House boat trip

If you ever went to sleep away camp do you remember how it was when you got back home? Everything was bigger than you remembered and you kept on singing "It's a Grand Old Flag"? You couldn't stop thinking about how great camp was? That was exactly how it was about our houseboat trip up the Suwanee River in perfect weather, not a cloud in the sky, the stars at night so thick, fish jumping and no sign of human habitation as far as the eye could see. There were six of us, all good friends, but never had we been in such close company for four days and nights. We naturally fell into the roles of ship's captain, cooks, scientists, springs swimmers, scullery helpers.

 All of us were loungers and close observers of the incredible passing scene of pristine cypress, birds and jumping sturgeon.

No one ever voiced it, but somehow we all seemed to breathe a sigh and stop talking about politics and issues. The last crossword puzzle from the NYT was done before the first dinner, and then we had NO MORE NEWS for four days! None of us noticed.

What we noticed was such stuff as a huge migration of the tiniest insects you could imagine, all flying in an incandescent cloud from the river one misty morning. It could have been a once in a year thing like grunions running. But we wouldn't have noticed it in our regular lives. We examined every blooming flower, every huge alligator, every turtle and snake.

And we noticed each other in ways one never does at a dinner party. All of us were in long term marriages and we all have grown kids. But we did not talk much about our children or grandchildren or health.  It was truly a time for us. We cared for each other with cooking great meals, taking care of this funky houseboat, laughing a lot, and remembering people and places and events. We put together an enormous puzzle, and we even played games. We looked at each other really closely and celebrated our wrinkles and fit muscles. And our friendship.

Kind of depressing to return, making the drive from the boat dock, listening to NPR and the same old stuff.

About time!

Here's an opossum I trapped yesterday in the vegetable garden. We'll take him out to the far side of the ranch where he can be with the dozens of others we relocated.

That expression! He's probably thinking  about Hughesnet, our internet provider. Finally, today, an angel came and brought us a new FAST connection and so I am happy tonight. I have called the phone company each week for years, asking them when we could expect a fast DSL connection. "Not tonight, honey." And last week they informed me that yes! we could do it. I really had no hope and today of the appointment the truck arrived on time, and my hopes sprang anew. But wait! Emerging from the truck is an old guy, hardly an angel, pony tail, beard, suspenders across a paunch, slouched under a straw hat. Not your usual computer geek to say the least. My heart sinks.

But, like Santa, he went right to his work, and soon the main house was on line. I was discouraged to find that the DSL did not work in my studio. We needed another line. I took ten deep breaths and called Bill, the computer person. Later, my husband thought of a solution and when I had found a very long telephone cable, he installed it and now everything works in my studio and in the main house.

If you live in the boonies as we do, it is important to have connections to the world. At first we just had dial-up, not much. Then we got the satellite, the best that rural folks can get. It was often so slow, and no chance of downloading anything.

So, now! Off and running, looking at all that stuff that was previously unavailable. I have always said that no connectivity was just the flipside of living in paradise. Dare I think that we can have it all?

The garden appreciated a little rain before the cold front moved in. Broccoli is heading and the greens are there for every meal. I cut some collard leaves for the soup I'll take on our upcoming house boat trip up the Suwanee River on Saturday.

Strength and love to all the occupiers! And today we got autumn. Quilts tonight!

The Demonstrations!

In the last couple of years I have asked any young people who come my way if they are interested in the politics of this nation. I was pretty much disheartened that so many of them seemed passive and uninterested. What they are interested in is celebrities and their own studies. They have told me that, yes, there are few people on their campuses and at work who join groups and advocate for various discreet causes. In individual ways many of them strive to make a difference. They volunteer in difficult places with difficult populations. They work hard in wonderful non-profits as unpaid interns.

I wonder whether these talented and thoughtful young people feel powerless, or feel they have no voice, or even whether this generation of almost-my-grandchildren has been too entitled for too long and believe that somehow everything will come out just fine. What would it take to make them stand up on their hind legs in their own country to make a difference here?

Maybe, just maybe, something has finally happened. Perhaps the tipping point came when so many realized that they had such huge loan burdens and no prospects of making enough to pay them off - or even getting a decent job. And Mom and Dad have lost their jobs.  They look up and see that a few make millions, neither fair nor ethical. It's the economy, of course. There was the model of the Arab Spring. Heady stuff to be in the middle of a huge demonstration with even something worth fighting for. The American Dream.

These demonstrations sweep the country. Many of the demonstrators are not young, not scruffy, just desperate, all colors, all ages.  It's hard to discern exactly what the demands are, and so far no real leaders have emerged as they did in the seventies. Early times. As far as I know there are not huge corporate funds supporting this, as they did the tea party.

