Adventures in Daily Life

Beans, Beans

2012-02-10T14:49:00.000-08:00

Ah the smell of garlic and herbs. Lots of garlic. Any recipe that calls for an entire head of garlic has to be wonderful, doesn't it?

Today was my cooking and writing day. It has been so relaxing and fun. There is nothing like singing, chopping and smiling all at the same time. My gift to you is to share the recipes!

Following a chilly morning dog walk, I set everything else aside, donned my 1960's-era June Cleaver apron, started a blazing fire in the fireplace, washed my hands and got to work.

The only sound was the occasional grunt from the sleeping dog in the other room until I turned on the tunes and Moody Blues, Simon and Garfunkel, Bob Dylan and other wonders from my growing-up days filled the house. Perfect energy music for cooking.

My goal was to get Nikos beans in the oven, and make a new dish using kidney beans. I had soaked both bowls of beans overnight in preparation.

What are Nikos beans? Using Gigante beans from Greece, this recipe was told to me by Nikos, then-owner of Nikos' Taverna in Athens, Greece, where my friends and I joined my cousin, Mary, and her husband, Dimitris, for a wonderful dinner a few years ago. It's a neighborhood favorite of theirs. Then, Nikos was the owner and his wife, Eleni, did much of the cooking. Now, he has retired and goes there sometimes; Eleni is still in the kitchen, and Mary and Demetris remain loyal customers.

After our delicious dinner, Nikos told me the recipe, in Greek, while Mary translated. He is such a nice man and was very willing to share. We also met Eleni who was very nice but busy preparing food.

I have made the beans many times since. Gigantes are similar to limas, but richer, fatter and worth the price and extra trouble to acquire. Give the local Greek store some business if you have one; if not, you can get them on Amazon for about $7 per pound.

Both dishes require a lot of chopping but have some crossover ingredients (onions, carrots and garlic). I sauté my carrots, onions and garlic separately, because I think it preserves the individual flavors. There is something wonderful and invigorating about the smell of lots of chopped fresh parsley, an important ingredient in the dish. It's also worth the effort to grate the tomatoes, as the recipe calls for, if you can find good ones. This time of year they are anemic and I prefer to use canned chopped organic tomatoes.

I bake the beans for 7 hours, at a low temperature. During that time, the house fills with the aroma; right now I am thinking about how delicious my dinner will be. I have included the recipe below. Remember what Nikos told me "Cook them until they are just right!"

Georgian Kidney Bean Stew

Once I got Nikos' dish in the oven, I began chopping the ingredients for the second bean dish, Georgian Kidney Bean Stew With Herbs and Walnuts (Lobio Nigvzit). The main seasonings are coriander and fenugreek, with a variety of fresh herbs, walnuts, and some garlic (not as much as the Nikos beans). This recipe only takes about an hour to make, including cooking and chopping time, so I was rewarded with a yummy bowl full for a late lunch.

As I write this, I am sitting by a lovely fire, little brown dog asleep at my feet, and the smell of Nikos' beans is making my mouth water.

These recipes are perfect for vegans, vegetarians and meat eaters alike. It's hard not to fall in love with both dishes. Enjoy!

Nikos' Taverna's Athenian Baked Beans
from Nikos and Eleni
• 1 package dried large white beans (16 ounces or more)
• Large white or yellow onion
• 5 firm, ripe tomatoes
• 1 bunch of parsley
• 5 carrots
• Olive oil (2/3 cup or less total)
• Head of garlic
• Salt
• Pepper
Soak beans in water for 8 hours, changing water once or twice
Preheat oven 225-degrees

1. Pour off water; place beans in large sauce pan; add water to the top of the beans
2. Simmer until soft for about one hour
3. Sautee chopped onion, parsley, carrot and garlic in 1/4 C olive oil until onions are transparent. Note: I sauté separately to preserve the individual flavors.
4. Mix sautéed vegetables with the beans.
5. Grate 2-5 tomatoes (skins and all) and add to the bean mixture.
6. Add a small amount of water and salt and pepper to taste
7. Place the mixture in a large baking dish (or multiple baking dishes) that has been wiped inside with olive oil.
8. Mix thoroughly. Drizzle half of the remaining olive oil over the beans.
9. Cook 6-7 hours, until the water cooks off and the liquid is thick. It may be necessary to add water, in small quantities, throughout the cooking and small amounts of the remaining olive oil.
Note from Nikos, "cook until just right!"

Waiting for Things to Happen

2012-01-05T11:23:00.000-08:00

paperwhites in front of stained glass window

January is a month of newness and there are a few things in my life I am ready to start now, or would like to begin very soon. The problem is that nothing happens in my time. I have come to understand that, and accept it with a good attitude. Patience and waiting are recurring themes in my writing.

Today is the anniversary of my Dad's passing. It hardly seems possible that ten years have gone by. Initially it seemed that the hurt and sadness would never go away. In time - not my time - it did. That was replaced with a warm fondness and good memories and only a lingering hint of the terrible sense of loss.

Orchid buds

Dad was not a very patient man. He talked to me about it; how outcomes were not always under our control - that ultimately it was the Lord's call on everything. But that doesn't mean he didn't spend a lot of time impatiently drumming his fingers waiting for his teenagers to be ready to go somewhere, for his wounds from surgeries to heal, or for his plants to bloom. Sometimes he overwatered and overfed the plants and they would die or droop. True to his impatience, he would buy new blooming ones.

Amaryllis flower coming soon

In his later years, Dad's body slowed down and he had to be more patient. It's something that apparently happens with the aging process when you know for certain that you can't do everything and you will not live forever. Rather than hearing him clapping his hands to get everyone else moving, or expressing disappointment over the pace of things, we noticed he was a little bit slower and sometimes not the first person out the door or ready to order a meal.

orchid buds opening

I think Dad learned a lot of the patience he did have from the flowers he grew. Over time he learned to wait on the blooms, anticipating the annual explosions of color in their Florida garden. He still was inclined to replace perfectly good bloomless plants with blooming ones, and likely to give away orchids once the flowers wilted.

worth the wait

So this week, in his honor, the buds on my beautiful white orchid began to open for the third time in 18 months. The first sign of these buds was in August, on a tiny stalk. Slowly it got longer and another came forth with even more tiny buds. Now there are three stalks with a dozen voluptuous buds, four already fully blooming. Dad would be impressed that I coaxed it into blooming again.

It is a tough day in a tough week when the holiday decorations are gone, sweet treats are again forbidden, the family time is behind us, the diet regimen is solidly back in place, and it is cold. The orchid blooms are a beautiful reminder of the results of patience and of my Dad's love. I may still drum my fingers like Dad, and exhibit impatience when things don't run on my schedule, but I do think that I have made progress. It appears I have some more waiting to do and I look forward to the results. Thanks for the lessons, Dad!

Moonshadows

2011-12-11T17:39:00.000-08:00

Escondido, CA

On the night before the moon was fullest, I took a long walk with Dudley the little brown dog in the hour before midnight. The streetlights were out on one street. There, we saw our shadows from the light of the nearly full moon, elongating our short legs (Dudley and I are both vertically challenged) and slimming our bodies. Perhaps more impressive were the spindly prints of the newly naked trees, along the sidewalk, embracing us as we walked through them. A fox crossed the road ahead, startling the dog and sending his back hairs straight up.

Escondido, CA

It was a peaceful walk. We encountered no one. I had a feeling that something was about to happen.

Homosassa Springs, FL

Next morning, I heard that a dear family friend passed in the early morning of that same moon, as the shadows grew longer. Ed was of my parents' generation, bedridden for some time.

Blue heron near Great Falls, MD

He would have liked those moonshadows on his last night. A scientist and a minister, he was a teacher, a friend, and a lover of all things in nature. He personified love and grace through his tender care of living things and his ability to invoke humor at the perfect time in a conversation or awkward moment. Under a rock or in the murkiest of waters, he found living treasures. Under his guidance, plants bloomed and flourished.

Frog-catching nieces, Greeneville, Tennessee

Kenilworth Aquatic Gardens, Washington, DC

He was my friend when I was a really dorky middle schooler. I got to accompany him on some of his expeditions to find plants and creatures in lakes and ponds. He taught me a greater appreciation for living things, and for the thrill of discoveries in nature. Skinks and worms, beetles and spiders, minnows and tadpoles - they were all part of the nature safari.

San Diego, CA

Fresh water jellyfish, Fleming County, KY

Ed encouraged my love of the pond, and I shared photos with him when I finally had one in my own garden. I think he liked that. He bought me a beautiful pair of angel fish for my aquarium when I was about 12. I was heartbroken when my heater malfunctioned and I poached them - worse than the murders was having to tell him. He understood but recommended I stick to less fragile aquarium beauties after that.

US National Arboretum Orchid Show

Ed conducted the memorial service for my Dad. He told stories about their adventures; they too were good friends and fellow nature lovers. He shed a few tears at that service. I like it that I shared him with my Dad.

