A Winter View
December 17, 2013 at 5:50 pm (Nature)
Some love it and some hate it. Maybe it just depends on where you are in Life. If you are young – or just young at heart, it’s a wonderful sight and spells “play”. But if you’re more mature and it interferes with what you want or must do, then it spells “trouble” and it’s a force to be dealt with.
I guess I’m on the “mature” side of “young at heart” because I love to look at it but am annoyed by the inconvenience it causes.
Snow! Undisturbed it is a beautiful sight. Like the frosting on a cake before it is cut – or like the flowing satin of a wedding gown. And what is more peaceful than watching the flakes gracefully falling from the sky, unhurried and seemingly without purpose?
Without purpose? I’m not sure. The landscape becomes transformed when the bare, ugly tree limbs become outlined in soft white, and a long row of drab board fence gets a white cap. Evergreen trees bow under the weight of a new white cape. Whether you’re young at heart or mature, it is a beautiful sight.
And then the rest of the world wakes up and begins to change the landscape again to suit their purposes. Out come the shovels and blowers and trucks with blades as they attempt to restore normalcy. The children build snowmen and snow forts and just make tracks in the snow – because that’s what kids do.
One of two things happens next. Either the sun shines brightly and the beautiful snow turns to slush and sometimes creates new problems, or it remains cold and the piled up snow turns grey and ugly from the dirt and exhaust which we create. And the former beauty is forgotten.
Where are you in Life? Are you? Young at heart or Mature? If the wooly worms, squirrels, and deer are any indication of what lies ahead, we may have plenty of opportunity in the coming months to experience the wonder and beauty of SNOW!
Thanksgiving – Past and Present
November 28, 2013 at 2:59 am (Nature)
Thanksgiving was always my favorite Holiday.
When I was young, my family always travelled to West Virginia to spend Thanksgiving with my grandparents. There were plenty of aunts and uncles and cousins to visit with.
After becoming an adult with a home of my own, things changed. I love to decorate and cook and enjoyed having the whole family come for dinner. There was no stress about gifts and everyone pitched in with the clean-up and there was time to relax and visit. For several years my sister and her family (husband and three daughters) came down from up-state New York and stayed for the week-end. Sometimes the weather caused some anxiety, but we always prevailed. I miss those days – the girls are all married with families of their own, scattered along the East Coast.
My daughter’s husband and son are hunters so they are never available for Thanksgiving dinner and my son’s work schedule frequently causes him to miss the festivities. I’ve been known to host a big Thanksgiving dinner on the following Sunday or even a week later to accommodate everyone.
A couple of years ago my daughter and daughter-in-law got together and brought the entire Thanksgiving dinner to us – turkey and all. What a treat! This year my husband and I are going to my son’s house and I only have to take cornbead.
I hope there is some left-over turkey I can bring home.
But other aspects of Thanksgiving have also changed. The emphasis seems to be on which department store can open the earliest on Friday – some even opening on Thanksgiving Day. Have we lost focus? Is a tradition dying? I certainly hope not.
It is true that this has been a tough year – natural disasters, mass killings, terrorist threats, and family violence. Even so, we have much to be thankful for. The newspaper today was full of announcements of organizations providing free Thanksgiving meals for the needy all over the area. We can be thankful for the compassion of those who are reaching out to others. We should and can be thankful if we are not classed as “needy”. I know am.
I will not be joining the throngs packing the parking lots and racing for bargains. I will be content on Friday to relax at home and enjoy the view from my spot at the top of the hill and reflect on my blessings and memories of Thanksgivings past. Maybe next year I can realize my dream of being the “grandmother” presiding over a bountiful feast with my children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren filling the house with laughter. If not, maybe I’ll join a group feeding the needy.
Stay tuned.
Time Consuming Losses
November 9, 2013 at 1:00 am (Human Interest)
It must be old age – so many of my friends complain of the same ailment. You’re right on schedule and ready to go out the door, BUT you can’t find: (take your pick)
* car keys
*glasses
*sun glasses
*cell phone
*map and directions
And the search begins. Obviously they’re not where they belong or you wouldn’t be going through this frustrating search. So you try the next obvious place without success. Where/when was the last time you used them? What were you wearing? A thorough inspection of every jacket, skirt, coat, and pair of slacks turns up nothing. Now a slight bit of panic starts to creep in – but you’re not ready to give in. After all, you built a five minute emergency contingency into your schedule.