I wish them well, I salute their strength, I respect them and I pay close attention. I agree with them and share their dissatisfaction.

We so badly need to have all parts of our population pay attention. These demonstrators fill a political void. After all, it matters what happens! We can't be just a nation of elderly folks wanting to preserve their social security and medicare (though that's important.)  And we can't be stuck endlessly dithering about outworn social issues such as gay marriage and abstinence and flag desecration. We need to pay careful attention to the new cohort of young people who have a huge new agenda and have long since leaped ahead of their parents' generation.

 

Drones

Remember those slumber parties in middle school when you thought of people you could instantly vaporize, no questions asked, no blame assigned?  Just, pouf! They would be gone and that boy who hit on you or the girl who was so popular and beautiful, a thing of envy would be gone from your lives. But we knew it wouldn't really happen and we'd have to deal with these people and so many others in the stretch of our lives. As adults, we came to realize that those persons we might want to vaporize needed to have attention paid.

Drones. These planes (of death) are sent to the Middle East and North Africa by the CIA in a midwestern state by strokes on a computer keyboard. At first, it seems that this is a really good way to run a war: no one is killed except the enemy. Sometimes there is a mistake and a whole village is wiped out, or a whole group of innocent folks who happen to be where the drone strike is happening. The folks at the bunker from where the CIA sends out their minions have no idea of the human fallout. After their day they go home to a MacDonald's take out supper, put the kids to bed and watch the ball game on T.V.

I believe that if war is the thing to do,  real people must be responsible for the damage. Real people must actually kill and maim (if that is the goal). Real people must be there to actually shoot and hurt other humans. Isn't this the definition of war?

We have been ten years into the Afghanistan war. Most Americans have not had to participate at all. Some folks put bumper stickers on their cars and no one has to face the Draft. We pretty much ignore the returning vets who need so much.

And now we have the drones, the ultimate 'zipless fuck'. We have war fatigue - and none of us were even there!

We should get out of Afghanistan, and we will. In quiter moments we may realize the futility of it all. War is no good. Especially when the fighting is anonymous.

Finally, Fall!

No chance of uploading a photo tonight. (Bad internet!!) Just imagine those great mutant giant orange cosmos, more than six feet tall, blooming! They rise above the Mexican petunias and the fuscia vinca below them. What a marvel.

The vegetables are a mixed bag so far. Lettuce and greens are doing well and now produce wonderful salads every night, but something eats the swiss chard each night. Many fire ants infest the garden so I suck it up and actually apply some poison to the hills. It doesn't seem to discourage them much. They just move on to the next garden box. The castor oil pellets seem to have discouraged the armadillos, and we have trapped a whole bunch of them. Armadillos, not pellets. Deer eat the roses every night.

Mornings, I walk around the yard to check out everything, look at the traps, think about what needs to be watered or fertilized, pick out some weeds, see if the oranges are anywhere near ready. When I look up and regard the woods line I see deer and turkeys. Red shouldered hawks cry and there is always the loud trumpeting of the sand hill cranes coming in and the hooting of the owls just finishing their business. The summer birds have left, except for the chimney swifts who will leave soon. So we now hear those loud calls of the big birds, especially the woodpeckers, jays and cardinals who will be here all winter. There are so many squirrels, those cute and busy rodents working the property (and the vegetable garden!)

There is indeed a great deal of physical work to be done here. We mow, weed, water, prune and tend. And not think about what is happening to our larger venue.

Just this week each of us paid $100 to get our teeth cleaned and we do this twice a year. I wonder what reality it is that Monano,  Pinellas County commissioner, could have said, as he voted against fluoridation (!), that anyone could just go to the dentist and get a cleaning, eat well, take care of dental health.. No need for fluoride and big government intervention. What planet is he on?

Such an embarrassment!

I am glad not to live in Alabama, a low hurdle. We are very interested in the 99% demonstations happening everywhere. What does it all mean?

Warning: This about Pets

Here is Lola, our best girl, in her favored spot on the porch couch. You can see that she has one blue eye, the dangerous one, that since she was a puppy, alerted us to her demands (many!). From her perch on the couch she can see out into the yard and monitor the comings and goings of armadillos, her first choice of critters to chase. When she spots one, or even the possibility of one, she is instantly off the couch and barking at the screen door. She has never caught one because they are armored with hard scales and way bigger than she is.

