My Priceless Book, A Treasure

 

E Bay will tell you the book I treasure is worth about $100, I imagine that’s without  the corners chewed by a frisky German Shepherd puppy in 1964! The date on my book is 1948. This book will never be for sale, at least by me and doubt anyone but me would appreciate its eaten corners, its value to me is worth more than money.  It was my teacher, my friend, my companion, it filled rainy days, hours of snow storms that kept me in the house. There are times  an only child has time to fill, sometimes a lot of time.  I don’t know where the book came from, who it belonged to before it became mine.  I do not remember anyone giving it to me and it doesn’t seem like a book my parents would have bought. I’m also a bit surprised I didn’t take it with me when I left home. Those will remain mysteries.

I had occasion to look for my book, I honestly didn’t think in the condition it was in it would still be there, long ago tossed to the dust bin.  Behind some other ‘newer’ books I found it!  It was like finding my childhood all in one book!  As I paged through the book memories of each section came back to me, I read it over and over, talk about dog-eared corners, this had them before the dog chewed it!

This isn’t only a dictionary, that was only the beginning section.  Filled with topics from literature, nature,  history, biographies, how to garden, an encyclopedia of information, much of it in colored drawings or in line type drawings that  appeal to a younger reader (and I suspect less expensive for production), or an older one that can’t see very well 🙂  In its sections I  find bits and pieces of ‘me’.  That sounds absurd, but I  have many questions how I learned to read before I went to school, why I knew some unusual things for a little girl: like every breed of dog and what the uniforms of the different branches of the armed services looked like, I liked the ‘human body’ part and how to draw people, animals, buildings.  This book was like a silent educator for a child that had time on her hands to fill and did find a good way to do it! 

I knew one insect from another, what birds my dad went hunting for looked like, what birds came to our feeders, what fish he caught.  He would catch and hunt, I would go look it up and learn all I could about the kind of fish, the sort of duck, I never did like the hunting part.  But at that time everything dad hunted for we ate (yuck still).  After watching them cleaned plucked and cut up, this form of protein wasn’t high on my list of foods!   My thinking today is how much I learned, not by instruction but by curiosity and the life taking place around me, the life I was living with my parents and my grandparents.

There are perhaps as many ways to learn as there are things to learn about.  Some of the ways we learn of course is by example, what we see, kindness, thoughtfulness, love of nature and environment, caring for other people (empathy).  Which leaves also the things we learn by making mistakes or observing less than ideal behavior.  Reading has been my escape at times from less than an ideal situation, a distraction that is and was healthy and helpful.  I learned my love of books from children’s books, and added my ‘slightly used’ pictorial dictionary and I had my education off to a good start!  Books, you just gotta love ‘um!  This one is one of my ‘treasures’. Here’s my salute to reading and our treasured books!

Strange Past time?

Tags

hornets nests, seed pods, wasp spray, wasps nests

There are some things I just can’t pass up, I’ll list a few.  I love birds nests (after abandoned), big papery bees or hornets  nests, can’t beat them for the top of your Christmas tree, I also like seed pods, dried (like lemons), they shrink into interesting shapes and I can use them in any number of ‘arrangements’.  One thing I become quite intense in acquiring are wasps nests.  Like many of the other things I like to collect and tend to pop up around my house, wasps nests are front and center, the larger the better.

I had great luck this week.  My granddaughter Riley Ann noticed one of the empty (shame on me) bird feeders had large red wasps busy inside, thankfully she was inside the house looking out!  I generally don’t randomly kill ‘things’ that live in our yard, unless they do pose a threat to people our my pets.  Wasps are number one on that list!  Wasps have bitten me (ouch)  it hurts and they tend to swarm once disturbed. 

 

Of course what other product would one use to ‘off’ wasps other thanBlack Flag Off wasp spray? I didn’t have a full container, sprayed what was left  and brought the feeder to a place away from people until I could spray it again the next day.   My intention was to buy another container the next day and finish the job right. 

The next morning all the wasps had died!  My small amount of spray had worked (calling to my attention how toxic these products are).  I could now easily see the nest it’s self!  It is one of the biggest ones I’ve found.  I had a few problems to overcome before I could acquire my prize nest. The nest was beautifully constructed around the center post of the bird feeder and there wasn’t a way I could reach it even with the feeder opened.  A hammer comes in handy right about now.  I was on a mission!  This nest would have a perfectly round hole in the center, if, I could get it out without damaging it.  I took all my aggressions of the past months, maybe years out on smashing the bird feeder to bits!  It worked,  now all I had to do was find a way to slip it off the post!  Hooray!

Once I had  the nest in hand I brought it in to show my prize to Hal, he isn’t impressed by these things but does humor me and did notice it was rather a large one and that the wasps (now dead) were very large, red and fierce-looking.  I don’t know the variety, it doesn’t matter to me as long as they aren’t any longer a threat.  Always be wary!

