I was treated to three quarters of an hour with Rachel and her third grade students. Rachel has had the same students for two years now, and is grieving over losing them next year. She did admit that she thinks changing teachers may be in their best interest since they are beginning to act like her own children – not bad, but a little mouthy – which some adults may frown on. Since Rachel’s birthday is on the last day that these children will have school this year, and I won’t be in Atlanta on that day, I brought brownies and we all celebrated Rachel’s birthday together. What a joy it is to see Rachel in her child-filled environments!
I planned to take Rachel’s family out to an early birthday dinner, but it ended up being just me, Rachel and Sarah. Larry was getting new tires and Rebecca was studying for finals. As Rachel says, if we wait for all members of her busy family to do things together, we may never get to do anything. We had a lovely time at dinner, but the real fun began when we got home.
I had bought Rachel a cute exercise outfit, which her girls insisted that she try on. Rachel has always been one of the least vain women I know, so there was no way that she would think of seriously modeling any item of clothing. She came out of her room doing some kind of combination dance/ exercise number that was quite hilarious to watch with her bouncing, bending, and stretching all over the kitchen and dining rooms. Larry was quite embarrassed with all the talk centered on whether or not built-in sports bras are actually supportive.
I now sit here being serenaded by Sarah on the piano. She won’t be having a recital this year; she’ll perform a jazz rendition of Amazing Grace at church instead. I love hearing child-produced music playing in a home. Rachel wanted Sarah to pursue her music for the sheer joy of being able to produce these lovely sounds. It seems to be working. Many times, when Sarah has a free moment, she sits at the piano and plays. Sarah and her cousin Nick are also saxophone students; I hope this will equate to saxophone serenades for me this summer. And maybe Miya can do a dance number while Sarah and Nick play.
Summer on the water in Louisiana used to be filled with kids wet from swimming, crabbing, and boating in Lake Pontchartrain. Granny Camp In the mountains has its own set of adventures. We haven’t gotten them all planned yet, but Mountaintop Mary, Josie, and Gold Digger Bill have signed on for some activities.
I wonder if Eda will teach them to bake biscotti or those waffle cookies that she does so nicely. I know Mamie’s garden and gathering eggs will entertain them, and Jack’s knowledge of the surrounding woods and wildlife is sure to be a hit. Come on summer!
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Daisies to Dandelions
First there were dandelions; now there are daisies
Honeysuckle, goldenrod, yellow buttercup.
They dot the land along the highways and byways,
And have much of the pasture grasses covered up.
Blackberry brambles are a riot of white blooms;
The rains have made them especially prolific.
The big juicy berries should be coming on soon
For cobblers and jams that will be so terrific.
The seeds that we have planted should sprout any day,
Then the weeding and staking are sure to begin.
While the sun is shining, we are not making hay,
But we are looking forward to crops we'll bring in.
Raise your voices and sign praises for the seasons
Of growing, though they may seem to be very short.
They help us stay tuned to our Mother Earth’s reasons;
In this, we are blessed that we can play a small part.
Honeysuckle, goldenrod, yellow buttercup.
They dot the land along the highways and byways,
And have much of the pasture grasses covered up.
Blackberry brambles are a riot of white blooms;
The rains have made them especially prolific.
The big juicy berries should be coming on soon
For cobblers and jams that will be so terrific.
The seeds that we have planted should sprout any day,
Then the weeding and staking are sure to begin.
While the sun is shining, we are not making hay,
But we are looking forward to crops we'll bring in.
Raise your voices and sign praises for the seasons
Of growing, though they may seem to be very short.
They help us stay tuned to our Mother Earth’s reasons;
In this, we are blessed that we can play a small part.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Class Is Cancelled Crisis
We had planned to teach a couples’ cooking class, but only two reservations were made. This led to cancellation of the class, which we thought was a simple procedure of returning the two checks that secured the reservations – until Ivy called from the welcome center.
Richard answered the phone, and I heard him say, “I’d better let you talk to her.” “Hi, Ivy,” I said. “We’re at the welcome center,” she replied. Was this supposed to mean something to me? The welcome center has nothing to do with any classes, except to advertise them. I tentatively mumbled, “Okay?” “I knew I should have called before we drove up here,” Ivy lamented. “Are you still having the class?”
Oh, that’s what this is all about -- the cooking class! The Ruritan Club, where we were supposed to conduct the class, was locked up tight – and there is no phone there. There is also no cell phone service on our mountain; that’s why Ivy was calling from the welcome center. As I explained to Ivy that we had only received two checks and canceled the class, she queried me about the check that she had sent a month before. What check?
