Another year...

I took this photo at the end of last year's fall semester.

My office at Trine is just how I left it except for the missing plants I took home. I unlocked the door this morning, and everything is exactly as it should be. Well, the twinkle lights burned out over the summer but never fear as I have a new box of lights in my satchel.

My new office was built for me early last winter. I truthfully didn’t think it would be possible to redo the room behind the stage in Taylor Hall. It was a catchall room with loads of theatre props and clothing, rusty old sinks still attached to the wall, stained floors and walls, no heat or fiber optics. In fact, you really couldn’t even walk through the room.

After the autumn show closed, Dr. Hopp, Joanna Claudy, and me rolled up our sleeves and cleaned up all the debris. Some things went to our storage unit, other things went to the dumpster, and still others? I have no idea. I do know everything ended up missing. The workers came in with gusto replacing ceiling tiles, laying carpet, painting walls, running fiber optics, and even washing the three huge floor to ceiling windows. (I never saw the windows before as they were all closed. I have had the best time decorating and planning this new space attached to my favorite place on campus, except for the Furth Center.

I unlock the door and everything is good. My teapot is waiting, the empty tin is waiting for the cookies, the chalkboard has been redone announcing the auditions for the fall play. I plug in my laptop, and I think I will get to work. I was wrong. The minute I sit at my desk, the students begin coming in one at a time. Of course, I could have shut my door, but that would not have been any fun at all! I love seeing them. Most of them are bright and shiny after a summer of jobs and internships and travel. Some are not so shiny and need to talk about various subjects. (As you know teachers need to be ready to listen at all times.) I am more than happy to become a sounding board for those students.

We drink tea. We eat cookies. We wish each other a good semester and off they go before a new batch comes in. Of course, my theatre students are different. I will see them almost every day during the course of this semester. They are excited about the fall play and some even borrow the bright and unused scripts that are sitting on my desk. No problem for me as they like to peruse the show, maybe learn a line or two or choose a character that they love. I am just happy so many are back and want to be involved. There are new freshman theatre students too, and I am delighted to bring them aboard.

It seems like only yesterday we closed our last show, “The Somewhat True Tale of Robin Hood.” But here we are with auditions just two weeks away. If you are curious about our new show, and you definitely should be, come find us during Trine Fest. We will be at our table blowing the bubbles. We will hand out the title of our show along with a card with the save the date!

So, we are back. The students are here. I love that they are back. I missed them. I also feel they bring so much energy back to our town. We are not exactly a college town, although we keep trying to bridge the gap between the university and the town. I think we are doing a great job with this. I want our students out and about in the town…having dinner, watching movies, photographing Miss Columbia. I want them to feel a part of us, and I want for us to feel a part of these terrific students.

Yes, I am back for another year. Every year I think to myself, will this be the last year for me? But I manage to say “yes” and keep the fire burning. I love it too much to leave. I love our students also.

So, come on out to Trine Fest this Saturday. Enjoy these students Stop on by our table to see what show we will be doing and stay and chat for a while. The students aren’t that scary!! See you there.

Cheers to a great year at Trine. 

 

Strolling down Main Street in Pleasant Lake...

Strolling down the streets of Pleasant Lake last Saturday was almost like walking through a history book. Photos and stories of this small town were posted up and down Main Street, much like the old-fashioned Burma Shave. The fun part about Pleasant Lake is that it truly does combine the past with the present. It is like a dormant Rip Van Winkle. Of course, that is a fictional story, and he only slept for twenty years. In this case, how long did Pleasant Lake sleep, and who was the magical fairy with the wand who brought it back to life?

The first two names who wooed the town out of the deep sleep are Elten and Carolyn Powers. Elten grew up in Pleasant Lake, moved away for his teaching career, and then headed back home. I am sure when he and Carolyn built their house and established their prairie that they never dreamed what would come next! What did come next?

The Pleasant Lake Museum was the first to arrive on the scene with hard work, community help and a vision like no other, the museum was built. Donations of money and artifacts began to fill in the blank spaces. I love visiting this little museum and seeing the beauty of Pleasant Lake in this once-upon-a-time time travel. The museum is open every Sunday afternoon from 2-4. Take a leisurely drive and end up at the museum. You definitely will feel as I do.

What came next, you ask? I believe Kelly Lynch brought his world famous (at least in these here parts) steam engines and other passenger trains to the Pleasant Lake Depot and the Angola Depot. On this particular Saturday as I meandered between past and present, the train whistle blew depicting the departure of the ice cream train. I took my Littles on that train a couple of years ago…ice cream in hand, eyes wide open, and the roar of the whistle as we found our seats. How many of us ride trains these days? Kelly has worked with the Fort Wayne Railroad Historical Society and brought it to us wrapped in a red ribbon. Just open the package and inside is the ice cream train, the picnic train, the whiskey train and so many more. Dress up if you would like. I know that is my favorite thing to do.

Moving on from the railroad and the museum, I headed down to the park where folks were gathered for great food and music. The Pleasant Lake Lions club provided a cookout sending the scents of summer into the air. I put my twenty-dollar bill into the donation box and took a plateful over to sit with Carolyn at the membership tent. Yes, we are both members! After we closed up for the afternoon, I was off to the last bit of bygone history…the opening of the Pleasant Lake Barbershop. Yes, another one of Elten’s visions!

As I meandered up the street from the park, folks were walking and chatting, pushing strollers, carrying toddlers. If I closed my eyes (and I did), I could see women in long dresses with parasols and men with derby hats and long coats. My imagination does get the best of me sometimes, but there we were standing in front of the barber shop built in the 1880’s. It is one of the oldest buildings in Steuben County. The last barber retired in 1984 and walked out the door leaving it as it was. It was left alone for 40 years…double that of Rip Van Winkle.