Lola is such a social animal; she prefers people to other dogs she mostly ignores. I am amazed at her memory of people she loves. All during the long summer when our house was closed up and air conditioned Lola fell into our routines. But today, the first day of cool weather after six long months, when we opened up the house she remembered that it would be good to go out on the front porch and lie in the sun. She remembers these routines. She is happiest when she can sit beside Andy when he reads the morning paper, or after lunch when she accompanies me on the couch to read the New York Times or in the evening when she knows one of us will boost her into our high bed so she can worm her way under the covers and await our warm bodies for the night.

I know the names of hundreds of my friends' dogs. Maggie, Pepper, Daisy, Breezy, Zoe, Bailey, Rebel, Phoebe -all friends of mine. No one ever would ask in a job interview or in a doctor's office about our pets. But they are key to our lives.

My sister has a dog who came to her as a puppy and it turned out that this dog was extremely difficult. But they kept on with this dog who did such things as eat the refrigerator. I wondered how in the world they could keep on with this creature. But, now, when I visit, Daisy just seems to be kind of a loopy personality, friendly, and watch your possessions.

An old friend from my childhood has the perfect dog, Velvet, a black lab, smart, perfectly trained and a joy to be with. My sister in law has a large curly Portugese water dog, Breezy, who is truly friendly and outgoing. I love having this large soft wonderful dog sit on my lap!

A daughter of one of my good friends has no kids but she has that old basset hound and she has to consider him as she contemplates a move.

Having dogs makes us human, I think. We laugh at their antics. They endure beyond our own kids. They are tactile and loving. All that good stuff. Dogs keep us fit because they always need a walk. They keep us responsible because they always need to be fed and watered. Sixty percent of us sleep with our dogs! We carefully tend to our puppy training and in their old age we lift them up onto the couch and give them soft food. We ignore their smelly farts. We incorporate the names of our dogs into our passwords.

Most of all our dogs present in our lives a sense of humor. In their own ways, all of our dogs are certainly funny. We dress them up in Halloween costumes (that they try to take off) and we give them ridiculous toys that squeak and quack.

We think of getting a back up dog. (Lola is a 'young' thirteen). Should we get another weiner dog?

Getting Old is Weird

See this moose on the right with the dewlaps? Does she wonder where they came from? I look at the thin and wrinkled skin on my toned upper arms that somehow appeared when I wasn't looking and I was out somewhere inhabiting a ten year old soul that will always be mine.

Just recently I read an excellent novel, "Emily, Alone" by Stewart Onan about an eighty year old widow, ten years older than me, getting by in a life well-lived and it was frighteningly familiar. Am I on this exact track? Onan so accurately describes the small routines and anxieties I get a whiff of. The woman does her crossword puzzles, talks to her dog, worries about her children and grandchildren, and sees the last remnants of her neighborhood as she knew it being sold house by house as the inhabitants die and she remembers the old times when all the kids played outside and the parents had potlucks and drank too many martinis.

This wasn't us, but there are some close parallels. We came of age as parents and citizens in the late sixties and seventies. We didn't want to be like our parents, but we knew that we would be more prosperous than they were. This is certainly not happening now; expectations have changed.

But what is still true is that there is still a disconnect between generations. Unlike the Onan protagonist, we have come not to expect anything from our children and grandchildren. We don't expect them to be interested in our lives. We love them and have majorly supported them as they have gone forth in their lives. This is our joy.

We have never wanted them to come on demand for requisite family holidays. Way too stressful! We welcome them whenever they can come, and to be honest, we kind of keep track when it has been months or even a year since they came to visit.

Long ago when it was obvious that our nuclear family all lived thousands of miles from each other, we embedded with local friends who have become our family. More than ten years ago, my friend Maria and I "adopted" each other as sisters. Maria and her husband Jay, my brother-in-law are just family now. Local sisters that we are, we can ask anything of each other. Jay and Maria are absolutely as important in our grandson's life as we are. The Auntie and Uncle Jay.

We all live so far from each other and we all have busy lives. Such a truism. You never know how things will turn out. Our daughter bought a lovely urban house and we renovated a garage out in back to be our pied a terre when we are in the city. Turns out that we love being there- but only for a short time. After 24 hours I long to be back home on the ranch where I can stretch out and be me.

I love being close to my youngest grandson. Often he comes to visit at the ranch. He has his own room and a playroom and knows every nook and cranny here, every book on the shelf. He's now driving the funky golf cart (while I grip the side). He doesn't notice my wrinkles and we can be kids together. Who else but a six year old kid could join his seventy year old grandma in the daily workout with weights? See my bruises.

I wish I could see more of the other grand kids. The upstairs playroom just gets more complicated and full of toys and books. We haven't removed the baby gate yet.

But, being weird as an old person, you just have to take it as it comes.

Being old is great. Time to do the generative things, volunteer in the community, have those small routines, belly laugh with a six year old. But I still hate those wattles and wrinkles!