So sit down, take a deep breath and THINK! Can you just forget the search and go without the lost item? Not if it’s the car keys or your glasses. Do you call and make apologies? No – the phone number is on the paper with the directions. Suddenly you realize that five minute bonus has expired and panic sets in full blast. You glance around and the house looks like the aftermath of a drug raid.
It’s time to take another deep breath and begin the search again – this time more slowly and methodically. Start with the purse – there are your keys, It’s almost dark so don’t worry about the sun glasses; and yes, here’s the map and directions – which are useless without your glasses. In utter frustration, you run your fingers through your hair . . . uh-oh! There are the glasses, perched on top of your head!
Decision time! Do you call and cancel or do you make an attempt and blame your tardiness on traffic? You choose the latter and as you traverse the strange roads, you berate yourself for the time wasted. You must get more organized.
And then you draw comfort from remembering that most of your friends can tell of the same experiences.
I hate being late, but I am, frequently. Usually because I can’t find something I need. One of the worst offenders is the matching earring. So I spent 2 hours recently re-organizing my jewelry chest. We’ll see how long that lasts. The next item is my cell phone. Sometimes it can be located by calling it from the house phone – provided the battery is properly charged. But recently, after trying everything else, I went to my neighbor’s house, and asked permission to look in the back seat of her van because I remembered that my purse had upset on the way home from the restaurant the night before. Sure enough, there it was. My husbands’s glasses are another problem. But I have almost conquered that. When I get up in the morning I look for wherever he may have left them the night before and place them with the morning paper on his place mat at the kitchen table. They are his responsibility the rest of the day.
Do you suffer from this syndrome? Is there a treatment or a cure? I don’t think “sticky notes” are the answer – I’d soon have my whole house papered with them.
Of course, organization is the perfect answer, (a place for everything and everything in its place) but I think I received a flawed gene in that department when I was assembled. My last resort is to build in a longer “emergency contingency” when preparing to go out.
Happy Hunting!
Raking Leaves
November 3, 2013 at 12:09 pm (Nature)
RAKING LEAVES
To me, the leaf blower is an abomination. Leaf raking is an art; it is good exercise; therapeutic; and can be fun in the right company, i.e., a grandchild or a playful pet. The shrill noise of a leaf blower intrudes on the quiet serenity of an autumn afternoon or evening.
As a child, raking leaves was a chore, but if you lived in the right neighborhood, it could be a source of income. Or, if you had the right parents, it could boost your allowance. As a young adult, a well-kept lawn, free of fallen leaves, was a source of pride. Raking the leaves also afforded a social opportunity. What better way to catch up on the neighborhood gossip than to pause, lean on your rake, and chat with the folks next door?
As a young parent, it was fun to have the children run and jump in your pile of leaves, scattering them so the process could be repeated again and again. Sometimes it was even fun to jump in and roll around with them – at least until reality set in and you realized the job had to be finished. Then came the day when the children were replaced by playful kittens or puppies, and then grandchildren. The job might be a bit more difficult by the time the grandchildren enter the scene, but you had more patience and it brought back fond memories.
There were two theories about raking leaves –(1) get them up as soon as they fall – a process that had to be repeated almost daily for several weeks, or (2) wait until they were all down and only have to do it once. On the second option, there was always the risk that the wind would blow some of them onto your neighbor’s lawn – your neighbor who subscribed to the first option. There was also the risk that it would rain — and wet leaves are not fun to rake.
Raking leaves could be very therapeutic. There’s something calming about the sound of dry leaves crunching under your feet as you rake, along with the sound of the rake rhythmically scratching the surface of the ground. A lot of problems can be sorted out in your mind as you make your neat piles. You can also challenge yourself to make straight rows or block sections, properly spaced or random piles. The thought processes during an hour of leaf raking are endless.
Then there’s the question of disposal. Do you bag them to be picked up by the trash collectors; do you use them as winter mulch for your shrubs; or do you burn them? Before environmental laws prohibited the latter, that was the preference. The aroma of burning leaves is now a distant but pleasant memory.
