Old Stuff

There are people who almost salivate upon entering an antique mall or when given an opportunity to peruse the booths at an antique fair.  They make sure not to miss Antiques Roadshow (either the British or the American versions) on television each week.  And it is very difficult for them to just drive by a garage sale on an errand-filled morning.

I am not one of those people. I own way too much stuff and dusting is not my favorite thing to do.  While I find old stuff interesting and find a discussion of its creation or history interesting, it is only as an idle diversion.  I can count on one hand the number of times I have gone into an antique store and in most of those cases I was looking for garden ornaments rather than items to dust.
 
On a recent trip with my daughter we explored a large antique mall.  She was looking at antique jewelry and has a new interest in antique watches.  While I had fun looking at the items from my youth, antique lady that I am, it wasn't until I saw this vase below that I got motivated.  Most of my vases are generic from flower shops or previous interesting food containers and barely useful in holding flowers.
 
I saw this green glass charmer in a glass case and immediately bought it.  It is only about 5 inches high and perfect for flowers with broken stems.  I then spent the rest of the time looking at other vases throughout the store and found one more.  This is a tall art deco and I noticed after I purchased it that it was not truly vertical!

I have decided my new mission when I am bored wandering in an antique shop is to look for vases to replace my generic clear glass collection. (I have been having trouble with Internet band width and not able to do any blogging the last few days and while it has been good for my soul, it has kept me from posting.)

Motivation

Sometimes too much of a good thing is too much of a good thing. All of the days in my life are now Saturdays with only an errand or two on the agenda and the rest of the day to play.  No one thinks about being in such a situation some day when they are working a 50-hour workweek.  Let me give you a glimpse of the future so that you will not wander around with that deer in the headlights expression when you get here...you WILL someday.  What can happen is that, first, you lose total track of time.  You head off to your Thursday haircut and are surprised that everyone looks a little too directly at you when you walk in the door.  Then you find out that today is actually Wednesday and you hairdresser doesn't come in until Thursday...tomorrow!   Congrats, you just gained one whole day to your week of playtime.

I gain days and lose days with abandon.  They melt like snowflakes on the desert floor and I sigh with guilt when I lay my head against the pillow each evening realizing that one more jeweled snowflake has melted away and will never be seen again.  This also leads one to become a stranger to that feeling called motivation.  One does what one wants to do, NOT what one should do or needs to do or must do or even has to do.

I wander around my yard with either a camera or a garden trowel in hand until the angle of the sun reminds me that I should be thinking about dinner or calling a family member or getting the details together for that trip that is coming up.  It is like I was released from some time travel machine in a fantasy land and then the machine starts blinking reminding me I am back on the clock.

I used to work with lazy people like me.  I hated how they got the same pay check as I when all they did was show up to work and then wander from one office conversation to the next until the afternoon sun told them they had to do a few things at their desk before they headed home.  Retirement will not seem strange to them.

I, on the other hand, was full of motivation.  This motivation got me nowhere, but it certainly was overflowing in my spirit and probably irritated the hell out of other people around me at my work and certainly made my family roll their eyes on the weekends.  I could cram more items on a Saturday to-do list than anyone I knew, and just like the energizer bunny, get the majority of them done before the sun set.  I once painted an entire new 3,000 square foot house - primer, trim and stain - on just a few weekends.

Now my motivation is hiding somewhere.  I have a bedroom that has had spackle spots and faded paint for several years, I have floors with carpets that need cleaning, I have a fall car trip to plan, and I really, really, really should clean out a closet or two since I can no longer tightly close the doors!  But it looks like we just might get a nice sunset this evening down at the dock...so I will follow hubby who is checking on the crabs and then a couple of hours later my hunger will eventually make me walk back up and start dinner.  (THAT's where my motivation is, in my stomach.  Who knew?)

(And of course I went to here  to read Moannie's version of aging after finishing writing this!  We are both so cheerful these days!)

