Yes, yes, I Know its late (6WS)

Finally hacked a workable path (don't ask) through the kitchen late last night and realized that I had yet to can any tomatoes this year.  Better do it now, the little voice said.  They won't last foreveah in that freezah... 

I hate that little voice, it's usually right.
 It also means that the tomatoes that have colonized my freezer like stubborn chinmey swallows will be gone, and i can actually use it without having to shoehorn other things in between the frozen tomatoes.


These are Romas,  and should boil down nicely into paste of varying thicknesses and varying amounts.   I know everyone is just  fascinated with this stuff, so I may add a few more process pictures to this post as it changes.

Since I can't locate my food mill, I had to resort to the more basic method of straining, and since roma tomatoes have much tinier seeds than regular tomatoes, straining was a two-part symphony;  one to get the larger bits and the skins removed, and one using a finer meshed strainer.   Now, we boil.  Tomorrow Ill can them.  (I'm sure  the food mill will show up as soon as the last jar has been sealed and labeled...)

surpised myself, 12 jars, all the tops popped, and it only took 36 hours start to finish. =)

The morning after

How cool is this--text resizing

was just over in the forums fussing about something or other and found someone asking how to make the too-small text larger.  I assume this is a temp fix, but thats all anyone needs, isnt it.  I  have visited blogs that are, at my age, almost unreadable because of either too-large text or way too small.    The solution, and its sooo simple;  hold the cursor over the offending page and hold down the Ctrl key:  slowly, one clicky thing at a time,  rotate the mousewheel either forward or backward.

This works on mine, and on others, as well.   Life just got a tad easier.

If only we could turn the mousewheel  on ourselves  now and then...

Well I tried but you can only spread blame so far

This morning i noticed a drippy puddle place on the kitchen floor,  and my first thought was, oh my  a pipe has started leaking.  Then I noticed a corresponding drippy place on the ceiling and realized that the snow on the roof in that corner (this is a one story ell attachment on the north side) has been going through a periodic melt freeze melt thing for about three days,  and the ice has backed up under the shingles in that corner.

And THAT means in a little while i will have to go out, shovel my way to the roof (violins and weepy guitars here please),  climb the ladder and shovel off the roof.  (Saxophones of Guilt at this point)  break up the ice dam (by that point damn would be closer)  with my trusty whatever-Im-carrying,  pull down the snow from the main roof (Violins again and a bit of snare drum), shovel THAT off,  break off the huge icicles and try not to step on them  (laughing ha ha ha sound from the trumpet) since they are like marbles underfoot--
All because yesterday and the day before I looked at that mess up there and thought, nahhhh,  its okay.  mea culpa, mea culpa. 

  (To be fair, this is an "after" from last year. why waste film)

Trying to blame the Mister here, but he has his own roof (porch) and this one is my responsibility.  Yes, he coulda said, we need to get those roofs (rooves?) cleaned off, he coulda said, the ice is gonna build up up there, I'll help you, (Saxophones of Guilt again) but he didnt.

 At least its warmer,  the sun is nice.  Yes it is.  And Charlie Underfoot is having a grand time studying the drips as they fall into the coffee cans. plink, plink, plink...

In The Distance, A Dog Barks (6WS)

In The Distance, A Dog Barks 

she came out to retrieve the paper

from the porch

saw him drive by, stop;  

watched him watch her

he rolled down his window as if to speak

but no words came out

she never moved

as he slowly drove away;

feeling colder, she went inside

careful to latch the door behind her.

He came by later, the house was dark

the dog had been brought in for the night

there was a new cat sleeping on the porch

the door was a different color--

he knew he'd been away too long

Life, in small bites, is good (6WS)

This Was the Month That Was (6WS)

oops lets just say I got over eager, lol.   TOMORROW is SATURDAY. YES IT IS. I knew that.

Grisham Redux

In my journeys through John Grisham I find that his writing is much less even than I realized--and while  he is not of the 'brains on the wall" genre,  some of his books do have entirely too many torture scenes (probably the ones with screams in the first chapter are the worst) and those I now close down quietly and put to one side.

