous amount about the history of the house–I know that the bedroom that I say in when I visit was built for my mom’s two youngest brothers to share, I know which of my uncles was stupidly playing with a shotgun inside, and put holes in the rec room ceiling–and that those holes didn’t get patched to serve as a warning/reminder long after that uncle moved out, had children, then his children had time to grow up.

At my parents house, there is a honey locust tree that has been there since before I was born.  This tree split in a storm in the early 80’s, so Grandpa bolted the two parts of the trunk together.

Over the years, the tree with the bolt in it fascinated me.  It has not only survived the last thirty years, it’s thrived.  The tree has “eaten” the bolt, to the point now you can tell there was something there, but not what it is.

I was thinking about this tree last night, and a scripture from the Book of Mormon came to mind, specifically, Ether 12:26-27

And when I had said this, the Lord spake unto me, saying: Fools mock, but they shall mourn; and my grace is sufficient for the meek, that they shall take no advantage of your weakness;
And if men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness. I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them.

I always wondered how weak things could become strong.  I never doubted, because I know that with God, all things are possible.

The split in the tree was possibly fatal to it, but after it was bolted together, it grew fast and strong and tall, and is now one of the healthiest trees in my parent’s yard. What once was a weakness is now a strength.

I feel like there are so many weaknesses in my life, and so  few strengths.  I have so far to go–but I guess that I’ve come a long way too.

Okay, I can do this.  I can.

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