Recess

Taking a break from blogging.  My brain is a little fried and I have weeks of activity ahead.  Won't be gone too long.  You cannot get rid of me that easily.

My Virtual Love Letter

I could not have imagined a drift or even catching a tsunamic (yes I made a new word) wave into this community called Bloggers.  Who knew so many people wanted to put their thoughts into words and share those thoughts with strangers?  Each of my bloggers has at least one or two (if not hundreds) of lightning strokes of genius as they share deeply personal thoughts and parts of their recent days or years long ago and mold them carefully into phrases that reflect the humanity of man and in some cases true poetry.  They share their lunches, decorating efforts, cleaning processes, broken marriages, conversations with crazy folks and their unique as well as common thoughts.  While held up to the light individually, they may not have much substance, but when woven into the light of years of blogging they are the stitches of a tapestry of a unique and complicated human life.  They are the snare of the jazz piece.  They are the rare spice in the soup of mankind.  They are the laugh of that old joke told in an unusual light. 

If we had met at a wine or ice cream bar our outspoken ideas may have halted the minute we found our differences.  But with blogging we slowly learn that we are all so VERY much alike in spite of our politics, religious beliefs, sexual preferences, and taste in cooking.  My bloggers are patient with me.  They chuckle at my desire to really get their opinion on my photographs...a free lesson from the audience...and they sigh at my own efforts to try to write prose or poetry, but do not discourage me.  They cannot believe that I value honesty (with a spoonful of sugar) above all else.

That is the key.  NEVER discourage someone from trying to express their opinion but be willing to also express an opinion gently in a different light.  This world is changing at impossible speeds these days and we barely have time to sift the false from the true.  One thing I think I have learned is that truth is rarely exciting or shiny like a diamond (or winks at you).  Truth is gray and solid like a bridge to the future,  Truth always is in the distant light, and if we disagree, it is because we have not changed our rose colored glasses, quite yet.  

Through with the Fiddle and Faddle

The original in all its glory.

Number 1 with wind in the shrubbery hiding the laptop.

Made monochrome to hide the shrubbery blur and moved a tree!

Added back a little color.

Fiddled and faddled and tried the various suggestions and actually not looking for affirmation as was suggested by Grannie.  This is hardly a great photo for that!  I think I just miss not having a photography club nearby and after loading many photos to RedBubble and getting only generic compliments from other photographers...decided to try a new route.  I will not bore you in the future with this, rest assured.  Just a trial.  I took this with a Canon Powershot, so I guess the fidelity that I got from across the campus at a distance was surprising to me.  I do love this little camera that fits in my pocket.

I did not try to hide his face this time.  The photo when cropped is now much smaller and as a result would not be good for anything larger than a few inches in print...but I had fun(?) working on this.  Tell me if you like one more than the other and as you can see, I moved some landscape to cover the laptop and a tree, and no color filters were added.  You will need to click on photos to enlarge.  This would not pass muster for any publication other than the web.  I really appreciate those of you who were polite enough to take time to review and critique and that fact that this photo was not one in which I had vested any emotion, made it easier for me to take advice. 

Your Turn!

I recently took a stag's leap and loaded some of my photos onto a communal/commercial site called RedBubble.  It exists for artists of all types to show work, compare thoughts, and for a very few...to perhaps sell something.  One would never get rich at this, but an artist could get some small recognition and an outstanding artist would get his/her feet wet.

All that has happened to me thus far from this venture is some nice, very general comments from others...nothing I could grow by.  I was hoping that other photographers would critique (gently)...tell me to use a different filter, a different background, frame/crop it in "such and such way" or not be so lazy next time and actually use a tripod!  Or perhaps explain why they found it somewhat derivative.  Add to this the fact that the photographer cannot really view his work with a critical eye.

But they know the fragile nature of themselves and all artists and are afraid to even venture in that direction.  I, on the other hand, actually wrote to one photographer and had no shyness with my suggestions for a better background in taking a picture of an antique piece of glassware and she was grateful for my advice.