Now we have the unpleasant roar of the leaf blower and the equally unpleasant sound of the leaves being slurped up by a huge vacuum machine to be hauled away and ground up.
And up here on the Hill, I have very few trees. Anybody need some leaves raked?
GRANDPARENTS
September 1, 2013 at 12:03 pm (Human Interest)
A recent ad in the local paper about the upcoming Grandparents Day, stirred a fond memory for me. Growing up, I was most fortunate to have all four of my original grandparents all the way into adulthood. And have wonderful memories of them, collectively and individually. It saddens me that many children today are not so lucky.
I actually lived with my maternal grandparents for about two years when my parents moved from West Virginia to Washington, D. C. during the early years of World War II. My dad was fortunate enough to get a Civil Service Job, but family housing in Washington was scarce. My grandmother and I traveled to Washington by train from Pittsburg to visit a couple of times a year. What an experience that was! My grandparents lived in a small pottery town on the Ohio River. Their house was at the top of a hill overlooking the river and the B&O Railroad track, so I could spend hours on the front porch or at my bedroom window watching the trains and steam boats going back and forth. Almost everything I know about cooking and cleaning, gardening and, sewing, I learned from my Grandmother. Grandpa built wood and rope swing in the huge cherry tree n the back yard. If I could get the swing going high enough, I could pull bright red cherries off and eat them. discipline and good manners from my Grandfather, who also liked to recite poetry and stories to me. I was able to rejoin my parents by the time I started school, but spent every summer until high school with my Grandparents. Those years are a treasure in my book of memories.
My paternal grandparents were more nomadic and I rarely spent an overnight with them. Although they considered West Virginia and Pennsylvania their home, they moved twice to California because two of their sons lived there. But they visited at our home frequently and my memories of them are just as precious. They shared stories and photos of their travels across the U. S. and brought gifts from exotic places like Mexico. Because they seldom had a permanent household, my Grandmother gave me odds and ends from her home. For instance, a framed picture that was a wedding present from my grandfather, and an antique “chocolate” set she had purchased for her mother with her first wages at age 13. From time to time she gave me pieces of jewelry which I still enjoy. Grandma also taught me to crochet. Grandpa was a railroad buff and loved to sing railroad ballads, and could recite the poem “The Merimac and the Monitor”, about the Civil War iron clad battle ships, along with her historic poems. Although he only had a 3rd grade education, my grandfather was very concerned about his children and grandchildren being properly educated and always wanted a complete up-date on what we were doing in school. Because my dad graduated during the Depression and they could not afford a school class ring, my grandfather insisted on buying my class ring and started inquiring about it when I entered high school. He also insisted on buying my wedding china. Because he had been a potter, he made sure I picked a pattern that could be purchased from a certain pottery in Japan, and he inspected each piece when it arrived. Sadly, my grandfather died one month before my wedding. I have such fond memories and thoughts of him every time I set a formal dinner table.
There have been many changes since I was a child. Young adults are marrying and starting families later in life, so the grandparent population is older. Also, many grandmothers work outside the home and are not available for rearing young children. Then there are the “blended” families with multiple sets of grandparents.
Parents should encourage their children to bond with their grandparent, and grandparents, I would encourage you to tell “your story” The children will love the stories and that will be a memory that will live with them forever. GRANDPARENS ARE VERY SPECIAL PEOPLE – So are Grandchildren
The Beltway
August 5, 2013 at 4:31 pm (Nature)
When the “beltway” around Washington, D. C. was built approximately 50 years ago, many people commented they would “never drive on that road”. Not me – I was thrilled to be able to get to destinations in Maryland or Washington without having to drive through dozens of small towns with traffic lights on every corner. The Beltway, or “495” as it was also known, was a huge circular highway around the city of Washington, with well-spaced exits. With just a bit of planning, you could shorten your t rip by half. It started with two lanes, and gradually increased to three and four lanes in certain areas – all going in one direction in a continuous loop. If you were in the lane nearest the “core” you were in the “inner loop” and the lanes used for exiting, were known as the “outer loop”. On a normal day, you could complete a loop in approximately one hour. Today most major cities across the country have “beltways”.
When I was attending NorthernVirginiaCommunity College, my home campus was in Alexandria and I lived in Fairfax so I drove the beltway three nights a week. No problem.