Now I was more confused than ever. Meanwhile, her husband, Hugo, was prompting her in the background to have me “whip something up” for them. I had just placed two carrot cakes in the oven for sending to relatives for their birthdays, but that didn’t qualify for dinner or that night’s dessert.
I was in my usual state of no foundation garments; Richard was in a raggedy t-shirt, and the kitchen floor really needed sweeping to rid it of all the wet leaves that had been tracked in with the storm. I laughed and assured Ivy that I’d let her know when we rescheduled to he cooking class.
As soon as I hung up the phone, I had second thoughts. We like Ivy, even though we’ve had limited exposure to her, mostly through Scrabble nights at the Tellico bookstore she manages. I thought it might be nice to get to know her better, and to make her husband’s acquaintance on a couple-to-couple basis. I called back and invited them over.
We threw on a bit of better clothing, performed a lick-and-a-promise sweeping of the kitchen, whipped up an Italian olive salad and Feta appetizer – and it was show time.
I had some garlic mashed potatoes and some mashed butternut squash leftover from a previous meal. Richard had prepared and frozen several portions of his leeks, peppers, fennel, and ginger salmon topping, which we combined with a nice salmon filet from the freezer. We now had the main course and sides. Richard rose to the occasion with one of his wonderful salads, which Hugo declared to be the best salad he’d ever had. We finished with bread pudding that I had also had leftover and frozen.
Ivy and Hugo got an abbreviated private lesson in couples’ cooperative cooking; we had a wonderful supper, and we seem to have made new friends.
Richard answered the phone, and I heard him say, “I’d better let you talk to her.” “Hi, Ivy,” I said. “We’re at the welcome center,” she replied. Was this supposed to mean something to me? The welcome center has nothing to do with any classes, except to advertise them. I tentatively mumbled, “Okay?” “I knew I should have called before we drove up here,” Ivy lamented. “Are you still having the class?”
Oh, that’s what this is all about -- the cooking class! The Ruritan Club, where we were supposed to conduct the class, was locked up tight – and there is no phone there. There is also no cell phone service on our mountain; that’s why Ivy was calling from the welcome center. As I explained to Ivy that we had only received two checks and canceled the class, she queried me about the check that she had sent a month before. What check?
Now I was more confused than ever. Meanwhile, her husband, Hugo, was prompting her in the background to have me “whip something up” for them. I had just placed two carrot cakes in the oven for sending to relatives for their birthdays, but that didn’t qualify for dinner or that night’s dessert.
I was in my usual state of no foundation garments; Richard was in a raggedy t-shirt, and the kitchen floor really needed sweeping to rid it of all the wet leaves that had been tracked in with the storm. I laughed and assured Ivy that I’d let her know when we rescheduled to he cooking class.
As soon as I hung up the phone, I had second thoughts. We like Ivy, even though we’ve had limited exposure to her, mostly through Scrabble nights at the Tellico bookstore she manages. I thought it might be nice to get to know her better, and to make her husband’s acquaintance on a couple-to-couple basis. I called back and invited them over.
We threw on a bit of better clothing, performed a lick-and-a-promise sweeping of the kitchen, whipped up an Italian olive salad and Feta appetizer – and it was show time.
I had some garlic mashed potatoes and some mashed butternut squash leftover from a previous meal. Richard had prepared and frozen several portions of his leeks, peppers, fennel, and ginger salmon topping, which we combined with a nice salmon filet from the freezer. We now had the main course and sides. Richard rose to the occasion with one of his wonderful salads, which Hugo declared to be the best salad he’d ever had. We finished with bread pudding that I had also had leftover and frozen.
Ivy and Hugo got an abbreviated private lesson in couples’ cooperative cooking; we had a wonderful supper, and we seem to have made new friends.
Monday, May 17, 2010
Head for the Hills
The thunder storms boomed; our poor dog ran away,
Last seen -- a white blur heading over the hill.
We do have shelters under which she could stay,
But when the storms strike, she can’t seem to be still.
With creeks running over and trees thrown around
We feel rather safe in our wooden shelter.
We throw open the windows to enjoy sounds
Of the fierce storm throwing things helter-skelter.
We found our dog huddled under a tractor;
She knows something about shelter we do not
Could tractors being made of iron be a factor?
We thought that our work shed was such a safe spot.
Maybe our puppy accepts something we fight
Should we be seeking another place to sleep?
Our hillside root cellar – would it be just right?
As the storms raged, we would hear nary a peep.