Trouble is, once you've encountered this sort of awfulness it makes you cautious about the next book of his you find.   Just finshed "The Broker" which promises gore and grue but, thank allah,  never delivers.  

As my mother in law once said about books like this, "I just read those parts with my eyes closed".  

ten suggestions for growing old gracefully (6WS)

1.  I shall not shuffle

2  Exercise, exercise, exercise

3.  I shall not wear green eyeshadow

4.  I will never agree  that 50 is synonymous with Senior anything

5.I will never allow anyone to make me wear a funny  hat

6. I will not go ON about ailments

7.  I will refrain from saying "when I was your age..."

8.  The doctor is not always right

9  What's 'best' for me  may not be 'right' for me.

10.  Turn up the radio and dance

official portrait -- Charlie at Rest

Now that he has settled down,  he is no longer a whirry fizz in the middle of the photo.

"Only if I were starving" foods (6WS)

Feel free to hum along with your own list

1. Asparagus

2. Shell beans (baked, stuffed, scalloped, fried, chili'd)

3. Parsnips

4. Rhubarb (around here commonly called rootbarb)

5. Greens (mustard, dandelion, leafy, kale, collard, chard)

6. Squid

7. Coffee "flavored" anything (with the exception of Starbuck's ice cream)

8. Almond flavored coffee

9. Pea soup

10 Hummus

How Time Flies When You're Not Watching the Clock

This has been two months (and counting) of doctor appointments, referrals,  exams, ultrasound this and xray that.  My calendar for December showed four empty week days.   It looks like January is shaping up much the same, after a slow start.  So far,  every referral has been a dead end , with no followups for Procedures.  Oh, yay.   The last time I had a spell like this was the year my mother died,  all major events--all the kind that those charts tell you are Life Changers and by rights you should come down with beri beri due to stress--this one is more a series of pings and maybes.   So far, so good.

Makes me wish I hadn't made fun of 5 Year Planners. Someone heard me.  She scorns 5 year planners?  We'll show her,  bwahahaha.  

It does happen

one bit  at a time  (70 days to the first day of spring)

some things have no explanation

Some Weeks Are Like This (6WS)

Everything is in a spin

 and a bit out of focus

I'm feeling a bit blurry around the edges myself

Too good to ignore

http://www.foxnews.com/science/2013/12/30/stuck-in-our-own-experiment-leader-trapped-team-insists-polar-ice-is-melting/


The first global warming party errr conference,  much touted by people who Knew Things, was in Copenhagen.  There was a blizzard that day.

When they gathered in Washington DC  snow fell on the capitol.

In Cancun there was an historic snowfall during their meetings.

There have been others.  This is their finest hour.

Most of these so-called conferences are nothing more than an excuse to visit posh hotels,  eat themselves silly, and look serious for the camera.  This time, however, even in the face of  the evidence they are surrounded by,  they are insisting that the polar ice caps are melting.  What is interesting this was a voyage to Antarctica during the summer months down there,  when the ice does indeed melt.  Even Antarctica warms a bit.  That way they could point with horror and alarm as arctic creatures suffered in the open water.  And they of course travel first cabin all the way, with enough supplies on board to sustain them for at least a week or two, no doubt.

i can hardly wait for their next conference.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

One by one the houses go (6ws)

Mother's old house burnt down yesterday.  I grew up there, and mother grew old there.

All the paper says is the fire  was apparently linked to the dryer.

The photos online show a quite different house than the one I recall,  since it has been sold twice and remodeled to the ground.  Not your daddy's chevrolet, nope.

The barn collapsed a few years back,  and the land has been split up, and now the house is gone.

I dont miss the house nearly as much as I miss the barn.

What I do miss is the fact of the house,  the ancientness of it, the history of it.

Tomorrow, perhaps,  or tonight, it will hit me.  Or maybe not at all.   There were a lot of good times there,  and I will always have the remembrance of them.  There were also a lot of difficult times,  and I try to learn by those.