Potomac River near Great Falls

Lessons I learned from Ed:

Creepy crawly things are cool.
You never know what you might find under a rock.
Beauty comes in some surprising packages.
A day by the water is a gift from God.
Life is both fragile and magical.
The mentoring of a grownup can change a child's life in countless ways.
God watches over all of his creatures and we must be good stewards, too.

Hummingbird in Escondido, CA

On the night of the full moon, Ed was in heaven. He and Dad probably explored the gardens together.

Falls Church, VA

I don't know if Ed was a Cat Stevens fan, but this song makes me think of those days when we explored ponds and of the moonlight walk I took on the night he went to heaven.
Cat Stevens singing Moonshadow (youtube)

Washington's Birthplace, VA

Across the Pond

2011-11-08T08:31:00.000-08:00

Pond life is small-scale and even a dragon fly can cross mine in a matter of seconds. Change is happening as winter begins to rear its frosty head. The frogs have disappeared to the boggy bottom. The enormous goldfish swim far below the surface. Only the young reckless minnows cruise near the top, much like teenagers showing off their wheels.

sky reflected in the pond

netting over the pond

One of the joys of pond management is keeping the leaves and pine needles out. I corral the leaves, in October and November, with a canopy of netting. Many of the pine needles fall through, but the leaves are mostly apprehended. Already the water is amber from the escapees.

elephant ear beside the pond

One particularly heavy pine needle dropping season, I forgot to install the netting and poisoned the water and killed all of the fish. Goldfish are pretty hard to kill (and why they make good first pets for the youngest generation). Left alone, they can live for many years in a pond that has reasonably clean water and plants. There is no filter in my pond; the pump circulates water but the rain does the replenishing.

minnow in net

Today I used the skimmer to get some of the floating pine needles out. In the process, I dipped out a few of those crazy teen minnows that were cruising the top of the pond, daring any invader to catch them. Some of them lay perfectly still in the net and were very hard to see except when the sunlight hit their shiny little bodies. I think I got them all; at least I know I got the ones that wriggled. A warning to fish out of water - wriggle if you want to be noticed!

Good advice for people
If you need attention or if you feel like you don't fit in, wriggle a little bit so your friends recognize you - you don't want to get thrown out with the pond refuse!

Bullfrog tadpoles are waiting out the winter in the leafy bottom. This good news means that some of the bullfrogs in the pond are in fact girls. I recognize the boys because they make all the noise; bullfrogs are otherwise difficult to tell apart (the size of the ear circles and the color of their throats are the usual ways). These are the frogs that I liberated from the meat department at the international supermarket (see blog story). The tadpoles are indeed proof that they have adjusted to real life. I'm thrilled that I will have baby bullfrogs next spring or summer.

rain lily

bullfrog in summer

Leaves have been raked away from the pond and the netting will stay up until the trees are bare and all of the pine needles have fallen. The plants are slowly dying back with the lower overnight temperatures. No frost yet, but that is coming. Tonight I will bring in the rain lily that stays partially submerged in the pond all summer and blooms while the frogs hop in and out of the pot.

Dudley with his vole

Dudley continues his sentry duty around the perimeter, keeping the chipmunks and voles away. He caught a vole and spent hours playing with it, nudging it to make it squeak and patiently watching it waddle away before pushing it with his nose again.

Across my pond, life is getting quieter and the creatures are settling in for their cold winter wait. I'd love to know what the frogs are thinking while nestled five feet below the surface in the soft warmth of the decayed leaves. I wonder if they are aware of their plump little progeny, and have any sense of the neighborhood congestion that will occur once they are fully grown next summer and swimming circles around their parents.

A beholder sees the beauty

2011-10-24T07:50:00.000-07:00

I met a friend for a Sunday afternoon adventure on the Mall in Washington, DC. It is a great time of year to visit museums; the tourist traffic is low, and parking is free on Sundays.

We found that the weather was so beautiful that it was more pleasant to be outdoors, and we spent much of our time walking or sitting in the gardens outside the Smithsonian castle.

One place we sat was a bit removed from the higher traffic area, adjacent to an overgrown perennial flower bed with many spent blossoms and plants going to seed. It was actually quite pretty and refreshing to see things in their natural fall state - exhausted plants wilting and brown, a few blossoms thrust forth in defiance of the cold and end of the summer season.

Rather than dig them up and toss them out, the Smithsonian gardeners thoughtfully and lovingly left this flower bed in its natural state, preparing for winter and giving the perennials a chance to build up some reserves for next summer's show.

Several parties of tourists walked by. One visitor commented "This looks ugly. Can you believe they left this," pointing to the perennial bed. Others in the party nodded in agreement. Clearly these folks are more accustomed to vacationing at theme parks where there are no natural cycles - things in decline are quickly removed from the public eye and replaced with full-bodied blooms.

From the "Ugly" garden

Thank you Smithsonian for not always making it picture perfect but letting nature create its own show. In a city where there are more unnatural disasters than natural ones and where reality is distorted by constituents and the elected alike, it is refreshing to see that the real truth is allowed to be seen on occasion - and that natural cycles bring beautiful things too.

Little Fall Beauties

2011-10-21T14:11:00.000-07:00

Dudley and I took long walk this morning and observedmagnificent colors and the most interesting little tidbits of nature. Otherwise, the day was mostly bland. Clouds covered an anemic sun that never brokethrough for more than a few minutes.

But on the cloudiest of days, nature's colors shine the brightest.

My own mood, up and down with the falling temperature andfading light, was lifted and I rejoiced that I had the pleasure of a morningwalk to revel in it, and a chance to thank God for his seasonal bestowing.

Following is a sample of what I saw in my garden and in the woods. One of my favorite encounters was the tiny spider guarding the last of the pink petals - as if his life depended upon it, ready to defend of the remnants of a fading season.

Quarterly Review

2011-09-25T15:26:00.000-07:00

After three months it is time to take a close look at a new relationship. Stockholders expect a dividend. Employers measure productivity. Partners in a dating relationship make assessments too.

I took a look at the first quarter of the rest of Dudley's life, and some of his characteristics, and let him offer a few comments in response. (Dudley is a rescue dog. See Love at First Click for background) I hope you enjoy.

Athletic ability: Dudley is not much of an athlete. He loves to swim just enough to get wet. He likes to run but he doesn't do it very often. He is more of a marathon sleeper!

Dudley: she takes me for long walks every day. She's able to keep up with me pretty well but sometimes I have to really yank that rope to make her hurry along, like when there is a RABBIT across the street.

Looks: What could be more handsome and delicious than chocolate fur and beautiful soft floppy ears?

Dudley: everything is black and white to me. I can see her and I like it when she looks in my eyes in that special way.

Nature-loving: Dudley loves long walks to hunt for neighborhood rabbits and chipmunks and he has a beautiful pointing stance when he has his eye on one. He finds toads catches bugs and loves to poke around under bushes in the garden, or dig a hole or two

Dudley: there are definitely not enough rabbits in the neighborhood. She's pretty good about wanting to share these experiences but that rope keeps me from meeting my goals. Just when I get close, she reins me in. But every now and then one of the frogs gets out of the big water bowl in the back yard and I chase it until it jumps back in.

Wealth: Never have I seen a dog with so much love to give. He worships me, constantly aware of where I am, what I am doing and what I am eating! His eyes tell everything.

Dudley: boy am I one lucky dude. My first three years were not so great. No fancy chow, no regular Milk Bones and nobody who loved me like this. I used to worry about when I was going to be given away again; I haven't thought about that in a while.

Enjoys relaxation: This dog is one expert napper. He sleeps most of the day and all night. He peeks out of barely open eyelids, not wanting to miss a snack or a field trip.

Dudley: the Kind One never sleeps but she sure does like to sit in that chair with the lighted board in front of her. Some mornings I am ready for our walk long before she is and the waiting is intolerable. This must be how humans relax because she does an awful lot of it. My favorite time is when she scratches my belly. Belly rubs are the best way to relax!

Protective: That boy can bark! No intruder could get past the front door or any other entrance without Dudley announcing them. He is also extremely protective if he perceives danger. Normally a calm and unruffled fellow, if he thinks another dog could harm me, he defends with every ounce of his energy.

Dudley: it's my job to make sure the house is safe and She is not in any danger. Sometimes it just feels good to let out a big bark, and another and another. But nobody is going to take Her away from me.

Well-traveled: Dudley came here from Missouri and he has already been on two long car trips totaling almost a month and about 3,500 miles. He is a great traveler and loves the car rides and adventure (and the treats).

Dudley: when She says "want to go for a ride in the car?" of course I act enthusiastic. She sounds so happy about it and, after all, sometimes it means treats and always means spending more time with Her.

Hunting for chipmunks in the wood pile

Intelligent: Dudley is not the world's smartest four-legged, but he has enough smarts to get along just fine. He is clueless about the danger of going in the street. While he now knows to sit at the curb until I tell him he can cross, he fails to comprehend why.

Dudley: She doesn't understand that this sitting at the curb business means wasted time that could be used in chasing rabbits. But it makes her happy and if I don't do it she won't cross the street. Not smart if you ask me, but she gets along ok.

