older than dirt

i had a landmark birthday this year. i celebrated the day - nay, the weekend! - with glee and wild abandon. i joked about my age, and embraced my newly grayed hair. but, now that the hoopla is over and reality sets in, i just don't know how this could have happened. i remember my mother and my grandmother at this age, and they were so old! just a few short years ago, i was a teenager, a young wife, a working mother. now here i am faced with home safety matters, downsizing, and end of life decisions. i'm too young for this to happen!

my dad used to quip about his age...i'm older than dirt...i don't buy any green bananas...i have suits older than you...and i've started to adopt them. so happy big, ole birthday to me! now where are my teeth and my housedress?

christmas past

it's a few weeks yet 'til christmas, but we are putting up the tree tonight. this is unplanned, but the tree is in the yard, up against the house, and why not now? the not-so-little girl is anxious to decorate, so in comes the tree, we find the stand and the box of ornaments and she begins. she remembers from year to year how she and i like this tree to look: the old red flocked birds are indeed "flocked", all gathered together on one the side of the tree. her great-great grandmother's sequined ball is high up near the top, so you can look up and see all the sparkles reflect the tree lights. delicate ornaments still go near the top of the tree, a reminder of long-ago christmases when we had babies and dogs. 

we listen to christmas music as she decorates and i make us supper. suddenly, she's in the kitchen at my side, with one of the old plastic filagree balls in her hand. there's something inside, she whispers. listen. and i hear the quiet rattle. we investigate, and find something tiny and cylindrical inside. she shakes and tips and tries to bring the object to a large hole in the ornament, but its shape won't allow it to be pulled through. finally we resort to tweezers and gently tug. and out it comes. 

it's paper, and it's old and thin. slowly, carefully, the not-so-little girl unfurls the scrap and reads its contents: december 24, 1985. and it is signed, in a childlike scrawl, by her mother.

how can this be? it's been right there, unnoticed, for thirty-two christmases! we can't wait to share our find with the girl herself! but she does not remember placing such a note and is as astonished as we are. more quick math and we come to the realization that, when she hid this note, she was ten, and exactly the age that the not-so-little-girl is now.

on her own, the youngest of us decides to return the note to its original hiding place and add a second one, this one dated december 8, 2017, and signed in her own childlike hand. she hopes some christmas as she decorates, her own daughter may notice the tiny rolled notes hidden deep inside her great-grandmother's gold filagree ornament, and be just as surprised and delighted by their discovery as we all were this christmas.

out of place

found, in the woods, on the dirt driveway of friends, this maple leaf only recently unfurled on its branch. staring up at me, a circlet with colors that mesmerize. how does this happen, these odd colors, when the rest of the world is newly vibrant green? after some research, the driveway friend tells me the center is the tiny egg of a gall wasp. so now i know what it is - but i still don't understand. 

more like it

so here finally is the winter we've all been waiting for, some for longer than others. it's cold, a monday, and nothing of any consequence is happening. but while washing dishes at the sink, i was pleased to spot, amidst all the new white, the vibrant rose of the not-so-little-girl's birdhouse, its top permanently removed by a persistent squirrel. and i was delighted when a random glob of suds leapt up onto the backsplash and formed itself into this tiny, soapy heart.

january. not much to write home about. 

origami delight

one saturday this fall, i chanced to meet and be part of a conversation with a lovely and quiet man, probably a little older than me. what we talked about must have been pretty general and of little significance, because i can't remember the topics. what i do remember is the fact that he was actively interested in whatever it was we had to say. he asked questions, and was a very good listener.

before he left, he presented us each with an intricate origami dollar, crisply folded into a beautiful symmetrical object. mine was a heart, backed on a felt square and carefully packaged into a tiny sleeve. at the back of the package, a card with a greek proverb, a shiny sticker, and a tiny jeweled bauble. clearly, this man was intentional in his presentation.

we were so taken aback to receive such a lovely gift from a stranger. we tried to pay him, but he declined. we offered dollar bills so he could make more, and he told us it wasn't necessary. he wouldn't give us his name, only asked that we enjoy his small gift.

i stood the dollar heart on my desk here, and thought about the chance encounter for days. months later, i am still in awe of all that transpired. why would a stranger do such a thing? not only is he spending a great deal of time making these for people he doesn't know and likely will never see again, he's giving away his money a dollar at a time. obviously, his simple reward is in the delight and enjoyment of his recipients.

a few weeks ago, as i inserted my card into a gas pump a few towns away, i found something blocking the slot. i removed it, and was elated to find another origami dollar, packaged in the same manner, this one folded into a tiny shirt. my glee was apparent as i pocketed the treasure and pumped the gas, grinning like a fool. how lucky was i to encounter this man, not once, but twice? by the time i was finished, i knew how to repay this man. i returned the shirt dollar back to the gas pump slot in hopes that the next person would find in it as much delight and enjoyment as i had.

priorities

yesterday the girl and her family were here for a visit. at one point, they went for a quick walk, and the little girl came back with exciting news of newts. they counted thirty-one, she said, but there were at least a hundred. her dad accidently stepped on one and felt bad. they were all over one side of the road but not the other. they were everywhere!

