Autumnal Equinox

 

Pokagon State Park 

Photo by Lou Ann

Today is the Autumnal Equinox or simply known as the first day of Autumn. This is a splendid day as we put the heat of summer behind us and welcome in the freshness of Autumn. Looking around I do not see a lot of Autumn yet in the trees or even in the fields. It is as if Autumn is holding all the color in her hands and will fling it when she is good and ready. I do hope she is ready soon.

As much as the heat and I do not get along, it seems as if this summer really flew by. Maybe because the kids all went back to school so early or maybe because I want each moment, each day to last a little longer. However, I love Autumn. I love the colors, the smells, the fresh air through open windows. I do love Halloween and all the events that come with it. (More on that next week.)

I think Autumn, though, takes me through times gone by more than any other season. Even though I do not remember dancing in the hayfields on this day, I know my grandmother’s kitchen was full of garden scents. Canning jars lined her counters with tomatoes and peppers, and everything else in the garden. I helped grandpa dig those potatoes that we planted on St. Patrick’s Day. By now they were large and ready to dig. I was always careful not to stab a potato, but if that happened, grandma just tossed those into the soup as they could not be stored. After a full day of putting the garden to rest, dinner was full of all the treasures which did not make it into canning jars or the root cellar.

Maybe my love of gardening and preserving came from my grandmother. Although, when we first started our farm and I was picking green beans by the trash bags, my grandmother would write to me. She would say things like, “What are you thinking, child? All that work! Not necessary anymore!”  Seriously she did. It was so much work, and I really knew nothing.

Except from learning skills from her, I read dozens of books about canning and preserving and building chicken coops and shearing sheep. I couldn’t get enough of it. We were all young on the farm and learned these skills together. The boys knew the garden was a mainstay for us.

The outhouse was on the other side of the garden, so I always teased the boys to take a different row to weed on their way out and back. I did the same thing. Of course, nighttime was a bit tricky!

We planted, we canned, we built a root cellar, we covered carrots with straw. If you remember, all that canning was done on a wood cook stove. And not just gardening, we cut firewood, gathered hickory nuts and walnuts for the boys to clean. I made mittens and scarves out of our sheep’s wool. As I look back at those farm years, sometimes I wonder how did that all get done and teach at the same time? I guess because we were young, ambitious, determined and happy. It was new for this suburbia girl to learn how to live off the land. I never knew those things.

Today is different. My canning consists of a few jars of strawberry jam for gifts and a five-pound bucket of potatoes and one bucket for onions. The rest of the food comes from the farmer’s market. I gather squash and pumpkins for my own cellar. With no family to feed, I can get by on a few garden items.

This week is the Autumn Equinox, and it is also the Harvest Moon on Friday night. Friday night is football night in our county. I know it will be beautiful sitting in the stands watching the moon rise up across from the bleachers. Where will you be when the moon rises up over our fields and homes?

Please take time to notice the shift this week. Everything shifts at the equinox. Nights come more quickly, jackets now hang by the back door, and soup is bubbling on the stove.

Of course, there is poetry. There is always poetry to welcome in the harvest and the harvest moon.

“Thou comest, Autumn, heralded by the rain.

Blessing the farms through the vast domain,

Thy shield is the red harvest moon,

suspended in the heaven’s o’er hanging eaves.”

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

 

Driving through the Countryside...

 

In 1934 George Gershwin wrote the hit song, “Summertime,” for the Broadway musical, Porgy and Bess. The first lines (and you know them!) go like this, “Summertime, and the living is easy. Fish are jumpin’ and the cotton is high.” Whereas, we don’t have cotton we do have corn and a drive through the countryside proves that to be true. The corn is high and, according to my fishing son, the fish are biting.

This past weekend I took a drive through the countryside. Actually, more than one so that I can soak in the beauty of Indiana’s landscape. With my windows rolled down, I can smell August. Some months have such strong scents like April or October, but August smells like heat and then the blessings of the rain add to that. The sounds of August are different now too. In the spring the peepers give us a glimpse of spring, but now crickets are showcasing the August nights. Sitting out late on my porch, the crickets serenade my neighborhood providing a cacophony of night sounds.

As I mentioned last week, it is also the Perseid Meteor Showers. By Wednesday evening, you can expect 50-100 beautiful shooting stars an hour. If you see one, please make a wish on a falling star! You do not even need a telescope for this event, It is best to find a dark location and it takes at least 20 minutes for your eyes to adjust to the darkness. That is not the only celestial event for this week. In the early morning hours, (yes, coffee on the stoop) you can witness the aligning of these planets: Mercury, Jupiter, Mars, Saturn, Uranus, and Neptune. The best time to view is an hour before sunrise. A total solar eclipse is also due on August 12. Unfortunately for us, the best viewing is in Spain. (You might be able to still get a flight, if you hurry!) As for those of us in the states, we might catch a small glimpse of it on Wednesday.

With all these beautiful events of August this week, I have thought a lot about the beauty of where we live. Sometimes Indiana gets shoved aside for beauty. I met a woman once on a ferry who asked where I was from. She was a lovely New Yorker with the strongest accent, and when I told her Indiana, she about fell of her ferry seat. She immediately called for her husband to meet me. They said they had never met anyone from Indiana or been to Indiana. It was all I could do to not say, “We even have running water and electricity!” I did think it, but I didn’t say it out loud. I see the beauty of my home state.

I also pay close attention to artists as they paint or describe Indiana. For the Bicentennial year, I was asked to develop a story on T.C. Steele (1847-1926.) He was one of the first, and probably most celebrated American Impressionist painters from Brown County. He studied plein air painting in Munich and brought it back to Indiana. By the 1890’s his work was exhibited from New York to San Francisco. His work still hangs in Indianapolis in the Indianapolis Museum of Art and in the Indiana State Museum. Fifty of his paintings still hang in his studio at “The House of the Singing Wind.”

At the same time James Whitcomb Riley (1849-1916), known for his Indiana poems and prose was putting rural Indiana front and center. We all know his most famous poem, “Little Orphant Annie.” You can access all of his work online at the Project Gutenberg. There is also a collection of his work, including manuscripts, personal letters in the Indianapolis University Library.

We owe both of these men a big thank you for recording our early history in art and in poetry. It makes a wonderful field trip to travel to Indianapolis to see the works of these men and then go on down to Brown County to tour Steele’s studio.

Even if you don’t get to Indy, it is that time of year when a Sunday drive is at its very best. Put on your best tie and overcoat, or your prettiest dress and take a drive. Keep the windows down and let your hand catch the wind. The August air is intoxicating. You could even pack a picnic lunch!

 And if your travel brings you home at dusk, the crickets will greet you.

My tribute to 9/11.

 

This is my story. It was a normal morning. I got up at 5:30, made my bed, made coffee, neatened up the house and then headed off to school. School on this day was Hamilton Community Schools. On this day, there was an in-service at the Special Ed Co-op in Kendallville and I was required to go. In-service days are usually a fun day and a nice day out of the classroom with thoughts of learning some new trends. There were always  coffee and doughnuts, and that is the best part!

I carpooled to Kendallville chatting as we went, chatting as I always do. When we arrived, I was right, there were more doughnuts and coffee. Everything was set out in the conference room for us including pencils and new pads of paper. The in-service began. I really cannot remember a thing about it, maybe we didn’t get too far into it when someone came in pulling in a television on a cart. We froze. I could tell by the look on her face that something awful was happening. She plugged in the television, and  we watched in absolute horror the planes going into the World Trade Center. It didn’t look real. It was like watching a movie, except it wasn’t. By this time United Flight 93 went down in a field in Pennsylvania. I had a personal panic attack.

