Ready to scrape the leftover meatloaf from a dinner plate into the garbage, I happened to look down and saw a shiny copper penny sitting on the top of the trash. I stopped mid-scrape and reached in to pull it out.

“Did someone accidentally drop this in the trash?” I asked as I held up the penny to show my husband, Steven and our boys.

“That was me.” Max said as he put his plate on the counter. “It wasn’t by accident. It’s just a penny so I threw it away.”

“You’re throwing away money?” Steven sounded surprised.

“I was cleaning out my pockets.” Max explained, but when he looked at Steven and me with our mirrored looks of shock, I guess he felt the need to explain further. “It was only a penny!” he said. “It’s not that big a deal!”

Steven and I just looked at each other. “Where did we go wrong?” he asked me.

I had to agree with him on this because when it came to found money Steven and I had the same outlook. If you saw a quarter, dime, nickle, or even a penny, you picked it up and considered it a lucky day.

In fact, I can still remember something that happened that made me fall deeper in love with Steven when we were first dating. We were driving down the street when Steven suddenly pulled over. “I think I just saw a dollar bill blow across the street.” He jumped out of the van, ran across the street into an empty field and within moments had the bill in his hand, waving it at me as he ran back across the street. “It was a five!” he said as he climbed back in the van, a huge smile on his face. He put the five on the console before we headed back on our way. I remember picking up that five and realizing I would have done the exact same thing if I’d been the one who saw the bill tumbling across the street.

Now, whenever we’re out together, for a walk around the block or just out shopping, one of us is always looking down, ready to find the next lucky coin or bill. Over the years it’s become a game for us.

I looked back at Max and asked. “How could anyone throw money away?”

“Don’t look at me!” Alex said as he backed out of the room. “I have a change jar. All my loose change goes in there.”

“Exactly!” I looked back at Max. “You never ever throw money away!”

“Oh, come on! It’s just a penny!” Max said.

“Pennies are money too.” Steven answered.

Max looked at Steven and I shaking his head in disbelief. Then he smiled, “What if I told you I had three pennies in my pocket when I was cleaning them out?” He gave a quick laugh before he left the room.

My gasp was audible. I looked over at Steven. “Do you believe him?” I asked then looked back into the garbage pail.

“I don’t know.” Steven said as he shrugged his shoulders. “But I think I’m going to draw the line about found money when I have to dig to the garbage for it.” He too, left the room.

Leaving only me, staring into the trash wondering if I felt the same way he did.

Steven decided it was time to take me out to the golf course. I’m not sure it mattered if I wanted to go or not. I also couldn’t put up much of a fight, because we’d both been complaining that we didn’t spend enough time together. We’d been searching for some activities we could find a common interest in. Even thought I was pretty sure golf wasn’t going to be one of those interests, I was going to have to at least give it a try before I said no.

That’s how I found myself standing behind several golf cars with a golf bag strapped to my back trying on an old glove that Steven had pulled out of the bottom of his bag.

“Where’s the other glove?” I asked as another golf cart pulled up behind us.

“You only use one.” he said as he turned me around and readjusted the bag higher up on my back.

“Why aren’t we using a cart like everyone else?” My bag was already beginning to get too heavy, but I didn’t want to start the day out complaining, so I decided not to mention that.

“Plenty of people walk this course. It’s a short one and the walk is great exercise.” he explained as he handed me two golf balls and a few tees. “Put those in your pocket so you won’t waste any time searching for them when it’s your turn.”

By now we’d made it up to the front of the line. A man in a golf cart, holding a clip board, pointed to the two men sitting in a cart behind us and said. “You four are up next.”

I turned to Steven, not sure I’d heard correctly, but Steven had already turned around to introduce himself to our new friends. Of course, being the only female the men were nice enough to let me go first. I slowly walked up the stairs that led to the first hole.

“I have to let you both know I’ve never played before.” I apologized to them as I bent down and tried to poke me tee into the hard ground. Steven hand me a club and I took my first wild swing.

“You hit it!” Seven said, trying to sound encouraging as we watched it skip a few feet in front of me.

“Well, that was fun.” I said as I tucked my club back into the bag, hiking it back only my back and stepped out of the way to let the others drive their balls so far down the fairway I couldn’t see where they’d landed.

The gentlemen climbed back in their cart and drove the few feet to where by ball was. I bent over and picked it up.

“You’re not going to hit it again?” they asked.

I looked behind me, watching as another foursome was getting set up to play.