They say when you sell a house,  never go back to see what's happened. I rarely did, since my travels almost never take me that way.  And when I did I understood the meaning of that sentence...

Cate, how appropriate your own six words were this week.


found this from our local paper

http://www.fosters.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20131228/GJNEWS_01/131229505

slowly, slowly:

Two nights ago I called Charlie for supper. Heard a thump from the shed attic (aha, i thought, thats where he is) and the whir of cat feet charging down the stairs.  He stopped dead when he saw me.  I was Between Him and His Dish.

I sat on the door step.  He stared at me. I stared at him.  Held out one hand.  He came over, carefully, and suddenly he was under my hand, purrpurrpurr,  couldnt get enough. since then he has let me brush him,  let me pick him up (10/12 lbs id say),  and basically makes a fool of himself to get patted.  Lonely fella.

he still eyes the open door into the kitchen carefully.  maybe, maybe not yet.

I do worry a bit.  Isabel is 14,  blind and deaf, now.  I dont want her involved in power struggles.  So we will take this slowly.  maybe, maybe not.

I Must Say, It's About Time (6ws)

                      out of the darkest longest night
                      at last at last, a little more light

Who's on First

Ron Lavalette reminded me of this, and its just too good to not share.  After all these years,  it's still funny.

Who's on First

sorry, something happened to the video i had posted. The link will work, though

Musical Chairs

a week ago I got an e- mail notice about my upcoming dental appt.  January 17, wednesday.  I looked at the calendar and by golly there is no January 17 Wednesday, at least not this next year...soooo I called and she said,  oh im sorry I meant December 18 which IS a Wednesday.  Cool.

Tuesday (the 17th which is a Tuesday) I got a frantic dental receptionist on the line who said, where ARE you , did you forget?  I said no,  my appt. is for tomorrow.  She said, no no it was for today.  Could you make it by 10 today?  

It was snowing like mad, and -7 degrees.  No, I said, I'd never make it in time.  I now have an appointment for (wait for it)........... January 17.

Update on Charlie

He's back..  He's been somewhere Away for at least 3 days,  possibly sleeping under the old barn flooring,  but I had figured him for dead by now.  All the cold, the food in the dishes untouched out there.  I left the kibble.  Then yesterday, at -10 i went out to get wood and heard Charlie, meow meow meow meow squeak squeak.  Sitting in the Tunnel,  yelling his head off.  'where's my FOOD?  I go away for a couple of days,  come back,  and the food is gone and I am HUNGRY"   (typical male, right)
He went through 2 1/2 cans.  I pulled the dishes far enough forward so we were about a foot apart,  and he was just hungry enough and cold enough that he was willing to risk it, to eat.

Coulda grabbed him,  but that is a lot of cat to deal with and I really didn't look forward to a bloodbath at that stage.  I talked, he chewed.

This morning he was back, and it looks like his bed was slept in last night.   Nothing i can do about the cold,  but I can at least shelter him and feed him.

Cold. Snow. Hope. Fear. Acceptance. Reward. (6WS)

I'm waiting for the Global Warming folks to explain why the Sphinx was covered in snow this week.  I'm sure it has something to do with us breathing.  Im also pretty sure there had to have been a GW conference in Cairo or  somewhere with a nice hotel out there,  to discuss GW once again. Or maybe one of the head GW people just went on vacation there.

Joe Btfsplk, perhaps.

And along with all of that we have Christmas looming, and loom it does.  Wherever I go,  I am assaulted by Rudolph and Holly Jolly as only Burl Ives could do it.  Even at PT the therapist has her boombox loaded with all the awfuls, including these two and Alvin and the Chipmunks.  She's young, she'll learn.

First is hope,  to counter fear, the kind that trickles down your back like sweat on a hot summer day. One inch at a time,  you learn to adjust.  The Solstice is Hope,  The long winter teaches  Acceptance, and Spring is the Reward for getting through the winter.