Recently, I got quite a shock. I had not visited the beltway since we left Northern Virginia seven years ago. With any luck, I won’t visit it again. Two “HOV” (high occupancy vehicles) and two Express (toll) lanes have been added and it is now a six to eight lane circle of fast moving chaos. Fortunately, I knew where I was going to exit so I remained in the outer loop lanes, kept up with the traffic flow, and stayed out of trouble. My husband was riding shot-gun and white knuckled in the passenger seat, reading from our page of directions.
For those of you not familiar with Northern Virginia, Springfield is a highly populated residential, commercial and industrial community in the southern part of FairfaxCounty.
Interstate 95, the major north-south route on the east coast, joins the beltway as they meet on the Baltimore side and exits at Springfield. From a distance, it looks like a nightmare that really happened. To me it is a condensed version of the worst Los Angeles freeway.
My goal on this recent trip was to exit onto I-95 South. It was obviously the goal of half of the 1 million+ people living in FairfaxCounty. It took at least one-half hour to travel the less than 10 miles to my next exit – total stop and go traffic. And this was Sunday afternoon – not a week-day work commute!
When it was time to return home, and now realizing where we were, I chose an alternate route that kept me off both I-95 and the Beltway. When we reached Route 66 with my beloved mountains on the horizon, I said Yippee! The experience made me realize once again how fortunate I am to live in the Valley. I will continue to enjoy my “View” from the peace and quiet of my hill!
As for the Beltway – to borrow a line from Mr. Poe, “ . . .quoth the raven, Nevermore”.
Weeds. a Gardener’s Enemy
July 31, 2013 at 8:13 pm (Nature)
How can such a small plot of land produce so many weeds? And why are they so much healthier than the flowers and vegetables I plant? I love gardening, but I also prefer to be in control.
I blame Adam! And his accomplice, Eve! If they had behaved themselves and not eaten the forbidden fruit, they wouldn’t have been condemned to a life of hard labor, toiling in the garden, etc.
After three years of not being able to enjoy gardening because of physical ailments, I looked forward to this as the year I would conquer the land, grow delicious tomatoes and beautiful flowers. Not so.
I pruned and fed and mulched the roses, and they bloomed profusely. But the weeds began to flourish faster than I could pull them. Of course, they were aided by abundant rains and sunshine, alternately. I rise early and head for the weed beds, but between the bugs and the humidity, I am soon driven indoors and the weeds continue to thrive.
There’s also a negative physical aspect involved here. Although my physical condition is much improved, my energy level is not up to par. I can’t bend over for long periods of time, so I must get on my knees to pull weeds. That presents another problem – getting back to my feet. After a half hour of weeding the score is Weeds: 50 – Me 25. ( or some such ratio). In any event I never get ahead.
I finally got my tomato plants in the ground in June ; they are thriving in spite of the weeds. When I was pulling weeds at 6 am I discovered that there are several small tomatoes set on. Hurray! But experience tells me there will be more weeds tomorrow morning. Thanks to generous and understanding neighbors, I am surviving on gifts from their garden.
Just like my sports fan friends and family, next year will be my year. I will discover the secret and conquer the weeds!
Sounds
July 24, 2013 at 1:12 pm (Nature)
SOUNDS
We are surrounded by sounds. I’m an early riser, and even in the solitude of a sleeping household, there are sounds – the hum of the refrigerator and the furnace or air conditioner, and the ticking of clocks – “. . .the sounds of silence”.
If you are fortunate enough to live near trees and leave your bedroom window open at night, or make an early morning foray outdoors, you are treated to the most beautiful music – the singing of birds. From the chirping of the Cardinals, the chatter of the Tufted Titmouse and Chickadees and the warbling of the Blue Jays, it’s like having a private concert. It’s their social time and they make the most of it.
Other sounds invade the air in the early morning hours – the far-away whir of traffic on Route 11, interspersed occasionally by the louder sound of diesel engines on big trucks climbing the hill. Barking dogs announce that they, too, are up and about. In some places where I have lived, the crowing of roosters also was the signal of a new day.