“That’s okay.” I said tucking the ball back into my pocket. “I’ll just drop the ball when we get closer to the green.”

“She’s going to work on her short game today.” Steven explained to them.

“Oh, good idea.” they said before they drove away to find their own balls.

Steven looked over at me and smiled. “It’s a beautiful day for a walk.” he said.

I tired to readjust the weight of the bag on my shoulders before I looked over and gave him a big smile in return. “It’s sure is!” I said as I began my hike, thinking about how nice it would be to be laying on the couch right now watching a re-run of just about anything on the Entertainment Channel.  

My husband, Steven and I were sitting on our porch enjoying a quiet evening. “I love dusk.” I said. “I think it’s my favorite time of day.” I leaned back in my chair, watching as some lighting bugs began to flicker in the bushes.

Steven sat beside me and swatted a mosquito off his leg. “It’s too bad that it’s the mosquito’s favorite time of day too.” he said as he brushed another one from his arm.

“Do you want me to get some bug spray for you?” I asked.

“No, I think I’ll go in before I’m eaten alive.” Steven got up, ready to head inside when something caught his eye in our back yard and he walked out there instead.

“Come here a minute.” he called to me as he looked up in the sky.

I followed him out and looked up too.

“Do you see it?” he asked.

“The bird?” I said as I watched it swooped down close to our fire pit.

“It’s not a bird. It’s a bat.” Steven said.

I instantly felt a shiver run up my back. “How can you be sure it’s a bat?” I asked.

“By the way it’s flying.”

“Isn’t it too early in the evening for them to be out?”

Steven swatted another mosquito off his leg. “Are you kidding? With all the mosquitoes around? It’s their favorite time of day too.”

I watched as the bat swooped and dove down around our bushes. Trying not to be disgusted, I thought about all the good they accomplished with pest control. “I guess it’s good to have a bat or two around.” I reasoned.

“Have you even watched how a bat’s radar works?” Steven asked.

“No. How do you test that?” I asked.

Steven leaned down, found a small rock in the grass and tossed it straight up in the air. The bat headed towards the stone and followed it straight down to the ground, inches from where I stood. I screamed, covered my head with my arms and raced for the porch. “Why did you do that?” I screamed.

“Did you see how it pulled up at the last second when it got too close to the ground?” Steven asked.

“No. I was too busy making sure the bat didn’t get tangled up in the hair!” I yelled as goose bumps popped up on my arms.

“Sorry about that.” Steven bent down and found another small rock. “I’ll toss this one further away from us.” he said.

“Please don’t!” I cried as I headed for the back door rubbing the goose bumps from the arms. “I’ve had enough bat fun for one evening.”

My husband Steven, watched as I dropped my yoga mat, hand weights and giant balance ball into the middle of the living room. “It gets harder every year.” I complained as he helped me push the coffee table back to give me more room.

“I know.” he agreed. “That’s why I spend every night on the treadmill.”

“I hate the treadmill.” I grumbled. “In fact, I hate exercise!” I then went back to my search for all the exercise equipment I’d hidden around the house. “Why does it have to get harder every year just to look acceptable in a bathing suit?” I called from our bedroom.

“It the same thing for everyone!” Steven called back.

“Not making me feel any better.” I said as I searched under our bed. “What ever happened to that thigh squeeze thing I had?” I called out.

“You sold it at our last garage sale.” Steven called back. “Along with the abs zapper and butt burner you didn’t like.”

“Oh.” I came back into the living room to go through our DVD collection. “I really need to put these in some sort of order.” I said as I searched for my yoga video. “I should have a section just for my exercise videos.”

Steven stared to laugh. “That would be a small section.”

I ignored him as I held up a video that went with the thigh crusher. “If I’d been able to find this for the garage sale I could have gotten more for the equipment.” I said as I tossed it behind me on the couch.

I finally found the yoga video, took the wrapper off and popped it in the machine. Sitting on the couch next to Steven I took the remote and started the video.

Steven looked over at me. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“Watching the video.” I explained as I took a sip of water and fast-forwarded through the beginning section.

“Aren’t you going to get on the floor and do what they’re doing?” he asked.

“Not until I look through it first.”

“Why?”

“Because when I get a new video I like to do a quick run-through to see if I’m going to like it.”

“What if you don’t like it?”

I pointed to the thigh crusher video next to me on the couch. “It goes with that one for the next garage sale.” I took another sip of water and hit the fast forward button again.

“What about…”

I had to interrupt him. “Steven, could we talk about this later?” I asked. “I’m in the middle of working out.”