The next part of wasp nest collecting isn’t something everyone may enjoy doing. The cell of the nest where each larva is growing  is covered by a tissue like substance that needs removing, really a work of art considering a wasp made it.  I use a tooth pick or a thin skewer to remove the remains.  Is anyone grossed out yet?  I knew while I was doing this that photographing what I was doing would be helpful and I could write a blog,  but was to engrossed in what I was doing.  I usually do this in the house, relax, prod away until I get them fully cleaned out.  This day I decided sitting in the sun room would be just the spot! 

As I started to open each cell, to my GREAT surprise out came a fully formed angry and very much alive wasp!  OH NO!  I then noticed there were several wasps that were not dead (lack of spray) and ready to come out and greet me.  First up was to get the living wasps out of the house and I had interested cats a dog and a husband telling me that what I was doing was disgusting anyway:-)  The wasps and I got outside and I managed to go to work on the nest after ridding myself of all living red, large wasps! 

This cleaning process does make a mess. On my paper towels was a mounting supply of larva, some wiggling, some mashed by my toothpick.  All were in varying forms of turning into big red wasps.  It did occur to me while I was performing my wasp nest surgery I might  be a bit bizarre, that not many people would enjoy this obviously anal and rather gross process.  That however did not stop me, (never has)  my enjoyment of cleaning these nests is greater than my shame of making a big gooey mess of what were going to grow up living….but nasty creatures.

Red Paper Wasp (Polistes carolina) at St. Mary’s Colony, Texas (Picture A Day February 27, 2010) (Photo credit: mlhradio)

Well, sometimes breaks just happen!  Just this minute I’ve acquired a NEW nest!  It’s pretty big, doesn’t have a hole in the center, most of its larva have flown the nest!  Our pest removal guy, was looking for and found more wasps (I had no idea he was doing that) so I captured him and he saved one for me!  Bigger then the one I just found but no interesting hole in the middle.  I’ve got a little cleaning to do today, looking forward to that.  I must take a photo so ‘you’ my readers can see what a nest looks like before I clean it, although the new one won’t need much ‘work’ 🙂

I did get a little lesson on wasps, we rarely have ‘yellow jackets’ here, we have the red wasps and the paper wasps, the nest today is a paper wasp‘s.  Bless her/his sweet little heart!  And now I have someone who will get the nests for me that are high up!  Life is so entertaining 🙂  Always take time to enjoy the small things which often have no cost, pretty inexpensive entertainment today, and I learned a few things.  All and all a good day!

Flying Shoes

Tags

Death, Home, Ice cream, Michigan, Mother, Munising, munising michigan, Texas

 

My blog is many things to me.  I can share photos, stories of my family, trips I’ve taken, food I’ve eaten, a recipe or something I’ve created (on occasion I am creative), my gardens, my environment.  The list for blogs and their content are as countless as the numbers of people who write them.

Today I’ve decided self-indulgence is my entry.  My mother, Audrey Marie Dolaski is dying, maybe today, perhaps tomorrow but very soon.   I live in Texas; she lives in Munising, Michigan.  She chose to die in her home surrounded by the things she treasures.  What she treasures now are the baby squirrels outside her window, the multitude of birds that come to her feeders, Coke and ice cream, she never was a soda drinker but these days, it’s what she can swallow and eating has become painful. She’s always enjoyed ice cream, only in moderate portions (she always watched her weight carefully).  She’s never been one to over indulge.  Yesterday she described butterscotch with generous portions of the butterscotch veins like it was manna from heaven ☺

These are our conversations, trivial but communication just the same and quality time  over distance using the telephone.  I must do most of the talking and listen carefully as her once strong voice is weak and she is also slowed a bit by pain medication.  She is still as sharp as she ever was, it simply takes her a bit more time to formulate her thoughts and a great deal of effort to express them, as her energy disappears.

Before I make my call I become agitated, wander around my house like a pacing panther, I don’t like to make these calls.  Who wants to poke a stick in a wound?  I know that I need to keep our communication going until she dies, gotten her wings, or flying shoes.

After the call I have a period of many feelings, always tears because I cry easily (one of my weaknesses), it’s just me, although a dying mother is sad! I feel frustrated, not because she is dying, she is 89, will be 90 if she makes it to the 4th of July and she’s made a good life for herself.  We will celebrate her life when the time comes.  My problem is  I’m not certain I heard what she said, if I answered her question with the right answer because I didn’t hear well, I don’t want her to think I’m not listening to her.  I’m still looking for approval (at 65) from a dying woman who I always had a difficult time pleasing and it affects my conversations with her as she dies.

I asked her yesterday if she wanted me to call everyday I didn’t want to disturb her.  To me that was a normal question because mom often didn’t like me to bother her, and she was not shy about  expressing  those feelings.  Yesterday her answer was, “yes call everyday, you are my daughter you can’t bother me.”   That’s amazing for me to hear, also emotional seeing five years ago her answer may have been that she was busy, call later, maybe the next day!

