Just a Mundane Monday?

If you wait, all that happens is that you get older.          ~Larry McMurtry, Some Can Whistle

     Last weekend Lanny and I had a wonderful conversation reminiscing about the time when we were dating. He remembered very fondly the first time I invited him to my home for dinner. It was a weekday evening, so I had had to work that day. However, I managed to prepare a delicious beef burgundy and bake a peach pie. My intent was to wow this new man in my life with my culinary skills, and it worked... so much so that he could recount, over a decade later, vivid details of the meal. He was whistful in his remembering-- and it dawned on me that I had not ever fixed this dish since that evening.

     This past Monday, with that conversation fresh in my head, I realized that I had all the ingredients for beef burgundy-- including a large bottle of burgundy wine. Neither of us had any plans for the day, and it was a beautiful day weather-wise, so Lanny planned on spending it working out in his shop. I was planning on spending the day knitting. I had no plans for dinner, thinking that when the time came I'd grab something out of the freezer and throw a meal together. As I thought about our conversation it dawned on me that delaying a special meal until the weekend was just stupid. The time to treat my husband and I with a special meal was now.

     I had fixed a nice meal on Sunday night, so I knew the last thing Lanny would expect was a second special meal. The element of surprise made it all the more fun. I set to work, getting the beef thawed and cut up, browning it and some onions, mixing the wine and some beef stock, peeling and mincing garlic. I even found a loaf of french bread in the freezer, and set to making some garlic bread. I had the whole thing in the oven in about a half hour. It takes three hours or so to let the meat slowly cook in the wine, so I cleaned up the prep dishes and spent the rest of the afternoon knitting, as planned.

     The aroma of the meat simmering in the wine filled the house and was literally intoxicating... and when Lanny came in from the shop his eyes lit up. He knew something good was in the oven. I had set the table with the new placemats and linen napkins and got out the good wine glasses. I opened a bottle of better red wine (burgundy, in my opinion, is okay for using in recipes but not really all that good as a drinking wine-- especially the cheaper kind that is available in the grocery store).  It didn't take long to prepare the mashed potatoes and the peas, so when Lanny came downstairs after a quick shower, dinner was ready.

     His delight while eating the meal only increased my own pleasure... we sat longer than usual sipping wine and remembering the first time I'd fixed the dish. My plan was to remind him that I still loved doing special things for him, that he was very special to me. In doing so, my own day had become a special one... and it was "just a Monday". There is no time like today to make those you love feel special-- whether it is a special meal fixed for their pleasure, or a special experience, or perhaps just an expression of your love for them. Whatever it is, make today special!!

The American Girl

I think she is growing up, and so begins to dream dreams, and have hopes and fears and fidgets, without knowing why or being able to explain them.           ~ Louisa May Alcott, Little Women

     In May my granddaughter Addie turned six. She has had a terrific first year of school, tackling kindergarten with enthusiasm. To my amazement, she learned to read. It was time... you see, I have been waiting on her to learn to read before I gave her a special gift. I wanted to give her an American Girl Doll.

     For those who don't know about American Girl Dolls, they are high quality dolls, all of them are 18 1/2 inches tall, and come in a rainbow of skin, hair and eye colors. Some of the dolls are characters from different times in American history-- so one doll may be modeled to be from the 1810's, complete with a wardrobe and accessories from that time period. These dolls based on history all have books where the doll's character is the heroine.

     You can buy these dolls online, through a catalogue, or you can visit a store. There is a large American Girl Doll store in Chicago in the Water Tower Place, a high end shopping center right on Michigan Avenue. It is about 3 1/2 hours from central Indiana, where Addie and I live.

     I have a dear friend Kathy whose granddaughter Karolina just turned seven and is already an American Girl Doll enthusiast. Kathy suggested that she and I take our granddaughters together up to Chicago for a day of shopping and girl fun. So... last Friday that is exactly what we did.

     I had an American Girl Doll catalogue here for Addie to look through, so she could figure out which of the many choices in dolls she would like. Did she want one of the ten or so historical character dolls or did she want to get one that would look just like her, with similar skin, hair and eye tones? She spent quite a bit of time mulling this important question over, and we decided she could make up her mind when we got to the store.

