Death of a Faithful Friend

Dot died a couple of days ago. My son and his wife got the news as they returned home from a visit here. She was fourteen years old, an old age for a large dog. When Chris, and Nat came for the summer visit, they were worried about Dot who had been left with the vet after having several teeth pulled. It seemed that Dot was doing well after the surgery. They called often.

Dot was mostly pit bull, maybe a little bit Dalmation. She had a big brown dot on her sweet face. They got her as a tiny puppy early in their marriage. Dot grew up on Vashon, an island in Puget Sound. Everyone on the Island knew Dot. She went on errands with Chris and sat proudly in the passenger seat, the dowager queen. Dot was always a well-behaved dog, never a leaper or a crotch sniffer. Her people loved her and trained her well. She had extreme dignity. And she took up a lot of space.

Chris bought one dog bone each day to give Dot. It was a ritual. Dot spent her days in Chris's shop, mostly in her bed under the work table, or outside taking in rays when there were any. When Chris went into the main house, Dot followed. As a young dog Dot chased frisbees and took long walks with the family. Even though huge, Dot slept with her people in their bed every night.
She made room in the family bed for those interlopers, the two little kids.

This dog was truly embedded in the family and one could see that in her quiet way (I have never heard her bark) she loved this family beyond all imagining, forgave them their foibles, overlooked their human crap, and gave them everything she had.

I have such a visual memory of Chris lying on the floor cuddling Dot.

We can cry over the loss of a favorite pet. These creatures give us such uncomplicated direct love and affection.

Dot, rest in peace.

At Grandma's

Here is Joseph, three, who has discovered that he fits perfectly into the most expensive piece of art we have on the place. He knows nothing of the Navaho artist who wove this large basket. What he knows is that he is a funny jack-in-the box, entertaining us all with his antics. We applaud. Our whole family is here for the summer week to celebrate birthdays and our 47th wedding anniversary.

We have put away the guitar, pulled up the cuckoo clock weights and flipped the chains over the top. We have put the numerous remotes and clocks up high or in drawers and we have wedged the low books in tight. I have hidden the brooms and fly swatters. Cameras, keys, glasses and binoculars now live on a high kitchen shelf. The toddlers are here! Which is why I haven't posted in a long time.

There have been the usual disasters; the dishwasher quit in the midst of meals for sixteen, somehow one of the gates was left open and the cows couldn't be corralled for the August round-up, a pool hose broke. All was resolved and we are thankful the septic tank didn't back up (yet!). The carpets are thick with dog hairs and squashed raisins and cupcakes. The public spaces have Thomas the Tank running on tracks under your feet, and countless tiny (Chinese lead infested?) cars lie in wait for hapless barefooted adults.

All of our children and their spouses are incredibly competent so the cooking and cleanup is not an issue. Tolstoy was wrong. Happy families are not all alike. There are nuances, agendas, wishes and judgements happening all the time. Our children spend time together without us every evening in the guest house, and we hope they are communicating with each other over miles and time. They'll need to have this contact so that they can go forth into a world without us.

There were sixteen of us for the celebratory cake a couple of nights ago at our daughter's home in St. Petersburg. We were weary from so much sociability and family information. And there were many more days to go. Andy and I left the celebration, eager to return home and have a moment of quiet before everyone returned to the ranch.

Our new daughter-in-law came for this celebration. Before this, we didn't really know her (but her press was great!). I have got to say that the family was still playing those old tapes of her predecessor, my son's former wife. (We'll always love that 'ex') This was the best thing about the family reunion for me, my son's new wife, the beautiful and competent woman who has stepped into being a stepmother of three. Of all the 'kids' she was the one who really asked about us, the older generation.

These family reunions always have their surprises. I had been worried that our local grandson, huge for his age and not yet much of a talker, would be eclipsed by his eloquent cousin from Seattle. I worried that the six year old would not be able to relate to kids, one, two and three years old. Was I wrong! The little guys had a great time in the pool and playing with all those transportation toys. The only whining I heard was from the youngest, the only girl, the princess and so pretty! (She wanted blueberries!)