My three boys, Adam, Aaron, and Abe had all just graduated from college. Yes, they were all in school at the same time. Following graduation, the twins drove to St. Pete, Florida to spread their wings. Abe went the other direction to Santa Barbara, California. None of them had good jobs yet. They were young, ambitious and curious about the world around them. I was happy for them to try new things, explore new areas all the while, I missed them terribly. Adam came home that weekend and had a flight from Indy to St. Pete early on that Tuesday morning. There was a quick layover in Pittsburgh. I knew all of that. I did not know which airline or the flight number.

I panicked. I knew his layover was in Pittsburgh. The newscaster didn’t know details, well, no one knew details, except the aircraft went down in a field in Pennsylvania. We didn’t know then that it was headed for Washington, D.C. and the aircraft was just 20 minutes from Washington.

Adam was on an American flight oblivious to any of this. The flight attendants and the flight crew said nothing. His first sense of something weird was going on was when the aircraft landed in Tampa from the North. Those runways are reserved for flying out and not in. The tarmac in Tampa was quiet too. As the aircraft landed, they were told to get their belongings and head straight into the airport to get their bags. Once he walked in, it was eerily quiet. No people. The monitors were still up and running, but everything had the word “canceled” next to the flight. The lights were dim and folks were leaving quickly…actually running to their cars. Later he found out they were one of the last flights to make it to their destination. One television was on with the news. He also watched in horror. Finding a pay phone, he made a few calls, one was to Hamilton Schools to tell me he was okay. They called over to the office to tell me. I wept.

We packed up and left; I picked up my car and went home.

What to do…what to do? No one knew. All I thought about was how can I get to my boys? No flights. No trains. No buses. Nothing. Nothing but quietness, and that is what I remember most in the following days. Everything was quiet. No planes in the sky to leave white smokey trails, no train horns blaring down at crossings.

What else do I remember? We were all in this together. We hung out our flags. We chatted with our neighbors. We baked cookies and shared. We slept with the lights on because of the darkness. We wept over the bravery of the men and women on Flight 93 who ended their lives to save hundreds. We wept over the lives lost and the brave firefighters.

 As Americans we were strong together, and we would get through this. We were united as a country.

On this day, the 25^th anniversary, we remember our stories together, as Americans.

 

Arriving home...

Arriving home from Charleston in the middle of the afternoon gave me a chance to check out my garden. It is the first thing I do after dragging in my suitcase. The neighbor boy watered for me so I knew everything would still be alive. (Those zinnias take a lot of water!) While in Charleston, I watered and spent some time in Abe’s gardens. Learning to garden in different climates takes a lot of work. When Abe lived in Phoenix, gardening was so different with the heat, and now in Charleston there is heat and humidity. The temperature was in the high 90’s every day, which is too hot for this Indiana girl. The kids were fine though. They came home from school, had a snack and then went out to play! 

Arriving home to blue skies, cool temperatures were amazing. I left my windows open, so my house was full of fresh air. I even added an extra quilt on the bed last night! In the cool of the morning, I had a chance to really visit my garden. I will be honest here. I start out so excited and plant everything. I don’t know what exactly happens between June 1st and the end of August, but lots of things are not how they were intended.

I planted a vegetable garden…like always. I called it my Victory Garden. Of course, I had no idea that my own lettuce and raspberries would be more valuable than gold, but here we are. I planted everything in that Victory Garden. However (yes, there is a however), the pumpkins, which I did not plant, decided to take over completely. It was out of my control. Seriously. I guess the seeds sprouted from tossing last year’s pumpkins into the garden. I do tend to toss all vegetation matter into that garden at the end of the season. It is great for composting, and that soil is very rich. All my garden soil is rich by just using my Mother’s Day compost from Aaron. I do not use any other fertilizer and nothing for weed control which is obvious.

I thought I had the garden under control, but I was wrong. Where is everything I planted? Underneath all the pumpkins? Will they come up next year? Will I forever have pumpkins? Don’t get me wrong, I love pumpkins. Years ago, when I had a garden space in the community gardens by Circle Hill Cemetery, I planted pumpkins for Jonah and Graham. It was so prolific that Kathy and I sat out there one night by candlelight waiting for the great pumpkin. An officer came by with his torch (flashlight) and said someone called in about the light in the gardens. As soon as he got closer to us, he said, “Is that you, Lou Ann?” Of course, I answered, “Oh, yes.” He asked me what we were doing. I thought it looked obvious! I replied, “Waiting for the great pumpkin to rise.”  With that he nodded, turned and walked away. 

One year, however, the deer ate all the pumpkins so what was I do to? Easy. I went to the farmers market and filled Lola with pumpkins. Kathy and I drove them up to my pumpkin patch and rolled them out. That night Jonah and Graham came up to get their Halloween pumpkins. I thought it was such a smart idea until Aaron found one with a price written in marker. “Nice try, Mom.” Hey, I thought it was clever.

I do not know exactly how many pumpkins I have under all of those leaves, but something fun is brewing underneath with all those vines sprawling all over my yard. 

In all reality, I love a runaway garden. I love it when my morning glories come up in places I did not plant them or those lovely lilies that just pop up wherever they please. 

Take a stroll outside this week. The weather is just lovely, and there might be surprises in your yard as are in mine. August was perfectly lovely this year. I didn’t even use my air conditioner, my windows are open, my gardens are green even if they are a bit in disarray. Sit out under the August skies and watch Orion journey toward the winter Solstice, and, above all, be grateful. 

“Only a few more days of August were to run, and September seemed already to have claimed the gardens, the fields, and the skies.” Jeannie Gwynne Bettany Kernahan, 1906.

Once again, back to school.

 

I spend an hour searching for my school keys. I thought they were right where I left them. The problem being, the “right where I left them” was the first week of May. Lots of things have happened since the first week of May. Ah, finally, I find them and tuck them into my blue rolling suitcase. It is falling apart at the seams, but it is my trusty carryall, and I just don’t have the heart to replace it! I toss in my laptop and phone…a jacket and a box of Band-Aids.  I don’t know why I toss in the Band-Aids, but one never knows. Macbeth once said, “Is that a dagger I see?” Okay, enough of the drama, there is work to be done.

The parking lot at Trine is empty on this Sunday morning. The only car there is Dr. Hopp’s, and I figure he is writing in the HAC Lounge. I am right. The door is already unlocked, and he is working on his poetry. In case you didn’t know, Dr. Hopp is a really fine poet. Last year he presented to our writer’s group an epic poem about chickens. Seriously. It was brilliant. It is good to see Tim and to chat a bit before I go to my own room.

The photos from our spring show are curled on my door. Lots of summer heat and humidity as my room is by the back door. I find my keys and unlock the door. It is the moment I have both dreaded and looked forward to all summer. My room is the same, but different. My plants are dead. My twinkle lights are all burned out. Luckily for me, I threw in a new box of lights, but as for the plants? They were not so lucky. The room is clean, swept, dusted and even looks a bit sterile for my office. I keep my house pretty pristine, but my offices at home and at school take the beating. I smile as I look around at the neatness. It won’t last long.

I try to settle in to work, but I daydream a bit. All my theatre show photos, the ones the cast present to me on the last show date, are all lined up on one wall. They are not just pictures of shows gone by but autographed by each actor. I go from one to the other, smiling and laughing and definitely missing the students who have graduated and gone on. I always miss them so much. I try to go back to work. I plug in the laptop, give a sigh, and start. Once I start, the hours swirl by me. No one is there to chat or interrupt my work. It is quiet, but not lonely. I schedule, I plan, I print. Finally, at one point, I realize the twilight hour is fast approaching. How long have I been here? I wrap it up, take a look around, and close the door.

How many years have I been in school? I can’t count anymore, well, math was never my thing anyway. I do know there are a lot of years from the coal mines of Wilkes-Barre to Trine. I have always loved my work, and this year is no exception. Within a few weeks, we will be back in the rhythm, I will have fallen in love with students I have not yet met, and the world will still spin around us.