I can see us now, on our cots between cans
Of pickled beets, beans, tomatoes and what not.
This could maybe seem like a workable plan
If only there was space for a chamber pot.
Last seen -- a white blur heading over the hill.
We do have shelters under which she could stay,
But when the storms strike, she can’t seem to be still.
With creeks running over and trees thrown around
We feel rather safe in our wooden shelter.
We throw open the windows to enjoy sounds
Of the fierce storm throwing things helter-skelter.
We found our dog huddled under a tractor;
She knows something about shelter we do not
Could tractors being made of iron be a factor?
We thought that our work shed was such a safe spot.
Maybe our puppy accepts something we fight
Should we be seeking another place to sleep?
Our hillside root cellar – would it be just right?
As the storms raged, we would hear nary a peep.
I can see us now, on our cots between cans
Of pickled beets, beans, tomatoes and what not.
This could maybe seem like a workable plan
If only there was space for a chamber pot.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Don't Take Leisure Time Lightly
Summer vacation is only a week away, and I’m all aflutter. Rachel had Friday off due to a doctor’s appointment and Sarah stayed home sick, so I got a jump on summer by going to Rachel’s house this week-end. This facilitated just a bit of practice snuggle and leisure time spent with the grandgirls and their mom as they slide into home plate of the end of the school year.
While at Rachel’s, I finished a book that my niece Nikki sent me called Life Is a Verb. It is about living intentionally, as if you may be dead in thirty-seven days. The overarching message is that we must be more careful to cultivate and share the parts of us we want to leave behind when we go. Twenty-one years ago, when I was going through some very serious life changes that caused me to feel completely out of control my destiny, I was exposed to a similar philosophy in a series of audio cassettes that posited the question,”How would you spend your time if you knew that you only had six more months to live?”
Twenty-one years ago, I knew that if I was in that position, I’d want to quit my job, take my children out of school and spend my last six months celebrating life with them as we traveled the world together. Unfortunately, this doesn’t work in reality, as my children have people in their lives other than me. Even if I was dying, my children would still want to see their people.
I seem to always be living as if I only have a few weeks left to live, hence my wanderlust. I’ve always been greedy for time with the people who mean the most to me. I hunger for all the dynamic energy that surrounds the still growing, still discovering young people in my life. Now that my children are grown, I have to fight the same impulse to smother my grandchildren. They change so rapidly, I fell like they become different people between each set of visits.
I have always lived for week-ends and summer vacations, when there’s more time to simply be together. This is when I really get to know my people. Those early morning hours in our pajamas are the most precious times of all -- the reconnecting after a night of separation and sleep and the easing into the new day’s activities. I also love the bedtime rituals, especially when the children want to have a story read or a back rub or a special song before closing their eyes for the evenings escape into dreamland.
One has to practice relaxation skills when most of one’s life is lived in overdrive, as Rachel’s family's is. I’ll be going back to Atlanta for Rebecca’s sweet sixteen party next week-end, so we’ll get in a little more practice. All of this is building up to a summer promising lots of leisure, love and laughter with Scott’s brood, Rachel’s family and various other members of our extensive tribe.
While at Rachel’s, I finished a book that my niece Nikki sent me called Life Is a Verb. It is about living intentionally, as if you may be dead in thirty-seven days. The overarching message is that we must be more careful to cultivate and share the parts of us we want to leave behind when we go. Twenty-one years ago, when I was going through some very serious life changes that caused me to feel completely out of control my destiny, I was exposed to a similar philosophy in a series of audio cassettes that posited the question,”How would you spend your time if you knew that you only had six more months to live?”
Twenty-one years ago, I knew that if I was in that position, I’d want to quit my job, take my children out of school and spend my last six months celebrating life with them as we traveled the world together. Unfortunately, this doesn’t work in reality, as my children have people in their lives other than me. Even if I was dying, my children would still want to see their people.
I seem to always be living as if I only have a few weeks left to live, hence my wanderlust. I’ve always been greedy for time with the people who mean the most to me. I hunger for all the dynamic energy that surrounds the still growing, still discovering young people in my life. Now that my children are grown, I have to fight the same impulse to smother my grandchildren. They change so rapidly, I fell like they become different people between each set of visits.
I have always lived for week-ends and summer vacations, when there’s more time to simply be together. This is when I really get to know my people. Those early morning hours in our pajamas are the most precious times of all -- the reconnecting after a night of separation and sleep and the easing into the new day’s activities. I also love the bedtime rituals, especially when the children want to have a story read or a back rub or a special song before closing their eyes for the evenings escape into dreamland.