I find that I am tired of "young mom talk". I am tired of hearing about airline experiences (all bad,) At this point I just want to go to my studio and finish my painting..

To continue to know one's kids, you have to put in the time and make it all possible. I love them all so much!

Praise for the young

This is a posting for all you young people who read this blog, or maybe don't. It is for all of you who over the years have e-mailed me, written me, come to visit, called, sent actual letters, sent me greetings via others. I love this affirmation and I am always interested in what you are doing with your lives. I know that each of you really knows that, even distantly, I care about you and will spring into action if you need anything. I will always be ready to teach you things and protect you. By now you know that I will always keep confidences and that I am not judgmental (and always oblivious!)

This summer we have had many of you visiting. We love to feed you, make you happy, play games. One of my old students, Stephan, now a Sophomore at Brown, came to visit and made a spectacular meal for us. I was worried at first that he was going to grill beef (I don't eat red meat.) and I had prepared a scenario of shoving the beef onto Andy's plate. But- not to worry! There was grilled chicken for me! He and his brother spent the morning chain-sawing to clear out a downed tree or two.

Julie, whom I have known since birth, spent the summer in St. Petersburg, where her family lives. Julie is a stellar and brilliant person, right now a human rights lawyer, studying for a post-law degree in Sweden. I always invite Julie to use our townhouse when she's in town. Her familial home is infested with cats and she's allergic to them. I also think that a young adult could use a free place to be, not under any old parental tapes. She mostly lives with Adam in Oxford, a British 'rocket scientist'. They came to visit us when we were on vacation in Paris last autumn. We are connected. We love Adam! We were happy when we found that Adam would be coming to Florida this summer.

I have written about the girls who visit us every summer. They are the best! I feel so comfortable with these bright girls who require very little and can speak about pretty complicated issues. They made lovely art when they were here.

The Lacoochee kids, who are younger and harder to imagine have been here on Fridays this summer. Last Friday we did a lot of hands-on stuff, including a volcano cake that erupted with steam and lava. The kids were mesmerized. One boy, Raymond, who will be going to sixth grade tomorrow, was so interested in the geology- and the recipe! I gave him the recipe and the web links to volcanoes.

I am a generous person in many ways. I give away money, but that is never what is really all that is needed. Right now I am thinking about what volunteer work I could do that would be important to kids in the community we live in. One kid, last Friday, said to me as were looking at the spiders on the eaves of my studio, "Remember when you told us about tarantulas in Peru?"
She referred to a morning in which I had been in her classroom as a volunteer talking about the rain forests of South America. We had hunkered down under a blanket, pretending to search for tarantulas. I told the kids about looking at tarantulas in Peru. This kid remembered.

In some ways, I am not generous. I truly need my own space with no one else in it. I don't want to have people popping into my studio, striding by, or wanting me to provide stuff. But I really can get into the mindset for a few days at a time of showing people how to do this or that. This is especially true as I deal with young people. For me, I have always thought that the greatest gift is for someone to teach me something.

I love all you young people, from those of you are at Harvard and Brown and in Hawaii and Sweden and England and Florida, of course, and struggling in public middle school and in high school working hard to figure out what's next.

You'll get there! It's an adventure and you are at the forefront of an amazing life. Thanks for including this old lady in.

The Girls

Every summer, several girls , who were my old students, come to visit us for a few days at the ranch. The deal is that their most important thing to do here is nothing. These girls are rising seniors in high school. I have known them since they were five years old. Now, I only see them once a year on their visit. Having them come is a highlight of summer for us.

They are very low maintenance guests. Because they have been here often they know where everything is and we all feel comfortable. They forage for breakfast and lunch, and for supper everyone pitches in. These young women are forthcoming, bright and interesting. They are world travelers, thoughtful and considerate. They give us an inside view of today's youth.