Already into our second quarter, Dudley and I make a pretty good team and I feel blessed with dividends. He's good company and just the best sort of chocolate friend anyone could ask for.

After the Rain

2011-09-09T12:43:00.000-07:00

It rained in record inches for many days straight - after we had an earthquake and hurricane/tropical storm. In short, it has been a weatherman's dream week.

Basements have leaked, roads have been closed, people have been injured or killed and things have been doggone awful. In fact, it has been very hard on dogs and their humans; mine has been indignant at my insistence that we shorten our long walks during the deluge.

Then it stopped. The sky got bluer and bluer and the sun emerged, timidly. No more beating noise on the roof and windows, or chugging sounds from the sump pumps.

I couldn't resist shouting loudly to my waterlogged sleeping dog, "Dudley the sun is out," and flinging open the door to the garden and going out to wallow in it. Outside, here is what we saw:

OH HAPPY DAY!

Choosing a favorite

2011-08-15T14:36:00.000-07:00

From the cabin in rural Kentucky...

I have never been good at choosing favorites.

My youngest child always said that his favorite subject was “lunch.” That same child, long grown, sometimes announces himself with “Hi Mom, it’s your favorite son.” Favorites are of course a no-no of parenting, as if it would be possible to choose anyway.

On my fourth day of complete relaxation, as I enjoyed a third cup of coffee on the screened porch of our cabin on the lake in Kentucky, I pondered the question of favorites. “Is morning or evening my favorite time at the lake,” I thought. It occurred to me that it was a luxury to have the opportunity to have nothing better to do than ponder the best times of day. Here's why it is impossible to choose:

MORNING FAVORITES

Dew falls from the trees, making tinkling sounds on the tin roof long before daylight.

Day birds wake up and begin their socializing. Most prominent are crows, swallows and bluebirds.

The mist hesitates on the lake until the sun rises high enough – after 9:00 – to begin to burn it off.

The lake is still and clear as glass, stirring only after a breeze announces itself with the rustling of leaves.

Water birds sometimes visit – most mornings it was a great blue heron who did not like being disturbed by woman and dog; two mornings I heard the descent of a dozen Canada Geese who nearly disappeared in the mist over the lake (they also disliked the dog).

Turtles climb their logs, clumsily scuttling back into the water, easily startled by the noise of gravel under feet and paws.
Fish break the surface of the water near the shore, occasionally jumping and causing a big splash.

The sun spotlights the wildflowers and even the weeds.

Dragon flies take off for their reconnaissance along the shore, stopping for food and continuing their erratic flight patterns, returning frequently to inspect.

Box turtles begin forraging; one rehydrating in a rain puddle in the gravel road.
Insects hum and horseflies begin to bite the dog, whose responding gyrations cause him to look like a pool of melted milk chocolate.

A hawk begins his quest for breakfast in the back meadow where bunnies and squirrels are plentiful.

Toadstools look enchanting in the early glow.

Dudley takes his first of many swims of the day, then rolls in the wet grass.

EVENING FAVORITES

Fog begins to descend on the lake as the sun falls behind the hills.
Bats come from their hiding places (a few are in the eves of our roof) and begin swooping after the insects.
The temperature drops considerably.

The sky turns pink in the direction of the lowering ball of heat.
The last rays of sun glint and sparkle through the trees.

Sunlight dances on the ripples of the lake, like wayward Tinkerbells beaconing to those ashore.
The moon, nearly full this week, rises above the hills behind the cabin.
Coyotes yowl in the hills beyond.
Daytime birds shout their good-nights (the crows rudely use their loudest voices).
Night birds make shrill calls in the woods behind the sulphur spring, one with a voice like a child who often gets what he wants. The whip-poor-will repeats his calls over and over and over.
A hound wails, its barking rising and falling as it runs up and down the hills beyond.

With the nearly full moon behind us, a comical elongated shadow of woman and dog walks ahead of us.

No human noises are audible. Frogs converse, insects chirp, hum and cackle.
A light breeze makes the trees quiver and the leaves make a sound like the lapping of a gentle tide at shore.
The dog plunges in the water in the stream, anxious for one last swim and relief from the horseflies that have yet to bed down.

With so much, how could you choose a favorite?

On the Withlacoochee Trail in Citrus County. Florida

2011-08-13T09:23:00.000-07:00

Dudley had his first visit to Florida. I have visited many times before and enjoyed taking him to some of my favorite walking spots. We walked the Withlacoochee Trail (by Rails to Trails) every morning and evening. I noticed I had more conversation with other trail users when I had a dog in tow, or was in the tow of a dog.

Because there was a lot of stopping to sniff, discover and mark special places, walking with Dudley on an exciting and interesting trail took some time; it was nearly impossible to cover more than three miles in one hour. I used this time to take photographs of some of the beautiful scenery, wildflowers and wildlife along the path.

People are generally very friendly in Citrus County. On the trail where I walked, they were older than I am, frequent walkers and bikers (lots of three-wheelers and low-riders) and curious about the new dog in the neighborhood. Because of Dudley, and perhaps because I did less power walking than on dog-free visits, several people spoke more than the usual "how do you do?"

A rest stop along the trail

An elderly man and his grandson, fishing poles in hand, approached one early evening when Dudley was soaked from a dip in the lake. "Keep your dog away from the water this time of day," said the grandfather, nodding to the young grandson. "Evening's when the gators feed... Unless you're tired of your dog, of course." He grinned a little and they were on their way. No more evening swims; the next day we saw a gator in his swimming spot.

I call this "Squirrel Park" after its residents; here we saw a hawk catch and eat one.

Older ladies tended to walk in small groups in the early morning. One particularly friendly one always spoke to Dudley. After a few days she spoke to me, "Your pup is getting bigger. He's grown since yesterday." They all kept walking, talking about how fast puppies grow up. I didn't tell her that Dudley is three, has short legs and is on weight maintenance food; let's hope he didn't grow.

On my first morning with Dudley, a lady in her 60's cheerfully asked, "How are you doing today and what's your adorable dog's name?" Nearly every morning she asked, "How's Dudley doing today?" Then she usually added a cheerful "he sure looks happy to be out this morning." One morning she was riding a bicycle with her husband lagging behind. "How's the biking," I asked? "I decided to take the easy way today," she said, with a big smile. I think she must have been a kindergarten teacher or a cruise director. She was the happiest trailgoer I encountered and I looked forward to our brief visits.

One man walked with his wife while sporting a very loud news radio station blaring in one ear. I wondered how his wife felt about that intrusion. He noticed Dudley stalking a squirrel and said "your dog must be a bird dog. Look at him point." I responded that he doesn't have much interest in birds and is more the rabbit and squirrel kind of dog.

When we were in a crosswalk, a woman in a very old car stopped for us, poked her head out of the window and said, "I only stopped because of your dog. I love dogs. I don't like people so much. No offense." Then she drove off. Good thing I was with the dog.

"Don't know if my dog likes other dogs or not. Guess we'll find out," said an elderly man with a yappy little terrier. "Guess not," he said as the dog snapped and snarled at Dudley, who had no interest. We moved on but continued to see him most evenings and thereafter attempted no socializing.

"Sure is hot. Bet it's hotter being a dog," said a very large man on a very small bicycle as he wiped his sweaty face with a bandana.

About dusk one evening, four bicycles were parked alongside the path and two young boys of about 9 were fishing off the bridge that takes the path over the water that connects two lakes. I asked the boys if they lost two, since there were twice as many bicycles as people. "Oh, the girls are in the water under the bridge," they replied. Sure enough, the girls were wading and throwing rocks. "I've seen a gator right about there every night this week," I said, pointing to a spot not far from them. Just as I said "week" one of the girls shouted "GATOR!" and there he was, some 6-feet of tough-skinned, shiny-toothed uglyness. There was much scrambling and screeching as they clambered up the bank. Dudley and I moved on as the drama commenced, the girls shouting "why did you want us to go down there. Alligators are dangerous. EEEWWWW! We could have been eaten." We continued to see the gator, patrolling that spot about that time every night.

I enjoyed my walks and getting to know a little bit about a lot of nice people. Next time I will do it all again.

The Withlacoochee Trail runs 46 miles from Citrus Springs to Dade City. There are lovely lakeside views and plenty of places to stop and enjoy small town fare (I like Little Italy Deli in Inverness where the owner said, "let me make the perfect salad just for you." It was. Try their homemade biscotti, too.)

Sweet Memories

2011-07-31T15:34:00.000-07:00

The flavor of a treat is enhanced when it not only brings back memories but also pleases the recipient (and the cook, of course).

I have been visiting my Mother and will be here a few more days. She isn’t as mobile as she used to be and doesn’t hear well so our entertainment options together are limited. I don’t watch TV and she has a hard time understanding it so even movies are out of the question (I rented movies from the library and I messed up her cable so I gave up on that after spending 45 minutes on the phone with the cable company).