Google+ and other assorted surprises-- buyer beware

I was horrified this week to learn that I had somehow joined the happy folks at Google+, simply by clicking on a link somewhere.  Not even sure where.
soooo. I went in this morning to see if I could unsubscribe.  ahahahahaha

Sure I can.       However.   Way down at the bottom it asks if you want to remove your Google+ profile.  "read more" it says.  (drum roll here.  cue the violins)  Under "read more' is an entire page explaining what will and will not happen if you do this. And all of them seem to pertain only to +.  However, at the bottom,  there is a quiet little statement that says 'if you delete your +profile you will effectively be removing yourself from most of the services which Google provides,  including blogs, email,  etc.

Our email server rides on  the G Mail pony.  I use Chrome to access at least 2/3rds of my online stuff.   This is entrapment, and there's not much I can do except try not to touch any  of the pretty flashing buttons over there.

now that christmas rears its head

http://vimeo.com/34011221

Things Happen, Then They Stop Happening (6WS)

Some years are like that.  Go along for years sometimes with barely a sniffle,  turn a corner, and you find the calendar has more filled spaces than empty and is now  more than just a pretty picture on the cellar door.   I've become one of those people who now says "let me check the calendar" before agreeing to ANYthing.

Nothing major,  just fiddly bits that all need attention,  in that "well, since I'm right here..." mode.
And then, with any luck,  we can relax back into calendars that  remind us what day it might be and even in some instances what month.

Self Explanatory Post

joolery
febyuerry
chimley chimbley chimeney
athalete
fillum (that we used to stuff in the camera to take pitchers with)
ellum tree
cemetary (I blame Stephen King for this one)
donut (ditto Dunkin Donuts)
parker (what you wear in the wintah)
and my absolute favorite  marathong

Tim Sample nevah grows old

He said, She said Part 2 (6WS)

He said

You know,  I love my kids as much as any man does but

there's times when I wish  they'd give me some personal

time.   They got me a computer  so I'd have "something 

to do" but I'm too busy to bother with it.

They brought over a cell phone so we could be in constant 

contact but after it fell off the tractor fender and I backed 

over it they told me I was working too hard.

Shoulda heard them when I  mentioned my new lady friend.

-------------------------------------------

She said

the day I fell over the dog I made the mistake of telling my daughter-in-law because it was funny, and a week later Home Services was at my door, and Meals on Wheels called to ask when would be a good time to deliver my lunch.

I shooed out the nurse and her blood pressure cuff and hung up on Meals on Wheels.  Then I called my son.

----------------------------------------

She said

One day Dad and I looked at one another and realized 

we were looking at strangers.  Since the last boy left we had 

been arguing, picking fights, and getting on one another's 

nerves.  After talking it over we decided it might be

time to just split up for a bit, have some time to 

ourselves and get to know each other again. 

I found an apartment nearer the kids, and Dad said he'd 

sell the house  (it's too big for the two of us anyway) 

and find something smaller,  and we'd see how that
worked out. He brings his laundry over once a week
and we talk. No fights, just talk. We've decided we
have to stop calling each other "Mom" and "Dad". We
practice.  He calls me Nancy and snickers, and I call
him Art,  and get the giggles.   I think we'll  be okay.

------------------------------------------

She said

She calls me once a week all the way from Idaho, makes
sure I know what this is costing her. Wants me to come
out and live with her.  Even though I've been to  Idaho,
and  California and  Florida,  and a lot of places in between,
after a few weeks of being polite and using different towels,
part of me longs to get  back to my students and my kiln
and my friends.

She tells me I'm getting too old to 'bother' with pottery,
and then mentions the 'nice' arts and crafts classes they
have at the day care center there,  the one right beside the
assisted living apartments.

The reality is, she  doesnt want me to live with her,  anymore
than I do.  She just wants to be able to tell her friends that she
'brought Mother out to be with her, she's getting so frail, you
know..."   I've started referring to it as Shady Pines,  which annoys her no end.

I  hung up on her the last time.  Now she can tell her friends I'm getting senile.