It’s getting around to the time of the day I call my mother and I feel myself already becoming anxious.  This is sad, it’s sad for both of us.  I don’t believe she realizes that I feel this way (a good thing) this is something that I need to simply get over, it is what it is, grow up kind of thing!  It’s life, it’s been my life and I’ve lived it quite well.  Most families have some degree of dysfunction, and mine was not an exception.

My mother deserves my respect, my love, and gratitude, she has it. I can return to the past and speculate about what might have been, but  the reality was my life, one doesn’t go backward.   None of us come with a set of instructions how to properly parent, we parent by our past observations, our personalities our faults and hope for the best possible future for our children.

Mother’s Day Musings

Tags

Home, motherhood, Mothers-Day

Tomorrow is Mother’s Day, a holiday we are all supposed to send or give love and thoughts  to our Mothers.  Seeing I am a mother I like this idea! Hey, cards, a gift, dinner, I enjoy being remembered.  Or, maybe we aren’t remembered, it happens.  Children have different beliefs, priorities, lives filled to the brim with their own activities and possibly a  mother you simply know is there and the day passes by.  Your mother loves you, or she does not.  Chances are if she does you’re one of the ones more likely to forget the day, she is not going to disown you 🙂

I remembered my mother this Mother’s Day, likely for the last time, I sent her flowers. My conversation with her today while  I was looking in my dressing room mirror;  I don’t relish looking at myself and being reminded where I am on the timeline of life, I was paying attention to my reactions, my expressions responding to my mother’s happy observations outside her window (the bird feeders), I wanted to ‘see’ (literally)  my reactions to my mother’s softly spoken (weak) words, hear about the  flowers inside her house and who had visited yesterday. Her world is small these days but she has accepted that and does delight at the bloom of a hibiscus that opened today, blooming on a plant she told her caregiver to get rid of, it was ugly.  That too is my mother.  The plant seems to have survived, not everything escapes my mother!

Mother had a little boy and his uncle visit yesterday.  The uncle is a  young man she had worked with and he wanted to pay his respects, the little guy is his nephew, just a mite of a boy and not excited to visit an elderly, very sick woman, whom he didn’t know and in a strange house.  Mother had dripped soup on her blouse when eating and wasn’t certain she wanted anyone to see her in such a ‘mess’.  This too is my mother, you do not get dirty!  If you do you fix it!

After she remembered who her visitor was (please take off his hat so she could get a good look), she worked with dozens of young people her years at The Dogpatch, a Munising Michigan well known restaurant.  My mother enjoyed working with the ‘kids’ each one of the employees as they came and went;  it seems they all remember her and like to pay her visits, they did before she wasn’t well, so these are not sick calls.  The young people she worked with in her 60’s and 70’s gave her energy, kept her up with what was happening in Munising, she would say they kept her young.  And her steel like personality garnered her respect, her work ethic perfect,  and she can be great fun.  She worked when most people would have been more than happy to give it up; she worked because she liked the job, the people she worked with and being occupied was important to her. She was a working woman all of her life.   Being raised in the depression having extra money to set aside certainly didn’t make her unhappy!

Mother took a liking to the little boy who visited yesterday.  He is an endearing little guy and she wanted him to feel comfortable at her house, not wanting him to leave immediately, just as he arrived.  So my mother, the woman who allowed no one to touch anything under threat of who knows what (most likely nothing but a dirty look, I’ve not been ‘hit’ in my life) she was a firm woman, still is, don’t touch!  She encouraged this little guy to please touch, pick up, and enjoy or explore the multitudes of things she has in her home that give her pleasure.  What he enjoyed was a clear glass globe with birds flying around as it played a tune.

While I was busy listening, looking in my mirror I heard a different mother, not changed, people rarely change, but one that was appreciative of a little boy, wanted to make him comfortable in her world, even if she had spilled soup on her blouse.  The spilled soup could have been a door barred from entrance at one time.  Yesterday it didn’t really matter other than it crossed her mind.  What will become of the little boy seemed paramount on her mind and what a gentleman his uncle is.

It is mindful for us  to remember on days when cards are often mushy and don’t fit our situations,  don’t come close to our feelings or relationships, that there is good in almost all people.  find a blank card, write your own feelings and thoughts, most of us even if childhood was difficult can remember a good thought, a memory that was loving, kind and represented our mother in a good light.  We are here!  If nothing else we can offer a big thank you for a mother who cared for our needs, gave us life.  That is the gift our Mother’s have given us. And for that I am grateful 🙂

Why Blog, Why Write?

Tags

literature, world today

To blog or write (are they the same), that is the question.  I’ve given this question a great deal of thought, I have a tendency to over think.  What sometimes seems an impulsive decision to someone else is something I’ve more than likely been pondering for ages.  On occasion I share my perceived dilemma with another, someone who’s opinion I respect and value, but not always.  There are times you follow your own instincts and carry on.

Why does a person start a blog? Why do people write books?  One  must expect someone is going to read it, our words, our opinions, our thoughts, knowledge on a certain topic, our creativity, whatever the topic of the book, the blog.  I found myself wondering why do I think I have anything to say, share or expound on that other people might want to read!  And then even promote it! Seemed rather self-serving and ‘looking for attention’ kind of an adventure. What’s left of those thoughts is:  I really enjoy writing, even if it’s not profound or going to change the world.