I love to cook so I have been enjoying fixing healthy lunches and dinners each day. We both prefer to eat less at night, so my dinner efforts have consisted of washing berries and scooping plain yogurt out of a container or making salads. Lunches have been a bit more involved, but very simple and with fresh ingredients.

Maybe it is because I am from the South, but cooking has always been a special way to show love and caring. And it is a great way to make memories - because it feeds so many senses.

Today was hot and humid and when thunderstorms began in the early afternoon, it was the perfect environment for a nap – or feeding the senses. I chose to keep us awake with iced coffee and bake SNICKERDOODLES. It was a way to show my Mother I love her and we could be fed by the aroma and deliciousness of these morsels of wonderfulness.

Mother made plenty of batches of sweet treats when I was a little girl. I remember so well those great smells welcoming me as I came in the door after school. Today I wanted to return the favor and feed her senses.

Snickerdoodles are my special cookie, introduced by one of my Kentucky aunts when I was visiting her during my childhood. I made them for my boys and they always meet the good cookie requirements: simple preparation; available ingredients; great taste right out of the oven; and wonderful smell while baking.

Mother had all of the ingredients except for shortening (I used butter instead) and I had a good time making the dough. Mother of course needed to taste it to make sure it was good. Then I made the little dough balls and rolled them in sugar and cinnamon. As soon as the first batch went in the oven, the house started to smell wonderful. Mother even commented on how aromatic they were.

I loved taking her a small plate of the first batch of my creations. She polished them all off and wandered in the kitchen for more. We didn’t do a lot of talking during those few hours of baking, but we communicated plenty.

Probably the best part of all was after the last batch was cooling on the racks, the kitchen clean, and I was sitting down to enjoy a cookie with the remainder of my iced coffee. Mother zipped into the kitchen, put some snickerdoodles in a bag and called to me as the front door was closing, “I’m taking some of your cookies to my neighbor.” That told me that she not only liked what I made but she was proud enough to share them with someone who also needed to feel special and taste something savory on a hot, stormy Sunday afternoon.

Snickerdoodles

from Betty Crocker

1 1/2	Cups sugar
1/2	Cup butter or margarine, softened
1/2	Cup shortening
2	eggs
2 3/4	Cups flour
2	teaspoons cream of tartar
1	teaspoon baking soda
1/4	teaspoon salt
1/4	Cup sugar
2	teaspoons ground cinnamon

DIRECTIONS

Heat oven to 400ºF.

· Mix 1 1/2 Cups sugar, the butter, shortening and eggs in large bowl.
· Stir in flour, cream of tartar, baking soda and salt.
· Shape dough into 1 1/4-inch balls.
· Mix 1/4 cup sugar and the cinnamon.
· Roll balls in cinnamon-sugar mixture. Place 2 inches apart on ungreased cookie sheet.
· Bake 8 to 10 minutes or until set. Remove from cookie sheet to wire rack.

Makes about 36 cookies

Love at First Click: My Internet Best Friend

2011-05-22T19:15:00.000-07:00

With a little help from Facebook, websites, and friends on the internet, I have a new love. Losing Dallas just a month ago, I wasn't sure I wanted to look at dog adoptions right away -but rather enjoy the chance to be away from home longer, not have to take walks in the rain and so on. That lasted a few weeks. I miss the companionship, I like walks in the rain, and I love having a dog.

Dudley grew up in Missouri and was rescued from a kill shelter by For the Love of Labs, an organization of dedicated volunteers that was started when someone saw a photo of a yellow lab that was to be euthanized at a high kill shelter the next day. The lab was taken off death row, given a forever home and a new life and the organization was born. Based in Connecticut, they have volunteers nationwide. Their rescues are listed on PetFinder.

From a dedicated For the Love of Labs volunteer, Michelle, I received photos and descriptions that included Dudley. Immediately I likened this dog search by internet to dating and job hunting using the same vehicle; they all involved resume-sharing, exchanging likes and dislikes, unrealistic expectations, photos that might do more harm than good, and first meetings that could be disastrous.

After completing the application, I quickly heard from Cathy, the volunteer in Missouri who was overseeing his placement with a foster family and his ultimate adoption. Much like online dating, which I have tried and failed at, I was captured by one photo and description, but worried about the fit, the personality and the needs (this was, after all a male dog, not at all unlike male humans).

I almost backed out when I saw a forlorn photo of him and I thought "if he isn't a happy dog, how can we be a match?" Who wants to be the cheerleader all the time? I've had that dating experience and there isn't much in it for the cheerleader. What I hadn't considered is that this poor dog had been on death row, saved by volunteers and spent time in multiple homes since being dumped by his owner. What did he have to look happy about? Maybe what he needed was someone to love him.

Dudley checks out the pond

I meditated and prayed about it and waited for a sign. Sure enough, I got more than one. I was about to get a new best friend.

Rescue adoptions can involve home visits, a contribution to cover transport, shots and other expenses, and answering some serious questions about how you plan to care for a dog for the rest of its life (example: "What happens to the dog if you move?"). Volunteers go to considerable time and expense to place these animals who encountered bad luck that wasn't their fault. They are fostered and carefully described on the website, cared for, given medical treatment and determined to be ready for adoption before they and their families are nurtured through the process.

Cathy gave me regular progress reports and arranged transport on the Alpha Dog Transport, a dog transport program that safely gets rescues from a temporary situation to their new families. He was to ride from Missouri to Pennsylvania where I would meet him for the first time.

I did what new moms-to-be do: I hoarded stuff. Leashes, collars, a tag with name and address, food, treats, toys, a bed. I found a used dog crate, knowing I probably would never use it for my already housebroken 2-3 year old boy.

Meeting the transport involved a 2.5 hour drive each way, arriving at 4 am. Denise, another volunteer, kindly volunteered to wait at the pickup location starting at 3 am until I could arrive about 4 am. What a dedicated volunteer!

In the parking lot of a gas station, I tried to get a good look at him - but it was 4 am! I confirmed he was brown and very short and his whole body wiggled when he wagged his tail. This was far better than any strange cyber date.

Now that he's home, he is doing a lot of sleeping, trying out all the rugs and the cool temperatures of the wood and stone floors. He has started sentry duty in the backyard, carefully marking all the spots, tolerating the much larger and more energetic black lab next door, and barking at a neighbor her sun hat and dark glasses as she approached the fence. He's enjoyed his neighborhood walks and has met lots of dogs. He is so good with other dogs, never aggressive or rude. He has marked the 'hood and sniffed it to his little heart's content.

He's learning to sit (this really means he is getting a lot of yummy freeze dried duck treats courtesy of my sister...he isn't getting the "sit" thing yet). But when I ask him, leash in hand, if he wants to go for a walk, he wiggles every part of his body and barks! It's great.

I'm thrilled I have a companion. He's just a really flexible guy who wants to live his life in the calm. I might be able to take some lessons from my new cyberdog. He's certainly a match that was only possible because of the wonders of the internet and the willpower of a lot of dedicated volunteers.

If you are thinking of an adoption, please consider a dog who has been rescued. They are ready to be loved, and the volunteers help ensure that the dogs are a good fit for you and your family.

Lucky the frog

Great Blue Heron above the pond

One of Dudley's new jobs is guarding the pond from the great blue heron who has been in the yard today, presumably with an eye on those juicy frogs that I liberated from the international market (see blog Lucky Frog Liberation) since he has already enjoyed the fish. His other job is keeping the rabbits out of the garden. Since we lost Dallas last month, several baby bunnies have arrived, getting ready to eat all of my flowers and vegetables. They will likely be moving to the other side of the fence now that Dudley is in charge.

As with any relationship, Dudley and I have a lot to learn about love and trust and comfort with one another. So far I think I've fared better with my cyberdog than internet matchmaking or job hunting via the internet.

Resources:

For the Love of Labs
Next time a pet-loving friend has a birthday, or marks a special occasion, or you just feel like doing something nice, consider making a contribution in their honor. For the Love of Labs could use the support, and your donation will go a long way toward helping a good dog find a loving forever home!

PetFinder

Alpha Dog Transport

Dog Party: Diary of the best last day

2011-05-01T14:17:00.000-07:00

There were less than 24 hours to spend together after we found out that our dear Dallas, a 13 year old yellow lab, was dying and needed to be euthanized before the pain was great and he could no longer have a good best day. Tearfully, we discussed it as a family, by telephone and text en route from jobs and the vet. We were solemn, measured, and determined in our quest for the best dog to have his last best day.

Some years ago I acquired a bowl to use for his daily chow – it pictures dogs in party hats and says “DOG PARTY!” It epitomized Dallas and his view of life and the importance of mealtime.

Returning from the vet and before the sons arrived, I lay on the floor and held Dallas, cuddling his face in my hands, letting him rub his nose in the crook of my arm as he was apt to do when we were at the dinner table and he wanted attention or a share.

Dallas and I walked in the garden. I sat on the log bench by the frog pond while he lay in the cool grass after walking the perimeter of the pond to ensure that he had forced every frog to leap into the water right in front of his nose. I cried, he licked his paws, smilling in his doggy way as if he knew that a party was in the planning.