----------------------------

He said

A month ago I dropped a shovel on my foot, cracked a bone. When my daughter Lucy found out, she decided it was time to take charge.  "At your age..." seems to be the way she starts
every sentence these days. She even hired  a  "cleaning woman" for me, who could not be over 20--I had to show her how to clean a bathroom properly.

And  yesterday Lucy  told me she was  thinking of moving back to town so she could live here, and keep a proper eye on me. She forgets, the reason she moved out twenty years ago was because we simply could not get along;  she's too much like her mother, god rest her soul.  

Happy Thanksgiving

and other assorted flavors

entrees are always welcome before the main course

Charlie -- Progress report

This is an old house, with an attached shed. There has always been a passage way under the porch and into the shed.  We call it the tunnel,  and have sort of constructed a more permanent version so the cats can shelter there and come in themselves through a cat door in the shed/kitchen door.
I've started feeding Charlie at the inside end of the tunnel, to the great annoyance of the other two cats. *g*   And this morning,  since it was 20 deg out,  I made a cat bed for him

and tucked it into  a stack of wood.  yes, thats a sheepskin.  i threw in a catnip play toy for good measure.  I'd not mind sleeping in this myself,  frankly.

He Said, She Said, First part (6WS)

He said

I take nineteen pills every day:

8 in the morning, 6 at lunch,

the rest at bedtime. I have a chart

that also tells me which does what.

These keep me alive and moving,

the others keep me happy but not too happy.

I guess you can call this living

and yeah, it beats the alternatives.

---------------------------------------------

she said

My son's okay, he lets me alone,

drops by every week to visit, buys me

what I need when I can't get out.

He doesn't fuss. I'm still mom.

My daughter, however, has started

watching me, hovering in the shadows.

If I stumble, she frets.

If I forget a name, she gets really quiet.

She's started talking about moving in,

Im talking about moving away.

---------------------------------------------

She said

When Harry died it was pretty quiet around here

for a week or two, then the phone started ringing,

and almost every call was from someone

wanting to take me out, have me for dinner

(and I suspect I was the dessert), or just wanted

to talk dirty.  I was nice, but not interested.

I thought it was funny; my daughter and her husband

were shocked, wanted to call the cops, no less.

I told them I wasn't interested in raising up

a new husband, especially since most of them

just wanted a cook and bedwarmer and nurse,

and I said then, I will not take care of another 

sick old man, thank you very much.  They 

both looked relieved, if dubious.

I never told them about the one I didn't turn down.

-----------------------------------------

He said

I always said that when Skips died, that was 

the last dog  I'd  be having.  He died two 

weeks ago, and I buried him in the back yard 

beside the others;  this morning my daughter 

showed  up at the door with a  half-grown 

mongrel pup, all legs and  the other 

two-thirds ears, all wag and pant.  I looked 

at the dog, and the dog looked back: "Her 

name is Grace," my daughter said.

"You don't play fair," I said, to both of them, and

 my daughter just smiled.  Grace wagged her tail 

and put her paw on my boot.

Damn kids.

Thought for the Day

 we are where we would be
 if we went somewhere  else to live

A Note From An Old Friend (6WS)

--who never realized the poem in this

dont know where you'll be

but if I can

I'll walk along with you

all the way 

to the end of the field

down the road and out

and leave you there

I know you know

the rest of the way

you wont get lost

Progress Report--his name is Charlie

Put out a wildlife camera on the porch,  and finally got two good shots of this guy:

aha he's a grey torotoise shell mix, with the appetite of a wolverine.  Trouble is, its getting colder, and by my calculations  canned cat food freezes solid within a half hour at 20 degrees.

He won't come in.  If I appear in the doorway he quietly  jumps off the porch and hides.  Or goes back to his possible home under the barn.

Just keep on keepin on, I guess.