With community support with various donations and grants, new life has come to fruition. As I walked up the steps, I noticed a sign in the window, “Haircuts. $3.” Not bad, I thought, three bucks for a haircut. When I walked in, I had to laugh as the men were all lined up waiting for their own $3 haircut. Doing the cutting on Saturday was Josh Kline who owns The CombOver Barbershop. The barber chair was original as were many of the fixtures in this tiny little building. A new floor, air conditioning (that was nice on Saturday) and a few amenities, but we were right back to 1880.

I sat in one of the chairs and waited my turn. I couldn’t wait to sit in that chair. Of course, I donated another twenty-dollar bill so Josh would not cut my hair!

A stroll from the past to the present. Pleasant Lake is on the map!

Kathy and Alice

 Lou Ann and Kathleen at a Pub at Union Station! (A few years ago!)

I am not sure how our friendship started. I think it was aerobics class. I always stood in the front row, Kathy in the back. We didn't talk to each other much, although we knew each other. Even though I wasn't the teacher, I was always in charge...so I thought.

After life changed for the two of us, we found ourselves just a few blocks away in our little town. We were both single with good jobs and children that we loved who were on their way to becoming adults! We each owned our own houses.  We also discovered we shared the same political and environmental views. It was as if our friendship was always just waiting for us in the wings. And it was.

Because I am prone to accidents (and truly I am) Kathy stepped right up the first time I got hurt. She made sure I was tucked into my little bed which had been moved to the downstairs before she went home. She did cleaning. She did laundry. We watched movies. I could never have recovered without her...that time or other times.

When I started my Airbnb, it was Kathy who jumped right in to help with the cleaning. She knows my house better than I do, and there are certain cupboards from which I am forbidden unless I mess it up!

When my life falls apart, and it often does that too, she is there to pick me up. 

Kathy listens. She counsels. She laughs with me. She cries with me. She lets me be herself, and I hope I do the same for her. We have been through so much and our friendship has stayed strong and steady. Kathy is my go-to for everything in my life. I tell her all my secrets knowing they are safe with her. She is my BFF...now and forever.

The past few years, Kathy has taken time off from this lovely town of ours and all her many jobs to go to South Carolina to help take care of her mom, Alice. Alice is 101 years old and is my hero. She has a family who adores her...loves her...takes care of her. Alice is smart and bright and really, from what I am told doesn't miss a trick. Even though we have never met, I love Alice. 

Kathy has spent most of her summer with Alice. She never complains or even says she is homesick even though I tell her I miss her. She is an adoring daughter.

Kathy reads my blog to Alice. Alice says she gets to know me through my writing. So, cheers to you, Alice!

Alice, you are a treasure. This blog tonight is for you. Thank you for being such a role model for your own children and for this child, me, far away, who loves you also.

Be well, you two, and yes, come home soon, Kathy. I miss you. In the meantime, read stories, tell stories, drink your little bit of port before bedtime and know that the two of you are loved.

Is there anything better than that?

Summer is still Magical...

 

I like writing about going back to school. I like writing about the crickets in the kitchen, and goldenrod in the garden, and re-reading “Dandelion Wine” by Ray Bradbury for the hundredth time. But…it is the first week of August, and I should not be writing about any of those things. Not yet. I don’t know how all of this started moving up the starting days of school, but here it is. I guess I really question the “why” of it. I try to think of it logically as in, oh right, they need extra time to read, or they lose too much over the summer. I get it, but then again, I don’t.

Summer is pure magic. Putting the shoes put away until Labor Day, and then, of course, they don’t fit the sprawling, bare-footed child. (How much scrubbing does it take to clean those feet?) We used to have a big pan of water outside the farmhouse door for feet scrubbing, but I doubt any of my boys really had super clean feet until November. I think I was included in that.

Summer is pure magic. Staying up late catching (and releasing) those lightning bugs which are so prominent this summer. If we weren’t catching them, we were biking around after dark or playing hide-n-go-seek until our dads called us home for the night. We always knew the sound of our own screen doors and lamented the fact that the day was over. Who wants a summer day to be over? Not me.

Summe is pure magic. Stretching out on the grass to watch the clouds take shape and change as bunnies or dinosaurs appear in the heavens. While watching the clouds (yes, a little Joni Mitchell here!), chew on the stem of a dandelion or a stray wheat stalk that ended up in the garden.

Summer is pure magic. Camping in a real tent far away from everyone is an August dream. We used to take our tent up to Lake Superior in August after 4-H, after baseball, after chores. We fished in the day (okay, my boys fished, I read trashy novels), told stories by the campfire at night. One year I saw the Aurora Borealis, and it completely took my breath away.

Summer is pure magic. Hauling in the zucchini by the bushel basket and leaving them on neighbor’s doorsteps in the dark of night! Picking sweet corn while the water is boiling on the stove. Burgers on the grills and s’mores at the campfire make for a perfect end to a garden day.

Summer is pure magic. Reading books while dusk turns to night, and then with the flashlights under the covers because, well, you can sleep in if you stay up all night reading! Gathering up those books and returning them to the mobile library as they peruse the town. My friends and I sat on the curb with arms full of books waiting for the traveling librarian with hopes that she remembered the books we wanted!