1998

Son 1 arrived first, sad and heavy-hearted, bewildered that Dallas’s condition, not outwardly apparent save the swelling in his abdomen, seemed normal. We cried a bit, albeit with the reserve we first children tend to have, when we are together and unlikely to be too vulnerable by letting on the extent of the hurt. Then he took Dallas for his last ride in the truck. Perched on the front seat, Dallas looked like a hairy yellow adolescent schoolboy. As they backed out of the driveway, he stuck his head out of the window and let the wind blow in his face, ears flying.

1999

I feel sure they talked about all the things they have always discussed together, boy and his dog secrets he would soon take to his grave, and reminders of the fun they shared. They drove past the home of Velvet, his black lab friend. It was to her he would flee when someone accidentally left the garden gate open or was less than watchful when allowing him off leash. It was a special time for Dallas with the boy who trained with him and served as disciplinarian in his formative years.

1998

Son 2 arrived home and called “Hey Buddy” from the front door. Dallas ran to greet him, carrying his stuffed bunny toy. This is the boy for whom I got the dog. After he stopped asking for a hedgehog at a very young age, he asked for a dog. Dallas came along when he was 8, a perfect age to get and love a dog. Young pups together, they did not bond immediately; Dallas was a hyperactive handful, as was his boy. It took time and love and eventually they became close friends. Their usual game, in the later years, was “hide the treat” when Dallas waited patiently when told to “stay” in one room, while Robert hid a special treat and then called “come get it.” It was sweet to watch them play again, recalling younger days when “stay” was a harder task for Dallas.

1998

We held our family meeting, discussed the vet’s recommendations and cried. Then I pulled out a photo album from Dallas’s first year and we told stories about his growing up. “We all grew up together,” one son noted. Everyone took turns loving him and giving him treats and spending special time with him. The brothers, now with homes of their own, decided to spend the night, in case Dallas went into distress, and to maximize the time together.

New Year's Eve

Before bedtime, however, they decided that the last day should include all the forbidden foods he wanted and they walked to the store to buy bacon for breakfast. After all it was to be a dog party. Reading the book series Hank the Cowdog when they were very young, they learned how much dogs like bacon - it is the best of all dog treats because it is usually not allowed.

favorite position

About 3 am Dallas requested to be let out in the garden and I joined him, having fallen asleep in tears and painfully aware that the day had arrived. He took his time, as if realizing it was his last pre-dawn sentry, walking the perimeter of the garden, circling the pond, following his well-worn path behind the azaleas. It was just light enough to see his body, moving more slowly than usual, weighted down by the massive tumor that was slowly killing him. He had trouble getting up the steps at the end of his tour and I got behind him and gave him the extra push he needed.

I lay on the floor beside him, giving him a share of my pillow and telling him how much I love him, speaking his name aloud again and again. We both fell asleep for a time but the hard floor was more than my aging body could take.

asleep on the bottom of the canoe

The boys arose early and we solemnly reviewed the plans for the day. They cooked and ate, with the help of Dallas the party dog, the whole pound of bacon. While I tried to find a vet to come to the house, we eventually realized after many tries, that traveling vets don’t perform euthanasia on dogs that are not already patients. So we made an appointment with our own vet, Dr. Schrader, at Suburban Animal Hospital, who was in fact the best choice of all.

Bleeding hearts in the garden - we'll remember Dallas every year when they bloom

We each spent private time with Dallas, holding and loving him, giving him treats and reflecting.

catching snowballs

As a foursome, we recalled funny stories and the difficult start we had with the once-wayward addition who flunked two dog obedience classes before going to boot camp at Silverbrook Kennels in Fredericksburg, Virginia. It was a six week residential program that broke a little of his wild spirit, taught us to be his disciplinarians, and helped him reform his bad habits. In the process we learned to love him more. Trish Jagoda and her staff at the kennel became extended family who allowed him the extra time he needed to complete the program and helped us understand that it was our behavior that most influenced that of our wild and strong-willed dog. The morning after his last day, Trish was one of the few people I emailed with the sad news and she responded with kind remembrances.

final resting spot, with toy on top

The boys selected a gravesite and began the sad and grueling task of digging his grave, among the azaleas in a shady spot where he could watch over our garden activity. In the process of digging they found one of his old toys, buried perhaps to be found on that day (it is now resting on top). Dallas and I went outside and watched their work. I believe he was tempted to help dig, but simply inspected and seemed to approve. He knew something was going on and perhaps sensed that this revered spot was to be his. We cried big tears.

Winter, 2010

Later we all took a walk, around the neighborhood where he walked twice daily. We would always spell “W-A-L-K” because if you said the word he ran to the front door in anticipation of the act to follow. Eventually he learned to spell so we stopped calling it anything at all.

On our W-A-L-K, he left his mark on all the familiar bushes and telephone poles, and took special interest in the birds and squirrels we saw along the way. He was tired but strong and seemed proud to have the family together, focused solely on his wants and needs. It was a beautiful day and we remarked that it was perfect weather for your last day. A party kind of day with the saddest of overtones.

Dallas and his bunny

I began gathering remnants of dog ownership – the cans of food we used to encase the daily aspirin he took for joint pain; the bed he slept on in my office; the stuffed toys; the glucosamine supplements that he thought were dog treats; and his spare leash. I chose an especially soft blanket for the important job of cuddling him during his last moments, and wrapping him for the burial.

We climbed into the car with the saddest of thoughts, but trying to keep focused on making it the best possible for Dallas. I took his favorite liver treats with us, to give him while we waited and as often as he wanted. He enjoyed another ride in the car.

Popping bubble wrap - a favorite activity

At the vet’s office, they kindly let in through a side door and had a palate prepared on the floor. We spread out his funereal blanket and he began hyperventilating as he usually does at the vet, dreading whatever misery might await him. Little did he know.

Christmas day mischief

Dr. Schrader had an emergency so we had more time together, snuggled around Dallas on the floor, stroking his head and telling him we loved him. While suspicious of all the attention, he loved it. He had love in his eyes and he enjoyed the entire bag of liver treats. The doctor was kind and explained everything to us, and ensured that we understood that we were sparing him a very painful imminent death. While Dallas seemed almost normal, we knew that he was putting on a show for us – wanting to be his best for the party and not demonstrating vulnerability or disappointing his family.

at Park Lake, Kentucky

The sedative relaxed him such that he could see and hear, but could not feel pain and then we whispered in his ear, “kwahari rifiki” (good-bye friend) and told him we loved him. Soon the light went out of his eyes and he stopped breathing. We knew he was in a better place and we sobbed uncontrollably, fearing the next steps in the party’s conclusion.

after rolling in cow manure in Greeneville, Tennessee

The saddest part of the day was watching the boys carry his limp body to the car. Our single funeral procession headed home, ready to say our final good-byes. We said a prayer for him, asked God to watch over him and connect him with my Dad and others in heaven, and buried him in the hole he had approved, with his stuffed bunny and other toys. We cried, and occasionally told a Dallas story of something funny he did, while we covered his body with the rich soil. And then the party was over.

Easter, 2011 - begging for jelly beans

In the morning sun

Lest you think we’re all in therapy over this, we are not. It’s been a week. We’re adjusting and making adjustments. For the first couple of days, we each worried about one another, making calls during the day, checking to make sure we were ok and remembering special things about our beloved Dallas.

He slowly claimed our hearts and will never leave. I don’t think any other dog will ever be as good or as special. But we definitely are all dog people now. All three of us will probably have dogs again one day, and hopefully they will know one another as siblings or cousins. I’ll probably be the first to take the plunge again. But not too soon. Meanwhile, we know we made his best day a great day and that he left this world happy and loved by us as much as he loved in return.

on his last day, with his bunny

My other postings featuring Dallas the Dog

Happy Birthday Dad!

Apr 27, 2010

Jumping to Conclusions

Jul 10, 2010

An Anniversary Absent Celebration

Jan 20, 2010

advice from an old dog

Sep 08, 2009

Awakening

Mar 06, 2011

Unemployment: Unintended Consequences

Aug 23, 2009

Highlights of an Afternoon in Southern California: Balboa Park ...

Oct 08, 2009

Diary of my unplugged day

Jan 30, 2011

UPDATE:

Dudley the little brown lab joined the family just one month after the Dog Party day. He is a great companion and, while he will not replace Dallas, he has found a place in our hearts. See blogs:

Quarterly Review

Love at First Click: My Internet Best Friend

Choosing a Favorite

On the Withlacoochee Trail

There is a season

2011-03-24T21:22:00.000-07:00

Ibis on the Rainbow River

Earlier this month, on a trip to Florida, I was reminded that seasons in fact do occur everywhere, but not at the same time or with the same vigor. That holds true for nature as well as for life’s seasons.

azalea - Inverness, Florida

red bud tree, Cedar Key, Florida

In early March, in rural Florida, many of the spring blooms have already come and gone, with a few azaleas remaining and lots of white dogwood and red bud trees in full bloom. Azaleas bloom in Northern Virginia in early May when home is just a glorious place to be. How fortunate I am to have seen them once and to know they are coming again soon.