Anyway to get to my point and the purpose of the blog post title...I have posted below a photo I took recently at the nearby university campus.  When I uploaded it onto my computer I was touched by the love between the young couple revealed in their body language and his face.  I took the photo in a public place and was not using a telephoto, but I felt that not camouflaging their identity would be rude.

My questions to you (and answer honestly or not at all) is what do you think?  Opinions as a viewer...you do not have to know which end of the camera works...just your immediate reaction to this photo as an observer.

Does this photo capture that romantic feeling?
Have I ruined it by trying to use various software filters to hide identities?  Would it be better to just show him?
Is it so derivative it hurts your eyes?
Color and tone?  What do you think? (I tried for a romantic pink tone.)
Other compelling comments?
This is not one of my favorites ... so feel free to be honest.

Thursday Thoughts #35 -- News Tidbits

1. The columns of light beamed into the sky during the 9/11 memorial actually had to be turned off for a time because over 45 species of birds were drawn toward it away from their normal migrating path!
2. If you drink at least one cup of coffee a day, you are 23 percent less likely to have a stroke.
3. If you are not well rested you are more likely to take risks, whether it be gambling or making a serious financial decision...so I recommend you get some good sleep before negotiating on that house contract.
4. Your cell phone is the most foolproof on getting correct time over your watch, your alarm clock, and the microwave.  We have way too many clocks in our lives.
5. Yahooligans.com returns only kid-appropriate links if searching the internet with children.
6. According to Robert Brady (his May 22 post) things are even much uglier in Japan since the earthquake.  Seems that even the Japanese leaders lie to their people.  Her in ego-centric USA, we no longer hear much about this tragedy.
7. Obama's visit to Ireland was pretty exciting.  One would have thought he was a rock star...either that or the Irish get really friendly after a few pints.
8. I finally learned where the term meme came from.
9. I was excited about reading this.
10. Twitter paid 40 million to purchase TweetDeck...I am so behind on this stuff.
11. According to the New York Times "Climate scientists have told city planners that based on current trends, Chicago will feel more like Baton Rouge than a Northern metropolis before the end of this century."
12. Marriage is on the demise according to statistics...people just want to live together.
13. Someone discovered that the Republican candidates in the U.S. are going to "tweak" Medicare and Social Security so that instead of  a social service program, they operate more like a free enterprise service...who would have thunk this?

Holding On to the Center

I think that the one thing I search for as I age and find I actually have time to think  and search is the "Center  aka Balance."  I look for that middle ground where everything can clearly be seen, where, if I stand straight and tall with my arms out wide, I feel in complete and peaceful balance.  That place, where, if I stare straight ahead, I can see into those loving eyes of my family and read their minds and accept what is revealed...changes and all.  That place where I know I am home and there is nothing hidden or unknown that can take me by surprise.  That place that is safe and pure and honest and where I am not looking over my shoulder at the mess that is catching up with me, or the old age that is catching up with me, or that bundle of guilt that I keep in a dark locked trunk behind the shed door...the bundle that shows how much time in my life I have wasted and all the mistakes I have made.  It is that place where the future is only obvious change and not unnecessary challenge.

Truly retired means there are no longer any excuses for not being in the Center of your life.  Even if you are fighting a serious disease or supporting the fight of a medical challenge of a loved one...you finally have some time for concentrating on the Center.  Actually you must dedicate time to remain in the Center or you are of no use to anyone off-center.  In retirement there is no longer a career or children to pull me off-Center.  I always admire those people who find the gift in everything that happens to them.  Not the sugary frosting top bow...but the solid center gift of what happens to them and with a gentle sigh they can see and accept that it happened and realize it is there to make them pause and to grow to become more solid and able to fit in between it all.

