The Pro and the Con

I have mentioned in a past post that I received a Kindle for Christmas from my daughter.  I did not ask for a Kindle.  I was a fence sitter when it comes to electronic reading.  But my daughter loves hers and in her busy life of family, work and travel she found she can read so much more with a Kindle and wanted to share her joy.

The are numerous columns and comments about e-reading versus physical copies of books.  I am still a sort of fence sitter.  I have found pros and cons...and thus I will list them.

Pro Kindle (or perhaps other e-readers):

Easy to transport.
Easy to hold.
Easy to read as font sizes can be enlarged immediately.
Easy to bookmark a page, highlight a passage, look up a word in the e-dictionary.
    (Although I have not figured out how to easily find the specific highlighted passage weeks later.  I have a photographic memory and could find it in the physical book by remembering how far in and where on the page.)
Easy to buy a new book from ANYWHERE and download it in seconds.
I can get the latest title without waiting for it to show up in the library or bookstore.
I can peruse several chapters before buying.
E-books are cheaper.
It can hold something like 10,000 titles.
Has free stuff and word games---the more you buy the more free stuff.


Con Kindle:


Photos are not in color.
Some graphs and photos are not in electronic format at all.
It is not as easy to peruse a book although one can search for details.
I would miss the shelves of books in my house that start many a conversation with guests.
I cannot loan wonderful books.
It is a good format for reading...but art books, no!
Keyboard is too small for my old hands.
I no longer dare read in the bathtub.
I am on a guilt trip thinking I may be undermining publishers and libraries.
There is little serendipity with the e-book, you really read linearly.
I still like the book format so very much (just like Captain Kirk.)

The debate is now open for comments.

Just One Last Thought

We headed out early for the airport for our return flight.  Security is always an issue that takes up time before travel and hubby was notified at the outside gate that he had been "randomly" selected for an extra security check.  The blue-eyed, bald-headed guy with the effusive personality is definitely the Politically Correct choice!  (Do not get me started on TSA and their dysfunctional efforts.)  Anyway, mid-way through the first security check they whisked hubby away and I had to head out to the gate by myself.  At this early time the gate chairs were only half full and I sat and read my Kindle... for a while.  Time passed slowly and so I went to peruse the shops for some last minute chocolate.  Instead I found this book.  According to the back cover, Frances-Marie Coke was born in Jamaica.  She is a Human Resource Management Consultant and has lectured at the University of the West Indies.  This is her second collection of published poems.

As a collector of poetry (that is NOT in electronic form) I perused it only briefly before deciding that it would be my souvenir to take home and my companion on the plane in case they decided to keep my husband.  Below is a  sample of one of my favorite passages from this book of poetry.

Lonely Is

...a river where the ripples have no stones,

a shadow lengthening down a slender room, 

a lullaby without an infant's eyes

fluttering to sleep; lonely is

the stillness of a loveless April evening;

a night of silence broken

by a fan that makes no difference;

a leaf entangled in a spider's web;

a thread unraveled from its weave.

I had read a few pages when my husband finally showed up with his bags and sat next to me just as they began the call for boarding.  Within seconds he was called up to the gate desk and then motioned to me that he was going to go through one more security check (number three) and that I should just board without him!  (What a waste of taxpayer money!)  Fortunately we both made the flight and they allowed us to sit together and treated us like normal passengers from then on out, whatever that means.

Gnarley Marley

(Let us hope this is the last of those travel posts that Tabor has become so dependant on. No original thoughts rattling around in her brain...certainly!  What a real bore she would be if she didn't travel.)

Bob Marley is an icon and hero to most of Jamaica.  They revere him as many revered Elvis Presley in the U.S. but his story is much more compelling.  His music is timeless, at least to me.  When I listen to it I feel young and there.  He wrote and sang protest music about the condition of mankind.

We toured his home and studio.  Much of it bare rooms except for the bedroom and kitchen.  There are marvelous posters, news articles, and award albums on the walls and Marley music constantly playing in the background.  (We were not allowed to take photos.)  What is fun is the way the tour guide hums and dances to the music as she brings us through the rooms and tells his story.  It seems everyone in Jamaica can carry a tune...two of our tour guides sang to us that week.   I barely understand the Rastafari religion, but it is certainly quirky and deep, vegan diet and ganga weed combined and the belief that Haile Sellassie, who traced his roots to Solomon and Sheba, was seen as the black holy king to lead the negro race.