Today we live in a world where social media has become a way of communicating, a way of life, blogging certainly is social media and a way of sharing our thoughts, although at times like all good things extremes happen.  Look at Facebook, I’m afraid I don’t have 498 friends, I don’t know 498 people!  I have a handful of friends, my family and people I’ve lost touch with and this enables me to stay in touch, so used properly it’s a good thing ( I sound like Martha Stewart).  And I do enjoy following my children’s friends and see (is that creepy?)  as they become interesting (most of the time) adults and sometimes parents themselves. It’s an easy leap from Facebook to writing a blog, technology, which I’ve always loved, makes it very easy.  Everything you have is at your fingertips and instructions make even a novice like me able to come up with something that’s easily read.  Getting people to read, to follow, is another story, I do have some friends

The Helicopter Spies (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

that are still concerned if they read my blog  a world-wide network of spies will find them!

Some people who write a blog are planning to write a book.  I have no intention of writing a book (never say never).  I don’t have the ability to make up characters and complicated plots.   The abilities of writers is amazing; how a tidbit mentioned in passing at the beginning of the book somehow ties in to the very essence of the story or plot.  So many talented writers and so many topics and styles of writing;  books are wonderful!

My writing could only come from what I ‘know’, what I’ve experienced in life, people I’ve met, enjoyed, disliked, or simple observation of life.  After 65 years you tend to learn a lot about people, yourself and how life takes us on paths we’ve not expected.  At times we  meet people whose lives seem  to be always the same, they live and through good fortune or choices made, their life seems a ‘cakewalk’.  I don’t believe anyone’s life is a ‘cakewalk’.  Truthfully all of us have a life worthy of a good story.  That’s the problem I find if I were to ‘really write’.   I am left to write the truth!

It would be easy to offend someone, it’s difficult to disguise a person in a story of life, they know who they are. You’ve then hurt someone or maybe many others. Even if there is a good story sitting right in front of you, maybe more than one, waiting to leap on to the pages and you expose it to the world (perhaps world is an exaggeration).  What have you done?  If you are not famous perhaps only a handful of people will read or care, if you write and you’ve done a fair to middling job of writing what will be your reward or punishment?  Will it have been worth your poetic license to write about people you knew/know?  Does this mean we can only write about people who are dead?  And how long do they have to be gone before we can ‘not hurt’ anyone who cared about them?

Writing ‘vanilla’ is a term that I’ve heard.  It’s safe, it touches the surface of the story, and it doesn’t dig deep into the soul of what drives the characters to behave as they do.  There are times that finding out the unsavory secrets of a persons past shines a light who they’ve become and why. The truth helps us to decide if we care or understand a person/character.   I like this form of story telling, it helps us to understand human nature, what makes us tick and sometimes not tick so well.   It is how I would like to write if I were to write a book.  I’d like to tell the truth and nothing but the truth so help me god. And of course use a little poetic license!

In the meantime I will continue to write my blog.  It’s bits and pieces of what I know and enjoy and sometimes it even comes close to the ‘real’ truth.  As for what do I get out of it, I enjoy writing, I enjoy the communication, I enjoy hearing from other people and I have a place to share and use my mountains of photographs.  I will continue, at least for now to write a ‘vanilla’ blog 🙂

My Tattered Companion

Tags

advice words, kahlil gibran, literature, spirituality, writing

This is my tattered and well used copy of Kahlil Gibran‘s The Prophet.  I’ve had this book since 1995, not that long as far as book ownership goes but as anyone can see by its condition, it’s well used.  It stays near my bed, close at hand for the times I may need a little advice, words to get me back on the right path.  Some have their bible, I have this.

The Prophet was given to me by a lifelong and very good friend at a time when reading the label on a soup can was about as much reading as I could absorb.  Considering its source I knew this was a book I needed to ‘work on’.  Each night I would read a bit, maybe the introduction, the front cover, the back cover, the introduction one more time, it seemed so difficult.  I would begin again the next night, reading the same things over again.  This went on for a several weeks, hard to understand, there are times our minds are that numb.  Absorbing anything of value isn’t possible. Eventually a few phrases made sense so I kept on.  It was a long process.

This book, along with a handful of friends and some professional help gave me the strength and ability to find a purpose, a reason for each day, reasons for what living really is.  It explained where I might be self-serving, what it meant to give of myself, to truly not be selfish, to  love my family, a husband, a partner,  to suffer and  feel pain with  dignity, how high joy may soar.  All chapters all of Gibran’s thoughts on life, love, death, children, friendship meant something to me.  I’ve read and re read this book more times than I care to count, and I will continue to.  I’ve given this book as a gift to many people, for many reasons.  Sometimes a death in a family, a new baby, a relationship problem, a marriage, countless reasons.  It is a book written as a view of life, one that I find ‘religion’, my religion.  This is my opinion of this writing,  the book has been published  a very long time and still sells countless copies in many forms.