We have two teacher days and then a small break before classes next week. I am taking a quick mid-week flight to Charleston to see Holly off to school for her freshman year of college. Jonah starts his senior year of college. Graham is a senior in high school, Brianna is a junior and the twins will be ten. How can all of that be? Anyway, it will be great to see Holly and watch the three siblings as the parents do their thing and take her to school.

When Jonah was a freshman, I wrote an article about how to do great in college. I have requests for that often. If you would like a copy for your college student, just send me a note and I will get it right to you.

I will still try to spend a bit of time in my beloved gardens, but most of my time I will be cultivating minds of students, and that is a pretty good thing to do.

How to love August!

 

In 1934 George Gershwin wrote the hit song, “Summertime,” for the Broadway musical, Porgy and Bess. The first lines (and you know them!) go like this, “Summertime, and the living is easy. Fish are jumpin’ and the cotton is high.” Whereas, we don’t have cotton we do have corn and a drive through the countryside proves that to be true. The corn is high and, according to my fishing son, the fish are biting.

This past weekend I took a drive through the countryside. Actually, more than one so that I can soak in the beauty of Indiana’s landscape. With my windows rolled down, I can smell August. Some months have such strong scents like April or October, but August smells like heat and then the blessings of the rain add to that. The sounds of August are different now too. In the spring the peepers give us a glimpse of spring, but now crickets are showcasing the August nights. Sitting out late on my porch, the crickets serenade my neighborhood providing a cacophony of night sounds.

As I mentioned last week, it is also the Perseid Meteor Showers. By Wednesday evening, you can expect 50-100 beautiful shooting stars an hour. If you see one, please make a wish on a falling star! You do not even need a telescope for this event, It is best to find a dark location and it takes at least 20 minutes for your eyes to adjust to the darkness. That is not the only celestial event for this week. In the early morning hours, (yes, coffee on the stoop) you can witness the aligning of these planets: Mercury, Jupiter, Mars, Saturn, Uranus, and Neptune. The best time to view is an hour before sunrise. A total solar eclipse is also due on August 12. Unfortunately for us, the best viewing is in Spain. (You might be able to still get a flight, if you hurry!) As for those of us in the states, we might catch a small glimpse of it on Wednesday.

With all these beautiful events of August this week, I have thought a lot about the beauty of where we live. Sometimes Indiana gets shoved aside for beauty. I met a woman once on a ferry who asked where I was from. She was a lovely New Yorker with the strongest accent, and when I told her Indiana, she about fell of her ferry seat. She immediately called for her husband to meet me. They said they had never met anyone from Indiana or been to Indiana. It was all I could do to not say, “We even have running water and electricity!” I did think it, but I didn’t say it out loud. I see the beauty of my home state.

I also pay close attention to artists as they paint or describe Indiana. For the Bicentennial year, I was asked to develop a story on T.C. Steele (1847-1926.) He was one of the first, and probably most celebrated American Impressionist painters from Brown County. He studied plein air painting in Munich and brought it back to Indiana. By the 1890’s his work was exhibited from New York to San Francisco. His work still hangs in Indianapolis in the Indianapolis Museum of Art and in the Indiana State Museum. Fifty of his paintings still hang in his studio at “The House of the Singing Wind.”

At the same time James Whitcomb Riley (1849-1916), known for his Indiana poems and prose was putting rural Indiana front and center. We all know his most famous poem, “Little Orphant Annie.” You can access all of his work online at the Project Gutenberg. There is also a collection of his work, including manuscripts, personal letters in the Indianapolis University Library.

We owe both of these men a big thank you for recording our early history in art and in poetry. It makes a wonderful field trip to travel to Indianapolis to see the works of these men and then go on down to Brown County to tour Steele’s studio.

Even if you don’t get to Indy, it is that time of year when a Sunday drive is at its very best. Put on your best tie and overcoat, or your prettiest dress and take a drive. Keep the windows down and let your hand catch the wind. The August air is intoxicating. You could even pack a picnic lunch!

 And if your travel brings you home at dusk, the crickets will greet you.

Welcome August

 

Emily Dickinson once wrote, “She sweeps with many colored brooms…” Of course, I think she is referring to the beauty of October, but on this lovely day in August, it could be our late summer gardens.  Everything is bursting with color and with flavor as I look around my garden this morning. The morning glories are literally dancing in the sunlight, the sunflowers are almost ready to bloom, tomatoes are ripening fast, and my pumpkin patch is now spilling over the gate and into the yard.

 

Let’s take a look  at August, our 8^th month. August is named after the first Roman Emporer, Augustus Caesar. We simply think of the “dog days” of summer, vacations, lazy afternoons reading in the shade of the old oak tree. One of the first celebrations (although already past) is Lammas Day  on August 1^st which marked the annual wheat and corn harvest in Britain. In days of yore, folks  celebrated early harvesting which brought about much singing and dancing. It is also the cross-quarter day between summer and autumn. Watermelon Day along with National Aviation Day and ending the month with Women’s Equality Day  which celebrates the19th Amendment of our Constitution, are also celebrated in August.

The birthstone of August is peridot; the flowers of August  include gladiolus and poppies. August also brings about the Perseid Showers. I love sitting (or lying out on sleeping bags) outside to watch the show. One year I sent out an invitation to anyone who wanted to join me. Please arrive at 1:00 a.m. to share in the beauty, I said.  Of course, as I made coffee at 12:30, I was wondering if anyone would show up. But they did. Hope and Tom Wilson came with cots to watch the beautiful show that night. I remember Hope reciting one of my favorite poems, Summons, by Robert Francis, “ Keep me from going to sleep too soon, or if I do go to sleep too soon, come wake me up. Come any hour of night…” It was a very magical moment.

My twins were born in August, and when we lived on the farm, to celebrate their birthday, we took the blankets outside with a thermos of hot chocolate to watch the Perseid showers. Sometimes we were so amazed as the meteors whizzed across the sky. Other times, we didn’t have such luck and finally gave in and went to bed. I always told them to pick a star for their birthday. I still remind them to choose a star on their birthday.

Once upon a time, August was for vacations. Finally baseball and 4-H were over so we packed our old van and headed up to Michigan to camp or to stay in tiny little cabins on Lake Superior. I loved those lazy vacations. I always packed a  bag of books and settled in for the day to read as the boys all went fishing. Such lovely memories of August.

Usually the heat is high in August; although this week is different with the lovely temperatures. In August we trudge back out to the garden to pull weeks, pick bouquets or decide what is for dinner. I planted a lot of vegetables in my garden, but last year’s pumpkin seeds have completely taken over. The vines are sprawling over the fence onto the yard and the nearby tree. Somewhere, inside those vines, are those seed I lovingly planted. I guess I will see if anything happened under those vines after the frost. There is still time to plant a fall garden too. I just planted spinach and lettuce (really nice to have my own lettuce these days!)

August is a slow down month. Time to dawdle in the garden without that spring planting rush. What is going to be, is simply going to be. I am grateful each day for anything that finds a home in my garden. August is supposed to be hot and lazy…drift down the river in a kayak or spend the afternoon reading on your front porch with a glass of iced tea and a sprig of mint from the garden, of course.

August is here, and I want to enjoy each moment. Autumn is close behind, and even though she is my favorite season, I want to push her back. “Not yet,” I whisper to her as the temps fall into the 50’s…no, not yet.

Watermelon, sun-ripened tomatoes, lazy afternoons, sparkling drops of dew are all part of August. Let’s enjoy beautiful August.

 

My birthday!