Summer is pure magic. Visiting relatives and friends gather at the house or the vacation spot filling the refrigerator with watermelons and popsicles and sleeping in every corner possible. My grandparents used to drive their Airstream trailer up to see us at the cottage on Lake Michigan when we were kids. Grandma brought green beans and cucumbers from her garden along with her award-winning pies and cakes. Everything was gone in a day!

Summer is pure magic. I realize that I am a romantic. I think all houses are full of books, the yards are full of lightning bugs, children get to stay home and be barefoot. I know. Lou Ann, you are so full of nostalgia…but why not? It worked for me. It still works for me. I want that magic in my life even though things change. My boys have their own lives, and I roam around in my purple house and my gardens with friends or guests coming and going. I want campfires and lightning bugs. I want clouds and sunsets. I want it all.

So, here is what I have to say with the school year starting in the middle of the magic. Parents, keep the magic. Evenings and weekends can still be magical. Go camping. Watch clouds. Read books til dark. Have campfires. Don’t let the change in the school calendar take away the magic. It doesn’t have to be like that.

Summer is still here, and, yes, it is magical.

Happy Birthday!

 

My birthday celebration with my boys!

As soon as I got to the front door, I knew we were having a great celebration! Peeking into the dining room I could see the room was full of cards and gifts and flowers and balloons. I smiled. Rachel knows how to celebrate birthdays, and since it was my birthday, it was all the more fun! As I walked in, the Indiana family were all there to greet me. “Happy birthday, Nannie!” could be head echoing through the halls of the house.

The four of them know there is nothing I love more than family and they are always there for me! I know I was smiling from ear to ear just being able to spend the evening with them! There would be fireworks too from the Fremont Music Festival, if the skies cleared.

As I walked further into the house, Rachel was literally bouncing off the walls! “Did you see the dining room?” she asked me. I nodded…oh my, yes, beautiful. And it was. Again, she asked, “Did you see the dining room?” Again, I nodded. On her third time asking the same question, I decided I better go investigate the dining room. Yes, I missed something. Two mannequins wearing Mardi gras masks were sitting at the table. They turned their heads as I burst into tears. It was Adam and Lisa. They flew up from St. Pete in the morning to surprise me! I am not used to quite a big surprise and I cried, of course. With my boys living a distance away, I don’t get to be with them too often, but now I had two out of the three.

We chatted about Abe. Wouldn’t it be nice if he could have come? But, he has four kids, and they just got back from vacation. Of course, I get it. Aaron was finishing up the brats and burgers (what, no fish?) when Rachel went to the door as more guests were streaming in. This time when I looked up, there he was, my youngest. I cried again. Now all three are together for my birthday! I do not think there is anything in the world that could have made me happier than my three together with me. With Rachel’s family joining us and family friends, we sat at the table for hours laughing, crying and telling stories. My boys are masters of storytelling!

There were times I sat back in my chair to watch. If I closed my eyes, I could see the three of them romping through the woods at the farm or riding their Big Wheels up and down the small hills. If I closed my eyes, I could hear them telling stories at the farmhouse table or talking late into the night. If I closed my eyes, I could see the three of them playing baseball for Angola High School. If I closed my eyes, time stopped.

The hours flew by as always happens when you want to stop time or hold on to it with both arms. I opened lovely presents…and funny ones too! We cleaned up and got our chairs situated on the balcony for the fireworks. The sky cleared and from their house, we had a perfect view! By 10:00 the skies were full of fireworks. It was a great display, and we all cheered as they lit up the sky.

The evening came to a close. “Hold tight,” I whispered to myself, as I hugged each child of mine. I drove home late with my windows rolled down to dry my tears in the wind. Luckily, we still had Sunday to be together. And then that was that. By Monday morning, I had theatre, and they all had flights home. It was short, but it was probably two of the happiest days of my life.

When our children are small, it seems as if they might stay that way forever. And then, as if some bit of magic or the passing of time, there they are all grown up. That is how it should be, but then again, it tears my heart apart when we have to leave each other.

I am so fortunate. This year’s birthday was a big one for me. When the candles were lit and after the song, everyone chanted, “Make a wish and blow out the candles.”  I smiled through my tears. “I don’t have any wishes. They have already come true,” I say as I look around a table full of love.

Drama Camp 101!

 

It’s Monday morning and we gather in a circle. Our nametags are on, but most of us know each other. I wait until the ten o’clock hour, and I begin. “Welcome to LCYC Drama Camp. I am Miss Maggie.” I have said those words so many years during the summer. Yes, it is once again time for drama camp. From year to year I always feel I have plenty of time to finish the script, edit and tidy it up before I send it to Jennifer Martin to print for our young students. Yet, it seems during the week before it is fast and furious getting the script around. But it always gets down and ready for our students. Of course, they want to see the script the first thing on Monday morning, but we keep the scripts under lock and key until after lunch.

My job is the easy one…I write and direct the show. Jennifer Martin, director of LCYC, is the glue for all of us. She arranges the location, all the helpers, lunches. She does the programs, and the social media for our camp. She smiles the whole time assuring us all is well, and the show will go on.

Even though Jenn takes everything off my plate, I do always wonder…will the magic show up one more time? Will they learn the script, and be able to leave it on the back table? Will there be costumes and make-up? The answer to all of this is yes. These things always happen.

This year’s story takes place in 1789 in Seville, Spain. It is, of course, one of my signature who-dun-it plays which involves the audience. Usually, I don’t even tell the cast who-dun-it, but this year it had to be woven into the plot!