Cedar Key, Florida

There is no good season for a curmudgeon!

Enormous alligator on the Withlacoochee River

Life’s seasons come and go, sometimes mild and others stormy and full of sadness or peppered with bolts of lightening. Two friends, both beautiful daughters, lost parents who hadn’t seen quite enough seasons and will be greatly missed. A Florida relative is facing invasive breast cancer. Friends are ending difficult marriages and others struggle with unemployment. On a more positive note, blessings abound - from finding employment to births and recoveries.

Sandhill cranes

Paynes Prairie Preserve, Florida (a flock of sandhill cranes is barely visible in the grass)

Cedar Key, Florida

My own season of unemployment is ending temporarily as I take on a three-month full-time assignment, the most consistent work I have had in two years. I am very grateful for this spring surprise and am hopeful it is an indication of more to come.

Cear Key, Florida

A real town in Florida where they grow...

...potatoes. Spuds, Florida

Now is a beautiful time in Northern Virginia. Daffodils, hyacinths and other bulbs are bursting and many of the trees have begun flowering.

I am reminded of Pete Seeger’s song, “Turn, Turn, Turn,” written in the 60’s using The Bible’s powerful words from Ecclesiastes 3. I loved that song, performed by many but most notably by Judy Collins, Seeger himself and The Byrds. Ignorant that I was, I remember hearing the minister read it in church and wondering why he changed the words to the song.

A blue heron shows his annoyance by shaking his backside

Blue heron (on post) waits for a handout on the Rainbow River

Enjoy this season and may these words from Ecclesiastes serve as a special gift with extra meaning just for you.

1 To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven:

2 a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;

3 a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;

4 a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;

5 a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing;

6 a time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;

7 a time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;

8 a time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace

Ecclesiastes 3: 1-8

Awakening

2011-03-06T11:08:00.000-08:00

This week my three evergreen bonsai were removed from their winter home, inside the wire enclosure in a large garden planter box, where they spent three months covered in leaves and bark mulch. There they were protected from the extreme cold, rodents and small creatures, and the dangerous, drying wind. They emerged unscathed and have been adjusting to the climate change atop a bench on the deck, ready to begin their spring growth spurts.

Just as the bonsai have been awakened, so have the spring bulbs whose greens are beginning their journey above ground. Hyacinths are poking their beady cylinders toward the sunshine. Daffodils are several inches above ground-level, buds starting to emerge and thinking about flowering in a few weeks. The little crocus, like pixies playing in the grass, are popping up all over the front yard. The tulips, in the sunniest places along my morning dog walk path, will soon be showing off their brilliant yellows and oranges.

Talk of the peak blooming time for our glorious cherry blossom trees, thriving along the Tidal Basin and in parks in and around Washington, is picking up. National Cherry Blossom Festival events and lots of tourists mark the annual celebration at the end of the month.

In short, it is a time of awakening, and readying for the glory to come. Isn't that just like the Easter season!

This is my third March as an unemployed/underemployed person. I have continued part-time consulting work that is both interesting and fulfilling, but fails to be lucrative enough to be sustaining for the long haul. I rejoice that I have work, and that there seem to be continued opportunities for future full- and part-time employment. Proper identification as the perfect candidate is the obvious next step.

This week I was hit by a lightening bolt realization that, while overly focused more on what I have not had, I have always had enough to piece together work and keep afloat. Minimal work, bits here and there, help from family and friends, and truly divine intervention, have collectively given me what I really need. My spring awakening was realizing that. I have had enough to make several trips to see my elderly Mom, pay my bills, spend time with my amazing sons, take a few trips, establish a consulting business, pay for a crown and other dental and medical bills, replace my heating and air conditioning system, accept interesting small jobs to bring in a little extra cash, buy only what I need, take a few courses for my consulting work, allocate more time for friends, and take advantage of the numerous free opportunities in the Washington area. I haven't suffered. Realizing I could get by for a while longer, I relaxed a little bit and concentrated on doing my best in the work available to me and ensuring that full-time employment remained my objective.

Each time life has taken a downturn, something good has come along to sooth the financial or emotional pain, and I have been sustained. A miracle? Not exactly, but a true example of God's provision and loving care.

I am much crabbier than I used to be when I hear people whining that they can’t afford this or that frivolous expense, or when they fail to impose a little deprivation on themselves to help someone else. My friends and family have been plenty generous to me, and for that I will always be grateful. Perhaps because I know how much it means, I now jump at the opportunity to help someone in need. It feels really good.

I don't think I will be as self-absorbed and wasteful again. I have awakened, but I am still on the edge of financial disaster. The difference is that now I know that material possessions just aren’t that important. What is? That I recognize the incredible gifts life, friends and family are, and that I focus on things positive and remain grateful for what I do have. Maybe that is what this very long (and continuing) lesson has been all about.

I am looking forward to my first visit to see the cherry blossoms awakening. I remain hopeful that my personal one will be followed by work! Now that I have learned my lesson, the time is ripe for a full-time job with benefits!

Happy Spring!

Forsythia, this week's F-Word

2011-02-22T19:04:00.000-08:00

When my eldest was in the first or second grade, new to riding the school bus and absorbing vocabulary words like a sponge, he arrived home proclaiming he had just learned the "F-word". "It's really bad," he said, "and I can't tell it to you." He looked very sheepish but I could tell he was anxious to try out his new word. I, on the other hand had to stifle a giggle and maintain my serious Mom-is-in-charge demeanor. "I think you should just go ahead and tell me," I prodded. "There are a lot of words that start with F." Puzzled, he replied "but this is THE F-word. The bad one."

After some encouragement, and a promise from me that he wouldn't get in trouble for saying it, he closed his eyes, grimaced and quickly said "Fart!" "Phew," was my first thought. Then it was very hard not to laugh. A teachable moment, complete with unrealistic high hopes that there would be no other "bad one", it was important to make him understand that this F-word, however mild in my eyes, wasn't appropriate to repeat in public. Mentally I acknowledged the marker; another step toward being big. As the years passed, there were more words and consequences.

More to the point...

...I am enamored and enthralled by the F-word in my home this week, the forsythia branches I cut from the bushes in the corner of the garden. I filled two vases with twigs late last week. In only 7 days, the tiny, almost invisible, bud drops turned into voluptuous vessels, ready to deliver their beautiful bundles of joy.

And then slowly they began to burst open in response to the sun pouring in the windows over the unseasonably warm weekend. For several days it stayed warm enough indoors, day and night, that heat was not required - and my stunning, womb-laden sprays of forsythia were well incubated.

In the dreary end of winter, sunny days combined with warmer temperatures and spring flowers provide the most amazing lift. My yellow and pink-walled dining room exudes a sort of opulence when decorated with the golden blossoms. I find myself making excuses to pass by the flowers and admire them, noting the rapid bursting into bloom.

They don't last long, but they give such a show indoors, long before the bushes outside begin to work their magic. It's a wonderful time time of year. We're still waiting for spring, and it snowed last night, but the F-word has instilled hope, and sent the pent-up spirits soaring.

Extended Gift: Amaryllis

2011-02-19T21:07:00.000-08:00

A dear friend, knowing I was likely to have some dreary winter days ahead, had the foresight, good taste and generosity to give me a gift certificate for bulbs for my birthday last summer. Sometime in the fall, when the days were getting shorter and the leaves were falling like raindrops, I ordered 4 enormous amaryllis bulbs from a magical place called White Flower Farm.

I spent days perusing the catalog filled with photos of spring blooming bulbs and my beloved giant amaryllis. It was hard to choose, and had I been fully employed and with cash to spare, I would have ordered a plethora of spring bulbs for my garden; but I chose wisely and within the confines of my wonderful gift. Because I was saving them for January and February blooming, by which time I knew I would be tired of Christmas red, I chose springy pale pinks such as the Apple Blossom and the most dramatic --- Aphrodite.

The bulbs arrived quickly and in good order. Each was in a paper bag bulging with pent-up energy. I saved them, planting them in pots a few weeks apart so that I would be able to extend their splendor. Sure enough that has happened.

I have been enjoying amaryllis beauty for several weeks. In addition to the birthday bulbs, I purchased a few locally when they went on sale after Christmas. They have not been as prolific. One-stalkers, they were red and looking very out of season.

The third stalk of Aphrodite

The Aphrodite bulb is true to her name - she is sensual, beautiful and sexy. The pinkish flowers are outlined in a veiny dark pink and it has magnificent presence. Five blooms are in the process of unfolding from each of two stalks. And there is a third stalk miraculously beginning to appear at the base of the bulb. I have never seen a bulb with three blooming stalks. This is going to be one drawn-out gift!

If you have read my blogs before, you know that there are lessons here. I'll keep it short. After a while, the lessons are just repeats. After all, we never learn everything the first time, and we do have our transgressions.