 

It seems as if birthdays come and go much more quickly than they once did. As a kid, we counted the days to our birthday! Would it ever arrive? And when asked about our age, we always said five and a half or almost seventeen! As if I would ever do that now! Kids are always fascinated by age. When I was at Hamilton, the students would always ask my age, and I always gave them a riddle to figure it out. “Younger than the statehood of Alaska, and older than than the Apollo 11 moon landing.”  That always confused them as they tried to figure it out and quit asking.

The twins, Faith and Noah, wanted to talk about my age every day when they were here. Noah was the sweet one, “You are just 20, right, Nannie?” Faith was not buying it and she was happy to blurt out my age wherever we went.

Age and time are such oddities. How does it happen and where does it go? I have no idea. {Sorry if you were looking for some kind of answer. I have none.) But this I know, I am more than grateful for each birthday, I cherish the day. Actually, I cherish the entire week. Well, why not?

The weather turned cooler last week on my birthday to a gorgeous 70 degrees which is a gardener’s paradise. I spent the entire day in my garden. Jonah came to mow and paint fence and actually bought me lunch from Sutton’s Deli! That, alone, was a perfect day for a gardener. Jonah came carrying a beautiful bouquet from their prairie.  By late afternoon, it was time to clean up and head over to Aaron and Rachel’s house for dinner and cake and singing and watching the sun set on their new prairie. I could actually just while my life sitting on their porch. However, that was not my birthday gift. I love it when we, as a family, can do things together. They had arranged Friday night at the TinCaps game complete with Jonah and Graham and their girlfriends. I was ready two hours early for that adventure. I love spending time with family, and this gift was a true gift. We all sat together, cheered together, and yes, I was so happy I cried. The evening ended with a win and a spectacular fireworks show at the stadium. How much more perfect can that be? Of course, I heard from my faraway children, Abe and Adam. They can’t fly up for every birthday!

There were lunches with friends, coffee at Caleo, a glass of wine at Cork and Barrel. Irene and April gifted me the coffee and wine. Living in a small, sweet town really is the best. Another friend, Teri, came for the weekend to explore our little town, visit with friends and accompany me with three other women to the Gaslight Theatre to see, “The Addams Family.”

If my grandmother were alive, she would say, “Lou Ann, you had a red-letter week.”  She would then get out the red dishes to honor my birthday. I have those red dishes in my Hoosier cabinet in the kitchen, and I remember her whenever I pull out those coveted red dishes. Of course, they were not just for birthdays, but for spelling bees or theatre productions or even losing a tooth! You always knew a celebration was on hand when you went to her house and the table was set with the red dishes! I am so glad I own those and can think about Grandma Luella.

When I work in the garden, I don’t play music or listen to podcasts. No, I let my mind wander as my thoughts dart from one subject to another. The birds keep me company as well the sounds of my neighborhood. This past week, on my birthday, I thought about the poet, Mary Oliver. She once wrote, “What is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” I thought about that a lot as I was weeding a flower bed. We really are gifted with one precious life. Do you ever think about that? Straight down from our ancestors, we are here and moments are not to be wasted.

How do I want to spend my precious life? Family, friends, community, students. I want to honor each day as T.C. Steele once said, “Every morning I take off my hat to the beauty of the world.”

Everyone needs a front porch!

 

The garden swelters under the heat. For that matter, so do I, but then again, you all know I love the cooler weather. I am grateful for air conditioning even though I really,  dislike using it. It seems as if our windows and doors are shut most of the year, and I love billowing curtains. The time will come for billowing curtains when Autumn comes calling.

I do not remember air conditioning anywhere when I was a kid. I know my grandparents didn’t have it, and neither did we. Of course, there were those long, hot nights with sweaty sheets and just a box fan. It was summer so, well, that was the way it was. But, there were porches.

My grandmother had a front porch complete with a porch swing. She had a porch light that she often blinked if I was staying with her and my date stayed too long. She never actually came out to the porch, but just kept blinking the porch light! During the day that same porch was where we cleaned beans for dinner, darned socks or chatted with neighbors walking by.

My farm had a great porch too. That porch had a swing and, in those days, without stop lights or businesses, all that the eye could see were Doc’s fields and apple orchards filling the gaps into town. In the summer it also held three butterfly nets for the boys and an old pan to fill with water to wash their feet before they came in for the night. I don’t remember anyone wearing shoes during the summer! It was quiet too. In the winter the porch was a mainstay. We filled it with firewood, work boots, and a snow shovel, of course! My front porch was also where we read books, told stories, and cleaned beans for dinner.

Later on in my life, when I bought my house in town, I knew I wanted a porch. I found the perfect house for that. Once I moved in, I realized all the windows were nailed shut and the ropes had been cut. My first order of business was to get those windows open. Lee made screens for each one and we had to number them as each window was actually a different size.  Lee replaced all the old-fashioned ropes. Once the weather warms in April and before the heavy frost in October, my porch is my go-to every day. There is no air-conditioning, but I have a great ceiling fan and those lovely windows. My porch faces east so I get the morning sun, and the heat of the day stays in my backyard. I don’t have a porch swing, but lovely wicker furniture and stacks of books. I love my porch as I also have it surrounded by bushes so that I can watch the world go by, yet I am a bit hidden.

How and when did we lose these glorious additions to our homes? There really are two major factors contributing to the demise of the front porch. You guessed it. Air-conditioning and the invention of television. Once folks were comfortable inside, why go out to the porch? It was cooler and more entertaining inside. Ah, but was it really? Now my family wasn’t musical, so I didn’t learn the banjo or hear my grandpa play the harmonica on my porch, yet I love them. My dad lived with his grandparents for several year during the Depression. His room was up in the attic with a bed of straw-filled ticking. He often told stories about going to bed early and listening to the old men talk on the porch as they sharpened their knives on the whetstone every night. What a lovely memory to have.

In my neighborhood, there are porches. Probably because most of the houses are close to a hundred years old, such as mine. Sometimes Lee does play the banjo on the porch. My neighbors, Larry and Cheri, spend hours on their porch with their dog, Molly. People stop by to chat every afternoon.

If you don’t have a porch, maybe you have a stoop? It seems everyone has a back deck which is not quite the same, but at least you are outside.

This week the temps will cool so a perfect time to sit outdoors and watch the world go by during the day and stars by night.

 So come and sit a spell for stories, for music and to help clean those beans!

Ukulele Camp!

 

I check my list: sheets, blanket, pillow, towel, washcloth, ukulele, music. It looks like I I have everything I need. I load it into my wagon and wait for Carolyn to pick me up. She arrives and we load all of my gear into the back of her van including my wagon. Everything she needs is already packed. I hop into the front seat and off we go. Oh, not to just any event, oh no, we are headed off to ukulele camp or to be more specific, Midwest Ukulele and Harmonica Camp. I missed camp last year so I am eager to go this year.

It is a short drive to Toledo University. I love that the camp moves around to different locations. We get out out map to find our way to our dorm where we will not only sleep, but where all our classes will be held. We are not the only ones arriving, although It looks as if I am the only one pulling my wagon. “Smart idea,” someone calls out. I smile. Between my wagon and Carolyn’s cart (we are very prepared for camp!) we head up to the registration table. Just like college, I think, as we are issued our meal ticket and our keys to our suite. There is an elevator, thank goodness, with all of our stuff. I tried to think back to my dorm days so many years ago, I don’t think we had an elevator. I guess we just hauled all of our stuff up the staircase. I am grateful for the elevator and the door closes. We find our room and our other two roomies come in as well. They love our means of unloading and borrow our cart and wagon!

We make our beds and put things away on the shelves. Going to ukulele camp with a great friend is about as good as it gets! We check our schedule over and over and mark the classes we want to take. Jazz, blues, finger-picking, strumming, song-writing…how can we choose? With classes circle, and our ukes strapped on our backs, we head down to the classes.