Less quirky and more common was that Marley was born to an 18-year-old black girl (Cedella Booker) and fathered by Captain Norval Marley, a 50-year-old quartermaster attached to the British West Indian Regiment and a plantation owner.  Marley's parents were married, and thus, the Captain was forced to provide some financial support, but provided little else in the role of fatherhood for this young man before he died, Marley was 10 at that time.  Even without a father Marley grew up to be one of the most significant peace makers across racial lines in Jamaica with his music, traveling a marvelous journey from a poor home in Trenchtown outside Kingston to the homes of global leaders.  Bob Marley and the Wailing Wailers had their first big hit in 1963.  Bob Marley married and had three children.  He had at least eleven children total in his life when including those with other women.

His growing international popularity also brought him into the arena of politics and to the front of the ongoing ghetto wars in Jamaica.  He and band members were shot while rehearsing in his home in 1976 in a hail of gunfire from the yard outside, perhaps because of a free concert he was planning to give to attempt some peace among his people.  They have covered most of the walls in this tragic room with board but left one bullet hole to view.  It is shockingly large and deep. He bravely played the controversial free concert the next night with a bullet still inside him and forced the two opposing political leaders to hold hands before the crowd (see the photo of the opportunists below).  This violent attack later caused him to go into a retreat in London, and he did not return to his beloved homeland until April of 1978.

Bob Marley was also a fitness nut in that he ran almost every day and loved to play soccer.  An infection from a toe injury turned cancerous in his early 30's and he was told he would have to have the toe amputated.  He refused and within a few years he died of brain cancer at the age of 36.  This is just a thumbprint of the exotic life he led (excluding working as a lab assistant for Dupont) and if you search the Internet you can hear Buffalo Soldier, One Love, I Shot the Sheriff, and you will find so much more.

"The compilation album Legend (1984), released three years after his death, is reggae's best-selling album, going ten times Platinum (Diamond) in the U.S.,"  Wikipedia.

Addiction

Food is some of the best part of travel.  I admit that I am addicted to chocolate and wine...in that order.  But coffee certainly comes in a close third.  My visit to Jamaica had to include a tour of a coffee plantation.  It wasn't much of a tour due to rainy weather and the members of our group for whom a flight of stairs was a challenge before even considering a hike up a hillside of coffee plants. The plantation owner's home (he no longer lives there) was beautifully kept.  I bought three eight ounce bags of Jamaican Blue.   It made it through customs in the U.S. easily.

Jamaican Blue is considered one of the most expensive coffees in the world.  (Forbes lists several coffees at $50 US a pound and I paid $30 US a pound for my Jamaican Blue...but this was AT the plantation.  It was $6 US more at the hotel.)  Most of this coffee is now in my freezer.  This plantation below is owned by a Japanese man, although run by a Jamaican and worked on by Jamaicans.  As a note, most of the Jamaican Blue coffee goes directly to Japan and I could not find this estate in any of my research on coffee reviews.  I did taste it at the estate and while it is not a robust coffee, it was nicely full-flavored and a little sweet.  Certainly better than anything I can get at Starbucks or other.  The guide told us that it is not the caffeine that gives one a boost after a cup but the other chemicals and/or sugar in the coffee...news to me.  I got my boost from the mountain views.

Green coffee beans.

"It's lovely to live on a raft..." Huck Finn

While in Jamaica, we spent most of our time taking tours and getting the lay of the land.  We spent only two half days on the beach, a few hours snorkeling (and in all truth actually never made it into any one of the swimming pools...but been there and done that.) While we could have rented a car, they drive on the 'wrong' side of the road and they also drive like crazy people sometimes.  Our J*** shuttle from the airport had a police radar active and it went off several times during that dark night as we took our speedy 2.5 hour trip to our hotel.  They told us most of the road accidents occur with tourists who drive on the 'wrong' side of the road or drive too 'slow.'  I think this means less then 15 miles over the speed limit.  We did not see any accidents while there, so perhaps the danger level is far lower than it seemed during our longer van trips.

We did walk up Dunns River Falls which is a tradition I told myself I would go through.  Hubby had done this 40 years ago (with some dingy blonde in a tiny bikini when there was like one other couple) with absolutely no hand bars, decks, people with cameras, signs, chains of people holding hands, refreshment stands, people trying to sell you photos, etc.  Thus, my experience this time was far different than his original adventure.  It is a climb of about 3 football fields up and the only danger is the rapids which are so rough you cannot see where you place your feet.  My only injury was a skinned shin when hubby decided to help me make a rather large step up by pushing on my butt!  The other discomfort (other than masses of people) was the gravel that kept collecting in the river shoes.