Things We Have To Leave Behind (6WS)

  sometimes  the forest wins

   or there is no longer a need

    sometimes we outgrow our passions
    or find new ways of working

It can be hard to let go of the familiar

or the cherished

  and childhood is a beginning, often down a cold unfamiliar  road,  not an end in itself

We leave things behind all the time.  Friends,  family, memories,  passions.  I guess the secret is to cherish the memories,  and try not to regret what we can't bring back

Maybe maybe not

he's been hanging around for at least three days,  keeps coming back to the same rock on the wall.  First time I saw him, he was outwaiting the deer and turkeys who swarmed around him  like, um,  a rock in the stream.  Now he sits on That Rock and waits for something edible  to appear .

When I call him he looks over here, a long slow stare.  Not nervous,  just careful.  

put food out for him last night,  dry kibble on the porch.  It looked swirled around a bit but thats all.  Racoons would have eaten most of it ,  flung the rest around, had a fight over the water dish. Probably would have taken the dish home for a souvenir.

We'll see.   It's up to him. 

thoughts in a cold new month (6WS)

Missing

not-knowing balanced
against the known: how sad to  turn,
find you not there

that shift when the tide
changes places with itself
rolls back up the beach

the sound the wind makes
when it stops; whispery leaves
hang silent again

Flash Fiction

End of the Affair Before it Even Got Started

"I won't", he said,

"and you shouldn't"

and he walked away

Frustrated Human--1, Safety Cap--0 (6WS)

one screwdriver, two ratchet wrenches,  two letter openers,  a wicked looking leather awl, and a seriously sharp steak knife later...the cap, by the way, is supposed to look like that,  it looks pretty in the store but you just can't get enough "push down" to make the "turn" work.  what it really needed was a five year old.   

NOW its time to put on the storm doors

Turning Point

there comes a day in mid fall
when the wind is colder than it should be
the clouds are so low you can almost smell them

when the wind picks up
you head back to the house for a sweater
everything looks wilted,  tired,  finished

you know it will rain by evening,
if not before,
a cold slow steady rain

and its a turning point
no matter how warm the days  to follow are
there's that edgy feel to it

that even the small birds sense
and ragged flocks of them begin moving out
into the fields and south.

There's a snow feel to it all
you'd not be surprised to see
a bit of snow mixed with the rain

makes you glad you got the wood covered
and you throw another stick in the stove
just because you can

Half a Conversation Overheard

yes, yes, tomorrow

probably a week

it cant be  helped,  it's where the work is


well, you understood  when we got married
that there'd be times...

yes.  I see

one of the neighbors can take the puppy
until i get back

ill call you when I get home
we can talk then

I think summer is probably over (6WS)

this is what's left outside,  the tatty area is what we started with   this summer ...

and all of that is now in here.   When you open the kitchen door into the shed this is what you see.  Two rows to go, yessah.

and the garden now looks like rats live there, except for the nasturtiums...and one lone about-to-bloom poppy to the right of the nasturtiums...

"I just want to see you be brave"

LJ Cohen posted this at her blog, and its so much fun,  seemed  a shame not to steal it. Thanks, Lisa. 

Now and then everyone needs permission,  if only from  themselves, to dance, to sing, to be who they really are,  and not give a rip who cares.  

Well Lookit What I Just Found (6WS)

Well, silly me.  I've had this blog for four years and counting,  and i just discovered the NavBar search function at the top.  Type in  "bird" and all the posts with "bird" in them come up.  Type in "snow" and the same thing happens (with "snow", of course. Not "bird")

 She is a happy woman, yep.  A bit slow around the sharp corners sometimes, but happy.

Owl Music redux

                           some things deserve a second viewing.

Never Count The Old Tree Out (6WS)

apple trees are notorious for living apparently forever.  This one is (possibly) a  Gravenstein,  a very old very good species.   For the past decade or so we've watched this tree, which had a massive trunk,  slowly get more and more brittle, limbs came off, it looked dead.
Let's wait a bit, I said.   Put away the chain saw ("but.. but...we can use the wood.  it's DEAD")  and give it some time.

This year the few puny branches, like wisps of hair on an old man's head,  became serious foliage.

and on one side:

if you look really closely you can see apples and even the parts that look as if they could be cut off with a pair of scissors now have living branches.  Just 'cause it's old, doesn't mean it's not got value. 