after they left, after the table was cleared and the leftovers were put away, after the dishes were washed and the floor was swept, i took a walk down the stretch of road she described. i was disappointed, but not surprised, to see only three newts. tiny and new, they were wandering the road long after their ninety-seven brothers and sisters had dispersed. up the hill and into the woods they went, all while i, of course, was doing more important things than investigating the wonders of spring.

what's this?

this tree's been in my backyard for half my life, yet i have never seen it like this. it's all leafed out, but it has what i can only imagine to be tree "flowers" hanging from the branches. a strange and unusual sight out the back window, that i mostly just want to document here.

at last!

snowdrops, "spring"ing from the soil on shady side of the house, where the snow is just beginning to melt. what a wonderful surprise to see them there this morning...i had forgotten i planted them!

easter 2015

happy easter!

the tradition continues. i am amazed. two friends i have long suspected are in different states this easter morning. 

second time around

walking in the yard today, i found this. look familiar?

i was surprised - and then laughed and laughed. 

i don't know how it got here. last i saw it, the little girl was tucking it into her pocket. i wonder if she placed it so that i'd find it and be surprised. by the way, notice some hungry someone has been nibbling on the acorn man's hat!

back to spring

this is the last weekend in may, and a long one at that. but the holiday is taking a back seat to the weather. yesterday was cold, damp, and rainy - a wood stove day if ever i've seen one. last night the wind howled, tree branches came down, and we lost power for several hours overnight. to make matters worse, it snowed. SNOW! today dawned fresh and clean, that clear sky, good-smelling weather that comes after a storm. but it's so cold! i went out into the garden with a vest over my sweatshirt and winter gloves under my work ones. for dinner, there's soup. that kind of cold!

in an effort to get back a little of my "first weekend of summer" vibe, i took a long walk in the woods. i didn't bring my camera, so these are taken with my phone. but finding them was just what i needed to remind me that it really is spring!

compost flowers

tiny daffodils, greeting me as I make my first post-winter trip to the compost pile. likely they are survivors from some discarded potted plant. this happens every year but never ceases to surprise and delight me. it's really starting to look like spring.

what started as a normal saturday

today was the day for a long-awaited shopping trip with out-of-state relatives. we shopped all morning at the mall, buying shoes and scarves and kitchen gadgets, then drove to a nearby restaurant for lunch, to sit leisurely and visit and get caught up on each others lives. while we were there, many dark suits began appearing and, before we knew it, they were announcing the president of the united states was coming to the restaurant. the president. the president! and arrive he did. he came over to our table. he shook my hand. he smiled and asked my name. he looked me in the eye and told me we need more teachers doing what i do.

this must be what bieber-fever feels like to a teenager. today, i met the president of the united states.

little things

a lovely fragrant end of year bouquet from a student's family, beribboned and presented in a canning jar along with a note of thanks. such a sweet gesture, so very much appreciated.

right over my head

for over a quarter century, i have lived in this house and walked in this yard. i take joy in noticing the small things here - i know where all the native plants are and when and how they change with the seasons. yet this is the first time i have glimpsed this phenomenon, which clearly has been going on high above my head, all this time. this abundance of yellow in a common green pine, so far away i couldn't quite make out what it was. with binoculars first and then the telephoto lens, i found these. are they pine cones? is this how they begin their formation?

every time i think i know it all, nature serendipitously displays something else curious and wondrous.

valentimes

flowers, a card, some heart cookies, a drawing...all anticipated and all quite lovely. a handmade heart sentiment, left as a surprise from a youngster, one that i had not thought i was reaching - such a wonderful gift. perhaps i'm reading more into it than was intended, but tonight i still smile every time it catches my eye.

loraine's birds

my old friend and neighbor, loraine, moved away many years ago. i'm not sure what she fed them when she lived here but she always had the best birds at her feeders. when she left, i expected her birds would just migrate on over to my house. i eventually got her chickadees, her finches, and her titmice. but what i really wanted was her cardinals. and that was not to be. over the years, i would hear one in the woods, i could glimpse one in the treetops, i would see one streaking red in flight. but none ever came to feed. none ever came close enough to the house to photograph. until this week, that is! loraine, i think i finally have all your birds!

even a female!

almost midnight

almost light outside with the full moon-after-yule.

a little surprise

when I was a kid, my father used to travel a lot. when he returned home, he always had small surprises in his suitcase. what I remember most was hotel soap - those tiny lovely bars of ivory and camay, smelling perfumey even through the wrappers. using them in the bath, the bars always lathered so richly and fit so easily in little girl hands.

when she was small, i continued this same tradition for the girl. but i'm thinking about tweaking it a bit for the little girl.

the promise of poppies

well, i don't know how it happened, but apparently i've had more than just that one poor pitiful poppy i wrote about a few weeks back. here i am with four pods, each filled with seed, i trust. imagine the potential for next year's flowers! now, the question is this: should i harvest the seed and save it to scatter in spring? or just let the pods open naturally and self-seed?