Sorry, no photos.  Too wet for cameras and the only photos they took I did not purchase and I am way too vane to print anyway.

We also took a newer tourist ride...on the bamboo raft down the Martha Brae River in Jamaica.  It is a gentle and very safe little adventure.  I was hoping to see exotic wildlife, but only saw exotic craft/refreshment booths.  The guides were wonderfully friendly and also knew their history and most of their botany.

No, that is not hubby and I on that raft in photo #3 but a charming young couple from Britain that went on the tour with us!  (And if you want photos of the birds and buds you have to check out my other blog.)

Since You Asked

Daughter is still doing well.  She has been allowed to get up out of bed after her recent doctor's visit but must try to be as still as possible.  (Telling my daughter she can get up but be as still as possible is crazy.  I turned around and she was putting laundry in the washer, emptying the dryer and folding clothes.)  She cannot sit up or stand for long periods of time as this large baby is very uncomfortable for her.  Her contractions are only a few a day now and she is past the point of major concern if this baby decides to come.  The doctor indicated that if labor begins again, there is nothing to do about it.  Daughter is now off the meds as long term use is not recommended.

My husband was with her on weekends and then I came up weekdays, but I will probably leave her alone these next few days as i have seen my hubby little since this marathon began.  Both hubby and I have to come back if her husband goes on work travel next week, which is the current schedule!  We are a little over an hour away, and that should suffice long enough for a neighbor to cover if labor kicks in quickly and they have to head to their hospital which is only minutes away.

She gets very uncomfortable as the day grows and has to lie down often.

Such an odd miracle feeling the babies hard head at the base of her abdomen...but that is where it is supposed to be.  It keeps stretching its little feet and pushing on her organs.  Daughter belches like a farm hand after meals but has a good appetite. Looks like some miracles take their time after all.

A Remote Hotel---Part II

Below is a photo of  our room.  Someone from Britain told us it was classified as a four star.  It WAS on a nice beach.  It did have good and pleasant  staff.  But it took two days to get a remote control for the TV and almost every single night we came back to a room that had been cleaned with all the used towels removed...which meant we had to call for towels each night.  We were later told that they had a shortage of towels!  We also learned that some rooms got tissues and others did not and we never figured out why.  The package required we participate in the meal plan, which we did.  It was not 4 star food...but it was at least 3 star.  You will notice in the photo below there is absolutely no decor.  Nothing on the walls anywhere including places to hang towels...which we didn't have anyway...so, as they say in Jamaica, "no problem, mon".  It did have a maze of wonderful swimming pools and swim gear and small boats included in the price, and almost every night there was live entertainment in the outdoor ballroom!

The photo below is of a rustic but expensive little place high in the Blue Mountains of Jamaica where we did not stay, but did eat a lovely lunch.  It is owned by the local record producer (the one who made Bob Marley famous) and it has photos of all the famous rock stars such as Steve Tyler, Mick Jagger, etc. who have stayed there.  Rooms were $300 a night.  Not outrageous, but not cheap.

At this fancy hotel you get these views above.  In the distance, over the edge of the swimming pool, is the view of the Kingston harbor.  We did get quite a bit of rain during out stay but not enough make us miserable.

As can be seen this hotel (Strawberry Hill) sits high in the misty mountains.  It is a rather precarious and winding narrow drive up the steep hills and is not for the faint of heart or for those who value living.  Once you are here, you pretty much stay here.  We actually caught an electric cable from a post leaning slightly across the road as we head down in our small tour bus.  The black cable, still attached to the pole, grabbed the side view mirror and made all our hearts stop as the bus driver had to slow down suddenly and then back up to loosen the tension on the cable.  Our guide kept assuring us it was just a telephone cable as he grabbed it with his bare hands and lifted it over the mirror to release it.  He did not have me convinced!

The perfect place to get away, but not exactly what I think of when I think of a Rolling Stones retreat.  Each cottage has its own little balcony with a lovely view.  Pool is unheated, so I don't know how much year round swimming gets done.

