June 1 2007

Garden news - the iris have arrived! And as you can see, they are well worth waiting for (we had very little or no blooms last year on most of our transplants). The weather here remains really strange - we go from 90 to 40 and back again. I continue to be amazed at the resiliency of the plants, as they cope far better than I with the temperature swings, and still, as you can see, manage to bloom no matter what the thermometer says! We had almost two solid weeks of drenching rains last month, so much so that for the first time ever I had iris rhizomes rotting (which of course saddened me and made me fear I'd lose everyone). But in the past week of excessive heat, even though it's not great for me, the irises love it, and everyone is abloom and beautiful. Our very first lily, a Stella Doro, also bloomed yesterday, there are buds on the hydrangea (which keels over every single day it's above 80, much like me, except water revives it quicker), and the peonies are about to bloom too. So I'll have quite a collection of cut flowers for the foreseeable future.

Brian's 65th birthday last weekend was lovely. Lisa, his daughter, and her fiancee Josh came out, as did our friends the Packers, bringing salad and plants - Ken and Carol hardly ever come by without plants, we have entire terraces out back that are Packer imports! This was last Sunday; I had already made an enchilada dinner the night before, to just put in the oven. But alas, at 9:30 a.m., the power went out (again!) and we actually got to experience the joys of generator ownership. We had lights, and fans, and refrigerator, and water. So I could wash and use the bathroom as I wanted, but no stove - too electricity-intensive to run. Since Brian had to detour from his usual route to pick up Lisa and Josh at the Middletown train station, they came back the same way, via Pine Bush, and made the brilliant decision to buy veggies to grill - and, as an extra birthday present for Brian, bought the grill and tools and charcoal as well. Apparently Josh is quite a grillmaster. He assembled everything, fired it up, prepped the veggies and veggieburgers, and cooked them as well. By 3 p.m. the power was back on, so after resetting far too many clocks and gadgets with clocks, I baked the casserole and we all ate everything. Lovely day!

My other big news is that just yesterday I became an official part of the American Brittany Rescue network, and am expecting to foster a dog before another week goes by. Having just passed the year anniversary of Saul's death, I am not yet ready for another full-time, many-year commitment, but so miss having that Brittany energy around, I decided this was a good measure for now. Brian was less than enthusiastic, but has agreed we can try it out for this one particular dog (a 9 year old female whose owner just died last month at 90 - she was alone in the apartment with him for days, poor thing, and has been living temporarily with one of his relatives). "Princess" should be coming to stay with us for a week or two as soon as transport can be arranged (she's over 5 hours away and I can't make that long a drive). I'll be sure to let you know how that goes..

In the meantime, we garden, prep for Brian's upcoming shows in Cape Cod and Rochester NY, garden, check in with friends, garden, get ready for Josh Kovac's wedding at month's end, garden, get ready for Lisa and Josh's wedding in August, garden,and garden. Oh, and the old conference center near us has been sold to a Vietnamese group of monks, they are having an open house on Sunday. I am so pleased that meditators have moved in, as the area (including me) could certainly use some spiritual uplift! And that will be another post, too...

May 14 20007

Our garden is really starting to come together now, the fourth season of our five-year plan. Our first flowers, other than the sprays of forsythia which I've been able to force since January (due to the warm days then) have been the daffodils, along with some very hearty wood violets and the ever-optimistic violas. I do get new violas every year, to set out in the front terracing as borders, but our old ones have in many cases wintered over to bloom again a second year, and, if not, at least graciously toss their seeds around to surprise me with little stands of completely unplanned flowers. As the weather has been fluctuating wildly, both the plants and I remain confused. I have set back outside the petunia baskets that wintered over in the completely unheated glassed in porch, and they are happily blooming away - apparently not aware they are supposed to be annuals.

Right now, we uncovered our tomato, cucumber, basil and pepper plants from last night's frost warning (the second since we eagerly put in our little vegetable patch) to today's 70 degree weather. The iris are up and setting some blooms which I hope will open in a few days. The marigold plantings have just begun to sprout, I think careening from 30-something to 80-something degrees in 24 hours was a bit much for the seeds to cope with. The most spectacular showing this week is the creeping phlox. The white, lavender and shrieking magenta swathes of color are really beautiful, and wherever they are not in the front, the ajuga has taken control, and is presently in full flower, with hundreds of blue spikes of flowers. I did notice myself what I had read beekeepers around the country complaining about, the decimation of the bee colonies. Last year I could only pick the 3 to 4 inch spikes in the dark, there were so many bees hovering around all day. This year, I've seen less than half a dozen thumb-sized bumblebees.

Last year's plantings have surprised me in several ways. Some of the peonies moved radically from where I remember planting them, I think in the heavy rains. In any case, we've dug the ones hanging right at the edge of the terraces and moved them back, hopefully to stay in the more secure place. The seedling ecchinachea, which did not do well at all, have amazingly come right back up where they languished all last summer, but big and hearty-looking. Perhaps they'll even bloom this year, I don't really know as I've never tried them from seed before. Several of our stands of lily of the valley are also blooming or about to, the scent is wonderful, as is our single surviving white lilac.