Lessons from the Amaryllis

Size matters. My gigantic birthday bulbs out-produced the Christmas ones 2:1.
It's worth the wait. It takes weeks and weeks from plantinguntil the flowers slowly unfold.
Drinking too much is never a good idea. If you over-water your bulbs, they will rot and die.
Morning light transforms. Light shining through the leaves is just the most exquisite thing to see.
Top-heavy usually means an upheaval is about to occur. The heaviest one ended up on its side with soil scattered everywhere.
Beauty brightens the darkest days. The amaryllis have been such a cheerful focus on some dreadfully cold and damp days.
God sometimes hides beauty behind an ugly outside to teach us a lesson. From ugly old bulbs come the most amazing flowers.
Gift giving is very personal and can have lasting rewards. Try giving a gift of bulbs to someone special. It really is a great way to stretch a celebration.
Nature provides endless learning opportunities. I am still learning how to get the bulbs to produce again in subsequent years. I'm hopeful my birthday bulbs will not disappoint and be back to brighten my winter days next year.

______________________

About White Flower Farm. Really this isn't a commercial. I am just a happy customer and this is part of the story. The farm was purchased in the 1930's by two writers who bought "a little place in the country" in Litchfield, Connecticut. Their hobby grews over the years and in the 1970's the farm was purchased by Eliot Wadsworth, who owns it today. They have a huge selection of plants and bulbs. One thing I like about their amaryllis is that they guarantee each will produce two flower stems. That's quite a gift. If you are fortunate enough to live in a more tropical climate you can grow your own amaryllis outdoors. They sell bulbs for outdoor use and claim they might naturalize under the right conditions.

Pinball Wizards

2011-02-10T04:16:00.000-08:00

This blog represents a departure from my usual nature photographs and accompanying wisdom and banter. I was so struck by the accomplishments of my grown sons in their recent pinball machine restoration that I had to write about it and a few of the lessons. After all, life is all about the lessons.

“BbbbBbing kkkkcccchhiing bing-a-bing-a-bbbbbbbbing bing bing BING bing click click click” Those are some of the sounds that now emanate from my basement, often late in the evening. My two grown sons have restored a pinball machine from the 1970’s.

Purchased from an elderly man whose hobby was restoring the machines and who didn’t around to this one, the PINBALL WIZARD game arrived at our home before Christmas. It was in such bad shape that it had a rat’s nest inside. Nobody will tell me if the nest was removed before the machine entered the house; sometimes it is better not to know.

The wires and connections were corroded, the screws were rusty, the paint was dull and worn, light bulbs were burned out, none of the electrical parts worked, the rubber flippers were partially disintegrated, the glass was covered in filth, and it was unsteady on its legs.

Through the holidays, when they both had extra time off and could focus on the restoration, they persevered in cleaning and restoring. They spent hours and hours ensuring every single connection was clean, removing all the pieces to thoroughly de-grime and highly polish the painted wood playing surface. The internet was a great resource for instructions and support as well as replacement parts for the flippers, the tiny light bulbs, the score numbers, the bumpers and more.

In order to clean the crud and rust off of the old screws, preserving them instead of buying new ones, they bought a tumbler. It is filled with a non-abrasive material - walnut hulls - and by tumbling swiftly (like a blade-less blender) for days on end, the hulls slowly polished the screws and a few other connectors. The rusty screws came out with their heads polished and - more importantly - their threads clean.

Each weekend when they were together (one lives out of town), sons 1 and 2 would huddle in the basement, working on small wires and connections, occasionally shouting “sweet”, “Mom, we got the flipper to work”, “Look at that!" "IT WORKS!" It was delightful listening to their happy shouts and exclamations. Better yet, I was invited to play a few games - later I realized that was only because I provided entertainment and material for considerable ribbing.

Now it is a finished, working product and they are poised to sell it - through their antiques shop, Vintage Brothers. Here are a few lessons I learned in the process.

Pinball Wizarding Lessons

Working on a project together is a great way to spend time with your sibling.
Elder siblings are always bossy, whether they know more than the younger or not.
A pinball machine attracts friends and is great entertainment.
Once you have a map, understanding the wiring is greatly simplified.
When you have a project to focus on, there is no down time.
An overwhelming project, when broken down into manageable steps, is fun and quite doable.
A free ball is a glorious gift.
Perseverance pays off.
You can make a lot of noise yet not get a lot of points when playing pinball.
Practice definitely helps improve your score.
The whole game can be determined by how well you place the ball with your first shot.
Sometimes the ball is just going to go right between the flippers and you can't do anything about it.
Occasionally, even an aging parent can luck out and win a few more points than a more agile 20-something son.
The most unlikely discards can be re-purposed to help solve a problem: tiny screws get very clean after whirring in a pot of walnut hulls for 3 days.
When you own the machine you don't have to pay, saving a lot of quarters.
When you are doing something you enjoy, the time goes by quickly (and you forget you are making a lot of noise in the basement underneath your Mom's bedroom in the middle of the night).
A Mom who is supportive and proud of her industrious sons can be very tolerant and might even miss them and the pinball machine when they move out.

See the Vintage Brothers Facebook page for more information about the Bally Wizard.

Celebration of Life

2011-02-06T16:18:00.000-08:00

Bamboo orchid at the US National Arboretum

When my children were young, they sometimes made "little while friends". They moved on - from the sandbox or away from preschool - and we might have known them just a little or very well, but for just a short time.

"Sham", my shamrock plant, in the morning sun

Susan is my grown-up little while friend. I had known her for less than a year - a very long time in the life of a child but quite a short time in middle age.

She was in my book club and because of classes or other commitments, she did not always attend. I don't think I remember being at book club when she had read the book. That's not meant to make her sound unreliable. We are all pretty relaxed about the books we read and each meeting there are at least a couple of us who haven't read the book and sometimes they have the best perspective.

Bonsai at the US National Arboretum

Susan was like that. She added perspective and increased the "funness" of the meetings. She loved the wine and the sisterhood and always had an interesting story or gave us another reason to laugh.

US National Arboretum

She and I had some things in common - writing, love of travel, and searching for employment among them - and I thought about calling her to meet for lunch or drinks to share stories. But I got busy and waited too long. Susan died very suddenly of a brain hemorrhage in December. That bright, charming, lovely light she shared with us was so quickly extinguished in our world.

Capitol columns at the US National Arboretum

Yesterday I was privileged to attend her memorial service. I was so moved by the outpouring of love and remembrances from her friends and family, including the nieces and a nephew she loved so dearly and had spoken of often at book club.

US National Arboretum

Here are a few lessons I learned from Susan, her family and friends, and from myself as a result of my inaction in reaching out to connect with her.

Lessons from Susan

Share your loving thoughts with those who mean so much to you.

Several friends and family shared things she had written to them that meant so much.

Don't put it off. You might miss your chance.

I wish now that I had taken time to know Susan better.

Good people are good to animals.

Susan loved her cats and also loved dogs. Fittingly, her family asked that memorial contributions be made to the Washington Animal Rescue League.

Live life to the fullest.

Susan was joyful and full of enthusiasm. She traveled and experienced many things; friends and family spoke of her always being at the ready for adventure.

Give others fun reasons to remember you.

Her relatives spoke fondly of her pet names for them and for her leadership in family gatherings. Club members remember her enthusiasm for book club absent the books.

Do it. You will learn something and you will have stories to tell.

She lived life and loved life.

Sisters share a bond that is like no other.

I was honored to share in her sister's witness of the strength of their relationship and reminded of how fortunate I am to have a sister.

Consider deleting emails on a regular basis.

Her brother lovingly and humorously shared his experience as "the reader" of her email. It made me think about what I might want left behind for someone to read (or not).

Make memories now so that you will live on in the lives of those who admire you.

Susan's many admirers will continue to be influenced by her and will be better for it.

Laugh so people will remember you that way.

I can still hear her laughing and see her head tilted back, wine glass in hand, eyes shining. It's a good way to remember a little while friend.

Diary of my unplugged day

2011-01-30T20:48:00.000-08:00

The garden at sunrise

"IF YOU CAN'T UNPLUG FROM YOUR TECHNOLOGY THEN THAT IS THE KINGDOM YOU SERVE" (see Unplug from Technology)

The rules: No cell phone, television or internet from wake-up until 8:00 p.m.

My Unplugged Day: At 4 am I woke up and checked my iPhone for an email from my friend who lives in Cairo. I didn't consider this breaking the rules - I hadn't gotten out of bed yet and it was important. Things had escalated there and I was anxious for news. No email. I turned off the phone and went back to sleep.

Downy woodpecker

I woke up the second time to the sound and aroma of the coffee brewing itself in the kitchen and then spent nearly two hours reading the newspapers with multiple cups of coffee. There wasn’t much positive news about anything. But it was very peaceful. I watched a few birds on the feeder outside and saw one of the neighborhood hawks flying overhead, checking the bird feeder for snacking opportunities. He flew on.

Son #1 and I departed mid-morning for an estate sale and a walk along the C&O Canal at Great Falls, Maryland. At the park, it was stark and beautiful on the drive in. Tall, straight trees were plastered with snow and it was very quiet. We noticed and welcomed the recent road repairs and those still in progress and were pleased that there was no admission fee that day.