Steven looked over at me.

I held up my water bottle and pointed at the television. “I’m hydrating and previewing.” I explained.

My sister Liz was going away on vacation. Not an ordinary vacation, but one where she couldn’t use her phone. Even though I was going to meet up with her in San Francisco a week later, I was still concerned that while she was away she wouldn’t have any cell service. This might not sound like a big deal to some, but I talk to her every day.

“What if I need to talk to you?” I asked her during our last conversation before she left?

“I’ll be seeing you in seven day.” she said trying to reassure me.

“I can do that.” I finally agreed.

Little did I know that the very next day a problem would come up that I desperately needed to discuss with her. I sat on the couch, pondering my choices of other understanding ears. That’s when I looked over at my husband, Steven, sitting at the other end of the couch trying to watch television.

“Can we talk for a minute?” I asked.

He quickly turned the sound down on his show and looked at me with some concern.

It’s not anything bad,” I quickly said. I guess the tone in my voice must have scared him a little. “It’s just that I ran into someone at the grocery store who said something that’s been bothering me all day.”

“What did they say? he asked.

“Well, maybe it wasn’t exactly what was said, but how it was said. That’s what’s really bothering me.”

“How was it said?”

“I’ll probably need to fill in some background about this person before you can truly understand why what was said and how it was said that would bother me.”

“Said what?” he asked again.

“Why do you keep asking me that?” I was beginning to get annoyed.

“Because how am I supposed to understand what you’re even talking about if I don’t know what was said in the first place.”

I was pretty sure I was hearing some exasperation in his voice, but I gave him the benefit of the doubt and answered his question without telling him the background of the situation. “This person looked in my cart and wanted to know why I was always buying diet soda.”

“What?”

“I know! Can you believe it!” I was waiting for him to agree with me, but instead he just stared a me.

“Big deal.” he said. “Just tell them it’s because you like drink diet soda.” he said.

“Big deal? I cried. “Are you kidding me? You had to hear the way she said it and how she was standing when she said it!” Now I was losing my patience.”I knew I never should have brought it up to you. Liz would have understood exactly what I was talking about.”

“I’m sure she would and the two of you would have been on the phone for an hour discussing it.” Steven started to laugh.

“Exactly what’s that suppose to mean?” The tone in my voice stopped his laughter.

He shook his head “You know I’m beginning to miss Liz myself.” he said. “Exactly how many more days until you meet her in San Francisco?”

“Whenever it is, it’s not soon enough for you, huh?”

Steven just smiled as he turned the sound back up on his show.

I was walking into my bedroom when a speck of something golden caught my eye. It was right in the middle of my white closet door and it looked exactly like a drop of gold. I reached out to touch it when it suddenly took flight, circled around the room and landed up on the crown molding. I have to admit I was not only impressed, but surprised too. How often do you get to see a drop of gold fly?

I decided I needed to take a better look. I dragged a chair over and looked up to see the sun reflecting off the little creature. It’s sparkle was beautiful. I climbed up on the chair and struggled to focus in on the little guy. I soon realized that my age was showing and I was going to need my reading glasses to really be able to see him. I climbed off the wobbly chair, ran to my bedside table, grabbed my glasses and climbed back up.

I came to the conclusion that he must be some type of fantastic mutant ladybug when my son Alex walked by and saw me standing on the chair, my cheek pressed against the wall, staring up at the ceiling.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

I looked down at him. “I’m looking at the most beautiful golden ladybug.” I said.

Alex looked up at the ceiling. “Where?”

I looked back up and saw it was gone. “It was right there!” I pointed to the now empty spot. “I took my eyes off of him for one second and now he’s gone!” I held onto the back of the chair, my reading glasses propped on the tip of my nose, and scanned around the room.

“Do you need help getting down?” Alex held my hand as I climbed down.

“Do you see him?” I asked as I walked around the room, pulling back the drapes and checking my bedspread.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure he’ll come back.” Alex said. He sounded like I’d just told him I’d cornered a leprechaun that had magically disappeared.

“I’m serious!” I said. “I’ll prove I’m not nuts! I’m going to look him up on the Internet!”

“Okay, you have fun doing that.” Alex said as he disappeared into him room.

I went to my computer and typed in golden ladybug. Sure enough, there it was. It turns out that it’s really called a milkweed tortoise beetle, but there were a few Web sites dedicated to this gorgeous creature.