I am not a fan of ‘self help‘ books, they often give ‘us’ permission to behave poorly and not be responsible, this book doesn’t do that.  This is not-self help, this is a way of life.  I’ve used the passages in my marriage vows and I’ve repeated them to friends many times over the years I’ve come to appreciate and find the value In Kahlil Gibran’s writing.  Do give it a read; its not meant as an entertaining book, or read at one sitting, its meant to  read absorbing each topic, each chapter with an attempt to understand  all it’s passages and thoughts.   Hopefully if you need direction or strength, encouragement  or simply a  fresh view  living your life, you will find this a book to love as I do.  And I thank my dear friend who gave me my tattered copy 🙂  I believe her’s is as well used as mine.

Life Isn’t Always Without Thorns

Tags

carol jean, Child, cousin ed, Death, horrible accident, memories of my life, Memory, Michigan, Mother, Parent, sister carol, stage cancer, Trudy, Washington

Today I’m writing what is on my mind and in my heart.  The personality I ‘use’ to greet the world on a general basis, is cordial, friendly and polite, as a general rule I enjoy people.  Like most people I am complicated, not more  so than others, all people are such a mix of qualities; I’m not certain all of us have public and personal personas, that we are able to call upon for different situations, I do have those ‘people’ that I can become, for a little while; come back to my real self when ‘that person’ is no longer needed.

Today I’m introspective Trudy.  Events beyond my control (as events often are) have taken place and are going to take place and I’ve found myself going back in time, remembering, digesting over again my life and history. The people who I’ve loved,  wondering if the memories I have are correct (sometimes memories need confirmation). I’m finding through conversations with my mother that most of my memories are correct.

My mother has been critically ill for several years.  She has been an extremely physically healthy woman, partly due to taking excellent care of herself and she is a strong woman, a survivor in a world that wasn’t always kind.  The very fact that she is living with this illness and it hasn’t yet taken her is because she is/was so healthy and strong.  Now her time is closing in, end stage cancer doesn’t leave survivors.  Needless to say all the memories of my life with my mother and my father are in my thoughts much of the time.

My cousin Ed Oas, who I was very close to as child,  and I was able to renew our friendship in recent years,  died last week.  He wasn’t expected to die, his sister Carol Jean and I thought he’d die a very old man like we all hope to.  Ed’s life, like my mother’s wasn’t always easy.  Carol Jean and Ed’s parents were killed in a horrible car accident on their way to a new home.  That is when our separation began, across a great country, which then seemed so large and so far and difficult for me to comprehend the real distance.  The pain for the remaining families and the little orphaned children was by some, almost unbearable, including my mother.  Her beloved little sister Marion (Pee Wee) was dead along with her equally loved husband Billy Oas.

My mother wasn’t well at this time (in the 1950’s this was described as having ‘nerve problems’), losing her sister only added to the abyss I know she felt she was in, she has explained it to me.  It would take her many years to recover.  But there were whispers, Carol Jean and Ed, where would they live, I thought I remembered my parents discussing taking them, adding  to their only child two more children that they both loved.  I’ve recently been able to confirm this muddled memory with my mother, it wasn’t something I dreamed it was correct.  Many other people were involved in the decision, and my mother, I believe now, bravely knew she wasn’t able to care for more children, not with her state of mind.  Carol and Ed (Peanut) were to live with their Oas grandparents in the state of Washington.  That didn’t make it easy for a family in Michigan with modest means to see or build relationships, the distance seemed to far, or maybe there were other reasons, I don’t know. The other side of that is that the children did have family in Washington.

Eddy will have a memorial June 2nd in the town he called home, Monroe Washington.  Carol has planned his formal memorial, and adding to this his friends want to celebrate his life with Carol Jean and the rest of the Oas family that still live in that part of Washington area.  I will be there, I will celebrate with his friends whom I do not know, and with Carol Jean who has become across the miles, visits and memories like the sister I almost had. Almost, at least in the mind of an eight year old who heard whispers and tremendous grief.  Children are always listening, a lesson for us all, children can understand to a degree depending on their age,  if not told they develop their own memory,  and it may take 50 years to find the truth.

This entry is about two people, my thoughts and feelings of loss for the unexpected  death of my cousin Ed, the impending death of my mother. Knowing that my mother is dying, does not make it less difficult, we’ve had a complicated relationship,  her life has been full, she made her life what it is through her own strength and determination, many obstacles in her way, she always regrouped and went forward with great pride and dignity.  That is what she has given me, strength, one goes on, pick up your pieces and get on with it, no one will do it for you.  At least that is her mind-set, and I’m guessing she hasn’t ever thought about that, she just forged on!

Our life takes us on many journeys, life happens, we control what we can and we learn to accept and live with what we can’t, and we never stop learning.  Life is a wonderful journey, I have lived in places I’ve not considered, visited places (even a reluctant traveler does travel) I would have only read about.  I’ve met people I’d never have had the privilege of knowing or loving, if life wasn’t so unpredictable.  Even with its unwanted surprises, and unexpected joys, life most days just goes along, a mixture of whatever we make it, and well worth living.  Who knows what’s around the corner?