And as for wildlife, the resident group of four, still lead by tiny Annette Deer, are coming around down by the pond these days, and rarely up in the planted areas. In what is probably my most brilliant stroke of gardening genius, I planted garlic and onion sets in the lower terraces this year, and as I suspected, Annette and the kids really don't like them! I see hoof prints occasionally but not a single munch mark - silly deer, garlic is great! I will definitely do this every year from hear on in, it's an easy way to dissuade the munchers and I can always use both garlic and onions in almost everything I cook.

Most excitingly, a mallard duck and his mate came by for a few afternoons at the pond about two weeks ago (oddly enough, friends of ours who live both here and the Hamptons reported they too had a pair of mallards, in their pool at the Hamptons house, at the same time we had our visitors). Mr. Mallard was gorgeous, his bright green head quite visible on the cold, rainy day he appeared. Mrs. Mallard I observed mostly butt-up in the pond, busily eating algae and whatever else she could find, for hours. Mr. M. was not too upset by my approach, but Mrs. definitely gave me a dirty look, and then took off. I hear them sometimes at night, or at least think I do, quacking off in the distance. We've also had a wild turkey or two wander through, but not the large groups I used to see in West Virginia. Thankfully, no skunk (yet)and no bear! And now, I'm off to patrol and see who needs what...

March 4 2007

Last night was both the start of Purim and a chance to see a lunar eclipse. As the past few weeks of serious winter have taken their toll on my small reserves of optimism, I thought I'd take a break from all the electronic overstimulus that surrounds me. Prying myself away from the computer, phone and television, I marched into the bedroom with a clear purpose: to see an amazing natural phenomena. I turned our little bedroom bench around to face the window, pulled back the curtains already drawn to keep the heat in, set my feet on the windowsill, and watched.

At first I could barely see anything. Even though the trees are still bare, with just buds to hint at the possibility of spring, the branches themselves obscured the first few minutes of moonrise. Once I caught a glimpse of the moon, the shiny edge helping me place it in a cloudy sky, it became easier. As I waited and watched, the moon rose slowly above the tree line and was clearly visible with the shadow covering most of its surface. To me, armed with foreknowledge and safe in the luxury of a modern home, it was interesting and beautiful. But as I watched, I began to wonder how other people in former times, lacking both understanding of what was happening and comfortable surroundings in which to ponder, would have viewed this event. It occurred to me that probably it was terrifying, or at least very threatening, to see the expected order of things interrupted. Did they scream and cry? pray? head for shelter elsewhere? And when the moon was unveiled again, was that enough to calm their fears, or did they ever after live in fear that one of the great lights of the world they knew could disappear? That led quite seamlessly to my wondering whether all of my fears were in fact much like those of the ancient people whose lives I had been contemplating. That perhaps whatever invoked such fear in me was at bottom as explicable and natural as the eclipse; I just lacked the proper perspective to see it that way.

And what does any of this have to do with Purim? To me, that holiday, the remembrance of Jewish lives saved by the intervention of Esther and Mordecai, is so much about the hidden face of Gd. And just on the eve of this holiday celebrating the happy outcome of events that had looked to be a complete disaster until almost the very end, almost the genocide of Jews, the moon taking time to show me her hidden face, which was then slowly revealed, seemed such a neat and orderly lesson that coincidence was not enough explanation. As I looked back over the past few difficult and disruptive weeks, the moon seemed to speak to me personally, telling me and showing me that disasters pass; that fears can be overcome; that the great natural plan, certainly beyond my comprehension, does indeed work for the good of all.

January 26 2007

Just in time for the coldest day in two years, the bluebird flock comes to brighten my day. Why they are still around is a mystery, as I had thought they'd go south months ago. Perhaps it's that the weather has been so mild till now; more likely, that my neighbor puts out very high quality seed and has entire flocks of different birds in residence. In any case, I know why bluebirds are equated with happiness so often. Just seeing their remarkable blue feathers flash against the sky, and even especially against the snow, lifts the heart. And I have two more reasons for being uncharacteristically upbeat: my new great-niece, Dakota, and great-nephew Catcher. They were being born almost exactly as my plane was leaving O'Hare last Friday night - I was leaving late, and they were arriving 7 weeks early! I've just seen some early snaps, and am delighted to report that despite some scary moments, they are both doing well, and, of course, are adorable. I don't know who is more thrilled, the proud parents Abbey and Eric, the even prouder grandparents Vicki and Mural, or the absolutely proudest person in the world, great-grandmother Jo (she has been taken to the hospital to see Dakota, has not yet seen Catcher who was transferred elsewhere for a few days but is now back with his sister; Dad will have to wait till the babies come home, as getting him anywhere in this cold is not possible). It's an amazing moment to see the first persons of the next generation in our family appear. Brian and I are scheduled to meet them in March, when we'll also celebrate the folks' 65th anniversary - how does anyone do that? In the meantime, aside from getting the baby bulletins and monitoring the weather, all else is quiet here.