     Addie had never traveled outside of our local area, so a 3 1/2 hour car ride was a real adventure. She told us as we drove through northern Indiana flat farm country that she'd never seen a farm before. We passed a windmill farm, and that was new to her. We stopped at a rest stop on the interstate, and that was new too. And finally, when we spotted the skyline of Chicago looming in the distance, she got her first view of a really big city. As we drove into the downtown area, with all the skyscrapers, she was awestruck. Karolina had been there before, so wasn't quite as impressed... but both girls chattered excitedly about being in the city.

     We parked the car in a high rise parking garage and walked a short distance to the store. Michigan Avenue ("The Magnificent Mile!") was full of all manner of people, honking traffic, and the noise of the city. Addie held my hand tightly! We passed beggars and a homeless man asleep on the sidewalk, and saw people of all kinds, including a woman in a full berka (that generated an excellent conversation on how people can have very different opinions and beliefs than we do...) When we walked in the front door of the store, she was awestruck... there in front of her were thousands upon thousands of the most beautiful dolls she'd ever seen. We walked the displays and looked at all the historic character dolls (there was one named Addy that I thought she might go for...) and then we took the escalator (Yes! This store is two floors of doll displays, and has it's own escalator!) up to the "My American Girl" department. Here were display cases full of dolls of many hues-- starting from pale skin toned blond hair and blue eyes all the way through dark skin, black hair and brown eyed dolls. There were probably 50 or so of them.

     Addie picked a doll that looked just like her-- reddish blond "caramel" hair, blue eyes and light skin.  At first she named the doll "Candy" but as the day wore on that changed to "Isabelle"-- perhaps because of the featured doll of that name that was a ballet dancer, or perhaps because Addie just loved the name. At any rate, we looked at the clothing for the dolls, matching clothing for little girls, all the accessories (one of the historical character dolls from 1974 comes with a Volkswage bug convertible!) and furniture. Karoline bought some clothing for her doll, and then took the doll to the Ear Piercing Salon. Yes. You read that right. An ear piercing salon for the doll... her doll emerged with pretty silver earrings in her ears and 5 more pair of earrings to change into as needed. There was also a doll hair salon, a doll hospital, a bakery/sweet shop, and a restaurant. Even the bathroom stalls had special hooks to hang your doll on while you completed your task. I was amazed! Addie was thrilled!

     We had reservations mid afternoon for lunch at the restaurant, which gave us some time to hang out with the girls in Water Tower Place. We went to the Lego store, and then had great fun going up and down on the escalators and the glassed in elevators. Addie probably could have skipped lunch and just ridden the escalator, but soon it was time to go eat.

Having fun in the Lego store!

     The restaurant was at the back of the store, and was decked out in linen tableclothes and napkins. They had booster seats for the dolls (!) and once the dolls and the little girls were seated, the dolls got their own dish and cup. The napkin holders were hair ribbons. The desserts were decorated with silk flowers that could also be added to a doll's hair (or even better-- to a little girl's!) We dined elegantly on a four course meal that was delicious, ridiculously expensive for a 6 and 7 year old, and a lot of fun. The girls were on their best behavior, and were polite and fun.

Addie with her doll named Isabelle

Karolina with her doll named Rebecca

Two Grandmas and their Granddaughters having lunch at the American Girl Cafe in Chicago

     The ride home was a little quieter in the back seat. Addie hugged Isabelle most of the way. Karolina hugged her doll too. The girls chattered away happily, watching DVD's at times and playing on Ipads as well. We arrived home after dark, way past Addie's bedtime. She was still excited about the day but very, very sleepy. She went to bed at Grandma's house in her special little girl bed, dreaming dreams of travel, adventure and of her new doll. Grandma fell asleep too, tired but happy to have spent the day on such a grand adventure, with a very special little girl!

     Was the store a bit over the top? Well, yes. Was it too expensive? Absolutely. Perhaps I was really shopping for myself? Maybe... But I only have one granddaughter, and I have looked forward to taking her to this store for a long, long time. I think we created some memories that both of us will remember for our whole lives.  And that, quite honestly, was worth the time, money, and effort!