The workshop instructors are brilliant uke players. As we walk through the halls to our workshop rooms, the sound of ukes tuning up fills the hallway. I mean, have you ever heard 200 ukulele players tuning up? Carolyn and I had planned to take all different workshops so we could share the information, but we start out together. We settle into our chairs and join the others as we tune up our ukes.

I am so ready for these classes.   What amazes me most of all abou these professional teachers is how beautiful and effortlessly they play their ukes. They make them sing in ways that I cannot. I want to play like them, I really do, but I know the amount of work that goes into this. Maybe it would take me a full year to learn a song or two. No different from storytelling, although I have been doing that for so many years.

The instructors talk about so many concepts. I listen and try my hardest to understand the Circle of Five, or other terms. Carolyn knows it all already, and whispers to me, “I will explain it to you later.” How lucky am I to have such a good friend?

We take classes, we eat in the cafeteria. We both think about our granddaughters heading off to college this fall. We take photos of us sitting on our beds and send them to  girls!

The evenings are the best. We all gather in the community room as our teachers perform for us. They are extraordinary. The music community is close and they invite other members to play with them. We sit on the edge of our seats and watch the beautiful sky out the giant windows turn from dusk to dark with cotton candy clouds. We clap, we laugh, we sing, we applaud. We are an appreciative audience. Following the concert, we all just hang around with our ukes strapped across our backs as we begin our night jam session. Now it is our turn to play with them until midnight.  When it is over at the midnight hour, we head back to our rooms and chat with our suite mates. No one wants to go to bed as there is so much to talk about.

Camp isn’t just for kids.  Go ahead, pack your bags, and go to camp!

Ah yes, the 4th of July!

 Finally the Fourth of July is here with all the fanfare it deserves in my little town. There are so many culminating events…the Philharmonic, the Americana, the fireworks, the park events, and how can we forget the parade? Kathy’s daughter and friends came from San Diego to enjoy an old-fashioned Fourth of July parade and all the fun the lakes offer.

I pulled my wagon out of the garage, loaded it up with three lawn chairs, sunscreen, water, and my phone for photos. I was excited to visit with Emma and her friends. I went down a little early to set up camp! They really were great seats, even at the end of the parade. Emma and her friends brought the rest of the chairs and were over the top with parade enthusiasm! “Best parade in northern Indiana,” I said. We settled into our lawn chairs to wait, and  were not disappointed. (I told that when Bill’s Towing showed up, that was the end----and I was right!) Lots of years I am in the parade, but not this one, so I could just cheer from the sidelines! The parade was everything they hoped it would be…candy in their pockets, smiles on their faces, and an appreciation for small town U.S.A.  After the parade, I hauled all my chairs back up the hill. As I went to put them away, I noticed the garage remote was not where I usually keep it! Hmm…I never put it in a different place or lose it, so it is somewhere, but the picnic at Aaron and Rachel’s calls me. No problem, I can put everything away later. By later, I guess I meant on Sunday morning after all the festivities.

By Sunday morning my wagon was drenched. No problem. It will dry out, but in the meantime, where is that remote? I started my search. I really dislike losing things and I am always telling my kids, “”put things back where you found them.” Yes, I say that, but on this day, I didn’t follow my own advice. Three hours later I have searched every nook and cranny in my house and yard. I checked in weird places…every drawer, every seat cushion, every roll of toilet paper-----even in the toilet. Okay, that is really extreme, but I am being honest here. Once the search was complete, I didn’t find it, so, of course, I do it all over again. Don’t we all? In the meantime (yes, there is a meantime) I realize the downstairs toilet is plugged. I have had lots of guests this week…now what did they do? I am handy with the plunger. So, I plunged away, but with no success. Again, try the same thing over every hour because surely it will work. Sadly, no. I donned the rubber gloves. Aha…I can fix this. Nope, I can’t. I continued this sage through the day on Sunday…remote, toilet, remote, toilet. By four in the afternoon, I finally came to the realization that the two must meet. (Twain meet?) I think I solved the riddle. The remote must have fallen out of my back pocket and into the toilet. Sure. That’s what happened.
I make my calls to Bradley Overhead Doors, and my long time handyman, Lee. I make the confessions and hope to see them both soon. Bradley Doors appeared first. Of course, they wanted to get into the garage to make me a new remote. Alas. Alas.

As I sit and wait for the finder’s keepers, I am reminded of the book by Judith Viorst, “Alexander, Who Used to Be Rich Last Sunday.” Last Saturday morning I had a working remote. Last Saturday I had a working toilet. Last Saturday I used to be rich. Now what do I have now? A lost remote. A broken toilet. Oh, and two blank checks.

 

Update: Doug from Bradley Doors used a wire coat hanger and was finally able to get into the garage through a side door. (When he first asked if I had a coat hanger, I answered, “Yes. And it’s in the garage!” But I found one upstairs.) I had a chat with Doug about his son, who wants to be a writer. Anyway, the garage door now operates, I have two working remotes and a $261.61 dent in my checking account.

 

The toilet mystery is still unsolved, but Lee said if there really is a remote control stuck in there, I’ll have a topic for my next column!

My July 4th Column...John Adams and Thomas Jefferson.

 

I write a lot about Abigail Adams. I am, and always have been, enamored with her life and the time period in which she lived. She was an extraordinary woman who raised a family often without John as he was serving his country. Money did not flow in. In those days politics had nothing to do with money or salary, it was all about the love of country…the new country. When John Adams, a portly man with a degree in law, began to court Abigail and then propose marriage, most folks (including her own family) thought she was marrying beneath her stature. He was a fledgling lawyer with his office in the front of his house in Braintree, as was often the case. Abigail saw something in John, and she, with advice from her good friend Mercy Warren, kept the home fires burning so John could take care of the country.

John Adams was away many years of their marriage, and it was while he was away at the First Continental Congress in 1776 that he met Thomas Jefferson. They instantly became good friends. They had so much in common, besides the powdered wigs! They both loved books and reading, of course. They both studied law, and they both deeply loved this new country, the United States of America, even though they had different viewpoints.

John Adams and Thomas Jefferson helped write the Declaration of Independence. Jefferson was the primary writer which was written between June 11 and June 28, 1776. It was written in Philadelphia on Market Street. It was written by five men who became known as “Committee of Five.” Fifty-six delegates signed it and it was ratified on July 4, 1776. That  date lives on in all of our lives!

Eventually George Washington became the first president of the United States with Adams as the Vice President. Everyone, in the colonies, wanted Washington to run for a second term, but he decided it was time to retire. John Adams, a loyal Federalist, ran against Thomas Jefferson, a Democratic-Republican. Adams won the election by three electoral votes. I find it interesting (and really wish we still did this) that Jefferson became the Vice President under Adams since he received the second amount of votes. How smart they were to put the most intelligent men in charge of a brand-new country.

They differed in their opinions, however. Adams believed in a strong national government; whereas Jefferson felt more power should be given over to the states. Amazingly enough, these two men worked side by side in order to benefit the newly formed United States. There was no time for bickering or for ego building. Our founding fathers did not do that. Their only concern was that of the country.

Adams and Jefferson ran against each other for the third presidency, but this time it was Jefferson who gained control as the President. Aaron Burr also ran tying Jefferson with 73 electoral votes. In the end, Jefferson took the Presidency and Burr the Vice Presidency. (Of course, we all know the Burr-Hamilton story, but that will wait for another column!) Following Jefferson’s win as President, he and Adams had a falling out which lasted for ten years until they both retired. Abigail went home to Braintree to set up John’s library after his loss. Eventually Jefferson went home to Monticello.

When I think about these two men, I have such deep pride. I can’t imagine sitting in a room in Philadelphia complete with powdered wig, layers of clothing and the heat of a Philadelphia summer to write our Declaration of Independence. Benjamin Franklin, another signer, often wrote about the heat! Our founding fathers asked for nothing except a new government. We owe them such a debt this week.