These kids are upper middle class, blessed with parents who love them, started out reading to them, then went on to taking them to lessons, private school, and orthodontia. Naturally, I feel easy with them. They could be my own kids.

So, we are easy with each other. As a NOT parent, I can ask them things, or listen to things or pay attention to stuff their parents can't. Kind of like a grandma- an old teacher. They must know I care enormously and see each of them as an individual. I love them.

It takes awhile to get into the groove. By this third day there have been many creative things going. I was blown away by the paintings, sewing projects, books read, essays written today. I do not feel with these kids that I have to be the camp councilor, sparking every activity. They are special, no doubt. They can hold their own in adult conversation, they are incredibly competent and thoughtful. (Their parents have raised them well!)

As something going into cyberspace I cannot name or post a photo of these wonderful and beautiful children who are not my own, not my grandchildren, but none the less are under my heart.

These kids, like most, seem incurious about us. But we tell them and show them what we are doing with our lives. They do not roll their eyes, but seem interested in what we are doing. I know it is too large a leap to go from seventeen to sixty- seven to think what their world will be like in similar circumstances. But we press them (and in the context say we are sorry for the mess our generation leaves to them.)

I have promised a movie night for all of us. Before this happens there will be a night swim in the pool. I must go and make popcorn.

My head is full of wonderful children. I am so blessed.

Spider Summer

It is the summer of the spiders. This golden orb weaver, as big as your fist, tidies up her double web every night. This particular spider lives under the roof overhang of my studio. This is a tropical spider and this is the northernmost habitat for her. Her friends inhabit the eaves of every place on the ranch. In the light of early morning her web glows in a golden haze. The strands are so strong I have read that they can be used for fishing nets. Sometimes I tentatively pull on a strand, marvelling at the strength of it, stronger than the threads I use in my sewing. We have a communality, these spiders and I. They are far better than I in their fabric weaving and so I watch them, humbled by their confident expertise.

And then there are the zipper spiders, almost as large. They make a brilliant zipper stitch in the middle of their webs. Zipper spiders almost always have a male spider hanging out in the perifery of their webs. Sooner or later the females eat them!

Inside my studio there are small house spiders. They make night webs from the computer printer to the windowsill, across the screen doors, under the sewing machine. Mostly, I gently sweep them away and I know they will again set up housekeeping overnight.

Occasionally, a bad spider will appear. Today, my friend Bruce was working in my studio installing a timer on the water heater. Bruce is embedded in the natural world and knows a lot about these things. He looks at a rather smallish spider with an egg sac, everything stuck to the side of a door. "This is a brown recluse spider," he says. He shows me the identifying markings on the abdomen. No one wants to be bitten by such a spider: you don't die, but the bite can be pretty bad. We get paper towels and remove the spider to the outdoors.

It is the summer of the spiders and it is so hot and humid we could die of it. But still, we go to bed without air conditioning and sleep well in total heavy darkness, hearing the owls calling, tree frogs chirping, katydids sawing their leggy music, and everything segues to the gradual dawn chorus of birds to awaken us. I am not truly an urban person. I hate sleeping in the summer city, hermetically sealed in the air conditioned pristine atmosphere where we hear the sirens and the traffic and see the lights of the city through the shades and curtains.

Very few of our friends get it about why we love it here. And that's O.K. I told a friend that I had seen a bobcat in the driveway. I thought that this was a notable and wonderful event. I stopped for a few minutes to watch this cat slowly meandering from one side of the lane to the other. It was just past dawn and this cat looked quite dark. It moved with that feline grace and I could see the curled up short tail. I had seen cat skat on the bridge and just before I saw the bobcat I smelled cat. I wished I had my camera with me. My friend responded that this must have been a scary event. No, just amazing, an affirmation to me that our place is a wildlife traffic corridor.

Spider summer, full of surprises and respect for the natural world. Soon it will be vegetable planting time!