Jamaica -- Part I --- The People

Travel to other countries is always a challenge.  It is exciting, scary, sometimes unexpectedly costly or annoyingly slow!   I am an experienced traveler, which means I know to expect the unexpected and to just accept what I cannot change in the process.  I know to give the local the benefit of the doubt and to not be insulted because I am viewed as a rich explorer who has money in all of my pockets.  I realize being polite and careful is always the best approach.  Keeping as low a profile as possible (you cannot look local no matter how hard you try in 90% of the places you travel) means you will be able to determine more carefully what you want to see.

Jamaica.  Think about that word.  Close your eyes.  What do you see in your mind's eye?  If you have been there you will have a very different image than someone who has not and who must depend on news headlines or tourism ads.  I learned that Jamaica is far more developed in terms of tourism than I expected.  LOTS and LOTS of sterile all-inclusive hotels that have modern high-end shopping areas within walking distance near major beaches.  There are also the smaller and perhaps more tired hotels that retain island charm and a little far from any town or village.  I stayed somewhere in between.  I will tell you of my prejudice that I held before getting there.  I expected the people to be somewhat sullen and angry about their poverty.  After all, they came from slaves that had been treated extremely cruelly.  They fought hard for their independence.  I expected them to put up with me and my money but not interested in me as a person.  BUT I was very, very wrong.  The people of Jamaica are brilliant like sunshine.  They are polite and soft like a fragrant temperate breeze.  Many are well educated and anticipate your questions.  They are very patient and while some approach you only to start a conversation and then ask for money, most understand if you do not want to buy that wood carving or dress.  Most accept "No thank you" with generous grace.

So Part I is all about the people:

These young school boys on tour were more interested in us than the historic fort...just look at those mischievous smiles.

The girls are more somber, but Jamaica culture does still view women as sex objects
and thus they approach the different with care.  I watched a soap opera or two on TV
and hope women have stronger leaders sooner rather than later.

Lots of folk art, but nothing I needed to take home.  Here
is a wood carver working on a Bob Marley bust.

Every tropical area my husband tries to find that perfect drinking
coconut that has bubbles.  They are hard to find!

This young man worked on the coffee plantation (owned by a Japanese)
that we visited.  I just LOVED his hair.

This young pregnant gal worked outside our hotel
walking the beach and
waiting every day to braid someone's hair.  Not my
best look, so I passed.

This fellow was taking a break at Spanish town.  Notice he has his
pants leg rolled up for bike riding.

He does this every day and yet that smile is so fresh and beautiful.

These school girls are taking provocative poses ( like teenagers everywhere)
and I wondered if this was going to end up on a Facebook page soon.

We took a bamboo raft trip down the river and this guide
was on the raft behind us.

For some this is a Caribbean vacation...NOT ME even if the rum is free! (Go ahead and
click on the photo and see if you recognize someone!)

Unpacking Just to Pack Again

I had a wonderful trip in South Florida and in Jamaica.  I am back...but we barely got to our friend's house in mid-Florida to repack my husband's camp gear and canoe when we got a phone call that daughter was having problems with premature labor---6 weeks early.  We drove late into the night and then left Savannah, Georgia early the next morning and drove straight home.

I spent the hours of that evening unpacking and doing laundry and then early yesterday drove up here to my daughter's house to take care of her now that she is on bed rest for as many weeks as possible.

I should loose much weight in the coming weeks as the laundry room and coffee pot and my bedroom are in the basement, the kitchen and kids rooms are on the main floor and daughter is tucked away upstairs!  It seems they had four loads of laundry waiting for me and only odds and ends of food to cook, so, this morning I am heading out to the grocery to buy sustenance.  I have a renewed respect for those taking care of invalids!!  Daughter was glad to see me as she kept getting forgotten at mealtimes,  Hubby was so busy with the kids.

Working on the over 700 (!) photos that I took on my recent adventure, and I will post a few now and again as I wait for this third grandchild to grace us with (his I am guessing) presence.

"Wasting" Time

No, I did not take this lovely photograph; and yes, I am still on travel.  This is not a photo, actually, as some of you may have determined already.  It is a pencil drawing by a Russian, perhaps from someplace called Imereti?  Do you read Russian or Cyrillic?  I think the artist's name is Stanislav Nikireev (using Google translator).  I am fascinated by his reproduction of the clarity and reflection of water using just paper and graphite!   Go here and scroll down for more lovely drawings in pencil to while away the time until I return.  Be careful, because if you study the links to the gallery you can click on and on into endless beauty and your morning will be gone in no time.  I came across this link on someone else's blog...but have forgotten whose and cannot give them credit.