Maryland snow family

The walk to the falls was treacherous with snow packed down to ice on the trail - 4” deep and not yet slushy enough to keep from being slippery. The cloudy day, however, had turned sunny.

Great Falls

On the ride to the park, and continuing on our walk, we talked. First about how it was freeing not to have the cell phones (my son forgot to bring his). “Yeah it takes us back to the old days, like the 1960’s.” he said. “Imagine, we would be riding in a really sweet car with fins and going to get a malt after the falls!” We chuckled about time travel and I cherished the time as we talked and neither of us checked emails, took calls or worried about communicating the rest of the world. We couldn’t remember a time in recent years when we were together without at least one cell phone.

Great Falls

We decided if we needed to call anyone we would be out of luck since you can’t find a pay phone anymore. “Everyone has a cell phone now,” he stated, “and they are all busy talking on them but they don’t really communicate.” We talked about how we talk to others by phone when we are with our friends or we communicate by text, giving useless updates, facebook status that nobody really cares about and tweets. "All substitutes for real conversations like we’re having right now," I thought. There is hope for the younger generation if they wise up like this one has. Yup he’s a keeper.

Great Falls

C and O Canal National Visitors Center

It was quiet and very slippery at the falls. I asked the keeper if he might want to go see “The King’s Speech” at the theatre later that evening. “Not my kind of movie,” he replied. “No explosions, car chases or boobs.” I made one of those disapproving Mom noises, and tried to convince him it was a movie worth going to and got nowhere. Perhaps I gave him too much credit for widsom earlier.

Old dog in the snow

Sampling of the downed limbs

After a stop for lunch and more conversation, we headed home. There, we entertained the dog by throwing snowballs, then spent an hour moving several large limbs from the mighty pine trees that flank the garden. The recent snow and ice were too much for some of the huge old limbs. Son #2 agreed to take the limbs to the dump for recycling. He's a keeper, too!

Williamsburg Husk teacup

Instead of checking email and wasting time on the internet, I enjoyed a pot of tea using a teacup from Mother’s china, purchased while she and Dad were on their honeymoon in Williamsburg. Because I had the time, I simply sat and enjoyed my tea.

After that, I listened to the radio and sorted through old family photographs, organizing them and puzzling over many without labels - I had no idea who was in them. Labeling photographs is very helpful for future generations.

bonsai

amaryllis

orchid bud

Jack the Jade

amaryllis bud

I watered my bonsai, Jack the Jade, and Sham the Shamrock. I admired the beautiful bloom on the amaryllis and the buds that will soon be blooms on the orchid.

Sham the Shamrock

With paper and my favorite fountain pen, I outlined an article, enjoying the feel of the pen and the flow of the ink. As much as I like the speed of writing on the laptop, I am really old fashioned about the power of the pen.

After dinner the sons turned on a movie and I ignored it. When 8:00 rolled around, I was a little disappointed because I felt I had an obligation to check email. First email check was for news from Cairo; unfortunately there was none.

It was a great day. I didn't waste any time. I relaxed between activities and spent much more time communicating in a very positive way. I think this is going to become a habit. Good things happen when you communicate in person.

Try it. Let me know how it goes for you. I hope your day is as enjoyable as mine.

Unplug from Technology

2011-01-25T17:29:00.000-08:00

My favorite quiet place - no television, telephone or internet

This Sunday sermon message has been floating through my head all week:

"If you can't unplug from your technology then that is the kingdom you serve."

Ouch.

Montpelier, Vermont - a lovely, quiet town

It's time for a break from technology. On Sundays, for example, how about unplugging the cell phone or opting not to check email? Reading only the printed news and not the babble online? Ignoring the telephone and letting voice mail handle it?

Great Falls - a good afternoon getaway

I am going to try it next Sunday. So don't call or email or text. In the afternoon, I will go out for a long walk instead of going to the gym where everything is electronic and I have a tendency to plug into a mindless television show while I work out. I can do it. Can you?

Maine - listen to the waves and not the ring tones

My goal for this year is to have at least one electronic-free day each month. I can do this. I am excited already about all the time it will save and how much quiet time I can enjoy.

City of smart phone obsession

Signs of Dependency on Electronic Devices

Can't get to sleep because your brain is still playing games on your iPhone (the one on the night stand, still warm from the last game).
Check email more than 5 times per day when away from work.
Can't set aside quiet time for prayer or thoughtful reflection.
Prioritize incoming email or cell phone calls over other activities.
Leave the house with the cell phone but wearing mismatched shoes.
Talk on the phone when you are in the restroom.
Spend more than an hour surfing the web and forget why you were surfing in the first place.
Read the Best Buy ads before the news in the Sunday paper.
Don't read the paper because you skim the news online between emails.
Try to board the wrong airplane while texting.
Can't turn off your smart phone, cell phone, laptop, desktop, television...
Can't concentrate because it is too quiet.
Own more than two cell phone chargers.
Think disaster has struck when the electricity goes out for an hour.
Walk into a restroom for the wrong gender while checking email.
End a cell phone call while while you are stopped at a red light. Without thinking, assume that means the light is green and step on the gas - causing an accident and ruining someone's day.
Use annoying ring tones that alert everyone when you have an incoming call.
Dream about a vacation where the cell phone doesn't work but never take one.
Pick up your phone to make a call every time you get in your car.
Ignore your body's cries for exercise and stay in front of your computer.
Check your email on your smart phone before you get out of bed in the morning or if you wake up in the middle of the night.
Stub your toe while walking and typing on your smart phone.
Fall off the curb at an intersection while typing on your smart phone.
Walk into a street sign while typing on your smart phone.
Send a text to avoid making a phone call.
Check email at restaurants or when you are with a friend or loved one.
Email your regrets to avoid making a phone call.
Talk on the phone when you are spending "quality" time with your children.
Email or talk on the phone when you are out in nature and could be enjoying its beauty.

Visit a museum - the National Gallery of Art's Arcimboldo exhibit

How many of these are you guilty of? I am guilty of all of them except the annoying ring tones (it is just one of my pet peeves).

Frog-watching is far better than email

Now I have realized my addiction and I plan to set that iPhone and MacBook aside more often. I hope you can, too. Just maybe you will find a little more time for prayer or meditation or both. Good luck and God Bless!

Photography Lessons

2011-01-18T20:10:00.000-08:00

Sandhill cranes in Citrus County, Florida

As I have advanced in my photography skills, I have also realized that I have not only learned more about how to use my camera and lenses, but in the process gained valuable life lessons. I now know there is also a lot more to learn. Some examples and illustrations from my weekend in Citrus County, Florida follow.

Make sure you have all your equipment before you leave the house. I rushed out the door to photograph the sandhill cranes when I heard them flying over the house. Unfortunately, I left my flash card indoors and found out when I raised the camera to shoot and it wouldn’t cooperate. Missed opportunity.

Sometimes when you mess up you get a second chance. The cranes came back again the next day.

Wait. Patience pays off. I sat on the dock for 20 minutes without taking any photographs, just watching the moves of the sandhill cranes. Sure enough, they came closer and closer until they were only 6-8 feet away.

Clean up your files so you have room for new ones. There I was with the sandhill cranes almost close enough to touch them. I had waited and I had the best opportunity ever to shoot great close-ups of them. This time I had the flash card but it was full. Instead of getting the perfect shot, I spent time deleting photos from the flash card to make room for a few more photographs.

Sometimes a new angle makes all the difference in the outcome. Photos of the same bird, same location, different angle do not alike.

Get out from behind the camera and take in the whole view – you might otherwise miss something. I was so busy photographing the sandhill cranes that I didn’t realize that other birds were all around me.

Don’t be in such a hurry that you miss what you were looking for. Rushing to the spot where I thought the cranes would be, I nearly walked right into them as they strutted down a driveway.

Sometimes a view from a distance is worth more than being up close. It was such a thrill to watch the fly-over of the whooping cranes behind their ultralight “mother”. Up close the view might not have been as dramatic.

Share your joy when you see something special. A woman on her motorized wheelchair, with her little dog riding where her amputated legs should have been resting, stopped to admire the sandhill cranes. We spoke about them and their amazing beauty and grace. I walked on down the trail and she and her dog stayed a bit to watch the birds, then continued their journey.

Your mind is the best photographer. It was impossible to capture the beauty of the sunset. These photographs are nothing like the real thing that is still etched in my mind.

A close look sometimes gives you a different perspective. Who knew a weed could be so beautiful or interesting?

Nature and sunlight pair to create exceptional beauty. These cypress knees in the morning light were hard to resist and moss in the trees looked pretty in the late afternoon sun.

Opportunities present themselves in the most unusual locations. The Citrus County dump was a good place to see lots of swarming birds.

Be careful where you step. Wild orchids grew in the grass and I almost crushed them.

Get out and Walk. You are bound to see something interesting. The Withlacoochee trail in Citrus County, Florida offers endless photo opportunities.