After lunch on Monday, we hand out the scripts. I watch them curiously as they quickly browse through the pages…lots of pages. They are quiet as they peruse the script. They are looking for their parts. Who will they be in the show? How hard is this script? I think this one is a little difficult, but I have no worries. We have a small group too which is made up of the younger students who are just toe-dipping into theatre. I have competent help with Ellie and Ana to work on their young acting skills. The younger ones will be performing the short pirate vignette between the scenes. Everyone will be on stage. Everyone.

You know my passion is the theatre. Going back into history we find theatre emerging in Ancient Greece in 700 BC in the City of Athens. The Greeks focused on tragedy, comedy and satire. Of course, only men occupied the stage. Not only could women not perform, but could not attend theatrical performances. Theatre was considered an indecent occupation for women. Men played all the parts. By 1660 during the Restoration period, it changed, and women were allowed to take parts on the stage. Anne Marshall was the first female professional actor in her performance of Othello. After that, all the rules changed, and aren’t we glad about that?

I look at these young actors in my charge for the week. I expect so much out of them. I tease them about taking the script with them everywhere they go. I can always tell how much they are working outside of camp as to how worn and torn their scripts look!!! (They don’t know I notice!) The auditions go as planned and we have a cast. Of course, not everyone gets the part they want, and that is okay. In theatre, as in life, we take it as it comes. I have many returning students each year that I love watching the progression from young actor with a line or two to a confident actor taking on the lead role. That has happened again this year. The older students are mentors with the younger ones!

So, our show goes on, and we would love to see you! We have just one performance on Friday night at 6:30 at Lakeland Jr. Sr. High School. There is no cost so bring the whole family! If you have a young person in the show, you won’t want to miss it. It is also wonderful for these students to see a nice audience. You will be amazed. They are all brave and excited to be on that big stage. Come see us on Friday!

So, my dear cast, break a leg!

 

A little bit of gardening, traveling memories and remembering a special poet.

 Buffalo Bill

With scissors in my back pocket and my watering can in my hand, I head out to the garden as soon as the sun’s rays dance upon my picket fence. It is early. Early enough so that the heat of the sun stays away long enough to water my garden and check for any special plants peeking out or others needing clipping. I am always surprised at what I find in the early morning light. Walking the perimeter of my garden is such a joy even though I am a bit behind this year. I had it all planned out, but an injury put me in the backseat during the month of May, and we all know what I did in June. I kept reading articles stating there was still time to plant. I followed that advice and kept tossing seeds into the ground during the first of July. On the whole, I planted 250 sunflower seeds. One grew. The neighborhood squirrels enjoyed the rest of them for brunch. Why, I ask myself with a sigh. I guess my garden will be blossoming when others begin the late summer withering process. We shall see. I am hopeful. The garden keeps me grounded these days…literally and figuratively as I try to limit my time on the news.

The news keeps my heart rate high. I cry over every lost child or adult in the flooded areas. Their photos flash over the Internet and I am drawn to look into their young eyes. This week the historic Inn at the Grand Canyon burned to the ground. I was there once with my family. We usually spent the summer at Lake Michigan, but one year my dad decided we should go West…as in the advice by Horace Greely. We were all issued a trash bag (there were a lot of kids), in which to pack with our clothes and treasures. It was easier to pack trash bags in the back of a station wagon than suitcases. They fit much better. We had another container full of small breakfast cereals. The kind where we each got our own! The milk was stored in the cooler along with bologna for lunches.

It was a six-week journey across America from Indiana to California and back by way of station wagon. Two parents and five kids. My youngest sister was not born yet. My travel place was in the middle of the backseat so I could entertain all the younger siblings. No iPads or phones…just our own voices for songs and stories…all the way there and back. No wonder I grew up to love stories and music! And how many of us sang a hundred bottles of beer on the wall?

We stayed at the Wild Buffalo Bill Hotel in Cody, Wyoming. We actually stayed two nights which sent my mom refiguring our journey as she had planned each day. During our stay the grandson of Buffalo Bill was there. As I remember, he was quite a character. We loved staying there on our way to Yellowstone National Park.

And then we went to the Grand Canyon and splurged to stay at the Inn. We all crowded into two rooms. We did not walk down into the canyon but spent much time wandering around the rim. It was spectacular. This week the wildfires took the Inn and the history with it.

This week we also lost a marvelous writer and poet. Andrea Gibson was the Poet Laureate of Colorado. She was chosen in 2023. Qualifications include artistic ability along with a body of work. Usually, these poets are also activists for causes. Andrea was definitely that. Her work reminds me of Mary Oliver, of which I am also a great fan. I do believe in poetry. I believe it helps us understand and appreciate our world. Her is just a quick sample of Andrea’s work. She was just 49.

I know you think this world is too dark to even dream in color,

But I’ve seen flowers bloom at midnight.

I’ve seen kites fly in gray skies

And they were real close to looking like the sunrise,

And sometimes it takes the most wounded wings the most broken things

To notice how strong the breeze is, how precious the flight.

Andrea Gibson

Her words help me understand and appreciate the beauty of this life. I think about this as I put away the morning tools and take one last look at the garden. Tomorrow is another day.

 

Camp Memories

Eight pairs of socks rolled up neatly and labeled. One set for each boy. Eight sets of underwear rolled up neatly and labeled. One set for each boy. Shorts, shirts, sweatshirts, flashlights, stamps (in case they wanted to send a note home!) and extra sneakers knowing they would wade in the water and run through the woods. Pack it all up in the old van and then drive around town to pick up their friends for their week’s adventure. First, we picked up Curt Hasselman, Abe’s best friend. Then it was off to the Farnham’s to pick up Dan and Matt. There were others but with my three and those three, the van was full. All the way to Conservation Camp they sang, they laughed, they joked. I drove carefully knowing I had a car full of precious, funny boys. 