On a graph sent to me by my financial adviser (yep, I do have one of those) the Center is that place in the middle of the graph where the Y and X meet.  This magic happens between the far flung four corners on this graph which are labeled Lower Risk-Higher Return, Higher Risk-Higher Return, Lower Risk-Lower Return and finally Higher Risk/Lower Return.  The only honest place and sure thing on this graph is Lower Risk-Lower Return.  The most attractive place is Higher Risk-Higher Return but there is not much air in this corner of the graph whether representing financial life or daily living and it is a place you cannot stay long but probably should visit briefly for the thrill every once in a while.  (It is funny how this graph replicates life.)

I live in a culture of excess with lots of glittery lights and magnificent smells, and addictive sounds and therefore, trying to find the Center with the coals warm glow and to remain balanced as I am made stronger by fire is a daily challenge.  It is like yoga and meditation...a most peaceful and rewarding place that allows you to forget about all the corners of your world, past and present, but it takes lots of work to get there and to remain there and most of all to just let go of the idea that you must be on a path to somewhere else.  The only place I must be is right here and right now.

Essential Things You May Have Missed Out On

It amuses and amazes me everyday how I have become that old person who looks back on life and wondered how I ever got through it without all the aids, gadgets, networks that are available today.

I raised two delightful and complicated children back then.  We did not have seat belts in cars and my friends who smoked were allowed to smoke while we went somewhere.  Miraculously my children survived both these dangers.  I unknowingly fed them foods in containers lined with carcinogenic plastics or probably sprayed with dangerous pesticides.  School lunches included the vegetable ketchup to balance the repast.  Abandoned refrigerators and mean dogs were the greatest fear in neighborhoods.

Because I am a technologically savvy grandma, I purchase gifts from my grandchildren via that new magical mall, the Internet.  These companies then automatically assume I need paper versions of their inventory as well and my mail box begins to regurgitate colored catalogs of items beyond my wildest dreams.

There are gates and locks and containers that even an enterprising raccoon would have difficulty surmounting.  Children now have their own luggage when they travel, and sunglasses and helmets when they are out riding in that dangerous but very comfortable stroller.  With the added cup-holder and side music speakers, as Fran Lebowitz says, they are never leaving that stroller.

In the latest version of one of these missives offering "thoughtfully selected products," I have the opportunity to purchase a Potty Watch that alerts small children with lights and music to remind them to go to the bathroom at preset intervals...I cannot help but think of a child who would become dependent on this and could not go to the bathroom without the alarm...you know, that idiot CEO at the board meeting!  I could buy a pillow that supports good posture in small children when they sleep...unless they sleep sideways across the bed as does my grandson #1 or with the pillow over their head as does my granddaughter.

There is even a strange device that one uses to remove mucus from the noses of little ones who have not mastered the art of blowing.  The mother puts it against the child's nostrils and then puts a little plastic tube in her mouth and proceeds to suck on the tube.  The text assures us that the mucus goes into a tissue and not the mother's mouth.  It still looks very unsettling in the photo (above) of mother and child using it.  The real clincher is that the publisher claims it has been used by European parents for years.  (They probably write in the European version that it has been used by North American parents for years.)

How did our baby "animals" survive without this stuff?  What new wonders will be available to my grandchildren when they begin to raise their little ones?  All of these do not belay the real dangers of global climate change, air pollution, water pollution, crime, drugs and daily stress that our little ones have to battle.

Hummingbird Moth

(I was supposed to post this on MY OTHER blog...but got mixed up and am too lazy to move all the html code...so here it is!)

This is Hemaris thysbe (at least I think that is what is is) commonly known as the Hummingbird moth.  Got these photos while he was hanging out at the dianthus pot on the back of my deck.  They turned out nicely, so, of course, I had to share even if in reduced pixel size!