“I’m not crazy!” I called out to Alex. “Do you want to come see what a golden tortoise beetle looks like?”

“I already saw him in your room.” he called back.

“You did not!” I yelled. “He flew away before you could see him!”

“That’s okay, I believe you.”

“You do not!” I got up to search my bedroom again. As I scanned the ceiling I couldn’t believe that ten minutes ago I was marveling at how lucky I was to see such a rare and beautiful creature.

But now, just ten minutes later, I was crawling around on my hands and knees trying to find the creepy little bug just to prove to Alex that I wasn’t nuts.

“Well, the baby bunnies are gone.” I said sadly as I sat down at the dining room table for dinner with my husband, Steven and our two boys.

The past few weeks had been a whirlwind for me, ever since I’d discovered the bunny nest right in the middle of our front lawn.

It had been an early evening and we were about to get a huge thunderstorm. I’d just pulled into the driveway, trying to beat the storm, when I noticed a tiny baby bunny, all alone, leaned up against my front steps.

“Oh, honey!” I cried. “Where’s your mother?” I looked around the yard hoping to find a frantic Mom waiting for me to go inside so she could save her baby. But no luck, she wasn’t anywhere to be found.

I wasn’t sure what I was going to do as the rumble of thunder got closer.

I went back to the baby, “I can’t bring you in the house.” I explained to the statue like bunny. “Because if your Mom comes to look for you she won’t be able to find you.” I pointed to my living room window. “But, I’ll be right in that window watching to make sure she comes back before the storm hits. Okay?” We stared at each other, the bunny and I, for a few moments before I went inside and took up my post on the living room couch.

Luckily, it wasn’t long before the Mommy bunny showed up in the middle of the front yard and the baby hopped over to her and climbed under her.

As I watched I could see a few more bunny heads pop out around her. She had come to feed them. I was thrilled to see everyone seemed safe and accounted for. When Mommy hopped away, a few minutes later, I went outside to where they’d been and found a ball of bunny fur tapped down in the lawn. “So there’s your nest.” I said. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t noticed it before. “Nice hiding job!” I called after her.

But once I knew where the nest was I couldn’t help myself. I was checking on it morning noon and night.

Before I’d go to work I’d watch the babies hopping in the tall grass, practicing their freeze-like-a-statue skills. When I got home from work I’d check to see that the fur lid, on the nest, was in place and the babies were resting. Then when evening arrived I’d sit by my living room window watching as they’d practice hopping and clover munching. I was loving my babies bunnies.

I was also taking my responsibility of keeping them safe very seriously.

So, when our the lawn guy showed up to mow, no one in my family was surprised when I was right there positioning a plant stand over the nest so he wouldn’t mow over it.

“You know, they just stay in the nest.” he said. “I mow over rabbit nests all the time.” He tried to reassure me as I taped a sign to the plant stand that said BUNNY NEST with a arrow pointing down. Just in case he forgot why there was a plant stand in the middle of the lawn.

“I’m sure that’s true,” I said. “But we really can’t be too careful with this litter.” I said “The Mom seems a bit nervous and high-strung.” I explained as I headed back to the house.

I’m not sure if he realized I was talking about myself but Mommy bunny and I had worked too hard to get them this far and I wasn’t going to take any chances.

But now weeks had gone by I was sitting at the dinner table with my family I couldn’t hold back my disappointment any longer. “I just checked the nest and they’re all gone.” I said sadly.

“Wow! That was quick!” Alex said.

“I know. They only need to be in the nest a few weeks.” I explained. “Then they’re weened and off to make it on their own.”

“That seems kind of harsh.” Alex said.

I shrugged my shoulders. “It’s all the time they need with their Mommy.” I explained.

Alex smiled as he gave me a little pat on my back. “Lucky for you human babies stay a lot longer!” He passed me the bowl of potatoes. “By the way I finished off the last of the milk, bread and orange juice at breakfast this morning.” he gave me a big smile. “You might want to add them to your grocery list.”

THIS PIECE WAS FIRST PUBLISHED IN COUNTRY ACCENTS MAGAZINE

I was hoping to get an idea of what sort of paintings I wanted to buy for my home by leafing through an art catalog. That’s when I noticed the painting of a child sitting next to a pretty woman on a park bench. There was something so familiar about the red hat the woman was wearing. Then it hit me. I used to own that painting! I scanned the catalog’s page to find the name of the artist and there it was—Renoir! I used to own a Renoir!