When we arrived, we checked in. I gave permission for medical care should the need arise…kissed my three fondly (even with their “Mom!” voices) and home I went. I drove the empty van home smiling all the way, knowing how much fun they would have, and I had a week off from bugs and butterflies and worms and rocks and dirt. Ahhh….one week of quiet bliss. I did not worry or fret. I knew they were fine. A week later I picked them all up. Everything was dirty in their camp satchels. They sang and laughed and told stories all the way home. I just smiled listening to them. Once home I emptied their bags…rocks, twigs, all the stamps still intact!

 When I went to camp as a kid, it was exactly the same thing only I had days of the week underwear plus one! The first time I went I was nervous. It was Girl Scout Camp, and I was a young girl scout. I was excited to earn more badges, sleep in a cabin, row a boat, take a hike in the woods, do crafts, and write home during quiet time since my mom sent stamps. I did all of those things including the letters home. My dad saved all of those. We sang, we hiked, we pranked each other, we made friends for life and we couldn’t wait to go back the next year. The songs I learned at camp have stayed with me all my life. Whenever I meet another girl schout we break out into song. I remember every word to every song.

 I went to church camp too. The songs were different, and we did have devotions instead of ghost stories, but everything else was the same. During church camp I was bitten twice by a wasp. My counselor had me take a break on my cot with a cold compress on the bites. I wasn’t really nervous about it until one of the girls (I should call her Nellie Olson) whispered to me, “If you get bit one more time you will die!” To which, I broke out into tears. My counselor came to my side and told me that would never happen. She moved Nellie to another cabin. Nonetheless, I stayed awake all night waiting to be bit one more time. The threat was real, and I was scared. 

 The folks in the path of the flooding Guadalupe River did not go to bed with thoughts of dying. It was a holiday weekend with lots of activities planned with friends and families. I am sure the girls whispered in their cabins before falling asleep. Other folks on down the river, slept in their RV’s or tents or their own houses…like they did every night. Until. Until the dark of night brought the roaring, racing river into their lives. Abruptly and swiftly, they were awakened to evacuate. Out of a deep, sweet sleep came the terror of waking to water on the floor rising so quickly, they could not get out of the way. The river took them. 

 As a parent, as a grandparent, as a human being, my heart has been torn to shreds watching the news coverage and trying to keep up with the rescues. The rescues are few, but the findings in trees, on riverbanks, in cars are devastating. 

We, here in the Midwest, went on our merry way last weekend. Parades, music, fireworks, families. It was later we were glued to the news. We are so fortunate. The sun shines. Our gardens grow. Our children carry on with their lives. But, we will always remember this July 4th. Always.

Fireflies!

It is the Fourth of July week, and our skies will be lit up with fireworks from fields and lakes. I have to admit, I do love fireworks. I also do know they frighten cats and dogs and sleeping folks along with probably not being great for the environment. (“Ah, there’s the rub,” says Hamlet!) But I do love them. I am not here to talk about the lovely views of the celestial type, but a different kind of firework beauty. The firefly or as we called them as kids, lightning bugs. 

They are plentiful around northern Indiana this summer. My yard is lit up every night with their beauty. One night, while the kids were visiting, Holly said to me, “You know there probably won’t be fireflies someday.” She was right in her statement, but I boldly spoke up and said, “Then let’s make sure you know what to do and how to do it. This is not a done deal for fireflies.” She nodded.\

 As a kid chasing after fireflies, filling jars with their lights and setting them on our dressers at night was pure joy. Luckily my dad came to rescue and let them all go after we went to sleep. Of course, now we know better. Catch and release. It is very exciting to watch a firefly crawl up your arm and light up on your hand. But the question is now out there for all of us…how do we protect them? I want my grandchildren and all those who follow to share these magical nights and I guess it is up to us to put forth our best efforts in making this happen. 

 Okay, let’s chat. By the way, I have done my research through websites of the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service and Firefly.org. (Who knew, right?) I always love learning new things, and I just learned fireflies are not flies at all but are beetles with 2,400 species! (You can use that information at your next coffee date or cocktail party! I mean, we all like impressing folks!) Not all lightning bugs light up…only those east of the Rocky Mountains. Of course, they do not light up to impress us, it is their mating ritual. The males put on this splendid dance to find true love. Their lights are impressive to other fireflies as they sort through patterns and colors. (Did you know that?) If the mating ritual is successful, the females lay their eggs in the ground. Wow…love is difficult at any age!

 The protection of these new larva and later in the hatching is up to us. They can’t do that part alone. So, how can we help? I have lots of small little hints and ideas…it is amazing that just a few changes may save these fireflies. First of all, we need to keep our outside lights to a minimum. I know, for me, I have lots of small solar lights, but I leave off the porch lights including the garage lights. Yes, it is a bit dark, but better for sky viewing too! With too many lights, the little fireflies cannot find each other. The next tidbit is that fireflies love standing water. Can you build a small pond? Swimming pools really do not count as they are full of chemicals so it must be natural water. I have a small glass bowl full of brightly colored marbles which attract fireflies, butterflies, dragonflies, etc. It is such an easy thing to do; just make sure you change the water each day, so it is clear and fresh. Please, please keep pesticides off of your lawn and garden.

 I just had an Airbnb guest tell me he sprayed all the white clover in his yard. I guess I had a look of horror on my face as he said, “Wasn’t that a good idea?” Oh my, no. Don’t spray anything and keep the clover for the bees. He didn’t know that, but I think he will be more respectful of the land after our conversation.