Following their retirement, the two men wrote letters which are housed in the Smithsonian and some in Braintree. Both men became ill in the summer of 1826, but did not know that about each other. One of the most interesting facts of our country’s history is that both men died on July 4^th, 1826 on the 50^th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence.  Adams last words were, “Thomas Jeffereson survives.” Jefferson died a few hours later.

The celebration this year is so much more than fireworks or swimming in the lake. (Although lucky you!) No, it is about men and women who gave and sacrificed for us. Let us always remember.

Happy Fourth of July to all of you.

Warmshowers Rides Again!

 

Faith and Noah are wishing our new frind, Norman, safe travels!

Warmshower guests have filled my backyard for many years. I first heard of warmshowers when I was on Ocracoke and one of the younger girls had traveled across the country on her bicycle. I was intrigued about that whole process and wanted to hear all about her adventures. I was also curious about the funding. How does that work travelling across the country (any country) on a bicycle? Where does one stay? How do you shower or cook? She explained it all to me.

Warmshowers is actually an organization that pairs bicyclists with hosts. The hosts can provide tenting in the yard or lodging, access to kitchens and, of course, a great hot shower after a long day (or week) of cycling. There is no money exchanged as it is completely voluntary and it is the right thing to do, if you can. I signed up right away.

My yard has been home to many cyclists over the years. Men, women, college students, young, old…and from every corner of the earth. One year a young lady pitched her hammock bed in my trees. I have had cyclists from Asia, Europe, and of course the United States. So, it was exciting for me to accept an evening of hosting last week from a man from Australia. Ah, that would be a first and the kids always love meeting new people. Not only was Norman from Australia, but he was coming on a unicycle. I was very intrigued. Who travels across the country on a unicycle? I had to look him up. Everything about Norman was interesting. He was 58 years old and originally from New Zealand. His goal is to bike around the world on his unicycle, and he is going for the Guinness World Record. I said yes, of course.

Norman arrived at our house around 8:00 in the evening just as we had started our campfire. It was one of those perfect nights last week, cool, cloudless and no wind! It was also our s’mores night! Aaron had already set up their tent, so we moved it over making a spot for Norman’s tent when he arrived. Just as we got the fire going, he popped into our yard with his backpack and his unicycle. Noah was completely taken with Norman. In fact, he helped him unpack and set up his tent. We gave Norman towels and soap for his much-needed shower, and soon he was back out with his under a twilight sky. He told us it was his first American campfire.

We had all the ingredients ready for our s’mores and asked Norman if he would like to make one. We were all amazed when he said he never heard of them or had one before. Well, that was it! The kids had a marshmallow on the roasting stick in a second. Of course, his caught his on fire, but he didn’t mind. I handed over the Graham cracker and the chocolate square. He loved them. Well, who doesn’t?

The stories kept on as we asked questions. We were very curious. He told us stories and we listened intently as his accent was quite Australian!! Finally, the embers dissolved into a few leftover coals, and time to call it a day. We said good night as Norman climbed into his tent.

The kids and I chatted for another hour before they settled down to sleep. By morning they were both up and ready to help Norman pack up. They were like little Magpies. Noah took Norman up to my welcome wall. He was absolutely amazed. He drew a unicycle and wrote about his adventure, so we always have a part of Norman in our house.

As he was all packed up and ready to leave, there was one more thing he asked me to do. I had to sign his logbook so he would have proof of his travels here. The logbook was thick and full of signatures from 153 days on the road. He left Australia on January 1^st. He said it would take him a full year to complete his journey. We waved and hollered as he took off down the road.

I can’t imagine riding a bike across the country, let alone riding a unicycle around the world. This was a great adventure for all of us. We will always remember Norman’s story.

We wish our new friend safe traveling around the world. We are cheering for him and for the Guinness World Record!

My pretty little purple house.

Spring peonies in my garden. 

I drive through this sleepy little town at night, and I am grateful I found a place to call home many years ago. What was I looking for? I remember talking to my friend, Ellen, what should I do, where should I go? She said to me, “You love your town, you love your community…move to town.” It took two years to find the perfect little house. I didn’t want to just buy a house…or an investment. No, that wasn’t for me. I wanted home with twenty-one pairs of Dorothy red shoes. I wanted home where I could rip off the old siding and look in amazement at the over 100-year-old siding still intact, still ready to be shown off with the right color. The right color, of course, was purple.

The house was good and solid and as I have said so many times, Randy and Shannon saved this house for me. I bought it on an early summer night over a grilled-out steak dinner at their home. I was so surprised at how quiet it was in the neighborhood. My sister said that I should never buy a house without seeing it at night…flushing the toilet, drinking the water. I did those things.

The next morning, I sat across the table from Randy and Shannon deciding how to buy the house. It was just the three of us. Randy brought out notecards. I wrote what I would pay, they wrote what they would accept, and we traded. I smiled. Exactly the same amount. Have I ever regretted this move? Not for a day, not for a moment.

This old house of mine is all the grandchildren have ever known. I think they all call it a magical faerie house, well, it is! This old house has celebrated Women’s potlucks, family gatherings, and neighborhood parties. It has also experienced sadness. Haven’t we all?  Luckily, the good times and stories layer over. Maybe I think of this house as more of a gathering place for friends and family. That is my hope.

Celebrations consist of many activities, but three of my very favorite events happen this week! First of all, in my neighborhood, we will be celebrating the beginning of summer at a neighborhood gathering at my house. Our quadrant has been completely enriched by the perseverance of Nate and Aimee Simons in teaching us that neighbors become friends and friends become family. Nate mentions this at every party. This Friday night we welcome the rites of summer with a Rock ‘n Roll into Summer party. Not only will we celebrate with food and laughter, but my good friends Pete and Ken will be here to play music and sing for us. Who doesn’t love music at their parties? We always bring food for the “blessing boxes” at the Episcopal Church. We also take care to check on each other, congratulate each other for the good food we have prepared, and as Nate says, bring us closer to family. We are welcoming two new families this Friday night. They have no idea how lucky they are to live here! I have chatted about this before. If you want some advice on how to build community, come see us, and we will be happy to share.

The Solstice celebration is here this weekend too. The first day of summer is on Sunday as is Father’s Day. My twins are already excited to celebrate with party hats and my year long collection of rose petals to strew across the yard welcoming the faeries into the garden. (It does work, by the way!) My boys all did this when they were young, and now all of the grandchildren have taken part in this fun ritual to welcome in Summer. The Solstice is such a fun celebration in many other countries even though it mostly passes us by. Let’s remember it…rose petals? Daisy petals?

Before I let you go, I want to give a shout out to Cahoots Community Center for hosting Angola’s Got Talent on Saturday night at the T. Furth Center at 6:00. The line-up is stellar. I go every year and I am always so amazed at the talent. Come support all the young (and young at heart) folks who will be singing, dancing, and playing music.

An ending thought: I own a picture by Brian Andreas which says, “The real reason we are here is to love each other and to eat each other’s cooking and say it was good.”

Glimmers

 

This weekend I had guests. Two lovely women who were once upon a time college roommates. They wanted a quiet little space so they could spend hours telling stories and a quiet little town to visit between their stories.

This, my friends, is the best part. When they were leaving, they shared their favorite memories of the weekend and here they are: billowing curtains in the bedroom (okay, I really love that one too!), little soaps on their towels, a quiet, sleepy little porch for their late night stories, the sweet smell of grass, the scent of French lilacs wafting through the open windows, a sweet purple house with good coffee, a thank you note featuring Miss Columbia and friendly folks when they went out and about. They loved it here.