There is not much known about this moth, except one site said the scientific name was based on the Pyramus and Thisbe  love story where Pyramus finds Thisbe's blood stained scarf assuming she had been killed and thus impales himself with his own sword.  The Hemaris part is based on "Haemorrhagia as a reference to blood-like coloration" 

I also found this quote  "The courtship behavior of hawk moths is very complex. It often involes pheromones, love songs and aerobatic flights. This type of behavior has been noted in the cream-lined hawk moth from Asia, and is currently being studied in the North American species. However, many different hawk moths, such as the ocellate hawk moth, also found in Asia, do not have these behaviors. Rather, they tend to have broader wings and fly more clumsily. They have no tongues, do not feed as adults, and show little courtship behaviour. (Kitching, 1999)"

I see this often in the summer and sometimes people think they are a stinging insect because of their size...not so.

Did You Disappear?

Several people commented in posts and even commented on my blog comments on the recent two-day outage of Blogger...although Blogger did not admit they were out of whack for that long because you could read what had been published in a prior time.  I had been pretty busy away from the computer during that time and only noticed at the very end when I was trying to check my posts.

It was a little frustrating for me not being able to post anything or read anything new, but because I am easily distracted  I moved on to something else. 

Some of you wrote that you felt as if you had been cut off from communication with an important side of the world.  I began to wonder if I would have felt the same if it had been a rainy or cold day where I was stuck at home with nothing to do.  If I had time to reflect, I am sure that I would have been a little panicked at not being able to get in touch with readers of my blog.  What if Blogger had gone down permanently?  I am sure they have back-up servers to return to a prior time...but what if?

Peruby has a disaster recovery plan idea which she wrote about.  I never thought about a back-up plan for a hobby, but that is an interesting thought.  How did you feel about all this?  Do you have a back-up plan?

Huh?

Our Master Gardeners are having their big plant sale this weekend and I have been very busy labeling and transporting small and large potted plants, building (!) plant benches and identifying plants. Earlier in the week I spent several days with my daughter helping with three little ones as her husband was on a week of travel.  She was nursing a cold on top of everything else....so, if you will excuse me, I really think I need a nap right now...then I will do research on this Blogger issue.

Bloody Murder at Tabor's Yard

(This is a warning that the following post may contain content too violent for children or adults with a sensitive nature, and no, Tabor did not kill her husband.)

It was a dark and stormy night...no, actually it was the middle of a sunny afternoon.  There were ominous shadows flitting through the trees...no, it was a beautiful spring breeze rustling the new growth and that is what tricked me, that made me oblivious to what was to come.  There were an unusual number of blackbirds flying back and forth across the lawn.  Thats lends a little ominousness to the mood...doesn't it?  There was also the sinister buzz of black flies in the air...the type found in any Stephen King soundtrack.

I had just emptied my overcrowded dish of plant succulents, finished their re-planting and was heading down my driveway to obtain some soil to mix with the sand.  As I walked I noticed ever so superficially something bright red on the driveway pavement...a lovely rose petal, perhaps?  I continued my saunter under the large leaning tulip poplar that will one day fall across this driveway and kill someone.

Then, without warning, I felt something wet fall onto the outside of my hand just below my watch band.  Rain released from a tree leaf?  I looked down and saw wet, red blood!  A nice juicy spray of drops across the back of my hand to the base of my thumb.  I looked up and saw the tulip tree leaves winking at me and nothing else.  I looked back down at my hand and quickly wiped away the blood on my muddy jeans, and that was when I saw body parts scattered across the pavement!  Truly a CSI moment.

Here's looking at you!

I backed up a yard or two and again tilted my neck to look into the tree.  Many of you have already guessed what I saw.

He was not going to interrupt his casual lunch of shad just because I was doing yard work!  Today I learned that osprey do not eat the eyeballs, and now I wonder why not?  And I realized how much they fertilize the earth when they eat... if not eating over a paved driveway, that is!  The ants were soon having a picnic, though.

And at least it was not bird poop that fell from the sky on me....