Karolina and Addison-- they are in front of a display with a historic doll named Caroline and another one named Addy!

This is Addie the next morning, hugging her new doll named Isabelle.

Musings on my college graduation...

This is the time to remember because it will not last forever; 

these are the days to hold on to because we won't although we'll want to.

          ~Billy Joel

Yesterday afternoon I was knitting and found my mind wandering a bit... and then it hit me. Forty years ago I had graduated from college. Forty years!  I found myself remembering a lot about that time in my life-- the four years I spent in college were formative-- I entered a kid, really. And graduated as an adult, ready and eager to take my place in the world. Full of ideals and plans for my life.

There were four of us who became fast friends that first semester of our freshman year at the University of Michigan. All of us were nursing students. I thought of the four of us and how different our lives have turned out than what we thought. My college roomie is perhaps living the closest to what I would have predicted for her-- but even she had a few unexpected turns in her life. She isn't married to the person she thought she would marry back when she was a freshman. She matured past the high school boyfriend, eventually met another wonderful guy as a junior, and married him a year or so after graduation. She was a nurse, loving the complicated patients in the ICU-- but eventually "left the bedside" for a job in research with a pharmaceutical company. Happily, she is still married to that wonderful guy and has two delightful daughters and a son-in-law and grandson. And she too retired recently.

Then there is the one who was the most cheerful of the four of us-- always laughing, always trying to look at the bright side of life. She was extremely popular with the guys as a freshman, dating lots of them. She met a special one, married him the summer before we were seniors. She worked in various bedside nursing jobs early on, but finally found her niche in social work and counseling. Her marriage ended abruptly and very badly after 25 years, leaving her single with 2 almost grown sons. She swore off men, got the boys raised and then started going on mission trips... where she met a wonderful widowed man who eventually convinced her to risk marriage again-- and she has been very happily married ever since. Her new family includes step sons and daughters and I'm not even sure how many grandchildren. She loves them all! She has retired as well.

Another of our fab four left nursing school after her personal life came crashing down with a broken engagement. She never graduated, but eventually married a guy she met in school. She was the one who drifted the farthest from our group-- though kept in touch with us. And she is the only one who is no longer with us. She passed away suddenly from a devastating stroke at too young an age.

And then there is me. I met my husband the first week of freshman year, and that was it-- we were a couple almost immediately and eventually married 2 years after graduation. That marriage lasted 26 years, long enough for us to raise two wonderful boys. I went into OB nursing, as I had predicted I would. I worked at the bedside the longest of any of the four of us, but eventually got into administration and an office. After my divorce, I swore off men too. But that was a lonely life, so I gave an internet dating service a try and met Lanny...  and you all know how well that turned out! I am also retired from nursing.

All of us at the time of our graduation envisioned happy lives spent with the men we had met in college and fallen in love with. We envisioned a happy family life, a rewarding career that would make us all contributors to the society we lived in. Each of us experienced bumps along the way-- marital breakups, seriously ill children, jobs that were so hard on us either physically or mentally that we had to leave them... and one of us died way too soon. But each of us, I think, did live up to the expectation of making the society we lived in a better place. And each of us, I think, would agree that we were better people because of the friendships formed with one another that first semester of our freshman year at University of Michigan.

I have been reading lots of posts on Facebook about graduations. Last night we could hear the reverie of a graduation party in the neighborhood... and I think about all those young people with hopes and expectations for their futures, just as I had when I graduated.  My wish for them is to find friends to travel the road with, to help them with the bumps in their lives. And to realize there will be bumps, the road won't be straight at all, and there will be moments of sadness, tragedy and desperation. Friends will help them face all of that without loneliness or fear.

So here's to you Cindy, Donna and Marty! And Jean and Kathy! And of course Patty! And Kathy and Karen! And all the other friends along the path of my life. Thank you all for enriching my life, for making it the grand adventure it has been. And here's to the journey as we all head into the future-- which remains as bright as the day we graduated because of our friendships...

Here I am with my closest college friends at our last reunion a couple years ago. None of us has lived life exactly as we thought... but we've contributed to society and stayed friends.