After they left, and I hung out their sheets, I thought about things they didn’t even mention that I often worry about! Yes, I live in the house, the shower is downstairs, the floors creak. Those are the things guests must live with. The charm of our area, and the sweetness of small things were all that mattered. As I puttered through the rest of the weekend, I thought about this.

I am wondering if we really take enough time to love the small things. Some folks call these glimmers. The experts in mental health call glimmers the opposite of triggers. We all have those. Glimmers come and go so quickly, we often do not spend enough time embracing them. I try to pay attention to the above things my guests mentioned. I often say to Kathy, “Oh, how I love sleeping with my balcony door open and the curtains billowing.” Spring brings so many glimmers, and they are fast tracked and we can miss them if we are not watching or thinking about them. They are different from big events in our lives…weddings, graduations, birth of babies.

Stop for a moment. Go outside or even just look out the window. What do you see? The bursting forth of the first peonies. The color of the trees. The sound of children. Write down these small glimmers. Keep a notebook…maybe add it to your gardening book or your star gazing book or start a new one full of joys and glimmers.

My dad was into glimmers, although he didn’t use that word. (I don’t think it was invented then!) Nonetheless, he understood. Once, at the old farmhouse, the two of us sat out on the porch swing. It was my very favorite thing to do. The farmhouse overlooked Doc Headley’s fields with acres and acres of beauty. This was before the build up of businesses…just orchards and land. As we sat outside, he said to me, “Take it all in. Listen. Look. Pay attention to your senses.” We sat in silence, but it wasn’t silent. Crickets and bird song filled the air. The scent of the new mown hay wafted onto the porch. The colors of the land and the sky were breathtaking. The taste of the strong coffee I brought out as the screen door shut with a bang.

My uncle Dean understood. One year I flew to upstate New York to celebrate Labor Day with him. On that Monday morning, we got up early to do some photography of the lake features. Uncle Dean filled the thermos with coffee; we grabbed our cameras and off we went out to the boat and into the dawn’s light. It was cold and it was foggy. As we meandered around the lake, the fog didn’t lift. I shared my frustration with my uncle. “I can’t take any photos,” I said, “it is too foggy.” I was so disappointed. He told me to wait and be patient. He was right. Just as we went around the bend, we caught sight of a silhouette of a canoe with two passengers. All we could see were their shadows, but my uncle took the photo. When we were back at the house, he printed it and gave it to the neighbor whom he recognized. They framed it. Glimmers. Don’t miss them. Sometimes we need to forget the big picture and see the one blooming tulip in the garden.

In the year 1513, Fra Giovanni Giocondo, a Franciscan Monk, once wrote, “The gloom of the world is but a shadow; behind it, yet within our reach is joy. Take Joy!” As a new week unfolds, take the time to see the glimmers within your own joy.

 

Welcome to Summer!

 

Noah and Faith at the new Sheets Family Park.

I took Jonah with me to Charleston and return with the twins. The rest of the family will be traveling, but as Noah says, “We get to stay with Nannie in Angola with Dollar General and Dairy Queen.” Yes, those are two of their favorites! We arrive home to a garden that has nearly doubled under the watchful eye of Regan and Kathy. How could it grow so much in one week? I must admit I did miss my garden and I wondered, how did I ever leave every summer? I guess times change and home in the purple house and the white picket gardens is really my favorite place.

We quickly unpack and head to Dairy Queen as we have no food in the house, and they are delighted. This year I just have the two of them for the month of June. What, you ask, do you do with two grandchildren for a month in June? Oh my…what isn’t there to do? I feel like I have filled their dance card with so many activities, and I have. However, I save room for the proverbial quote from all children, “We are bored.” I have plenty of plans for that statement including a dusting rag! That quickly dispels any thoughts of boredom.

I love the fact that they want to visit the library before the grocery store. We head right to the Angola Carnegie Library looking for Miss Elizabeth, and find Miss Isabelle. We sign up for the reading program, fill our arms with dinosaur books and head out to Kona Ice just in time! Then and only then do we go to the grocery. My cart looks so different when the kids are visiting. I have to make a full shelf for snacks.

Every morning, just as I have done with all the kids, they wake up to my dining room chalkboard with their daily chores. It is the first thing they look at before they fill their bowls with sugary cereal and plates with chocolate cupcakes!  Shhh…don’t tell the parents. I also list our events for the day. They love doing the chores and then crossing them off the list. They are normal chores, at least I think so: bring down their laundry, take out the trash, recycle, and compost, fill the Oriole feeder, sweep the sidewalks, help water the garden, make their beds. Really, I don’t ask too much of the kids, and they always do their chores willingly although sometimes they trade with each other!

Steuben County offers so much for children in the summer. As I said, there are the library programs. The Angola Parks and Recreation provide the best camps for our children. There is something for everyone every single week this summer. We are signed up for soccer and backyard games! My kids love Tabitha and are happy to see her again. Thank you to our fabulous parks department…pig out in the park as well!

On Sunday we gather our towels and water bottles and go over to the new Sheets Family Park. I missed the grand opening, so this is my first opportunity to visit. It is just lovely…children running, playing, laughing everywhere. I must say for my two kiddos, the playground is a major win. They love every part of it! We are so appreciative.

It is important for children to have lots of free time too. I know I schedule lots of events, but I want time for them to enjoy picking strawberries and watching the stars come out. I want them to fill their pockets with worms and rocks and other little surprises out in the backyard. I want late night campfires with s’mores dripping chocolate and marshmallows all over their little faces. (That’s why we have showers!)

I want them to have time to watch clouds drift by, marvel at the hummingbirds, watch the garden grow. I want lots of time to read when the day is done and we cozy up on my bed reading book after book until we can’t stay awake any longer.

The children of my child deserve the best of me. Oh, yes, we have rules and those chores, but most of the time we are just together in this pretty purple house. I am the lucky one to have them with me. I know time is fleeting. This is the first year the older two girls cannot make a visit..but for now, the Littles are here, and I am in love.

Holly's graduation!

 

My lovely granddaughter, Holly.

Boarding a flight to Charleston is always full of family anticipation. This trip is no exception. I check in, hand over my luggage and head to the gate. I save a seat beside me as I have a traveling companion for this trip. Within the half hour, a tall young man comes walking my way…smiling. It is Jonah. How lucky for me to travel with him to Charleston. This trip is a bit magical as family members fly in one and two at a time for Holly’s graduation from high school. I was just here a few weeks ago for her role in “Chicago” and now with her high school closed up inside her yearbook, graduation is upon us with college looming in August.

Jonah is a great traveling companion. I often forget he is a college student and quite grown up as I say, “I have money for your snacks.” He smiles and pulls snacks out of his backpack. I also send notes ahead of time of checking in…silly, I know. He has flown for years and many times solo so he knows the drill.

Our seats are not together, but that is okay as I settle back with my new Abigail Adams book. I look around to see who else is reading an actual book. I spot one three rows up although I can’t read the title. The flight is a short two hours, and we are in Myrtle Beach with Abe waiting to take us to Charleston. We arrive to a house full of people. Is it a madhouse? Well, a bit…as you all know.

Friday dawns hot and humid, as is often the case in Charleston. The kids and I play Go Fish on the back porch as the house is full. Abe makes plates full of waffles, and everyone eats in stages.

This is what I love most about family gatherings. I love knowing that under one roof my family sleeps and eats and tells stories. It is all I am about and what I live for. All day there are games and conversations. I iron Holly’s gown and do odd jobs to help out. By 5:00 we are ready to head downtown. The graduation is at the coliseum as it is a huge graduating class. The twins take books to read as it will be a long night. We fill up two full rows of family wishing her well, cheering her on. When “Pomp and Circumstance” begins, I lose it I look over at Abe and Kristin…they are holding up pretty well. I remember when my boys were graduating many years ago, I could barely hear the first note, and I would just lose it.