The Other Mother

Today's post is to honor those mothers who have lost children through disease, war, or accidents of life's decisions.  Today is a most difficult day for you to get through because it is the deep reminder of that river of pain you swim through each and every day as that child is no longer a part of your life.  Or perhaps, that child has disappeared into a dark alley of the world somewhere and while you think of them often, today their presence hangs most heavily on your heart as you wonder what has become of them.  Your memories of their face are static in time and do not console you.

Today I place a virtual hand on your shoulder and another across your heart and I lay my head on your shoulder as I try to understand your pain and wish you some peace.

Home is Where They Have to Take You In

To those who actually care, and with such loving surprise to me, some of you do...

Hubby is home! Safe and sound.

How do I know, other than I drove the hour and half to pick him up, waited an extra 30 minutes for him to clear customs, and managed to find my way out of the cell phone parking lot to the arrival area on time?

I know because even though he was tremendously jet-lagged he let me stop at the HUGE landscape place on the way back from the airport to buy $80 worth of plants and actually pushed (drug) the cart all over the cobbled paths for me.

I know because this morning there are shoes left under the breakfast table and a bill cap hat on the floor next to his chair. I know because I see the $300 binoculars left out overnight in the rain on the deck table (they survived nicely).   I know because he is not hungry at dinner but is hungry at midnight and I hear him rustling up some cereal in the kitchen and then watching CNN. I know because he is jealous(!) I hired a yard service for the next month. I know because his favorite teapot is now always on the counter.

I know because we spent 30 minutes yesterday afternoon looking for his cell phone (a familiar routine)...in the garden...in the cars...in the garage...in every room in the house.  After calling it and listening carefully we heard a kitten-sized ring in our closet where he had left it in some pants that he had worn and then shoved in a drawer!

Yes, he is home and my life is now busier.

Treasure Chests of Virtual Reality

There were days long ago when friends would send out a birthday card followed by a winter holiday card (Hanukkah or Christmas or whatever) and they would write a few paragraphs or if they had an ego the size of mine they would include a chummy newsletter that let the friend know all that had happened since we had last seen each other.  Sometimes we would include a photograph just to show we were indeed aging but still alive or to prove that our children and grandchildren were the most beautiful in the world.  These little histories might be tucked away in shoe boxes and if we stopped sending out mail our children or family would send out the notice of our passing sometimes months later after finding our address book or upon receipt of the letters at next year's holiday.

Grannie Annie commented in a past post about how hard it would be today to know why someone quit posting on a blog and how hard it would be to find out what happened to them.  In this modern digital age our lives are played out on Facebook, Snapfish, Phanfare, Flicker, YouTube, et al. by us and by others with whom we wander down our life's path.  Sometimes others may tell even more than we would like to share about us to their friends...many of whom we don't even know.  Those who are more communicative and with a little larger sense of their lives go forward with Blogs or Web pages and tell friends, family and frequently anyone who would watch and read, including total strangers, all about their memories and activities and opinions.

Our modern lives are held in "clouds" of digital pixels on servers everywhere and anywhere.  If I die tomorrow, not that I am going to, no one will be able to tell you that I died.  If it is not a professional site such as a newspaper column, perhaps no one will edit, preserve or delete anything I have written.  I have photo libraries stored in various places.  Yahoo has indicated that upon the receipt of a copy of an official death certificate they will remove the account.  Others have similar or no process in place.  I have a twitter account which I rarely use and only started it to stalk my son; I have an FB account, even an old password protected blog site that I have used on rare occasions to post only family stuff for relatives.  I even have old web pages somewhere that I created a long time ago and I can't even remember where those are!  All of these are accessible with various passwords and unless I give a directive and tell family where the password list is, I will become a cloud of information myself.

Certainly a site such as Facebook would be easier to inform friends of an important change.

I am still fascinated by these digital words and photographs shared across the globe.  Maybe some of this digital information will be useful to cultural archeologists or historical librarians, and in 100s of years, that which remains and can be uncovered will be sifted and analyzed and discussed.  But this is not like great-grandma's letters...it is hidden and easily lost.  Do any of you wonder about this stuff?  Do you care?