Tabor's Deck

We actually hired a young boy to replenish the feeders as they are depleted every 4 days...this bird hobby thing is expensive!

Going Away

Like the snow birds I will be going away for several weeks in the coming month, and perhaps, depending on wireless connections, not posting or reading as I fly (drive) south.  This is an escape from winter, a reunion with old friends, a vacation, a biding of time at a country home, a visit to a cemetery, and a week's adventure on a Caribbean island.  We seem to want to squeeze it all into one small package before we die and fortunately we have just enough money and just enough health to do that at this time in our lives.  Living frugally and living part of the time overseas has paid us well.

For one of the weeks my husband will be on an adventure of fishing and camping in the wilderness of the Everglades with an old (in his 70's) friend..if the old dude's shoulder mends!  Hubby will be spiritually one with dormant (hopefully) mosquitoes, the abundant (un-hungry) alligators and the ever present potential for catching fish.  He will be sleeping in a tent on platforms throughout the marsh and muddy islands and cooking over a kerosene stove.  If his GPS loses its signal in the thousands of islands, he may be lost forever.  I have no envy of this adventure and will be happy to stay with the friend's wife on their simple country estate in Florida.  The wife (Martha) and I know each other only a little but have much in common, although I still was feeling guilty about descending on her for over a week.  Then it was explained to me that she is very much looking forward to this visit and I saw the light.

First, her husband, while a decent chap, is somewhat tedious, talks too much, tells a few too many off-color tales of young college students he taught a long time ago, and in general, can be a bit of a bore as he is very, very, very smart.  Now in all honesty, the talking too much can be applied to my hubby as well if not the other attributes.  My husband's enthusiasm for life can make him a bit of a bore to others at times also.  So, perhaps, their partnership in the wilderness will be a success and provide both us women with respite while they chase away the wildlife in the glades.

Martha has had much tragedy this past year or more with the diagnosis of a heart condition for her.  This was followed by the death of one of her daughters-in-law, wife of her youngest son, after a lengthy tragic illness.  To add more weighted agony, this widowed son was soon diagnosed with epilepsy causing the loss of his drivers licence and the total dependence on his parents for transport to and from work.  A few months later Martha lost her oldest son to a sudden illness causing her second, now widowed, daughter-in-law to take their only grandchild and move away to be nearer to her family for economic and other reasons.  When I visited Martha last winter she said she was feeling guilty for having panic attacks.  (I, myself, might never crawl out of bed again if faced with these challenges.)  I am always so amazed at the warriors in this world.

Thus, she is looking forward to my visit saying it will be a break for her.  I am going to bring wine and books and maybe some gifts of music CDs and certainly some patience and love.  I first connected with Martha at an outdoor picnic at Wolftrap (an outdoor theater) where she brought wonderful food and wine.  I looked back on that summer evening decades ago...and can only say "What the he**!"  How and why did life turn on her so?

After this visit hubby and I will head to Ft. Lauderdale to visit my husband's parents' graves which we haven't been to in a decade.  These pilgrimages are necessary at times and something I never thought I would do when I was younger and far less nostalgic.

Then we are off to Jamaica, a last minute decision without forethought, an island I have always wanted to visit ever since I saw an Arthur Godfrey (he was an ancient TV personality) show filmed there.  I was about 12 at that time and the beauty of this island has always stayed in my mind.  We will see if the memory lives up to my expectations, because I am aware of the poverty, crime, and other problems of the island.  We are experienced travelers and rarely disappointed when we head out.   It will be difficult in my mind to once again be a very rich person in another land realizing my life is so covered in cotton batting.  This place will require us to be a little less adventuresome and more of a tourist, but the spirit of the Jamaican people has to count for something!  There should be plenty of opportunity for photos...and more boring posts when I return if we do not find ourselves too isolated at the resort and with 'canned' trips.

So until then, unless I can post something while in Florida,  I will be both physically and virtually away AND I will not have to watch the Super Bowl!

Blogging is Not for the Weak of Heart

I never realized that blogging would impact me this way.  I have lost another blogger.  Oh, he never  rarely commented on my blog and I wasn't even on his blog list of blogs that he followed.  Actually, he posted only rarely as well.  He and his wife were the only hippies that I really knew, although vicariously.  Being as I never met them, and he blogged less and less, I guess I can't really say I knew him, can I?  So why do I feel as if I did?  Why do I feel as if we once met somewhere and were just keeping in touch via the Internet?

