Marriage

I have been married (to the same man) for 40+ years. No, I actually do not know the exact number give or take a year and I am not going to look it up and my husband is now asleep, so sue me.  I do know that we have had a pretty good run.  As most people who are past middle age realize, marriage is rarely about romance.  Oh yes, romance is nice, but it is not the normal state of affairs.  Actually, too much romance in a marriage would make me suspicious.  We have had our bad times, but there was only one year, two decades ago, when we came close to drifting apart completely.  He did a very bad thing and I decided, with time, it wasn't all that bad and with some marriage counseling we came through to the other side and I am so glad we are where we are today.

Ours is not a perfect marriage, but perfect marriages are undefinable to me anyway.  There are days when I have polished the kitchen to an unnatural shine and in his minute of fixing a snack it has been returned to an elementary school lunchroom.  There are days when I remind of him of something important or ask him to do something important that only he can do, and he still forgets because it is not his priority causing me frustration.  There are events where he talks too much about his interests, reveals too much personal stuff to strangers, or makes me wait alone for an hour while he finishes up something.  There are days when he says he wants to cook dinner, but doesn't even enter the kitchen until almost 7:00 P.M.  There are days when the time spent on this "business project" of his seems like eons.

But these are all in contrast to his telling and showing me he loves me (on occasion),  helping me with my projects, going with me on my errands, watching some film noir with me (which he hates), letting me have control of the remote, putting up with my blogging (which to him is like reading cartoons), loving our children totally, and living peacefully with my anal retentive sense of organization.  The above is also balanced with his love of the outdoors, his efforts to be active and healthy and to encourage me to do the same, and his intelligent sense of humor.

But a blogger posted this link which oddly brought tears to my eyes, because the woman in the video is my husband.  That is how he feels about the world.  He feels responsible.  His philosophy is that every big change begins with that first step and there is no need for recognition.  He does this when he is all alone in the woods and no one is watching!  

Joiners

I have never been a big joiner, even in causes I believe in; I have to steel myself to join things.  I tend to be the type that thinks if you join something...you have to JOIN it. Joining means to me that you will go to the meetings, setup for the events, volunteer to do the boring stuff that the other members tend to avoid.  You will be active and not just lend your name or a few dollars to the cause, club, institution.  As a result of this Puritanical attitude, I tend to avoid joining the majority of things that come my way.

My Master Gardener program requires 40 hours of volunteer/leadership work the first year.  You are committed to the cause of sharing the gardening experience whether you like it or not.  You can count the monthly meetings and the time spent driving to and from places.  Since January I have put in about 10 hours.  This week I am committed to several errands and an event which will add another 4 or 5 hours of my time.  Of course, as spring commences, gardeners are needed everywhere.  I was talking to a fellow MSTG (Master Gardener) and she said when she first started her project, there were few places to volunteer time in our rural area.  Over the past few years, many more opportunities have developed.  I am guessing this is due to baby boomers nearing retirement and looking for things to do and thus creating community gardens for areas.  I must say that our business meetings are certainly energetic and the last one had about 30 attendees!

While I was thinking of this process of joining I recently noticed new joiners (followers) to my blog(s).  I do not know how they found their way here in most cases.  I do not know if they even read my blog, because many do not comment on posts or comment only once.  I keep thinking that sometimes bloggers like to collect followers like friends on FB.  No communication is involved.  It is just a collecting thing.

I have two lists I follow in blogging.  Sometimes I "follow" the blog on their page and then that blog shows up on the Blogger Dashboard page if they have made a recent post.  The other way is the old-fashioned way of creating a link to the blog in the html code of the my blogs design which then shows up in my sidebar of my blog page when they post.  This I still tend to do more often than the former.  I keep forgetting the other list.  Many on this second list have drifted off into the digital black hole of neglect.  They started writing with the best of intentions and then blogging lost its appeal or they were using it as a tool to sell something and not really blog, or life and living got in the way.

My concern  has become that this following of blogs is just like joining.  My lists are getting long and I feel an obligation to read the majority of the posts of blogs I follow.  (Although I am not talking about your blog, of course, I head there first every time!)  I do not want to hurt anyone's feelings although I do not always feel a need to comment on the post, and as cute as that kitten is, I really have no time to read about it.

These blogger lists are somewhat like my speedwell plant that I posted about on my other blog.  It is lovely, interesting, and in the beginning a most compelling plant.  But then it spreads and becomes a maintenance issue and must be tended, and the fun starts to fade a little and obligation rears its hard head.

Do any other bloggers face this concern?  How do you deal with it?  I bet most of you are women...is this all just silliness on my part?

One Day

She rests easy in the dark night sky. Her gentle face reflects the peaceful light of eternity. We are trying to shelter against war, famine and earthly destruction.  We are trying to close out angry evil sounds.  We close our ears to the cry of pain.  We close our eyes to shut out ugly visions.  We sigh and breathe in dust-filled air.  But, if you cast your eyes upward, she will remind you, that this too will pass. The beauty of our earth will survive in time.  She will return to bathe us in her silver calming light until all is healed.  Peace is patient.

Thursday Thoughts #32---Very Small Happy Thoughts

The news has been so full of awful things, more awful than usual. Mother Earth has just shown us who is boss once again by slapping us up the side of the head and Mankind has shown that testosterone is highly overrated when trying to control a social Tsunami in a desert.  So here are some of my personal thankful thoughts helping me hold it together, small though they are, as I straddle this bridge of life.

1. Spring has moved into my yard and is unpacking scarves in the most magical of colors.
2. My daughter has not yet delivered baby #3 and thankfully it will be coming closer to the ready date.
3. My daughter's friend who has a sister who is a professional photographer actually asked me for some butterfly photos to decorate her daughter's bathroom.
4. I have not lost any weight but I am in very good health and not on any medications.
5. My son is still dating the same girl.
6. My grand-daughter called me this past weekend and begged me to come visit, which I did.
7. The bluebird is checking out the birdhouse just under the deck outside my bedroom window.
8. I have found a new hair dresser and she looks like she might be a keeper.
9. My husband kissed me yesterday morning in passing.
10. I have finished my income taxes.
11.  I have very special blog friends, in spite of the fact that I have not met them.
12.  This past trip I renewed and restored friendship with several long-time friends.
13.  I am alive.

I am sure on your gloomiest of days you can come up with a thankfulness list of 13 'small' things!

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??