My friends have made the story of my life. In a thousand ways they have turned my limitations into beautiful privileges and enabled me to walk serene and happy in the shadow cast by my desperation.

         ~Helen Keller

A cherished visit from the little people

I love these little people; and it is not a slight thing when they, who are so fresh from God, love us.          ~Charles Dickens

     The little black SUV pulled away from the house in the very early morning light, windows down, two sets of little arms waving through them. Goodbyes and I Love You's were shouted from both the car and the front porch, where the grandparents waved almost as hard as the children. The grandmother watched as the car pulled out onto the road, and was gone.

     Still in her bathrobe, she turned to go back into the house. It was dark, despite the light on in the living room. There on the floor were the remnants of toys and games that had provided so much fun for the little ones. She could pick them up later-- the day stretched in front of her now, void of much excitement or activity. She smiled at the pirate ship toy that had been so popular with all of the children... it was a good garage sale find.

     Walking into the kitchen, she picked up the last bits of a hurried breakfast with the children. Just minutes before she had sat at the table with the two little boys, telling herself to cherish and remember the quiet sleepy conversations she had with each of them as they ate their bagels and bananas. The table was still a bit sticky-- and would need to be washed off... later. On the refrigerator were the crayon colored drawings of both boys-- one done with a bit of precision, that had been presented to her "to help you remember me..." and the other a glorious mashing of colors outside the lines, drawn with gusto but left behind as an afterthought. She smiled at how different these two brothers were-- one is deep thinking, verbal, sensitive and precise, the other dashes through his day with gusto, often unwilling to share his thoughts with his grandmother, a bit rebellious, and full of fun. They were exhausting, and yet they were, along with their cousin, the lights of her life. This had been a wonderful 3 day visit, complete with two days of extended family here to celebrate the birthday of their matriarch. There had been tons of family laughter and reconnecting with seldom seen loved ones. She had worked hard in the kitchen, spent a few hours overseeing three active children, tended to getting tables on the deck, making sure everyone had drinks and food and whatever else they needed. The family didn't get together like this often, and the time spent with them and memories made were precious.

     She was unaccustomed to rising so early and had not slept well that night so she climbed the stairs to her bedroom for a try at a few more hours of sleep.   Walking down the upstairs hall she passed the guest room where her son and wife had slept, and then the room where the boys stayed. Sheets were a mangled mess, intertwined with books and stuffed animals. Vacant beds that only a few minutes before had held her precious grandsons and their parents. Empty. Quiet. She noted the sheets would need to be washed today... later.

     She opened the door to her bedroom, went in and closed it. She climbed into the bed, pulled the sheets up and closed her eyes. Memories fluttered through her mind of the weekend... It was so quiet... She smiled... and fell asleep.

   

Lessons from Adolescence

The hardest thing about adolescence is that everything seems too big. There's no way to get context or perspective, ..... Pain and joy without limits. No one can live like that forever, so experience finally comes to our rescue. We come to know what we can endure, and also that nothing endures. 
          ~ Sara Paretsky, Bleeding Kansas

I was reminded today of a painful time in my adolescence. I am not going to give specifics, but suffice it to say that there was a time in my young life when I was unhappy and felt pretty alone. It was a short time, and is something that has never dominated my life or my self confidence. I was very lucky in that I had a loving family who helped me over the bump-- and I was able to remove myself from the situation that was making me so miserable. Life went on, and so did I. I "got over it"...

Also today, Lanny and I were having a discussion that turned a bit serious, and we were both worrying about our offspring. They are doing fine, but as parents we see the bumps in their roads and want to help smooth them out. That is what parents tend to want to do.

As I thought about it, I realized two things. First, without those bumps in the road of my adolescence, I might not have been able to weather the really big bumps that came later in life with my divorce. Those feelings of being alone and unwanted could have been my undoing-- except that I had experienced them before and had tackled them by simply putting one foot in front of another and "getting over it".

So, the second realization I had was that Lanny and I cannot solve our kids' problems for them. To do so might make life easier in the present, but it just might deprive them of a learning experience that would help them over a bigger bump later on.