One has to practice relaxation skills when most of one’s life is lived in overdrive, as Rachel’s family's is. I’ll be going back to Atlanta for Rebecca’s sweet sixteen party next week-end, so we’ll get in a little more practice. All of this is building up to a summer promising lots of leisure, love and laughter with Scott’s brood, Rachel’s family and various other members of our extensive tribe.
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Sarah's Soccer Games
Going to Sarah’s soccer games
And shopping and such
Gives me little time
For writing much.
And so,
I have
To go.
And shopping and such
Gives me little time
For writing much.
And so,
I have
To go.
Friday, May 14, 2010
Scared Silly
Louise Barnes wrote in her blog about things to be scared of at night in the forest. I'm such a scaredy cat about all those things that go bump (and howl and shriek) in the night that I won't even put our dog away at her bedtime. Richard does it for us. I did buy some night vision goggles, just in case I ever need to go out alone after dark, but it's probably hard to control a Great Pyrenees with one hand while holding goggles with the other.
A normal person may love the pitch dark for all the stars that are visible without any ambient light. A normal person may also love the night sounds of woodland creatures that are heard but seldom seen. All I can think of is all the scary tales that were told to us as children in an attempt to make us want to be at home for supper as soon as the street lights turned on, like the one about the old man with the big sack that he put all the bad children in as he sneaked into their rooms at night. And don’t forget about Dorothy wandering through the woods with the lions and tigers and bears. Oh, my!
We may not have tigers, but we certainly have bears, although I’ve only seen one in our yard since we arrived here. And I’ve been told that there are mountain lions. While I like living close to nature, I prefer to have a less up-close-and-personal encounter than coming face to face on a dark night with a predator on the prowl.
My grandchildren and their parents love to run through the woods at night playing hide-and-seek. I would no more walk into the dark and wait for someone to sneak up on me than I would do oral surgery on myself. I don’t even drive after dark unless it’s on a well-lit multi-lane highway.
I know I’m a large woman, but I am still delicate about a lot of things. I have to regularly remind Richard of this fact. He does most of the heavy lifting and runs the tractor and any other power tools more dangerous than a vacuum cleaner. I stick to planting and picking and cooking and canning as he continues to do the more “manly” things. And I certainly don’t want him to stop braving the dark for me and our Pyrenees puppy, who is also delicate, even if big- boned.
Mamie asked me to drive her to Chattanooga to see her daughter who had been hospitalized there. I had to admit that I don’t drive the mountain roads after dark (with the exception of Richard’s recent emergency hospital visit – and we all know how I felt about that escapade). Richard to the rescue! He was our chauffeur for the trip there and back. This gave Mamie and me a chance to chat without having to watch where we were going. I was able to hear more stories of Mamie’s multiple adventures. There are benefits to being girly.
A normal person may love the pitch dark for all the stars that are visible without any ambient light. A normal person may also love the night sounds of woodland creatures that are heard but seldom seen. All I can think of is all the scary tales that were told to us as children in an attempt to make us want to be at home for supper as soon as the street lights turned on, like the one about the old man with the big sack that he put all the bad children in as he sneaked into their rooms at night. And don’t forget about Dorothy wandering through the woods with the lions and tigers and bears. Oh, my!
We may not have tigers, but we certainly have bears, although I’ve only seen one in our yard since we arrived here. And I’ve been told that there are mountain lions. While I like living close to nature, I prefer to have a less up-close-and-personal encounter than coming face to face on a dark night with a predator on the prowl.
My grandchildren and their parents love to run through the woods at night playing hide-and-seek. I would no more walk into the dark and wait for someone to sneak up on me than I would do oral surgery on myself. I don’t even drive after dark unless it’s on a well-lit multi-lane highway.
I know I’m a large woman, but I am still delicate about a lot of things. I have to regularly remind Richard of this fact. He does most of the heavy lifting and runs the tractor and any other power tools more dangerous than a vacuum cleaner. I stick to planting and picking and cooking and canning as he continues to do the more “manly” things. And I certainly don’t want him to stop braving the dark for me and our Pyrenees puppy, who is also delicate, even if big- boned.
Mamie asked me to drive her to Chattanooga to see her daughter who had been hospitalized there. I had to admit that I don’t drive the mountain roads after dark (with the exception of Richard’s recent emergency hospital visit – and we all know how I felt about that escapade). Richard to the rescue! He was our chauffeur for the trip there and back. This gave Mamie and me a chance to chat without having to watch where we were going. I was able to hear more stories of Mamie’s multiple adventures. There are benefits to being girly.
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