Follow Up to August 10th, moving the beauty bush

                                           
                              It has sprouted in its new home
                                joy and feasting all around

Free complaint dept. day. Feel free to whine

Peeve 3,786

People who see you a half mile across the parking lot and decide to hold the door open for you
forcing you to either break into a brisk trot or let them wait until you're almost there and then they give up and let the door swing shut...

3,787
Traffic lights that try to combine right turns and  pedestrians at the same time.  As the light changes to green,  all the waiting pedestrians cross en masse,  forcing you to wait, and then the light turns red again...

3,788
Ladies' restrooms

3,789
Electric cars that cost more in energy wasted and less value per mile than they could ever hope to amortize or justify by the amount of gasoline used or not used.

3,790
Winter

This is just too cool to keep buried

http://rlavalette.blogspot.com/

My Life in the Slow Lane (6WS)

The only thing more annoying than a company who sells Five Year Planners is knowing there are people  out there who actually have a need for one, and can plan their lives so precisely that they know what will be happening five  years from now.

I am always comforted  by two things:  every morning I'm still here (if I'm not, I'll let you know so you won't worry) and that the sun and moon rise when they're supposed to.

Beyond that,  and a few predictable holidays,  it's all mostly a slow moving train with a  new view at every bend.  And if you don't know where you're headed,  you can't be disappointed when you don't get there.

Untitled, thank you for the prompt (6WS)

Untitled

now there are two trains
one heading east
the other heading into fog
we wave politely  to each other
through half open windows
as we travel on slowly diverging rails
acknowledging the need for individual trains
and the distance  that slowly separates  us
one pretending it matters
one pretending it doesnt

ooops

I lost Wednesday this week.  Maybe it got lost in the wind.  If I had been planning on Thursday it's too late,  I'll have to celebrate it in retrospect.  That does, however, bring me to Friday faster than I had planned, but hey, Im flexible.  I can adjust.

It comes out even eventually;  I'll just give Sunday a pass and that should catch me up quite nicely.

If you peer closely you can see all those little yellow Roma tomatoes waiting to ripen. I have two of these monsters, and have already pulled about 15 pounds from them. it's about 5' high and twice as wide.   My husband is scared of it, and I don't blame him.

Stayin Alive --Rita Hayworth (just for fun)

let's try this one all over (6WS)

summit

a breeze rises up from the valley floor
lifts your hair, pushes at you

and at that moment know
you're over the edge

look back the way you came
to the summit that now looms like a wall

there is no turning back;
the only way is down, moving carefully

over shale and loose stone
with the afternoon sun at your back

the valley spread out in a green welcome
and far below, someone waving,
climbing up 

Routines

I think as we get older our personal routines take on a life of their own.  They become who we are, what we are.

"Oh",  she says,  "I can't come Wednesday,  that's the day I have to bake my cookies".  Even though there may be  six perfectly good unused days left,  and the cookies take an hour out of her morning,  Wednesday is the day she bakes cookies.   It may also be an easy excuse used too often,  when she wants to get out of shopping,  or visiting a  neighbor she really doesnt like,  or just because.  

I  use Tuesdays ("oh,"  I say,  regretfully.  "I can't make  it on Tuesday,  that's the day I volunteer.") And even if  I don't go,  it's still the day I volunteer.

This, The Pause, In The Conversation--(6WS)

--while I consider what has happened, what will happen, and all that other stuff that goes into someone's  life. Nothing bad, nothing evil or even very noteworthy beyond the personal,  but right now the memory banks are on overload (which happens, heaven help us all) and I need to plow through that;  the garden needs cleanup-for-winter very soon,  the lawn needs a serious haircut,  and the eternal woodpile, while it shrinketh, doesn't shrinketh enough without some human intervention.

Sometimes intervention is necessary, but most of the time the best thing anyone can do is wait while it sorts itself out.  I  have friends who are going through difficult times right now;  much of what they are dealing with is personal,  and painful.  Hard to watch, harder to be in the middle of.   There is nothing I can do for them except listen and  love them and let them know that.