That doesn't mean we don't help them out when we can. Helping is one thing-- solving things for them is another. And lest you wonder, both Lanny and I spoke today of how proud we are of our kids. They are all doing well, living independently and contributing good things to the world. And someday, if they ask for advice about their own kids, I'll tell them to love and support them, but NOT to fix all their problems... but that's another blog post!

Even as kids reach adolescence, they need more than ever for us to watch over them. Adolescence is not about letting go. It's about hanging on during a very bumpy ride.

          ~Ron Taffel

The confidence and happiness I find in my life now is partially due to learning the hard way how to deal with the bumps life threw at me. The same is true for Lanny. 

Happy Mother's Day!

A mother is the truest friend we have when trials heavy and sudden fall up on us; when adversity takes the place of prosperity; when friends desert us; when trouble thickens around us, still will she cling to us and endeavor by her kind precepts and counsels to dissipate the clouds of darkness and cause peace to return to our hearts.
          ~Washington Irving

Myself, my mom and my sister

     Today is Mother's Day and I am incredibly fortunate to be able to spend the day with my own mother. My sister is also here-- she joined us from out-of-state just for this special day.

     Just like most kids, I have wonderful memories of my childhood, almost all of which center around my mother and father. My mom was gentle but absolutely dedicated to what she though was best for my sister and I-- so sometimes her decisions were not what I wanted.  Later, in my young adult years when I was a young mother, her wise counsel and good example helped me mother my own children. If I was a good mother (and I think I was...) it is because of her. 

     She in turn has often spoken of her own mother, and what a wonderful, caring woman she was. My grandmother provided her with a good example to follow.

My mother's mother

     And my own boys are wonderful dads to their kids. My hope is that their children will follow their parents' good example when it is time for them to be parents. 

     I firmly believe there is no greater legacy we can leave our children, no greater gift than the example of being a loving parent. I remember when my father lay dying-- and it was time to turn off all the machines and let him go. He was still lucid, and knew what was going on. It was time to say a final goodbye. I had been thinking about what I could say to him, and all I could think of was this exact thing-- I thanked him for being such a loving, wonderful father and told him that if I had any notion of what a loving Heavenly Father was, it was because my earthly father showed me what true love from a father was. 

     That is the power and the miracle of becoming a parent. It is the gift we are given by our own parents, who despite their human inperfections love us fiercely and do the best they can for us. And it is the mightiest gift we give our own children. What a legacy! 

My mom and three of her four grandchildren-- still an example to them too!

And here she is with her great grandchildren. Another generation of children to experience her unique way of showing love.

     Happy Mother's Day to all the mothers out there, including of course, my own. Never underestimate the power of what you do, of the influence you can have. And take some time today to consider your own mother-- and be thankful for her example of love that carries you forward each day.

Watering the roses in the garden of my life

Remember that children, marriages, and flower gardens reflect the kind of care they get.

                    ~H. Jackson Brown, Jr.

     It has been a long time since I have written a blog!  I just looked at the last one and it was written when the weather was a wintry nightmare. Today, our weather was perfect... just as it is supposed to be in Indiana in May. I can't really explain why I haven't spent time at the computer, except that I have had so many things occupy my time and my head.

     I will not bore you with details of how I have spent my time-- suffice it to say that it has been filled with grandchildren, children, friends, my mother and other family, my husband, with projects around the house and occasionally with my hobbies like knitting and the garden. Projects expand to fill the time I seem to have to devote to them-- and I find myself rarely satified with what I have accomplished at the end of a day. I guess what I am finding is that no matter how much I do or don't do, the day goes by too quickly. 

     The gift of time is like that-- we each get the same number of hours in the day. How we choose to use those hours is up to us. Back in my working life, I pushed my limits on how much I could accomplish in a day-- rising early, often staying up late. Retirement has allowed me to redefine how I look at time. However, I am discovering that free time can escape-- get away from me because I let it. I may be spending so much time "smelling the roses" that I forget to water them!

     And, of course, I have been spending so much time doing other stuff that I tell myself I don't have the time/energy to write a blog... 

     I enjoy the writing process. I love reading previous blog posts-- it really is a bit like a diary for me. I have heard from a few people who miss reading it. So... I will try to do better.