January 8 2007

Marching through time like this line of llamas, I enter 2007. As I gathered my ghosts around me on New Year's Eve, I missed my dear Saul the Dog Prince more than ever. Typically Brian is asleep well before midnight on any night; he's a morning person, I'm a night owl with insomnia. It's a combination that works well most of the time - his prime painting time is early mornings, usually before I even stagger out to the coffee machine, and I like the solitude of late nights reading, watching TV, surfing the net or just ruminating. But I didn't realize that a big part of my satisfaction in solitude resided in the softly snoring dog, always nearby, never at all crabby about being awakened from a rabbit-chasing dream for me to wish him a Happy New Year, or pour out my troubles. It was so comforting to have a confidant for whom confidentiality was never an issue! No matter what dire dark secrets of my soul I emptied into his floppy ears, nothing ever came back to haunt me. When Saul was buried last May, it marked the end of 40 years of living with pets: 3 dogs (Mutzie, Max, Saul), many cats (Bernie, Seymour, Roachie, Sweetpea, and Pearl, who lived to be almost 30, plus about a half dozen others), 3 bunnies (Dog, Rachel, Eeny) and too many aquarium fish to name even when they were alive. I wonder if I'm done for good with that part of my life...

The ghosts of years gone always seem nearer at New Year's, or Rosh HaShona, the Jewish New Year. Old dear college and post-college friends like Kent and Willie appear, now almost forty years younger than I, but still missed. My grandparents, aunts and uncles, some gone decades past, and one, my very last beloved "tante", gone only last year, two months prior to her 101st birthday. Very very sadly and for me completely unexpectedly, my wonderful friend and mentor of over 30 years, Patricia, whose wise advice and grace in living were a mainstay that will be missed the rest of my life. Friends' parents, parents' friends, as each of us ages our lists grow. It almost seems to me that we are like comets racing across our lifespan as they do the sky. The older we get, the faster we pass through time, and the longer our "tails" become, as we drag our incrementally increasing history behind us. I guess this is as close as I'll come to understanding the time/space theory of Einsteinian physics.

December 25 2006

From years past, these Christmas Seals were on the letter my father sent my mother while he was still in the Army, Stateside, in 1943, waiting for orders to be sent to the European Theater. Maybe it's the long long nights that make me reflect back (to the time before my birth), maybe it's my father's upcoming 93rd birthday on the 27th, or maybe it's just that this is part of my nature. In any case, as this year comes to a close, I've been thinking more and more of times long ago, and what the world was like then. Here in the present, as I look out the window to the snowless landscape, I am amazed that some of the grass could actually use mowing, and that the daffodils continue their misguided progress out of the ground. Apparently the global warming process has fooled them too. This is the first year since our move to New York State that December has not found us surrounded by several feet of snow; though with January just around the corner, that could happen any time for the next three months. I still put out seed in our bird feeder, and get the usual crowd of feathered friends (juncos, sparrow, jays, titmice, nuthatches, cardinals, doves, a very occasional goldfinch, lots of other finches, a lone rufuous sided towhee, chickadees black-capped and otherwise, and a very misguided downy woodpecker that hangs upside down on the perch pulling out sunflower seeds, apparently never having heard that woodpeckers don't eat out of bird feeders). The larger, pileated woodpeckers are doing their jack-hammer imitations in the surrounding forests, and now that the leaves are down I have a good view of what are either crows' or hawks' nests in the bigger oaks. The deer have been invisible for a few days, though I see their hoof prints all over the lower planted terraces. In fact, they and I continue to fight over who controls the last planting of irises this past fall; they keep coming back to the same one and digging it up. Must be frustrating for whatever their plans are for me to keep replanting it. And they (the deer) have also grudgingly gnawed at the ends of the yucca leaf spears. I know they don't like the stuff, and won't eat it, but I guess they just have to convince themselves again and again. I would much prefer they stay in the long weedy areas we thoughtfully left for them to chew on - or even come out to the flats and mow the grass. But alas, they are pretty but perverse, and always seem to know which plants I most want them to avoid, which they take great pains to nibble.

December 20 2006

A holiday bouquet for everyone! Update regarding the post November 28 Social Security - I guess Hell did freeze over, I just missed it. The Social Security office has sent a final payment to our account, and sent us a letter (about a week later) to say they were going to do this. And why should anyone care? First, it's a rare and happy moment to get real closure on any dealing with any bureaucracy. And second, more important to my vast and ever-expanding readership out there (almost up to double digits!), this proves that my original assumption that it was not legal for the government to just take whatever funds were left in someone's account, was true. Unfortunately we have had too many friends who have lost parents this year, and, as one might expect at such a sad and stressful time, the last thing a grieving child needs is to go head to head with a governmental agency. But I do encourage any of you out there who have the energy to pursue this matter to do so. We were told very clearly at the time of my mother-in-law's death, and subsequently, by more than one bureaucrat, that there were no benefits to surviving children - yet, lo and behold, it turns out that's not true. Apparently this is a very well-kept secret. At least no one I spoke to about it seemed to think otherwise.