His independence of spirit and willingness to live his beliefs and his interesting photographs were the things that drew me to reading his blog.  After retirement from being a Postman, he lived in the mountains of Southern California in a tiny house.  He and his wife, a lovely bird-like creature, once a model, sold their car and made do with bicycles to get to the local train station on infrequent shopping and visiting trips.  They belonged to food cooperatives, grew much of their own food, and for the most part lived off the land.  He valued independence from society as most hippies do and was hard on those who did not treat nature with respect.  He was wary of any big brother interference in his life and raised his children by the strict standards he set for himself.

He and his wife had recently moved down to the plains for a brief period to help his mother with her house.  Then, after that, he blogged less.  And then, on January 22, he disappeared from this earth.

Being the self-reliant guy he was, he left no indication he was having health problems and I do not know how Peggy, his wife, is coping and whether she will be able to stay in the home she loved so much.  They were a loving couple clearly happy in this end of life living so close to the earth.  I would never have known what happened to him had not his son, in pain, posted a brief epitaph.  If you want to know more about him and his life style go here.

This blogging is not for the weak of heart nor the loner without a family shoulder to rest on.  It will grab you and shake you to your core and cause you to question your values and ideas and take a long hard look at your life.  When I began blogging it was all about putting into the ether sphere questions and feelings and events of my life...but then the great out there began to impact me back.  Who knew?

For more on Anne Porter

A short gentle video.

http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-3311914102309992227#

Not Wanting to Be Seen

Just as the night was fading

Into the dusk of morning

When the air was cool as water

When the town was quiet

And I could hear the sea

I caught sight of the moon

No higher than the rooftops

Our neighbor the moon

An hour before the sunrise

She glowed with her own sunrise

gold in the grey of morning

World without town or forest

Without wars or sorrows

She paused between two trees

And it was as if in secret

Not wanting to be seen

She chose to visit us

So early in the morning.

...Anne Porter,  from Living Things


( I know, no full moon now.)

Doing Things the Hard Way

Not sure why these birds are using the steps up to the deck when they can fly??

Gifts

Some gifts are just so precious that you do not mind oooing and ahhing like a little old lady.  They look as though they were made/selected with love and careful thought instead of made with gears and delivered via conveyor belts after being wrapped in a sterile plastic bubble.  Above is the gift that I received from my son's new girlfriend this past Christmas.  She has met us only a few times, but already she shows insight and taste.  She bought this at a bird store near her home at the edge of  "Pennsylvania's Great Lakes Port City."  I am thinking that our little wren couple, the duo that nest everywhere impractical on my back porch, may find this tiny home inviting come spring.  I can hardly wait!  I already caught the quick shadow of one bird peeking in during one of these dreary winter afternoons.  I find the re-cycled barbed wire for the front 'doorstep' a nice statement...bringing down boundaries.  The whimsy of the curled bark on the roof is the cherry on the frosting roof.

Hollow Whistle

She is biting sharp like the blade of a knife and as cold as the last song of the loneliest sparrow.

This confident weather has thrown me to the ground and has me gulping parchment air.

There was a time when winter was fresh like sparkling ice milk
and soft and delicate like downy white feathers.

There was a time when winter was a novelty
like an antique satin music box
with glittering snow fairies twirling to winter waltzes.

Now is the time when the death rattle of paper leaves is gone
and the birds have cloaked themselves with the dark green thorned holly leaves
or shrouded themselves deep in the barbed rose tangle, huddled frozen puff balls.

Now comes the time when bleak shadows are dark and long witches fingers
and the sun seems embarrassed to try and play the game anymore.

The glow of the water's surface has become opaque steal gray.  The trees bare arms plead silently for forgiveness.  The wind whistles smoothly on its way past us all.

I am a coward and will hibernate until the days grow long once again.

(Everyone has posted such lovely words on winter and I am feeling gray and brave enough to post the other side...)

Use Up and Then Re-use.

Above is my sugar bowl after too much holiday celebrating.  This photo was taken after I added the leftover powdered sugar with red sprinkles from my holiday cookie baking, just a little recycling of the more attractive variety.