Experience is the best teacher

Experience keeps a dear school, but fools will learn in no other.           ~Benjamin Franklin

Please note-- this isn't a photo of the actual car I talk about. I didn't have my cell phone handy enough for a photo of that one...

Most Wednesdays I travel down to see my mother, who lives in a retirement community about 25 miles from where I live. Since she has given up driving, I drive her around to run errands. We also "do" lunch together, and spend a lot of time chatting and just enjoying each other's company. Yesterday was one of those Wednesdays.

En route, I happened upon a car that had gone off the road. It was stuck in a snow bank, right next to a utility pole. There were 5 or 6 young men gathered, with the mission to help get the car out of the snow. One of them was "driving" the stuck car, and another was in an old minivan. The minivan had a chain attached to it's bumper and was attempting to pull the stuck car out of the snow from behind it. The driver of the car sat in it, spinning the tires as fast as they would go. Nobody was moving. I attempted to go around the car, but one of the 4 or 5 other young men stepped into the road and put his hand up. I had to stop. So I watched.

After just a minute or two of the chain pulling, there was a loud noise and I saw the bumper on the stuck car start to fold. The driver of the car spun the tires fiercely. The driver of the van kept up the pulling. There was more loud noise and I watched as the stuck car slowly move backwards, scraping itself against the utility pole. The passenger side mirror snapped off. The front bumper that curved around to the side crumpled. Slowly, the car became unstuck, but it sustained a great deal of damage to the rear bumper and the passenger side-- expensive damage. The young men who had gathered all cheered loudly, as if they had been successful, and I suppose they had been if the goal was to get the car unstuck. But at what cost?

I was reminded of this as my mother and I ate our lunch. We were talking about the weather, and about how the area we'd both grown up in was so different than what was usual here in Indiana. We are both Buffalo gals, born and raised in an area that regularly received a lot of cold and snow. We both had lots of memories of fun in the snow as children, and the perils of car travel in bad weather.

My mother remembered that as a young woman, she kept two carpet samples (they were about 2 1/2 feet square) and a snow shovel in the car. Our street was never plowed-- it was an old brick paved side street that didn't merit the attention of the city plow. But we always got in and out of our driveway because both my parents would go out and shovel the snow (and when I was older, I was out there helping too...), and once in the road they knew the secrets of driving in fresh, deep snow. Mom recounted that she often would get "stuck" but she knew that spinning tires only digs you deeper into the snow. She knew if you took the shovel and got rid of the snow behind the stuck tires, and then placed the carpet squares behind and under the tires, you could back up and then get moving again. Instead of spinning your tires, it was way better to rock back and forth, from Reverse to Drive, back and forth, back and forth until eventually you rocked right over the snow that had you stuck. And if you got really, really stuck, you assembled a team and one person steered and drove while the rest pushed. The worst thing to do was to sit and spin your tires. Especially when you were wedged up against a utility pole.

The winter we have had in Indiana is remarkably similar to those I remember as a kid in Buffalo-- snow about every 4 days, with bright, very cold days between. Our roads have had more snow and ice on them than I can remember in a good long while. Long enough that the young men assembled yesterday to help a friend get unstuck would have no experience driving on snowy roads. They would not have learned about carpet squares, snow shovels and rocking back and forth. I am sorry they didn't have anyone to tell them how to do it. Or, perhaps, that they were too young to be willing to listen.

I think the lesson here is that no matter what the problem, there is somebody out there who has dealt with it before and knows the best way to handle it. The secret is being wise enough to acknowledge we need help, and knowing who can give it to us. And listening. And learning. And once we've learned, sharing it with others.

Like a hibernating bear...

Perhaps I am a bear, or some hibernating animal underneath, for the instinct to be half asleep all winter is so strong in me.          ~Anne Morrow Lindberg

Perhaps I have become too accustomed to the mild winters we have had in Indiana recently. I have always claimed to enjoy the winters, and looked forward to any snowfall that came our way. I have scoffed at the discomfort of others when the snow flew, encouraged everyone to get out into the weather and embrace and enjoy it. I have railed against the constant gray skies Indiana has during the winter, remembering instead the skies of my youth in Western New York where it snowed about every three or four days but there were bright sunny days in between the snowstorms.

