St. Patrick's Day, 2012. In this part of Minnesota, all
the snow is long gone. It hasn't rained much at all. Still . . .
our yard's flower beds are beginning to show little sprouts
of new green growth (if you look close closely!) Nothing
blooming yet . . . but green leaves among the brown leaves.
That's all it takes for Elizabeth and me to get out there and
do a little tidying up, even though the local horticulturalists
advise to stay out of the gardens and stay off the "squishy
ground."
Note: There is no squishy ground in our parts . . . what
window are they looking from? Besides . . . how
do our Hmung friends grow so much produce early
and flood the local Farmer's Market "ahead of
season?"
Anyhow, it sure feels good to be out there tidying things up
and listening to the birds sing. Good exercise as well!
Saturday, March 17, 2012
Thursday, March 15, 2012
SUCH A PANE IT WAS!
I used to dread washing the outside windows.
Hated it. Not now . . . We have the same
number of windows. They get just as grimey.
But none of them are now up high near the
clouds. We planned it that way with our
one-story abode. And, I got myself a sturdy
step ladder rather than the old wobbly one.
(I have promised my love that I wouldn’t go
up any higher than that. (As backup, we have
grandchildren who love to climb.)
And, another good thing . . .
I now have a squeegee that just swipes down
and doesn’t leave a streak. And that saves a
lot of paper toweling or wadded-up newsprint.
I’m now about 12/41st done. So, I will finish
it up!
Then, there are the inside pains.
Sunday, March 11, 2012
CHIVALRY GOES BEFORE A FALL
Who opens a door for who? My spouse, Elizabeth tells
a fictitious story of a man who helps an elderly woman
to cross a busy road. “But sir, I didn’t want to go across
the street!” So much for good intentions . . .
A recent article in the newspaper gave a “situation by
situation” review of what proper options confront two
people when they are approaching both a “standard door”
and a “revolving” door. The scenarios included:
A Standard Door Being Approached By:
-Man and Woman
-Man and Man
-Woman and Woman
-Man Who Insists On Opening the Door
-For A Woman
-Elderly Person and Younger Adult
-Boss and Employee
A Revolving Door Being Approached By:
-Man and Woman
-Man and Man
-Woman and Woman
-Adult and Child
-Boss and Employee
You can only imagine how convoluted it all the
protocol became!
Elizabeth and I were recently leaving a restaurant and
I held the door for her as well as for two women who
approaching the door to enter the establishment.
(Oh yes, I should mention that the door was a “Standard
Door.”)
I overheard one of them say to the other, “And I thought
chivalry was dead.”
It felt good to hear that.
a fictitious story of a man who helps an elderly woman
to cross a busy road. “But sir, I didn’t want to go across
the street!” So much for good intentions . . .
A recent article in the newspaper gave a “situation by
situation” review of what proper options confront two
people when they are approaching both a “standard door”
and a “revolving” door. The scenarios included:
A Standard Door Being Approached By:
-Man and Woman
-Man and Man
-Woman and Woman
-Man Who Insists On Opening the Door
-For A Woman
-Elderly Person and Younger Adult
-Boss and Employee
A Revolving Door Being Approached By:
-Man and Woman
-Man and Man
-Woman and Woman
-Adult and Child
-Boss and Employee
You can only imagine how convoluted it all the
protocol became!
Elizabeth and I were recently leaving a restaurant and
I held the door for her as well as for two women who
approaching the door to enter the establishment.
(Oh yes, I should mention that the door was a “Standard
Door.”)
I overheard one of them say to the other, “And I thought
chivalry was dead.”
It felt good to hear that.
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
A Dreary March Day
There are those expected dreary days in March. When I worked as a therapist here in the Upper Midwest, March was the hardest month for people. And a funeral home director once told my husband more deaths occur in April than any other time of the year.
Common sense would suggest other scenarios. Why would more people die when spring is bursting out of dormancy? The offered explanation by this person in the "death business" was that people hang on through the winter - and when spring comes they relax - and die.
I always thought the March blahs occurred because people living here were too busy coping in January with snow, frigid temperatures, and cars that wouldn't start to pay much attention to any inner feelings of despondency. Ditto for February. But March ,when life eases up a bit, people can't push back feelings anymore that they have been denying for months. Finally they concede life is overwhelming and they need help for issues ranging from martial discord to depression. Then my phone would ring with the voice on the other end says "I need help. Can I make an appointment."
Other theories about the cycles of life here suggest March is cabin fever month. Being cooped up in buildings from November until March leads to an urgent need to escape "from the cabin." Some folks are fortunate enough and can afford to literally go somewhere - preferably somewhere with lots of warm sunshine. Although paradoxically, some people head for skiing vacations in places like Colorado - with lots of snow. Go figure.