Romance

I had no intention of being a fan of the Royal Wedding.  I had avoided all the pre-programs and super guessing games and standard analysis and while I am not against happiness for this lovely couple...I really, really, really had no interest.

This morning I wandered downstairs to exercise (no applause as I haven't exercised in over a week) and flipped on the TV as I cannot run on the elliptical without some distraction.  I HATE aerobic exercise.  I had been watching a movie weeks ago on this channel and here at 5:30 in the morning... in my basement...what should I see... but the wedding procession just getting underway.  Since I was already on the running machine and had begun to work up a rhythm, I left the channel running.

It soon became fascinating.  All  the pomp and circumstance was captivating.  Even that old, cold Queen who had long ago given it up for England looked so lovely and warm.  No big grins on her face and no indication she was happy about this day...but she wore a lovely golden yellow and did allow a few royal smiles.  The sis almost outshone the bride with that lovely gown and the children were almost American in their desire for decorum to be over and done with already.

I heard that the wording had been changed to gender neutral...but they still went through the symbolism of the father giving away the bride as if she was property....or as if he had spent substantial time in raising her while her mother stood in silver gray in the background as mothers have done for centuries.  You know, the one who did the cooking, bathing, diapering?

The boys choir and the adult choir were stunning and the sermon to the couple was warm and intelligent, and all almost made me desire to get back into church attendance except there are no choirs or church bells of this magnificence in my neck of the woods.

AND I have to confess that I did tear up several times when I saw the love and excitement that the British citizens (all around the world) had for this beautiful couple.  I have to admit that this was the best reality show I have seen in a long time and I do wish them a lifetime of happiness and perhaps more important lots of good luck.

No Tornadoes, No Complaint

All we got was some very nasty winds and torrential downpours...but it was enough to dislodge these two tulip trees.  One had been damaged in the building of the house 5 years ago, but we thought the other was pretty healthy.  Notice that it missed the compost corral but did knock aside the bat house.  AND more money to fix that damn deer fence...AGAIN!  At least I am safe and my house is safe.  I will not complain.

So Where Is She?

So where in the heck has Tabor been?  Hiding under a rock waiting for a rain along with that garden snail?

No.  Perhaps she has been busy growing mushrooms...although she was sure she planted ageratum in this tray of annuals?

She has been busy keeping the many tomato plants alive in their containers for the plant sale coming up in a few weeks.

She has been dragging hoses from one side of the yard to the other.  She has been busy lifting heavy bags of potting soil and dumping the soil into various containers.

The on the odd hour she has been admiring the one or two planters that slept through the winter and put on their own spring show with absolutely no help from her!

What Can I Say?

What a strange feeling for someone who has been known for talking too much...to actually, factually, and tactually run out of things to write.

I could write about my inability to fit with Easter, although I have tried for decades to believe in this.  It just ain't gonna happen and writing about it will only alienate those for whom it is a deeply important personal time.  I could write about needing a Manners Manual for what to do when your family wants you to come for Easter and in the middle of the day they are planning on going to mass.  ( I was baptized Catholic but raised myself as a Methodist and raised my children the same.)  Now I am just a spiritual wanderer, happy when others pray for me, but not expecting any miracles.

I could write about the tease and temptress that spring is.  Going from 49F in the midday to 80F on another midday and me doing a plant dance of covering and then uncovering and then watering and then sheltering from too much rain all the little plants that I want to survive this year.  They are pushing their leaves against their plastic lids!!

I could write a long treatise on my plant ignorance having learned two days ago at a training session that sugar maple trees are most foolish to plant in the mid-Atlantic as Maine is even having problems keeping them alive as the weather warms more each year.

I could write about how I miss my husband but now that I have less than a week until he returns, I am a little sad about losing my independent days and the freedom of odd meals and even odder mealtimes.

Or, I could just be lazy and say I have nothing to write about!  Your turn.