Pundits in Black Suits

They are there all day and all evening, these pundits in black suits. They explain and opine on our radios and televisions and Twitter and Face Book. They are Democrats and Republicans, intelligent and dim. They have solutions to our enormous problems in this country.

Our economic problems seem far too large to be solved by any of the fixes we've heard. Pretty soon, it seems as if it's all "yatta yatta". We hang up our attention because we know that there will be no agreement in congress. Any good solutions will be dashed by partisanship. And, in any case, are there good solutions? So, tune out.

I am very very afraid that this America we all used to love will bottom out somehow. How can we get more jobs if there aren't any people to buy more goods and services? How can we jump start this economy if no one is willing or able to take the risk of putting enormous money into something like the WPA? 

I know it won't happen, we'll just keep on with the pundits and their forecasts, and lots of hot air. 

No wonder that the naive electorate cleaves unto the National Enquirer Fox News folks. What are they to think?? There is nothing sensible out there, so, hey, go for the big hair gal or guy.(especially if he/she isn't a person of color.)

Somehow, after a lost decade or two, we may begin to climb back out of this. We may begin to see that our 'barbell' society doesn't really work. Maybe we'll see that everyone (the rich, the big companies, big oil and big pharma etc.) really need to pay their fair share if we are to have a civilized country.

But, for now, I see the playing out of greed, mean spiritedness towards the less fortunate, and an unwillingness to compromise.

My glimmer of hope is the local energy and willingness to make things better here. I know so many good folks who just keep on keeping on doing good works, taking old folks to doctor appointments, building houses, picking up trash, reading to children, making gardens.

I hope this us US!



Thinking Back

Everyone has their stories of what happened and where they were on that terrible day ten years ago. Watching these people describe those excruciating experiences they had on that day and for months and months after, hurts our hearts. Even those of us who were fortunate not to lose friends and loved ones and never knew anyone who toiled at Ground Zero,  still grieve.

It is amazing that ten years have passed, and in that time we and our country have changed so much. I think we lost our patriotic innocence that day. Even through the "bubble" time of the spending and greed, we wanted to believe somehow that we were invulnerable. And yet, the edges of our confidence were beginning to fray as we looked the other way.

We stopped asking hard questions. No down payment on those McMansions! Don't think about the inevitable costs of maintaining such a grand place! Get that ginormous SUV on time payments, gas is cheap. Quick! Rack up everything on plastic.

We found out that giant Oil will spill, financial institutions will implode, and that huge house you got on credit will have a roof leak or a sink hole eating away the foundation. If you look the other way for just one second greed will compromise those wonderful natural places where we used to go camping. The bills will come due.

We thought our safety net we relied on would hold us up. Nope. Fully a fourth of us have no health insurance. We worry that as we lose work we'll have no more unemployment checks to put food on the table. Our education funds keep on shrinking. Our roads and transportation need major overhaul.

At least our seniors can count on Social Security and Medicare. But wait! We are in such a financial hole that even these programs we count on are on the cutting table. And who among us is concerned about those other folks who struggle, whose kids sometimes don't have enough to eat, can't get healthcare or dentristry or decent housing?? Lots of folks that I know. But it can't be done without a comitted government, state or national. This is what a civilized country does- "of the people, by the people, for the people". What's so bad about taxes?? The revenue makes that civilization happen.

This is the last decade. Oy vey!

The annual girl posse visit

This is the tenth year they have visited us at our ranch. This year Alex's little sister, Eliza, second from left, joined the group. Most other years Sarah comes, but this year she had already returned to college in North Carolina. Here they are in the kitchen where we have already cleaned up after a wonderful dinner and we are about to play cards. (Oh Hell!)

The visit is always highly traditional. I anticipate their coming as I do visits from my grandchildren. When they were younger they stayed upstairs in the main house but in the last several years they bunk in at the guest house and come down for all meals. They lounge about on the porch with the dog and in the house. Instead of reading novels as they used to do, they are now focused on their studies. There is time for the truck ride around the property, the golf cart drive, swimming, some exploring. They are the easiest of guests!  In the morning when they're ready they come down to forage in our kitchen. We oldsters have long since done our work-outs, read the papers, and are at work in the studios. Everyone feels comfortable.

These children (I always think of them as such) are so dear to my heart. From the moment they were my students way back when, I understood that these special kids were unique, gifted, and so kind. Now, Katie, Alex and Maddy are still roommates, still lifelong friends. I rejoice to see them in their young adulthood. We are so interested in what they did during the summer and what they anticipate doing for their senior theses. We have observed their growing competence and confidence.