But this is the year, with almost no snow and record high temperatures, the theories are under pressure. Either they proves our body physiology becomes wired to this cyclical pattern, perhaps having to more with years of living here than how foul the weather has been. Or maybe we share something with migratory birds who are on the move in response to increased hours of sunlight, regardless of what the weather is doing.
Outside my window, it is dreary and making puny attempts to rain. I feel the usual urge to escape. Anywhere.
Edvard Munch's painting, The Scream, says it all!
Common sense would suggest other scenarios. Why would more people die when spring is bursting out of dormancy? The offered explanation by this person in the "death business" was that people hang on through the winter - and when spring comes they relax - and die.
I always thought the March blahs occurred because people living here were too busy coping in January with snow, frigid temperatures, and cars that wouldn't start to pay much attention to any inner feelings of despondency. Ditto for February. But March ,when life eases up a bit, people can't push back feelings anymore that they have been denying for months. Finally they concede life is overwhelming and they need help for issues ranging from martial discord to depression. Then my phone would ring with the voice on the other end says "I need help. Can I make an appointment."
Other theories about the cycles of life here suggest March is cabin fever month. Being cooped up in buildings from November until March leads to an urgent need to escape "from the cabin." Some folks are fortunate enough and can afford to literally go somewhere - preferably somewhere with lots of warm sunshine. Although paradoxically, some people head for skiing vacations in places like Colorado - with lots of snow. Go figure.
But this is the year, with almost no snow and record high temperatures, the theories are under pressure. Either they proves our body physiology becomes wired to this cyclical pattern, perhaps having to more with years of living here than how foul the weather has been. Or maybe we share something with migratory birds who are on the move in response to increased hours of sunlight, regardless of what the weather is doing.
Outside my window, it is dreary and making puny attempts to rain. I feel the usual urge to escape. Anywhere.
Edvard Munch's painting, The Scream, says it all!
Saturday, March 3, 2012
FEBRUARY TWENTY-NINTH, TWO THOUSAND AND TWELVE
February Twenty-ninth,
Two Thousand Twelve
Fury, destruction.
Mid-west tornado sirens.
Hopes of people smashed.
□
Mid-February.
A redbird’s whistle, signals
for spring to rush in.
□
Yesterday, a friend in the North Carolina mountains of
North Carolina reported she saw a bluebird drinking
from their birdbath. I sent her a bluebird poem I wrote
awhile back.
Bluebirds Remembered
They turn in lilting flight,
descend to
trees and fence posts;
begin gentle conversations.
In loose clusters, never alone
as if they have
a fondness
for each other’s
company.
Always in my memories,
their graceful flight
and soft calls;
always—
they turn blue skies
more blue.
Two Thousand Twelve
Fury, destruction.
Mid-west tornado sirens.
Hopes of people smashed.
□
Mid-February.
A redbird’s whistle, signals
for spring to rush in.
□
Yesterday, a friend in the North Carolina mountains of
North Carolina reported she saw a bluebird drinking
from their birdbath. I sent her a bluebird poem I wrote
awhile back.
Bluebirds Remembered
They turn in lilting flight,
descend to
trees and fence posts;
begin gentle conversations.
In loose clusters, never alone
as if they have
a fondness
for each other’s
company.
Always in my memories,
their graceful flight
and soft calls;
always—
they turn blue skies
more blue.
Thursday, March 1, 2012
Little Did I Know
On Tuesday, when I wrote about waiting for a storm that might not happen, I had no idea that tornadoes would tear across the Midwest. It was too early for such havoc. I thought it would be a time far enough removed from tornado-season to share a bit of writing I did several years ago.
I watched in horror as the news began to appear in the media. People's lives devastated by an experience that will stay in their memories forever. Yes, they will rebuild their houses, their churches, their communities. And they give thanks that replaceable material property, not the loss of lives, was the cost of the storm. But the terror will remain within them.
What contrast - we did get socked with rain, freezing precipitation, and then snow. The first winter snow in this upside-down winter without snow. Our only "loss" was a few cancelled commitments and a few broken branches from the weight of the snow. The people in these small towns lost far more.
I watched in horror as the news began to appear in the media. People's lives devastated by an experience that will stay in their memories forever. Yes, they will rebuild their houses, their churches, their communities. And they give thanks that replaceable material property, not the loss of lives, was the cost of the storm. But the terror will remain within them.
What contrast - we did get socked with rain, freezing precipitation, and then snow. The first winter snow in this upside-down winter without snow. Our only "loss" was a few cancelled commitments and a few broken branches from the weight of the snow. The people in these small towns lost far more.
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