I must admit to you that this winter I have met my comeuppance... we have had a lot of snowy days. Lots of bitter cold with wind chills way below zero. And in between we have had bright sunny days. And I loved it-- for the first month or so. But the cold and wind and snow and icy roads have gone on and on and on.  And despite the sunny days, I am weary of the cold. Bone-chillingly weary. And I have grown lazy. Like a hibernating bear, all I want to do is sit around the house, eat and knit. I wear multiple layers of sweaters and socks and still feel chilled. I drink hot tea all day. My brain has grown fuzzy with inactivity. I am, as Anne Morrow Lindberg says, half asleep.

We had a little break yesterday. The sun was out in a cloudless, dazzlingly blue sky. The temperature rose above freezing for a few hours in the afternoon. When Lanny called me while he was out running errands to tell me about our creek and an ice dam that had formed, he encouraged me to get the camera and go take some photos.  Perhaps it was all that sun, but I decided to get up and get outside for a change. I bundled up, since there was still a stiff wind blowing. I put on my hiking boots and set out on the icy road toward the bridge over our creek.

The sunlight was dazzling, despite my sunglasses. I felt warmer than I had in weeks though-- the physical activity was warming me from the inside. My head was clearing. I was breathing hard from the cold air and the exertion, and that felt good too.

I arrived at the bridge, about a half mile from our house, to find the creek, which had completely frozen over in the subzero cold, had thawed just enough to have the ice break into huge chunks and flow downstream where the bridge caught it. And there was a jam of ice that extended back past our property-- over half a mile long of gigantic chunks of ice piled up in the creek bed. And the water was flowing under and around all this ice. It had flooded way up to the edge of the woods, as if it was a spring rain flood. The world of our creek had been transformed into something other-worldly and incredibly beautiful in the bright sun. The water and ice shimmered and dazzled and nearly blinded me.

I put the polarizing filter on the camera lens and started snapping photos. I walked beside the creek as well as over it on the bridge. I got lost in the beauty of how Mother Nature can adapt and change the world in an instant.

Today we are bracing for yet again another winter storm. It has returned to gray, bone chilling weather. We are only into the first week of February, so there is a lot of winter yet to endure. I have a feeling this next snow storm won't be the last either...  But like Pa told Laura, I won't let it beat me. I will outlast the winter and when spring finally does arrive I will be very, very ready...

“It can't beat us!" Pa said."Can't it, Pa?" Laura asked stupidly."No," said Pa. "It's got to quit sometime and we don't. It can't lick us. We won't give up."Then Laura felt a warmth inside her. It was very small but it was strong. It was steady, like a tiny light in the dark, and it burned very low but no winds could make it flicker because it would not give up.”           ~ Laura Ingalls Wilder, The Long Winter

Here are some of the photos I took yesterday...

The creek from the bridge-- completely dammed up with ice chunks for over 1/2 mile!

On the other side of the bridge-- the creek is flowing normally, dazzling bright in the winter sun...

views from the bank

Thin threads of ice, melting in the winter sun...

From our back yard... the water is where the woods is, the ice fills the creek bed completely. I estimate at least 12 feet of piled up ice lying in the creek bed... It will take until June to melt!!

Mr. Duffy's gift of poetry

I have received several kind responses to my previous blog post. Thank you to those who let me know they enjoyed it!

It got me thinking about poetry, and how it has enriched my life at times. Often, when I am feeling emotional, I will think of lines from poems I learned in my youth. You see, I was a very lucky student back in elementary school. I attended a small school that was a lab school for a small college in the little town of Fredonia New York. Called the Campus School, it was the place where the elementary education students from the college got to practice before being set out into the world as teachers. Each class had a teacher, plus numerous student teachers throughout the year. Our class size was limited to no more than 25 students. With one teacher plus sometimes up to 3 student teachers (a senior student plus two junior students) we had a lot of attention.

In the Fifth Grade, I was lucky to be assigned to Mr. Duffy's class. He was a young, energetic guy who not only kept up with 25 10 year olds, but kept us busy, interested and learning. And in addition to the usual subjects, he taught us poetry.