We have a small lidded jar on the kitchen counter that gets all the vegetable and fruit peelings, the coffee grounds, the wilted lettuce and anything else that will work to our benefit in the compost pile in the garden.  We do get the rare batch of hatching fruit flies, but if we are careful, they only last a few days.

We take out the leftover grease from the pot roast and carry it to the ravine for the squirrels and foxes.  We dump the shells from clams and oysters at the far edge of the river for the raccoons and otters to clean.  The stale crackers go to the birds and the stale bread to the ducks, and recently, some spoiled raw lamb stew meat to the crows, which was most interesting to watch.

We use the newspaper to mulch the weeds in the garden and recycle all the magazines at the dump along with the rinsed glass and metal and plastic and foil.

We take the clothes, shoes, games, books and other stuff we no longer use to the church store.

We usually take our own cloth bags to the grocery store, but when we forget, we still find uses for the plastic bags that we bring home.  They help group all the zip-locked garden vegetables by type in the chest freezer or they are used for carrying stuff up to my daughter's house or holding the used batteries until we take them in.  We tuck them in our backpacks to carry out any trash we may find on our hiking adventures.  They are useful as shoe-bags in the suitcase.

I return my printer cartridges to the office supply store for a discount on expensive new printer cartridges.

We combine our errands so that we take fewer car trips to the store and post office.

But I am not patting myself on the back because these are such teeny-tiny and common gestures to help reduce our footprint on this planet.  We are not handy types and thus fail to repair or replace broken machinery or appliance items so that they can be used once again.  We are not as careful as we should be on our use of oil and electricity since we are only two people using a big house,  and we tend to move to new technology as soon as we can afford it...me with my camera and PC and my husband with his GPS and boat.

I sincerely believe that global climate change, removal of fossil fuels, disposal of toxic waste, and accidental introduction of non-indigenous species to areas is changing this planet at a hugely rapid rate.  Just watching the natural disaster news for a month proves that.  I work regularly to help my grandchildren learn what fresh natural food tastes like, how being careful with toys and turning off batteries help the planet, and keeping them aware of the fragility of our natural environment as they tramp through it.  But my overall battle plan seems so small and weak and any help you all can give will make this much better.

Thursday Thoughts #31 ---13 Things I Have Learned

1. Working on photos has a lot to do with math and precision and I am not good at either in spite of being known as somewhat an anal retentive bitch.
2. Any other person who called me 2 hours ahead to let me know he was coming to spend the night with a guest would get a piece of my mind or at the very least a lie about our sudden plans...except for my son whom I see not often enough.  Instead, he got a piece of my pot roast.
3. I need to drink more water...really!  (Wine and tea and coffee are not enough.)
4. You don't always get what you ask for or want and more often than not you get something you did not ask for.  I asked for bubble bath for the holidays, and since I found none in my stocking, I ended buying it on sale after Christmas.  I did not ask for a Kindle and did get that.
5. It is hard to find meaningful volunteer work in a rural area if you do not belong to a church.
6. I am a good and patient teacher, except when trying to teach my husband Windows stuff and I think this has more to do with Windows than either him or me (or is that he or I ?).
7. My daughter had dinner with Rob Lowe recently and while they were prepared to talk entertainment industry, to my relief he really wanted to talk politics.  No air head there.
8. Thread was recently found that was 30,000 years old made by humans using plant fibers (wild flax) in different colors on pottery.  It seems mankind has always wanted to make and decorate cloth.
9. Flamingos use a makeup they secrete from a gland near their tail to keep their color bright during the breeding season when the colorful shrimp they eat are not available.  (How long before H. Couture starts selling lipstick made with essence of flamingo butt for thousands of dollars?)
10. One of the most moving exhibits I have ever seen is the Pulitzer Prize Photos Gallery displayed at the Newseum in Washington, DC.  It brought me to tears several times and reinforced my love of the power of photography.
11. A 47 F degree gray day with gusty wind is much colder than a 27 F degree sunny day with no wind.
12. I fear the world will go to 'hell in a hand basket' if my children's generation continue to value "reality" television over reality.  I stumbled across The Bachelor while waiting for another movie to start and actually got nauseous watching the last ten minutes. Why in the hell we spent time burning bras....?
13. And finally, the best thing I learned this year, is that no matter how many new years come around each is a valuable opportunity to do it better this time.

(One thing I wondered about most recently and have not learned is why is bicycle not pronounced like motocycle in the English language?)