As the day progresses, so do the sounds. For approximately nine months of the year, the sound of the school bus, mingled with the voices of children let me know it’s time to get busy with whatever that particular day holds for me. When the school bus returns in the afternoon, the sound is much different – there is shouting and laughter. Air planes, big and small, criss-cross the sky; an occasional police car, fire engine or ambulance, siren wailing cut into the almost silence and is a signal to stop for a moment and offer a silent prayer.
One can almost tell time by the sounds in some neighborhood. First, on trash days, the recycling and trash truck arrive fairly early – but not quietly – then the school bus, followed by the opening and closing of garage doors and the slam of car doors as neighbors depart for their places of employment. The day has begun. The U.S. mail delivery and the UPS and don’t have specific schedules, but their presence is identified by the distinctive squeal of brakes and the shutting down and starting of their engines. And, of course, the door bell and the telephone – will it be good or bad news?
Many people are intolerant of total silence, so they keep a TV or radio on at all times, with background music, talk shows or news. I used to be one of those, but have learned to do without. God gave us five senses – hearing, seeing, smelling, feeling and tasting. Being slightly visually challenged, I often think about those who are born without one or more of these senses. I think living without the sense of hearing would be very strange. To be deprived of the daily sounds that surround us ; never to hear a new baby cry, a toddler laugh, the wind rushing through the trees, the booms of a thunder storm; a marching band, piano or orchestra concert, a car horn signaling danger, or a car horn signaling a friendly greeting, ocean waves crashing on the beach, a water fall or a stream running over rocks in the woods, the ding of the cash register or beep of the electronic scanner; a beautiful soprano voice singing “The Lord’s Prayer”, or a crowd singing the National Anthem. I treasure these sounds and it saddens me to think of people living their whole life in a void without them.
We all know about stopping to smell the roses – I’m suggesting that we stop and listen – and be thankful for the ability.
Murder in the Forest
July 8, 2013 at 12:44 pm (Human Interest, Nature)
English: An American Black Bear (Ursus americanus) at the Grandfather Mountain Animal Habitat. Photo taken with a Panasonic Lumix DMC-FZ50 in Avery County, NC, USA. Cropping and post-processing performed with The GIMP. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
It has been peaceful and serene for seven years – the hill I live on – framed on two sides by a mini forest. It as a haven for a variety of birds, squirrels, rabbits, a family of deer, an occasional red fox, and for at least two years, a black bear. All were welcome except the bear – but only because he destroyed all the bird feeders in the nearby back yards.
Recently, the peace and tranquility was suddenly disturbed and replaced by he rattle and roar of a huge yellow bulldozer, belching ugly black smoke as it ripped full-gown trees out of the ground. Then came he shill whine and scream of he chain saws as hey trimmed branches off he trees and sliced he trunks into 8 or 20 foo lengths. Even worse was the chomping of the tree tops and limbs in he chipping machine, and the clouds of dust rising from the growing mountain of mulch. In other words, the whole scene is ugly!
Of greater concern to us now is the environmental disturbance that has occurred. No longer will we have a natural windbreak of trees behind our homes. Already the wind roars up the hill from the front of the houses so that nothing light-weight is safe in the front yard; now the back of the houses will also suffer. Ever since moving here, we battled the water flowing down from the property behind our homes, which is at a much higher elevation. After finally getting it properly channeled into a narrow, controlled and landscaped drainage area, now we have a much wider expanse of the higher elevation to contend with since there is no vegetation to slow down the flow.
And what about the displaced wild life? That small forest contained countless bird and squirrel nests which have now been toppled, chewed up and spit into a mountain of mulch. The hatter of the squirrels and the singing of the birds has been replaced by the roar of machinery and the banging of hammers.
Why? To build a house? The piece of land is too small to contain anything more than a very small house. There are plenty of houses for sale in the area and there is plenty of barren land for building. Why squeeze a tiny house on a piece of property just because it is there? Why destroy a natural habitat? Why disturb the beauty and peace and tranquility of a neighborhood? GREED is the only answer that comes to this blogger’s mind – greed and a lack of consideration for others.
TWO WEEKS LATER . . .
The tiny forest has been replaced by the beginnings of a two-story house – it looms on the horizon like a giant square mushroom! No amount of privacy fencing and landscaping will provide what we had with the forest. The birds and squirrels have been silenced and the gentle swaying of the pine trees has been stilled.
My view from the hill has been forever distorted! I am sad.
View from the Hill 