Like most young people, these are like our own children; they don't ever ask us about what is happening with us. I suppose this is because we in the older generation must be static and seamless. And who wants to hear about health and finance problems?? They depend on us to tell them if anything is 'happening'. It must be apparent to these young women that we are more wrinkled, more gray.

During the weekend we talk a lot. The girls were here for a dinner when we had neighbors over. It was a lovely evening.

We expect to see some or all of these young women here as they need the quiet space in the guest house to write their theses. And I'll love thinking of them there and I'll also know they need no attention. What a gift our friendship is!

Old Friends

We are sitting on the porch looking out over Kelly's Cove on Penobscot Bay. The evenings are long, shadows longer at the end of the day. We are having the last of the wine we all drank at dinner. The guests are gone and I savor this rare time with my oldest friend I have known since I was sensible at the age of four.

We do not talk about our families; there has been plenty of time for that during this week's visit. And we do not exchange histories of all the time since high school. We do not talk about our men, sons, brothers and husbands. Juliet sits back in her porch chair, almost folded into the night and I think how beautiful she is right now. We talk about the students we have had over our long careers as teachers. We give each other the gift of nuanced and poignant stories we have never told before. No one at all, including my siblings, shares such a long intimate history with me as Juliet does.

 Now we are both retired and live in our paradises north and south. We both give our new lives (after working so many years) a great new energy in our communities. Juliet revels in teaching in a "senior" college where anyone can learn and anyone can teach.

Being here for most of a week, anticipating a hurricane that wasn't much beyond some wind and rain where we were, my husband and I were welcomed and fascinated by being in this household. Juliet's husband, Paul, is a local doctor, the ethical and intelligent kind we all wish we had. We love their comfortable house so nicely situated across the lane from the endlessly interesting coming and going of the tide over the rocks and beach. One day we cheered Paul on as he swam (in water much too cold for these Floridians) with Velvet, their amazing dog.

Everything was so comfortable. We loved the walks along the shore line into the small village of toy-like colorful cottages full of summer people enjoying the last days of summer, sitting on the porches, watering the petunias, hauling their kayaks in and out. We loved the produce market where locals sold hand made cheeses and those tiny sweet blueberries (picked by Little Sal's mother?) We loved going to a chamber music concert in a close by village, and we loved shopping in the co-op for some of our meals. Of course we loved talking politics and books.

Since we were little, Juliet and I spent every possible moment outdoors in the woods and still, we are both so interested in plants and birds as a part of life.

I enjoyed hanging up the freshly washed clothes on a line out back where the woods came down the hill and the hummingbirds buzzed everything red. Everything just felt right!

Seeing my old friend again was just the best. We all have those old wrinkled faces, and the usual health issues, but I certainly rejoice to think of the incredible skein of our lives.



This Paradise

I stand outside my studio as the light fades, huge pink and purple clouds on the horizon, promising future rain. The bats are out, intent on the flying bugs. Listening to music blasting out from my ipod, I am happy. No one here forever: our property spreads as far as the eye can see. Only the cows are heading this way and they will lie down for the night in the tall grass.

Of course there are so many things we have to do here, especially in this rainy season when everything grows so rampantly. This morning when it was somewhat cooler we put in a couple of hours readying the vegetable garden for the fall. We must have removed ten bushels of weeds and there is still more to be done. We placed the raised beds where we wanted them. Neither of can bear to remove the huge red sage bushes that attract so many butterflies. And how long can we let those volunteer zinnias stay? The compost pile is covered with morning glories and zinnias except for that small place where I dig in the daily
 kitchen scraps.

My usual computer is in sick bay due to a dysfunctional power source, so bear with me as I write on a tiny device, no photos possible.

The huge wall in my studio is covered with many pieces of beautiful fabric, squares and triangles. This quilt will be for Quincy, the grandchild I know best. I plan to make each grandchild in the youngest tier a quilt for Christmas. That leaves two to go after these. On the large work table are six table mats in the making. I love fabric!

And so much else! We are off to Maine for a few days to visit my oldest friend who lives on the edge of a bay there.

Getting Ready!

It is so hot that one can't possibly think of going out in the garden to weed. But we have made some new raised beds and they are ready to take out to the garden. The new seeds have arrived and I have already planted the new cauliflower and arugula starts. The rest of all the seeds will be directly planted in the new beds.

But for now we are enjoying all the hundreds of butterflies and bees and hummingbirds visiting the huge crop of volunteer red sage, zinnias, and butterfly plants that have taken over the plot. My daughter took several red sage plants to plant in her garden but it hardly makes a dent in the profusion. Soon I will have to take out the volunteer morning glories that climb on every available part of the fence.