We cheer for Holly as she accepts her diploma. My lovely little granddaughter. How does it happen that these children we love so dearly grow up? In a blink of an eye, they are graduating, getting ready for college, driving their own car, hanging out with their friends. I know it is the way it should be, but I choke up wanting them all to be small and running to my arms for hugs or games or just love. I still want that. Luckily, I still have the twins. They sit quietly through the whole ceremony. Faith and I follow each person on the list. Brianna sits quietly knowing that she will go through this in two years. She is also a beautiful young lady with her own dreams and wishes.

Following the ceremony, there is a sea of black gowns in which to try and find our girl. Finally, there she is…our graduate. I am so proud. I think of many of my friends going through this as well with their children and grandchildren. It happens. We know it does, but it never makes it easier. 

The party is the next day. We get up early with “All hands-on deck” as everyone has jobs. The party is here at the house which is now amassed with balloons and photos and so much food. We wear our best party clothes and are ready for the first guests at noon. I try to help keep the food trays full and the toilet paper in great supply!! Holly is happy. All her friends have come along with lots of adults wishing her well. We sit around and tell stories til late into the night.

My granddaughter is a graduate. I am a proud Nannie.

The circle goes round…for all of us..

Memorial Day

 

Photo of Miss Columbia by Jorge Daniel.

On this day I decide to head out early just to sit in the quietness of the morning on this Memorial Day. Today the early morning fog envelopes Miss Columbia with peace. I love sitting alone in this solitude. I do my best thinking during these moments. I know her stories so well. I love telling them. I love telling them to you, and this morning, I guess I tell them to myself as I watch folks meander down to the square. This scene is no different from other scenes across our land, but this one is ours.

I look up to the top of Miss Columbia. She is barely visible in the fog. Of course, she wasn’t always here. When Thomas Gale and Cornelius Gilmore arrived in 1837, it was just wilderness and wetlands. The center of town soon became the meeting place. Where else could you hear the news? Bring your horse and buggy or wagon to town, hitch them up to the hitching posts around the watering hole and go on about your business. The small wooden shops carried everything the early settlers needed…garden seeds, plows, material for dresses, jars of candy for the youngsters, and yes, the place to hear all the news. I would have liked this. I still like this.

Following the Civil War, there were rumblings about a monument. For a long while, it was just rumblings. Folks talked about it, and even a few tried to get it going. Then along came Jesse Carpenter. Jesse was a Civil War Veteran. He is remembered at best for writing a book, “The War for the Union.” This book, available to read at the Angola Carnegie Library, is a detailed historical account of Steuben County’s soldiers. Jesse’s book sold for three dollars with all the proceeds going towards a monument. In July of 1916, the Grand Army of the Republic petitioned the Steuben County Commissioners to finally build this monument. The dedication ceremony was held on September 13, 1917. According to newspaper articles, there were bands and speeches, and I even read once that folks camped out for three days in pure joy.

Under Miss Columbia are the plaques with all the names of the1,278 soldiers from our county. Every single one. When I give tours of the town, I always point out the role of women during this time also. As the Civil War progressed, the men left plows and farms, shops and businesses to the women while they were gone. It is our history, and these are our stories.

As I sit in the silence of this gray foggy morning, I think about all of this. I try to imagine life during previous times and the folks who built our town, our way of life. As I sit contemplating, the square fills up with those folks coming to share in the morning. I stay back in the shadows with my own thoughts. My grandfather and my uncle served, and I fiercely remember them on this day. My grandpa was only 16 during the First World War. He lied about his age so he could defend our country. As we remember, I look at all the small wooden crosses. This has been a tradition in our county for so many years. Once upon a time, the high school girls made paper flowers and walked down to decorate each cross.

As we move always forward in our own lives, how can we not remember them on this day? I listen for taps before I meander on home the back way. Home for me is my pretty little purple house built long before I arrived in this world, or any of you for that matter. I notice the deer have once again knocked down my Oriole feeder. I find it in the grass and refill the jelly luring the Orioles to come back! I notice also, as the sun finds its’ way through the clouds, that my peony bush has opened up on this morning. One of the reasons I bought my house so many years ago was the blooming peony bush, and right on schedule it bloomed this morning.

I go inside to make my morning tea…the sun is now filtering in through the windows, warming the house, pushing my freshly planted seeds out of the ground as summer has officially started. I go about my morning thinking about the past. We all should. 

This day will pass, but our stories will not be forgotten. 

The sweetness of May mornings...

 

Mother's Day lilacs...

There is something about May mornings that brings about the sweetness of the earth. Fresh air in open windows. Fresh dirt in the gardens. Fresh flowers in the vase. Fresh birdsong. It has been a bit chilly to sleep with the windows open, but I just pile on more blankets, so I don’t miss this freshness.

With the coming of May, Mother’s Day greets all of us. I know for some this is a very hard day of remembering or longing. My mother passed two years ago, but I still have the joy of my three sons. Even though two of my sons live far away, I hear their voices on the other side of the phone wishing me a Happy Mother’s Day. Lucky for me Aaron and Rachel live here so we can celebrate together. They always bring me a bouquet of lilacs…usually from the farm. This year the weather has been a bit different, and the old-fashioned lilacs are no longer blooming, so they found a bouquet of French lilacs. I love seeing them come through the door carrying these flowers.

Years and years ago, when we first had the farm. I planted a lilac bush. It was the first thing I actually planted. I knew old houses had lilacs growing outside their back doors, along with the kitchen gardens. I did not pay much attention to the history of the lilac or why it drew me in, but I needed to plant it. Years later, when the farmhouse burnt to the ground, the lilac bush was singed but recovered so that Aaron can usually pick bouquets from that bush.

Most folks love lilacs and their scent. They completely fill up a garden or a room. Let’s just look at the history of lilacs for a moment. The lilac tree is actually native to Eastern Europe and  Asia. When folks came to America in the 1700’s, these lilac trees were dug up and carried with them. I read a few accounts that said that snippets of the trees were actually wrapped in paper and sewn in the lining of coats and made the journey all the way across the Atlantic safely. When arriving on American soil they were planted, as I said, next to back doors and kitchen gardens. Of oourse, the settlers brought other seeds and plants to their new home, their new country, but the lilac was one of their favorites. Some historians feel they brought these lilacs because they carried memories with them. They wanted to bring some of the Old World with them, and the lilac was one of the easiest to bring. The very first record of the first lilac was in 1750 at Governor Wentworth’s garden in New Hampshire. George Washington and Thomas Jefferson both had lilacs in their gardens, so these were not just for the commoner with a back yard garden.

I know my memory goes back to my grandmother’s lilacs. She planted hers back by the rhubarb patch. In order to get to that patch, we had to walk by the lilacs. Combining the scent of lilacs and rhubarb is something I still like, and it always takes me back. We would sit their for hours devouring her rhubarb dipping the stems into little tin cups of sugar. Of course, we were sick all night, but at the time it didn’t matter. I always think of this when I smell the lilacs too!

The lilac is also easy to cultivate and grow in rocky soil or sandy soil or good garden soil. They can be watered or not watered and they will still thrive. It is always amazing to me, and sad, to drive by old homesteads where once a family lived and worked and gardened. The house is usually gone or on its way out, but the lilac still stands as a reminder than once upon a time family grew up there. These are the stories that capture my heart.

I planted French lilacs on the side of this old house. I was told that years ago, Aunt Daisy planted lilacs by the outhouse in my back yard. Unfortunately, those were taken out years ago. I wish they were still here. Lilacs can live to be a hundred years old.

My Mother’s Day bouquet won’t last long, I know that, but still, they grace my house with beauty and color and scent. Most of all, I know they were lovingly gathered by Aaron and Rachel for Mother’s Day.