My memory jogged by the catalog, I could envision that painting as it hung on my bedroom wall so many years ago. No other seven-year-old could have been as proud as I was the day I brought it home. I hung it over my bed and stared at that woman’s smile for hours. I studied the way her brown hair curled under her red hat, and hoped I’d grow up to be as beautiful as she was.

I remembered clearly how I had come to own that painting: My dad and I were on one of our grocery shopping expeditions. We always used two grocery carts because we were working from a list designed to feed seven children and two adults for the week. Grocery shopping was a major chore then, and Dad and I were masters of it. I was Dad’s eager student as I listened to him explain how important it was to figure out which brand of tuna was the cheapest. Dad marveled that I seemed to know instinctively which box of cereal would feed our family for the least amount of money. I can still hear him saying, “Some people go out to buy, while others go out and shop.” Then he’d look at me and smile. “We’re shoppers,” he’d say, and I’d feel proud.

It was because of my bargain-hunting skills that Dad decided I was to be rewarded. The grocery stores often offered giveaway deals. The idea was to save up your register receipts and cash them in for a prize. Most months the prizes were dishes, towels, or maybe books, but that month the reward was paintings.

When dad came to the check-out line, he sent me to the crate of paintings stacked at the end of an aisle to pick out whichever one I wanted. I remember the rush of excitement I felt as I carefully sorted through the pile, taking my time to look at each painting before going on to the next. Dad was almost finished bagging our order when I spotted it—the painting I fell in love with. The woman with the red hat.

Little did I know then that my seven-year-old taste was for the work of a master. I have to laugh now that I think about how kids generally get their first glimpse of great art. A trip to the city to wander through a museum, maybe even an excursion of an exclusive gallery. Heck, others wait years to go to Europe to study great works of art. But not me. I got my first taste of culture at the A&P while my Dad bagged the family-size tub of chunky peanut butter. I don’t know if this realization depresses me or shows how deeply ingrained my bargain-hunting gift truly is.

I do know one thing. Now when others reminisce, “when I was little…you could get gum for a penny,” or “candy bars were only a nickel back then,” I’m the only person I know who can say, “when I was a little girl you could get a genuine reproduction Renoir for only $75.00 worth of grocery receipts.”

After cutting the tomato into wedges, I arranged them on a plate, grabbed the salt shaker and went outside where Steven was sitting on the porch.

“Would you like a slice?” I asked, holding the plate out to him.

“You cut up a cherry tomato?” he asked. He took the salt shaker and sprinkled it over the tiny slices. Then he scopped the slices together and popped them all in his mouth.

“I grew that myself!” I said proudly.

Steven nodded his approval while he finished chewing. “You mean it came from the poor tomato plant you never watered or touched in any way since you brought it home?”

“That’s the one!”

It had been a few weeks back that I’d gone to the garden center and brought home a half-dozen different kinds of plants. Sadly most of them hadn’t made it.

“It s not like I do it on purpose.” I argued. I’d tried everything to remember to water them. I’d created gardening containers for the porch, placing them so close to the back door that I’d practically fall over them every time I went out. But it seemed I was always in such a rush coming and going that the porch containers didn’t seem to be working for me.

So I tried indoor gardening. Bringing some of the pots in, I lined them along the windowsill in front of the kitchen sink, thinking I couldn’t possibly miss them while I was doing the dishes.

Well, it turns out that I don’t look up much when I’m washing pots and pans. Once again, by the time I noticed that they needed water, they were so far gone that I’d dropped them in the trash with the dinner scrapes.

“But I’ve finally got a harvest now!” I said as I proudly looked over at the shriveled leaves on the one plant I’d left of the porch where two more cherry tomatoes were ready to be picked.

Steven walked over to the plant to take a closer look. “It’s amazing that these grew at all.” he said as he touched the bone dry dirt.

“I know! I seem to have finally found the perfect plant for me! One that can take care of itself!”

Steven looked back at me. “You know these tomato plants are suppose to have dozens of tomatoes on them.”

“Of course I know that.” I answered as I lovingly touched the two that remained. “That’s what makes these so special. If they can grow in these conditions they much be hearty and full of flavor.”

Steven took the salt shaker from me. “You know, I used to love going in my grandfather’s garden, picking them right off the vine and popping them in my mouth.” He reached over to pick of the the last two.

“Wait a minute!’ I cried, stopping him. “I’m making a cucumber and tomato salad with those tonight!”

“That’s going to be a pretty small salad.” Steven said doubtfully.

“Not when it’s going to be mostly cucumber.” I answered, then smiled.