Last night my grandson Quincy and I went out to set and bait the traps we hoped would capture the pesky armadillos that continue to root around in the garden. Quincy thought that wet dog food would attract them and he was right. This morning there were two oppossums in the traps. He went out with grandpa to let them go a mile away on the edge of the property. The armadillos are still at large..

Right now I cannot keep perseverating about national politics. So, I am enjoying the here and now of life on the ranch at the edge of the Green Swamp, gardening, working on local volunteering in the Lacoochee community and entertaining the many guests who come. I try not to listen to NPR too much!

My mission right now is to spread the word about good eating! Everyone needs to grow at least some of their own food. In addition to the school/community garden, I will be distributing plant starts and containers full of potting soil to the families who come to the "clay nights" we'll have at the elementary school this fall. When we hosted 'Art Camp' this summer, the kids and parents really loved the fruits and vegetables we served. This stuff is expensive, I know, so anything I can do to encourage a good diet with fresh vegetables is a small but positive thing.

This weekend my husband, the cook, made an exquisite soup! Two parts of peeled tomatoes, one part of peeled peaches, sauted onion. Cook it down until soft. Not long! Then puree it all in a blender or giraffe or food processor. Chill. Add minced tarragon and some heavy cream. Serve in chilled bowls. Yum!



The Last Veggies

Improbable, but the vegetable garden is still producing at least

Fun Stuff

Here is Berenice's painting from art camp this week. One of the activities was to start a line with a permanent marker and not pick up that pen until the drawing was done; then use water colors to complete it. Adults who came had such a hard time! And Berenice just came in and sat down and immediately took a piece of the "good" watercolor paper and produced this. I love it when the grown-ups and kids just really have fun together, learn from each other, and are on a par as persons.

We are several weeks into this art camp, and by now we have a steady and somewhat shifting group of two dozen parents and kids. They appear on the dot of nine a.m., ready to go. The first thing is opening the kiln from the past week's firing. They loved seeing the colorful newly glazed pieces, and by now they are all helping hands to unload and put away the kiln stilts and posts and shelves.

Then I explain what the art activities are today: the line drawings and water colors and clay glazing and making new pieces, and the ever popular construction room where they can put anything togethert they can imagine with glue guns. I have for today a bunch of toilet paper tubes, pieces of wood, pipe cleaners, old wires and hardware- junk!

I have not yet seen any kid or parent at loose ends. By now everyone knows where everything is, and if they don't see it in the bins, they ask to look in the drawers where I stash other craft items. I feel comfortable with these kids!

I have two amazing helpers. I never required it or expected it, but my husband has been an incredible help. He sees how these kids respond to an interesting day, and he's on duty as a lifeguard at the swimming pool and the primary provider of the lunch we serve to everyone at the end of the morning. He chats with the parents, and one time, I hope he'll try his hand at clay or painting.

The other steady helper is a wonderful college student from St. Leo's I discovered when I was judging a local art gallery show. She was tending the desk. I suppose I have a lot of crust but I immediately asked her if she would be willing to help me out. This Lindsie Dougherty gave me her phone number, and rest is history. She appears and is wonderfully capable and I think she'll be a fixture in our lives for the forseeable future.

Most of the families are Hispanic- Mexican and Cuban.

Next time all of them are going to bring the food for a Hispanic lunch. All I have to do is produce the promised VOLVCANO CAKE!

I love doing this. I get the chance to practice my Spanish and provide a loving climate for people to be creative. These are folks who are trying their best for themselves and their kids. I have made some unexpected good friends here, and I have made some good friends with their children, some of whom will be in my life for a long time.

This is such a great antidote to the hours I spend worrying about the wrong direction our country is in. These folks are not the mean spirited Tea Partiers who are not concerned about others less fortunate. (I've got mine!) Of course we do not talk politics or religion here, but these families see what our values are. And I see what their values are.

Lots to be learned and one is never too old to learn.

I've got mine!

He's huge, maybe almost as old as I am (almost 71!). These gopher tortoises are iconic in my life. I see them out in the fields and in the yard between eleven and five o'clock most days. They are eating the grass and just moseying along enjoying a peaceful life in Central Florida where it rains all summer and it's not hotter than usual. He doesn't worry about his pension or social security in old age. He doesn't vote.


It might be better not to read the papers or connect with the news. Drought, fires, tornadoes, starvation, floods, extreme heat, economic distress, people drowning in the Volga River, people shooting and torturing each other. So, I've got mine: an amazing and beautiful life surrounded by green and growing things, considerate family, good friends, and enough prosperity. So far, we don't worry about not having enough to eat or how to pay the bills.

I see a bleak future for our country if we continue on this road of "I've got mine, and the rest of you be damned."