Mr. Duffy loved poetry. He read us poems daily. He encouraged us to write them (I have a collection of creative writing from our class-- many poems in there, including my own!) and to memorize them. His love for poetry was infectious... I learned to love it too.

As a thank you to this wonderful teacher (who I have heard is still living, reading poetry no doubt!) I present another poem for your enjoyment. I can still hear him reading this poem with great gusto and enthusiasm, the class listening wide eyed...

Mr. Gerald Duffy, many years after he taught me this poem...

The Charge of the Light Brigade

by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

1.

Half a league, half a league,

Half a league onward,

All in the valley of Death

Rode the six hundred.

"Forward, the Light Brigade!

Charge for the guns!" he said:

Into the valley of Death 

Rode the six hundred.

2.

"Forward, the Light Brigade!"

Was there a man dismay'd?

Not tho' the soldier knew

Someone had blunder'd:

Theirs not to make reply,

Theirs not to reason why

Theirs but to do and die:

Into the valley of Death

Rode the six hundred.

3.

Cannon to right of them,

Cannon to left of them,

Cannon in front of them

Volley'd and thunder'd;

Storm'd at with shot and shell,

Boldly they rode and well,

Into the jaws of Death,

Into the mouth of Hell

Rode the six hundred.

 4.

Flash'd all their sabres bare,

Flash'd as they run'd in air,

Sabring the gunners there,

Charging an army, while

All the world wonder'd:

Plunged in the battery-smoke

Right thro' the line they broke;

Cossack and Russian

Reel'd from the sabre stroke

Shatter'd and sunder'd.

Then they rode back, but not

Not the six hundred.

5.

Cannon to right of them,

Cannon to left of them,

Cannon behind them

Volley'd and thnder'd;

Storm'd at with shot and shell,

While horse and hero fell,

They that had fought so well

Came thro' the jaws of Death

Back from the mouth of Hell,

All that was left of them,

Left of six hundred.

6.

When can their glory fade?

O the wild charge they made!

All the world wondered.

Honor the charge they made,

Honor the Light Brigade,

Noble six hundred.

Copied from Poems of Alfred Tennyson,
J. E. Tilton and Company, Boston, 1870

The Woods on a Winter Evening

Here in Indiana we are in the middle of a winter storm. It is predicted to snow over a foot, with rising winds and falling temperatures. Our TV has been full of dire warnings, advice on how to "survive" the storm, what to do and not to do to be safe.

Having been born and raised in Western New York, where snow like this was a frequent thing, I find all the fuss a bit annoying. Of course I want everyone to be safe-- and heaven knows folks around here have a hard time driving in bad winter weather. But my overall reaction to a winter storm is excitement and anticipation and then pure enjoyment.

I have pointed out in my blog before what I love about a good snow-- that it covers the brown and gray world in beautiful, pristine, dazzling white. That while it snows the world is a much, much quieter place. That it forces us to slow down. I think we all need a good dose of quiet, lazy beauty after the rush of the holidays!

So... when I got up this morning to see snow falling heavily and steadily, I didn't just get dressed. I got dressed to go outside. Heavy socks, boots, hat, scarf, gloves. And camera. I tromped around our little piece of this earth and took photos of the beauty. And was reminded of one of my favorite poems, written of course by Robert Frost.  I thought I'd share a few of my photos and Mr. Frost's beautiful, quiet poem in hopes that it will help any of my readers who are sidelined by the storm to appreciate the loveliness to be found in it...

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

BY ROBERT FROST

Whose woods these are I think I know.   

His house is in the village though;   

He will not see me stopping here   

To watch his woods fill up with snow.   

My little horse must think it queer   

To stop without a farmhouse near   

Between the woods and frozen lake   

The darkest evening of the year.   

He gives his harness bells a shake   

To ask if there is some mistake.   

The only other sound’s the sweep   

Of easy wind and downy flake.   

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,   

But I have promises to keep,   

And miles to go before I sleep,   

And miles to go before I sleep.

Robert Frost, “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” from The Poetry of Robert Frost, edited by Edward Connery Lathem. Copyright 1923, © 1969 by Henry Holt and Company, Inc., renewed 1951, by Robert Frost.