Showers of Sun Spots

Living on an island in the Atlantic tends to change one's habits. Some just seem to be matter-of-fact...and one of those would be outdoor showering. It makes sense..really...the weather is hot and humid and after an indoor shower, nothing dries for hours (towels, mirrors, floor tiles.) So, of course, the most practical solution is to shower outside. All of the houses on the island have outdoor showers right outside the back door...well, almost all of them. Out the back door you go with a towel or robe or, well, none of the above..open up the latch and there under trees and sky and stars is your shower. The shower is a wooden structure complete with shelves for all the shampoos and rinses..

There is something quite freeing to showering outside...to hollering to friends and neighbors walking by...or sitting in someone else's back yard waiting for them to finish their shower. Some folks have double headed showers...for saving water...

When the water is turned off, you unlatch the door and reach for the towel, run a comb through your hair and the day is ready to begin..and alas, no tile to scrub!!

Beauty and the Beach

Hot summer days brngs color to the beach on Ocracoke Island. The tourists all gather at the stretch of sand and water that is staffed by lifeguards who blow whistles and determine if the water is safe for swimming for the day...free of currents and high waves. The beach is colorful with umbrellas in every hue...bathing suits in every style...and the smell of suntan lotion and sand-filled bologna sandwiches. It is traditional with sand castles and volleyball and paperback novels (also filled with sand.)

However, down the beach a few miles, accessible from the road by an obscured pathway is another beach. This one is used by the locals...there usually aren't any sand castles or bologna sandwiches, nor have I seen any paperback novels...the beach is simply vacant except for the occasional pair of shorts or sundress, as this beach is swimwear optional. Of course, while frolicking in the surf, one's eyes are often on the lookout for a strayed beach walker from the conventional beach. Thongs are also allowed as was the case today as we met the local island attorney. I daresay, he decided to forego the suit and tie...a nice memory for me to remember when I see him at the bank next week. By the way, he had a great tan!!

The Journey

Wtihin the last few years I have taken many journeys...some were geographical..trips around the US, backpacking in the British Aisles, visiting my children in all ports. Some have been emotional...living here and there, life changes...some purely meaphorical..into the life and times of Emily Dickinson, Abigail Adams..time past, time present.

But this summer seems to be a journey of all the above...packing and leaving my house at white picket gardens..traveling by rail, arriving on a small island, Ocracoke, to spend the summer with my friend, Philip. Immersing oneself into a new life style is challenging and exciting and little by little becomes the norm. So, friends, the next few weeks will be stories of the journey. Pour a tall glass of iced tea (with lemon or fresh mint), open wide the windows and let's just chat.

Midnight Express

So, at this twilight time as everyone has dinner, listens to the news, chats wihh their families, I am closing up the House at White Picket Gardens...fresh sheets on the beds, cupboards and closets empty, boxes shipped. For tonight I take the Midnight Express (or so I call it) from Waterloo, Indiana to Washington, D.C. and there transferring to Norfolk, Virginia. The summer plans? To spend the summer with my wonderful friend, Philip on Ocracoke Island. It will definitely be a adventure, for as he says, "Toto, we aren't in Kansas anymore." I can't even begin to anticipate all the events of the summer...so let's just let it unfold. The journey is a combination of Dr. Zhivago and the Polar Express..my lunch is packed, my ride is waiting at the door...time to log out, pack up the lap top as the last item in my carry on. Adventure awaits.

Memorial Day

Welcome to Memorial Day in a small northern town....I walked down early this morning to join in the celebration (carrying my umbrella, of course). I had coffee at Rachael's on the square and watched as the crowds began to gather. Most folks had walked from town, but some had come in from the lakes or farm or the suburbs. The high school band assembled in front of the courthouse and the dignataries on the circle inself....there were boy scouts with flags, babies in prams, folks in wheel chairs...all for the same cause to honor those who have protected our freedom. It was the usual celebration, the speeches, the star spangled banner, the pledge of allegience, taps....except standing next to me was an elderly man. I don't know his name nor his story (at least the specifics) but he wept openly during the ceremony. I quietly removed my anti-war button off my tee-shirt and slipped it into my jeans pocket..it isn't important that he know about me, it is enough that I know about him. I am humble, and I am grateful.

Rainy Sunday Afternoons...

Today is rained all day...pouring and drizzling, and an ebony afternoon with winking streetlights. Rainy Sundays are dreamy times, really. I thought lots today about growing up with a noisy house of six children, and original parents!! We knew we could always curl up with a good book in the quietness of our own rooms...after the Sunday dinner was over. We would come home from church, dad would put Never on Sunday on the stereo/phonograph, and we all had chores. Dinner was always a major production when I was growing up. We had flowers and candles and conversation...and we were never allowed to take a phone call during dinner. Dad would always play the devil's advocate (he still does) and we would be so mad at him!! After all the dishes were cleaned up, we would meander up to our rooms for naps or reading or those missed phone calls. I guess I'll just meander up to my own room here at White Picket Gardens and read a chapter or two before a Sunday nap...ahhh, but first, the chores.

Listening for fairies...

Today is a day of beauty in Northern Indiana. Fat, heavy raindrops splattered trees and earth earlier this morning, but the afternoon became heavy with sun. My garden has never been more beautiful...dripping blossooms of peonies, tall Irises, honeysuckle so heavy that one has to duck under the trellis. It is one of those days that I know the fairies will be waking up. When I was a little girl, my Dad bought me poetry book and inscibed it to me....always take time to listen to fairies, he said...This past month, slowly recovering from eye surgery, I have spent time waiting for the fairies to wake up and prepare for the solstice and midsummer's Eve. Here is a lovely chant to help bring the fairies into your own garden, should you chose.

Ring, ring in fairy ring,
Fairies dance and fairies sing,
Round, round on the soft green ground--
Never a sound--never a sound.
Sway, sway as the grasss sway
Down by the lough at the dawn of the day. (from Ireland)