I heard Paul Farmer talking about his latest book, "Haiti, After the Earthquake" on Fresh Air today. So much terrible stuff happening there, such abysmal poverty, so little hope. And we see such tragic photos of the drought and starvation in Africa, and the ongoing violence in Afghanistan and Iraq. No doubt people are starving elsewhere and doing unspeakable violence to each other. In the U.S. there is not a day when we do not hear about folks who torture and abuse their children and each other.

I am frequently asked on surveys if I think this country is headed in the wrong direction. I think the whole globe is headed in the wrong direction!

So we do the little things we do to help out and we know it is never enough. Probably even Warren Buffet or Zucherman or Gates with all their billions cannot do enough.

What I can do is put my energy into good works for kids and community, support for my grandchildren, affirmation for the natural world. I've got mine. And I bear the guilt of the survivor.

Art Camp 2

Twelve kids appeared yesterday for Saturday kids' and parents' art camp. I never know who will be there. This is not a group of 'helicopter' parents who are tethered to their family calendars and plans. There were five parents, all mothers this time. Only two kids were left off without a parent.  My husband and a volunteer from St. Leo College were on hand for the duration.

This art camp is free, nothing required except that you come. (or not!) Lunch and snack provided.

Early, before the kids arrived, we made the lunch of mac and cheese, fruits and vegetables, melon and homemade cookies. I believe that kids (and all people) should eat wholesome, tasty, and organic food, so nothing we serve is not fresh and local.

The first thing I had on hand was a bunch of owl pellets (not for lunch!) donated by our favorite geeky friends who know how much I love such things. The kids got right to work with pin tools to pick apart the pellets and figure out what these owls had eaten. Some of the middle school kids already knew about owl pellets but they had not been able to poke at them in person. " Mom! Owl vomit!" They identified lots of tiny creatures from the bones, and a couple of the kids wanted to reconstruct a fantastical creature. I directed them to the glue gun center.

But what is great about this "art camp" is that there are many centers of activity, some overlapping. The kids now know where everything is. Together we opened the kiln with their fired clay from last week. Everything came out well- no explosions, so we went to work glazing these pieces, but kids were flying around between the barn and the studio, still working on the owl pellets, and beginning to work on glueing shells together for sculptures. Some kids and parents still wanted to work with clay. Several kids wanted to make constructions out of the junk I keep around. I could see that all of them felt comfortable in this space and they seem responsible. I am expansive so I invite them to explore and find what they need.

Suddenly it was a short time before I wanted to take all the kids to the pool, so we decided to put them all in the back of the truck and go out to the far end of our property to "Quincy's Museum", the small cabin where our grandson has collected bones and fossils and such he has found on the property. "Just drop everything you are working on," I said. "We'll be back." The kids wanted to take their fantastical creature hot glued together from the owl pellets to be in the museum, so we packed them into the back of the pick up and drove very slowly the two miles.

This place, a small ranch in the scheme of such things, is absolutely lovely as we drive under the canopy of oaks covered with resurrection fern, cypress heads, pine forests, round pastures and into the far field where we find nestled on the edge of it the cabin, Quincy's Museum. The kids leap out and investigate the things in the museum- the bones and feathers. They all sign in to the guest book. They place their new aquisition in a prominent place.

Then, after a different route back, we are ready for swimming.
The kids are at very different levels of aquatic ability, but with a lot of others, they are fearless in the water.

I notice that many kids who have been here before are many notches better in the water. Berenice, who is eight, and struggled last week to swim across the pool, is confident, and even is diving into the deep end! Hiaritzini does not cling to the shallow end, but I watch her constantly. She's on the upswing of learning to swim. I move around the pool, always watchful. I give kids tips on diving and strokes, offer them paddle boards and diving rings. My husband is watching from the other side. The moms are constantly checking their cell phones but have an eye on their kids.

When everything is done, the projects completed, the wet clothes changed, the lunch eaten, these wonderful parents and kids pitch in and clean everything up! They help load the kiln (before sponging off the bottoms of the glazed pieces), they sweep out the studio, they return everything to where it was.

They are so excited by the wonderful time their kids are having they decide to arrange a fantastic Mexican meal for our last art camp three weeks hence. I see the Hispanic and "other" parents getting together to arrange this menu that will happen on the last day of camp.

Of course, I have gotten a lot out of this project! I am determined to share the bounty of this place and my life with these kids. For so many of them this is the best thing they have going for the summer. I would bet that this is far better than a theme park amongst the millions. This is such a corrective. I find the moments to share with these parents how important I think it is to read with their kids, prepare good food, take care of their teeth, explore nature.