 Another hint is to not over mow your lawn. Jonah has been my mower for the summer, and when he is late in mowing (yes, that happens), he always says, “Well, at least that is good for all the bugs.” He is right. These are just small ideas to help with a big problem. I want fireflies in my garden forever, but most of all I want them for my grandchildren’s gardens! Let’s work together.

Farewell, my darlings.

Our farewell night at the Brokaw!

Silence is deafening. It is only noticeable when all the children leave, and then there are no sounds of their play or their laughter. Every year it gets harder and harder to say good-bye to the Charleston Crew. They come, take over my house, my heart, my yard…and then they fly away. A month out of twelve. I guess I am lucky to have this month, but it still makes me feel incredibly sad.

I sit and wait for the flight to leave at the airport. Holly is 18 so she can fly with the four of them. It is definitely a new experience for her, but she is older than her years and can handle it. I sing to them at the airport…songs mingled with tears. I know folks are watching a sad Nannie saying good-bye, but I do not notice. We sing together our favorite good night song, “I love you a bushel and a peck…” I wait for the flight to take off. It is a hot day and the runway looks steamy, but their flight is on time and my four darlings fly away.

I go home too. I never realize….okay, kind of I do…the mess and chaos that comes with their visit. This year the twins decided to be the year of the dragon. They turned all of the dinosaurs into dragons and built forts and homes for them all around my yard. There are little towns all set up with bowls of mud and fortified with rocks and sticks. In the middle of my yard is the tent I set up...okay, again it was Aaron and Rachel who set it up…so they could sleep out under the stars. I want them to sleep outside and wake to birdsong. The first week they were here, Noah woke up early because the birds were singing. “You’ll get used to it,” I said, smiling. I want them to wake up to bird song just as I want them to go to sleep under the Big Dipper.

I listen in my old house for the echo of their voices and the joy of their laughter. It is there embedded in the walls. Story after story, voice after voice adding to the history of my house. I like living here and I like the fact that my grandchildren have only known this house. As Jonah says, “We know you are always there in the purple house.” Yes, I am.

The clean up seems over the top for me. Perhaps it is the heat? Or the sadness? Kathy Vaughn takes the helm. She takes down the tent and the dragon villages. She strips the beds down to the mattress pads. She works tirelessly in the heat. I do too, but not quite as fast. I am grateful for each moment she gives me.

As we put the house and yard (I am sure my neighbors are glad of this!) back together, we find trinkets of their visit. Noah’s marbles dot all the gardens. Each morning, he was in charge of filling our bee watering station with clean water. It was a perfect chore for him as he loves marbles. Faith was in charge of the hummingbird feeders. Not only those chores, but they love taking out the compost, the recycling, and yes, even the trash.

I find two unmatched socks. I find rocks in the bottom of my washing machine. I should have checked their pockets! I find two stuffed animals tucked under the beds, a shirt, a pair of shorts, and I find fingerprints on doors, windows, walls.

The last thing they did before they left was to sign the wall. The four of them gathered as they wrote and they drew about their summer visit. I can’t look at it yet as it makes me so sad, but in the coming days, I will read the wall. They sign every year so it is fun to watch the progression of printing and spelling.  I do always put the markers up until the last day just to be safe!

So now, the heat of the summer comes to us making our gardens grow, our electric bills soar, and our late afternoons a bit lazy. What’s next, I always ask. So many events in our town will keep me occupied!

Nonetheless, I will keep my eye open for another stray marble or sock. I will read the wall and smile at their sweetness as I remember the summer of 2025.

 

Children of Summer

 

Noah and Faith with Tabitha!

Usually, I write my column in the light of dawn as it stretches into morning. This time it is a bit different. Perhaps because late night is the quiet time or the only time I have to put words on paper.

The four Charleston Children are here. They came clamoring into my life by way of Allegiant Airlines for the month of June. Oh, to get everything ready for the loves of my life…each room, each dresser, each closet and each bed scrubbed and cleaned ready for these children. I love having everything in place for them…books, puzzles, games, crayons, markers…so that they will have plenty to do. Of course, I am never sure where this journey will take us! What lovely ideas will they have for their Nannie Summer?

Their arrival is no less than if a queen or king stepped into my parlor. The sad part about children living so far away is that I cannot see them on a regular basis, but the best part it that they stay for long lengths of time!

The twins, now eight, go from puzzle to books to Harley’s grave (we still mourn our cat!), to the Faith and Noah tree. We planted a twig two years ago, and now it towers over their heads. The older girls go straight to their rooms making sure their phones are hooked up to Wi-Fi!

Usually, they do not all visit at the same time so it makes the activities easier for me, but this year we are a family of five and I try to keep everyone happy. Holly and Brianna just want to hang out with their cousins and go have coffee at Caleo. And, “please can you teach us to make homemade bread?” I nod that I can do that, of course. Faith and Noah are into dragons this year. Well, I didn’t know that. We have watched “How to Train your Dragon,” getting ready to visit the Brokaw Friday night to see the new movie.

The library has kept them occupied and challenged as they have attended the events and the shows filling out their reading log well ahead of time. They received a great book bag full of coupons for every fun kid restaurant in town…Scoops, DQ, Culvers, Pizza Hut. So, if you have seen us tooling around at dusk, we are just using up the coupons!

The Angola Parks and Recreation holds a special place for us all. Tabitha Griva works wonders with kids. Faith and Noah love attending camp. This year it was just soccer camp. The first time I enrolled them in camp, I brought a lawn chair to sit and watch. Tabitha told me to go home. I know I probably didn’t want to leave them, but it was the right thing to do. Now they jump out of the car ready to greet their new friends.          