When we were kids the big thing was double-dutch jump rope.  Two jumpropes,  synchronized by the girls at either end,  and the jumper was expected to time her own entry into that swirling pair of ropes precisely--and start jumping over both ropes as they whizzed under your feet.  How we did that without garroting ourselves I have no idea.  That's what memory is like, in a way.  All of it coming at you at once, some days, and you know the only way to deal with some of the harder stuff is to just jump in and start moving through it.

Potato season

It's like eating popcorn.   You pull one plant  "just to see" and what's under there looks soooo good you think, oh, lets do the next one--then you realize pulling one exposes the potatoes under the next plant and before you know it the  whole bed is dug and you are left with what seems like--and probably is--entirely too many potatoes

this averages out to about 100 pounds so far, with one more bed to go.    These were planted in leaf mold and hay this year,  rather than straight dirt.  Id say the yield beats anything I've done so far.

Tidying up the edges

2nd chimney cleaned,  everything put away for wintah.

Bring on the snow.


err.  Maybe not right way...

Chimney talk

The kitchen chimney is clean.  I am not.
It's been three years,  and last winter I was a bit nervous about letting the fire get too hot, especially when I first started the stove up.  But faithfully I kept putting the Rutland (unabashed plug here for the stuff) Creosote  Cleaner to it, once or twice a week.

This is amazing stuff.  I've never seen such a clean (pre-wire brushing) chimney.  That means i do NOT have to do this every year,  I do NOT have to hire someone to do it for me.  Yet.

Tomorrow,  I do it all again in the dining room.  I may not even mind.

snapshots

Sometimes there are trigger points in life;  a piece of music, a photograph, even a voice or a picture where someone WASN'T;  and you suddenly come up against a memory.   Not necessarily what the trigger invoked, but the strongest version of it.    Once that happens, the cellar door flies open and all the other peripherals flood out,  chattering and leaving muddy footprints on the good carpet. .

Usually the only way through it is through it;.  face the ache in the gut,  the river of what if and if only that flows behind your eyes,  and let it go again.  On the plus side, if you look at this stuff from all angles often you gain a new understanding (being all that much older and stuffed full of wisdom) of what happened, and why,  and can convince yourself that it was all for the best.


Well, two out of three isnt bad.

Some Days It Feels Like Overload (6WS)

August

the sun lies long

on the tedded fields

ribbons of mowed hay 

waiting for the baler

the balerman comes 

with his fierce machine

a miracle of twine and gears

turning chaos into order

one bale at a time

Its That Time of The Year (6WS)

 First we grow stuff   (yes it really is six feet high and yes it really is a tomato plant)

 Then we mow stuff (his dad's old Allis Chalmers tractor)

Then we feast (and a good time was had by all)  

(and a special thank you to Cate for this exercise: if forces all of us, I think, to consider where we are, and why, and maybe even how we got there,  week by week.  Some weeks are harder than others, some just get pulled out of the clouds. Either way,  its cool. )

perfect, just perfect

Thinking Out Loud

6 pm, the shadows are clear across the lawn, the sun just skims the tops of the trees on the west side of the house.  Feels like fall. Dry,  hot, but with a chill after dark that says, 'where's my sweater gotten to?".   We sit on the porch and listen to cicadas and watch the dragonflies feasting on the insects Ive stirred up with mowing.

There's a feel of an early fall about.  Like chipmunks and squirrels, we begin to move a bit faster;  tasks we 've put off all summer now become urgent.  Get the wood in the shed, a voice mutters.  and don't forget the damn chimneys.  CLEAN em.   It's a laundry list of Things We Must Do, and in all of that,  I wonder quietly just how long I can do this.

I've been thinking seriously about  hiring professional chimney cleaners.  Not  yet, but soon.  Maybe next year.   Im always one project behind and one ahead, one way or the other.  I guess that's good, you never run out of things to do.

Or to think about.