From My Back Door to Yours, the Beauty of Texas Wildflowers

Tags

lupinus texensis, nature, outdoors, plants

The last few weeks have been  a mixture of one unhappy event after another, today I’m putting all the serious thoughts aside, and enjoying the sunnier side of life.  At times taking a breath, stepping back and letting life happen is the right approach.  I intend to discuss all my thoughts of the last weeks but today, I’m heading to the wildflowers in my ‘back 40‘.

My ‘back 40’ is definitely not 40 acres by any stretch of imagination, we have 3 and a half acres and our house and formal (make that somewhat planned) gardens take up the rest.  We do have a large field behind our house.  It could use more tending and if I was a younger woman, oh the delights I could create.  One must have either wealth, youth or be realistic. Making do with what I have and my energy level seems to suit me.

We did take the steps of having the ‘back 40’ seeded when we moved here, not knowing what we really should have done and hiring a man flying by the seat of his pants to do the work, we reaped the not so beautiful results of our mistake.  We were growing every weed seed known to Texas, churned up and brought to fruition;  that was not the plan.  When you tell people your plan and you are a landscape gardener, well, some ‘taking it back’ on my part did take place.  A little humility is not a bad thing, but it’s still not fun!

Texas (Lupinus texensis). (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The wild flowers in Texas start if it  is a good season with the outstanding burst of bluebonnets, I had never seen anything like them, they are spectacular and Mother Nature is in control, let me repeat that, Mother Nature (or just nature if you prefer) is controlling this show. Other wild flowers follow, not blue and soft in color but bright and joyous. I haven’t counted the several varieties in our field this year, I’m so grateful that the seeds we did sow years ago have found their way to bloom and give us the best  show to date.  We can’t count on this show for next year, it might bloom but may just as well not.  Depends on ‘Mother’ and it also depends on weed seeds, biannual plants and a wing and a prayer 🙂 So I don’t sound like I’m the only one able to pull off such a riot of color, the roads and ditches of our part of Texas look like a painters palate of color!

Yesterday started as a day of stress in a few areas, my solution is to head to the field, bring the camera, dress for the occasion.  Living in Texas you know that walking in fields with shoulder deep flowering plants you don’t wear your cutest shoes and shorts.  It’s boots, it’s bib overalls, long sleeves and a stick wouldn’t hurt.  Although I arm myself with my camera and I walk carefully.  I’m not afraid of what I might find, I’m hoping I do find something!  Our land isn’t flat so I’m up and down and avoid pot holes (no need to have Hal hopefully searching for me hours later while I languish at the bottom of a sink hole)!  He’s accustomed to me wandering off,  it might take some time for him to realize I was missing:-)  I think a neighbor or two may have seen me poking around back in the field, camera in hand.  I enjoy having just enough land for me to ‘wander’; if I sat down (heaven forbid) I wouldn’t be seen by anyone.  Just think what may go on in that field when we are not looking!  All manner of animal activity, that pleases me.

There are deer paths that I try to follow, even a bedding down place or two.   Not sure why that should make me feel pleasure other than a critter had a nice soft place to sleep and was relatively safe for the night.

Many of the plants grow tall,  over my head!  I’m only 5’4″ so that’s not gigantic but it’s a pretty nice size for a plant.  To photograph these lovelies I need to duck down, hide myself, not from critters but from the unrelenting winds.  If I used better camera equipment like I did years ago I’d perhaps have less problem with the wind, maybe better photos; but my time for fiddling with equipment has passed so I use a simple Panasonic Lumix HD and it serves my needs very well.

I hope that a peek into the wildflowers that have given us pleasure this year also give you a glimpse at how beautiful Central Texas (Cedar Creek) is in the spring, Isn’t it pleasing with all nature can do, good and bad,  it does also entertain us with such beauty?  It pleases me, especially in stressful times.

The East Channel Lighthouse, My Babysitter

Tags

Lake Superior, Lighthouse, Michigan, munising michigan, nature, outdoors, travel, Upper Peninsula of Michigan

The light on the East Channel of Grand Island near Munising Michigan (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Times they are a changing, in fact they already have and I suspect the process will continue as long as there are people; we continue to evolve.  Seems at a certain age we look back on the ‘good old days’, time has often softened our memories, which is why they are now good!

When I look back at my childhood growing up in Munising Michigan, a small town in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula it’s always with fondness, even the snow is not so overwhelming; most likely because I no longer have any need to contend with it; even the snow had magical moments.

Munising Bay (Lake Superior) has an extremely beautiful island called Grand Island.  This island for me and for many others holds many special memories.  Families lived on the island, I’m certain they felt it was their own personal piece of heaven and the burial markers that stay in the small cemetery remind us they were there, spent their life, pioneering a heavily wooded, harsh, sometimes icebound island and at that time it was theirs.