We attended lots of graduation parties. Last Saturday night we were driving home the back way. It was late, and it was dark with not a single car on the road. Something flashed about on my windshield! Wonder of all wonders, it was a firefly. I turned to look at the woods next to the road…hundreds of flashing lights. I rolled down the back windows, “Look!” I exclaimed. The beauty, as always, took my breath away. Since there were no lights on the road or even any house lights as far as I could see, I stopped my car and turned off the lights. We sat in silence just watching the beauty of the world flash before us. I love knowing my life still has room for magic and for fireflies. I turned the car back on with the lights and drove slowly home as we watched this show. These are the moments. The teachable moments. The moments that live on when everyone goes home and the Nannie time is over.

These are the moments I write about so often. The moments we can’t miss with children or grandchildren, or even just for us. We can’t lose the magic. We all had it once so find it once again. Marvel at the night sky…at the blinking fireflies…at ice cream melting down your chin.

As for my children, this is our last week together. By next week, I will have pulled the house apart finding their trinkets hidden in nooks and crannies. But for now, we are here, we are together and nothing in the world makes me happier.

Once Upon a Neighborhood...

 “Swing into Summer” has started in my neighborhood. Yes, it is that time of year we celebrate our neighborhood by getting to know one another in the southwest quadrant of town. We started on a small scale just a few years ago, and now we are really on a roll! We even have our own website with photos and lots of information about all our events and our neighbors.

I love hosting this first summer party because Faith and Noah are here, and they truly love parties. They are, in their own eight-year-old way, very helpful! I started planning for the party months ago when I hired the band, “Above the Fold.” Two of the members, Lee Saur and Tom Adamson, are in our quadrant so it makes perfect sense to hire them! Dean Orewiler and Ed Simmons come along for the ride! Dean is the spokesperson for the band, and my Trine buddy, of course, so we sealed the deal months ago.

All the other details happen during the week prior to the party. The twins and I gather chalk for the driveway, and sparkly rings for the kids! I move the garden hose so the kids can just run and run and run around the house, and they love doing that! Since I was the host, it was my responsibility to prepare the main course. I decided on barbecued chicken sandwiches, which I love. Of course, when Aimee told me sixty folks were signed up, I had to send a note to our Pleasant Lake cooking guru, Steve Eckert, asking him how much chicken to make. He wrote back immediately saying I needed thirty pounds. Wow. That’s a lot of chicken to make. The kids and I made a trek to the store and filled the Jeep up with, yes, thirty pounds of chicken and all of the ingredients for my famous recipe. I had to double it ten times. Really, it was more like dumping and pouring instead of measuring!

As it was cooking all day, and I do think you could smell it all over the neighborhood, I watched the weather reports. Rain. No rain. Rain. No rain. I knew we couldn’t cancel, but everything was a bit soggy after last week’s downpours. No mowing. No trimming. By the time the band arrived at 5:00, I had decided to move them under the eaves in the back yard. With the string lights lit, and all of their sound equipment ready to go, we were set!

The twins were excited and so was I, although I was a little leery wondering if sixty neighbors would really appear in my yard. Why was I so doubtful, I wonder? From all sides, neighbors began appearing carrying desserts and salads, babies and toddlers, young and old. Most of my neighbors I knew, but not all of them. By 6:15, I was sure we were safe from the rain, so I welcomed everyone, introduced the band and handed the microphone over to Nate to do his welcome also. His philosophy is always that neighbors become family, and he is right.

The band struck up a chord and filled the evening with lots of sing-a-long rock n’ roll songs for all of us. It definitely was my favorite kind of music. I stood watching on my porch at the neighbors from our quadrant getting to know one another or chatting with familiar faces. The food was plentiful with lots of desserts of which the kids loved…and so did I!

On one of my walls inside my purple house, I have an art print from Brian Andreas which says, “Maybe the real reason we are here is to love each other and to eat each other’s cooking and say it was good.” I love that saying. Maybe it is true. Is that why we are here to love one another?

I tell you this story about my neighborhood in hopes that you want to do this in your own neighborhood. If you don’t know what to do, then just start small. Invite a few neighbors, then add a few more, and a few more after that. It has taken our neighborhood three years to build up to our successes. Now that we have a website, we will even add more events.

Wouldn’t it be wonderful to know your neighbors? All of our differences can melt away over homemade chicken or brownies. We would love to help you get started…just give us a call!

“Swing into Summer” has started in my neighborhood. Yes, it is that time of year we celebrate our neighborhood by getting to know one another in the southwest quadrant of town. We started on a small scale just a few years ago, and now we are really on a roll! We even have our own website with photos and lots of information about all our events and our neighbors.

I love hosting this first summer party because Faith and Noah are here, and they truly love parties. They are, in their own eight-year-old way, very helpful! I started planning for the party months ago when I hired the band, “Above the Fold.” Two of the members, Lee Saur and Tom Adamson, are in our quadrant so it makes perfect sense to hire them! Dean Orewiler and Ed Simmons come along for the ride! Dean is the spokesperson for the band, and my Trine buddy, of course, so we sealed the deal months ago.