Like most islands in large bodies of navigable water this one does have lighthouses to protect ships with their light in the darkest of night.   When I was a child the East Channel Lighthouse felt like it was my own personal structure, it’s light had long gone out.  I knew little of its history, just that my neighbor lady’s father had at one time manned the lighthouse; it hadn’t been used in many years.  It was in terrible condition in the early 1950’s and there were no plans to save or restore it, it was there in my case as a baby sitter.

Ah, a baby sitter?  How can a lighthouse be a baby sitter?  I am here to tell you how that happened to take place.  My mother and her friend Irene VanLandschoot worked during the summer and they had children that needed caring for, we weren’t little girls but we still needed to be occupied during the time of the day our mother’s were working.

When you grow up in Munising you learn to do many things, I don’t even remember how I learned some of my skills, seems they came naturally and many skills did come by trial and error seeing we had much more freedom to explore, and as I’ve mentioned, those times have changed.  One of our abilities was rowing a boat, doesn’t every 10 or 12 year old know how to row a boat on Lake Superior (having learned on smaller lakes I hope).

The VanLandschoot family in Munising, to this day are fisherman, and fisherman set nets way out in Lake Superior (at least they did back then), I believe those laws have changed along with the many other changes that were to come.  Irene, mother’s friend was part of the VanLandschoot fishing family and her daughter Paula Rae was two years younger than me.  Paula had a little brother (his name is Paul but he was called ‘Brother’ at that time) I assume he went with the men on the boat.  It must have seemed a great idea to get these two little girls together for the day and they would be out of trouble and our parents would know exactly where we were!  Problem solved and adventures for Paula and me.  Soon we would be teenagers and most likely wouldn’t have been a way they could have even tempted us to spend the day on the island alone, boring! I don’t remember how many of these trips we took, but enough to give me fond memories and amazement how free we actually were.

On a day that nets were to be set or maybe lifted, I’m not certain, it was a long time ago, it wasn’t one of the fisherman’s longer days, Paula and I would be on the fishing boat, dropped off with a boat to row ourselves onto the beach of Grand Island, pull up our boat and make it safe so the waves wouldn’t blow it away (a real problem) and we settled in right in front of the old lighthouse.   I’m amazed that we even knew how to beach our boat well enough and then to know when we would see the fishing boat returning to get back in our rowboat and meet the boat!  Amazing!  No wonder I won’t leave home without a watch!

We were armed with a bag lunch, some ‘pop’, chips, and cookies or something tasty, our mothers were excellent bakers.  My sandwich was most likely liver sausage and mustard on good old white Bunny Bread.  A great meal for growing girls and as I remember it tasted pretty darn good.   There is something delicious about eating outside!

The freedom to explore an island, walk along the shores of icy Lake Superior, inspect the caves, stand under water dripping from above and to go inside the very ‘spooky’ old East Lighthouse took a lot of time and occupied for the hours we were there. Surrounding the lighthouse  the field was filled with Sweet Williams, still one of my favorite flowers.  My grandmother had them in her garden and at one time someone must have had a flower garden around the old lighthouse.  Have you ever had the pleasure to enjoy the scent of an old-fashioned Sweet William?  I was born a gardener; if there were flowers I would be sure to find them.

Flowers from my garden. Common name: Sweet William Dwarf. Scientific Classification: Class: Magnoliopsida, Order: Caryophyllales, Family: Caryophyllaceae, Genus: Dianthus, Species: Dianthus barbatus (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I do remember a thunderstorm coming up one day,  if you’ve ever seen a storm whip it’s self up on Lake Superior you would know why Paula and I were a little nervous. We simple got ready and waited watching for the fishing boat and knowing we had to row to meet it.  We always knew that Paula’s father knew where we were and he’d make sure we were safe.  I doubt anyone told us that we were safe, it  was unsaid but understood that Mr.VanLandschoot would let nothing happen to us.

These are wonderful memories; the lighthouse has remained with me always, as special to me today as it is to so many others.  Caring citizens seeing it was going to slowly erode into Lake Superior and of course there are vandals’ even at such pristine and peaceful places have restored it.  It was not long after this time that all Pictured Rocks, which had been free for us to roam, was taken under the protection and preservation of the parks system.  Some of the residents didn’t like this, some did, it is progress and times really do change.

As I write and think about this time in my life all the possible worrisome things that Paula and I could have met left to spend the day on Grand Island with our babysitter the East Lighthouse it’s not with any thought why we were allowed to do such things, It’s how wonderful it was that we could.  Do any of you think that a child today would be allowed to take this venture?  Would parents be considered neglecting their child’s safety?

Pictured Rocks National Park, Miners Castle Photo taken on summer vacation, wonderful weather hot and sunny! hike to misquote bay was wonderful except for of course the misquotes! (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

A Reluctant Traveler Enjoys the Journey

Tags

cat hairballs, nature, plants, sault st marie michigan, travel, vacation

As many of you know I am a ‘reluctant’ traveler.  Give me a reason and I’ll stay home, it’s safe  ( baring fires, hurricanes or tornadoes).  My house will not smell like a farm when I come home after ten days of enjoying myself, having seven animals does have drawbacks.  Not many people want to clean up cat hairballs, lost dinners or mounds of fur while you are away so when you arrive you do know what will await you, it’s enough to ask to have the cats fed and litter robots cleaned, thank you Tracy.  The dog greets us as if we’ve been gone for months, but then she does that when we buy groceries!