All the other details happen during the week prior to the party. The twins and I gather chalk for the driveway, and sparkly rings for the kids! I move the garden hose so the kids can just run and run and run around the house, and they love doing that! Since I was the host, it was my responsibility to prepare the main course. I decided on barbecued chicken sandwiches, which I love. Of course, when Aimee told me sixty folks were signed up, I had to send a note to our Pleasant Lake cooking guru, Steve Eckert, asking him how much chicken to make. He wrote back immediately saying I needed thirty pounds. Wow. That’s a lot of chicken to make. The kids and I made a trek to the store and filled the Jeep up with, yes, thirty pounds of chicken and all of the ingredients for my famous recipe. I had to double it ten times. Really, it was more like dumping and pouring instead of measuring!

As it was cooking all day, and I do think you could smell it all over the neighborhood, I watched the weather reports. Rain. No rain. Rain. No rain. I knew we couldn’t cancel, but everything was a bit soggy after last week’s downpours. No mowing. No trimming. By the time the band arrived at 5:00, I had decided to move them under the eaves in the back yard. With the string lights lit, and all of their sound equipment ready to go, we were set!

The twins were excited and so was I, although I was a little leery wondering if sixty neighbors would really appear in my yard. Why was I so doubtful, I wonder? From all sides, neighbors began appearing carrying desserts and salads, babies and toddlers, young and old. Most of my neighbors I knew, but not all of them. By 6:15, I was sure we were safe from the rain, so I welcomed everyone, introduced the band and handed the microphone over to Nate to do his welcome also. His philosophy is always that neighbors become family, and he is right.

The band struck up a chord and filled the evening with lots of sing-a-long rock n’ roll songs for all of us. It definitely was my favorite kind of music. I stood watching on my porch at the neighbors from our quadrant getting to know one another or chatting with familiar faces. The food was plentiful with lots of desserts of which the kids loved…and so did I!

On one of my walls inside my purple house, I have an art print from Brian Andreas which says, “Maybe the real reason we are here is to love each other and to eat each other’s cooking and say it was good.” I love that saying. Maybe it is true. Is that why we are here to love one another?

I tell you this story about my neighborhood in hopes that you want to do this in your own neighborhood. If you don’t know what to do, then just start small. Invite a few neighbors, then add a few more, and a few more after that. It has taken our neighborhood three years to build up to our successes. Now that we have a website, we will even add more events.

Wouldn’t it be wonderful to know your neighbors? All of our differences can melt away over homemade chicken or brownies. We would love to help you get started…just give us a call!

Our beautiful state flower...

 

“This morning the green fists of the peonies are getting ready to break my heart as the sun rises, as the sun strokes them with his old, buttery fingers.” Mary Oliver.

I wait, oh so patiently each year for the peonies in my garden to bloom. I always say it was the peonies that sold this house to me several years ago. They were in full bloom when I came to see this house, my house. I turned around to Randy and Shannon and said, “I’m buying your house.” It had only been on the market a few days when I saw the homemade for sale sign. As soon as I walked through the front door, I knew it would be mine and I said so. Randy asked if I would like to see the rest of the house.
“Sure,” I said laughingly! I had friends with me who were all shaking their heads at my rash decision. The peonies clenched the deal.

It wasn’t a rash decision. I had been looking for three years for the perfect house, the perfect neighborhood, the perfect garden. And there it was.

I have since, of course, added more peonies and plants and trees so that sometimes I feel as if I built a forest around me as in every fairy tale!

On the morning of the first bloom, I go out to the garden and recite the Mary Oliver poem. She is a favorite of mine, and I have her poems pasted all over my kitchen cupboards. Sitting in the midst of a peony patch gives one a different perspective on gardening, on life. Sometimes I ponder the age-old question, how many more springs will I see these bloom? Therefore, I cannot waste a moment of anticipation or pure joy from the gardens.

My grandmother had peonies. I wonder if I paid much attention to them as a kid. Maybe yes, Maybe no. But I do remember the fragrant smell which filled her house. Mine is the same as bouquets fill the nooks and crannies of my old house. The only problem with the peonies is they are fleeting, as are all flowers.

Let’s look at the history of peonies starting with Indiana. In 1931 the General Assembly designated the zinnia to be the state flower of Indiana. I am definitely a big fan of zinnias! But the peony growers lobbied to have that changed, and in 1957, once again the General Assembly gathered to change the state flower to the peonies. This decision was based on the fact that peonies bloom around Memorial Day which makes them the perfect compliment for gravesites, planting or just setting out the blooms. Peonies have become so popular that this past May was the fifth annual Indiana Peony Festival in Noblesville. I need to remind myself of that so I can attend next year.

Let’s go back two thousand years ago. The first known peonies were in China and were used for medicinal purposes. In the eleventh century, the growers in China finally realized the pure beauty of the peonies and aptly called them, “King of Flowers.” (I think I agree on that one!) It wasn’t until the early 1800’s that peonies became popular in Europe and came into North America by 1850’s.

In 1957 it became our state flower, and in 1986 Ronald Reagan declared the rose to be our national flower.

Growing peonies in your own garden is very easy actually. Choose a sunny location (6-8 hours of sunlight every day), well-drained soil and lots of room to grow and expand. Peonies love long cold winters which help to provide gorgeous blooms in the spring. Once they are established in your garden, they really are no care at alI! I love taking rides out into the country and always, always seeing peony bushes in bloom next to old houses abandoned or otherwise. I often wonder who planted those beauties?

In my own yard, my peonies are the crowning jewel of the garden. I go outside each morning to see the progress of the buds and then of the blooms. I am sure I loved them as a child and now I love my own. Mary Oliver captured the joy of peonies in her poem,

“Do you also hurry, half-dressed and barefoot, into the garden, and softly

And exclaiming of their dearness

Fill your arms with the white and pink flowers…

To be wild and perfect for a moment, before they are nothing, forever.”