Hal and I went on a cruise to the Panama Canal. Seeing travel plans are most often made in advance I had plenty of time to conjure up all sorts of dreadful things that could befall me or our home while we were away. All for no good reason, you would think I would learn!  Panama was a good draw for me, it’s historical and I like  big ships and I enjoyed the locks in Sault St. Marie Michigan. (A bit smaller scale)  The other ports of call were tropical and of more interest to Hal, he’s a beach guy, me, not so much other than photo opportunities, you never know when an intriguing window or door may pop up (one of my favorite subjects) or an especially interesting critter wandering the beach (sometimes human). Costa Rica and the Veragua Rainforest were the last stop on this cruise, with my love for nature both plant and animal, I did want to take the trip. 

There is a 12-section zip line available in the forest, that was Hal’s aim and to see the forest and some of what lives there.  I was there to absorb the air, the smells, sounds and amazing sights; for those who enjoy houseplants, it would be heaven on earth.  If you want to see a sloth at home, you will and it will stay that way until you come by once again.  They really don’t move very often, tend to look like a large gray basketball high up in a tree.

Like many people in the 1960’s and 70’s I tried to grow suffering  houseplants at every window in my house, until  I discovered growing plants outside was much more rewarding and stopped torturing jungle plants. I still enjoy seeing where the plants I tried to confine to containers, dry houses, lack of sun, too much sun, all manners of plant torture, do grow and what they look like happy, and at home. Before going into the forest and a tram ride  we were given an informative tour of what we might expect to find if we were to wander  in this forest, who and what live there.  I can’t imagine who would want to set out wandering in this mass of gigantic trees, wet, dripping, lush, solid foliage and intriguing sounds, certainly not me. I’ve been told a  machete  is usual  equipment if you are going to find your way through a jungle, and I can easily believe that is true.

The rainforest has a pulse; I could feel life all around me, I could smell and hear it, for me it was a very emotional experience.  At times I wasn’t certain if it was raining or just amazingly humid. The tour and information of what to expect in the forest  was a good beginning,  much of what was explained to us before we took our tram and walking tour  we did see, these critters do indeed live in there and aren’t hiding!  Don’t touch anything, rule number one, rule number two, DO NOT touch anything, no hugging trees!

The family we were taking our tour with and Hal were all going to zip line high above all this beauty; I was to meet them at the end point.  Our trusty and entertaining guide and his driver drove me to the ‘end of the line’; there were a couple of times I thought I might literally be ‘at the end of my line’!  Many men speaking a language I didn’t understand, in the middle of a Costa Rica rain forest, laughing and joking, me wishing I had learned to speak Spanish instead of Latin and French!  They were gracious, I had no reason for concern, and in fact everyone we met was so pleased to show us their remarkable forest.

When the men understood I wanted to take photos they were more than helpful showing me the treasures that could be found right next to and around me.  Including an adorable red (poisonous) frog.  The guide told me I would probably not die if I touched it, I’d get mucho ‘high’ for a pretty long time.  Well, all right then, more information than I needed right then, I’d wait until I was back on the ship and have a glass of wine. I took his picture instead!   All around their cabin, any piece of fruit they tossed out that had a seed remaining, was a growing plant, bananas, mangos and pineapples, for a plant woman, I had a great time.  I could hear the whooping of the zip liners and had no wish to be zipping above the forest, wandering on the ground was excellent for me.  The zip liners did have a wonderful time with little to no mishaps.  The zip line guides are remarkably skilled.

The Veragua Rainforest is not in a prosperous part of Costa Rica; the trips into this forest have only been taking place for about eight years.  The people are proud of the forest, they want it preserved, the gigantic trees with valuable lumber left alone, to be enjoyed and to continue to grow, the reptiles and animals, butterflies left to live without intruders unless guided by the people who love and live in the country.

The cruise lines bringing travelers to see these beautiful places are a good source of income for many of the residents.  The cruise lines do invest in the countries they take people to visit,  just the docking area it’s self employs and improves the area.  There are open air markets enabling visitors to buy products, some made by hand, often the artists are selling their own creations.   Poverty in this part of Costa Rica was clear away from where the ships dock. All the people we met were friendly, proud and industrious Costa Ricans.  I hope they are able to keep more and more of their beautiful country protected from people whose interests are in harvesting trees, plants, taking animals, it is a pristine area and should stay as it is.

I survived another trip, nothing fell off my body, my house did smell funny (it doesn’t now), but like the houseplants that grow so well in the Veragua Rain Forest, I do well in Cedar Creek Texas, although my life is now richer having seen an amazing structure (the Panama Canal) and a beautiful work of nature, the Vergua Rainforest.