Carlos, getting ready to go home says, " Save this stuff. I am going to work on it when I come back." And he hugs me goodbye.

Living in the Green Swamp: some people get it

After a wonderful several days of the beginning of the rainy season we have visitors  who are staying in the guest house, our dear friends who truly "get it" about how magical this place is. They look at the swallow tailed kites, the lush grass in the pastures, and appreciate the local sandhill cranes, walk in the woods, fish in the pond. With them we can discuss the nesting habits of the chimney swifts who inhabit our chimney from May to October. They are interested in the alligator with the big head that came to visit the studio yesterday.

We are so inclusive and welcoming to people who come here. We want to show them the wonders of wild Florida. We want them to love this place we call Florida. A couple of years ago we placed this land, our 300 acres or so in a conservation easement. This means that this land and place can never be developed and must stay as it is. No gated community, no shopping mall, no dump can ever be here. Of course, this reduces its value, but who knows? After we're dead a wealthy and eccentric person will take it on or maybe it could be a wonderful environmental camp. (So valuable after our current governor strips out every available environmental gem and there is little left of natural Florida.)

I so passionately believe that our souls depend on being outside in the natural landscape! People who don't get this have never had the experience!

Many of our friends wonder why we stubbornly keep on living here in the Green Swamp. They constantly ask us when are you ever coming to the symphony? Why don't you spend more time in St. Pete? They think we live a thousand miles away. What are we doing there? We are making a life in this community, bird by bird, and person by person. Our fancy credentials are not important here - just our skills and devotion to making better lives for the folks as we find them.

Our friends could come if they wanted to, but 65 miles is so far, and then there are bugs and the possibility of spiders and ticks and other icky things.

Occasionally I wistfully think of the urban experience, and we are inclined to visit New York or Paris or Rome. But not for long! I have to get back to this place on the edge of the Green Swamp.

The Need to be Needed

Here are some kids who attended my first of the summer art camps.  Hiarintzi, so fearless is beginning to swim. Clearly, she has no idea that she could sink like a stone and she wants to jump into the deep end. We encourage her to cling to the side of the pool and we watch her like a hawk. In the next five weeks, we know she'll be swimming like a fish. Her father dropped her off this morning, confident that we'd take good care of this precious child.

Because of the possibility of rain we decided to have the swimming first and when the kids were tired and cold we moved to the barn and studio for the art.

In the next photo here is Manuel who is making a clay piece of which he'll be proud. His mom is by his side and the two of them are harmoniously working together.You could hear Spanish and English equally important, the kids easily going back and forth in both languages.

 All the two dozen or so kids and parents are totally engaged in making art from fifty pounds of red clay. We spread out from the studio into the pole barn. The kids run back and forth in search of just the right tool or more clay. The drying rack in the barn next to the kiln begins to fill up with finished works. Parents become intrigued and ask for more sophisticated answers. The whole group is so focused and calm, I feel I can expand and relax my tight control. I bring them interesting things to extend their work: some molds and patterns, more tools.

These kids range in age from 6-13. They all helped each other, laughed a lot. Before we knew it, it was time for lunch. There were lots of unfinished pieces but we all stopped for tuna salad and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, veggies and dip, cheese cubes and watermelon. One could get cold water from an Igloo.

They finished up, all pieces secure in the drying shelves. And then everyone, kids, moms and dads cleaned everything up. It was amazing! Kids sweeping, washing bats, taking the left over food up to the main house, collecting wet towels.

Reminded me of the school I worked in for so many years before retirement, when it was just normal to clean up your space! And the whole day reminded me of how natural and wonderful it is to have multi-age groups of kids, working together, teaching each other, respecting each other.

So, in my retirement from a wonderful teaching career, I threw up my arms in rejoice at leaving it. No more staff meetings, no more belly punches from stuff coming out of left field, no more strict schedules. And I passionately believe that one should leave to make room for the younger generation, whatever that might be. I wanted to make room for me and the stuff I never had time to do. I am doing this. I always have something going on- a book, a quilt, painting, pottery.

But I have learned that what is most important to my heart is to be needed in wherever I am so I reach out in the ways I know best- to kids.

Full Summer



The view from the front porch is perfect with the crape myrtle just beginning to bloom and promising a wonderful fucsia profusion of flowers for all of July. The hummingbirds are still feeding their nestlings there. I must fill the feeders almost every day.
I am preparing for the first day of Art Camp on Saturday. I reorganized the bins of materials, now neatly labeled and inviting. For the first session we will be making clay artifacts (aka lumps), and set them to dry and then to be fired before the next session. So I have cut the pristine bars of earthenware clay into manageable hunks and prepared bins of tools and spray bottles of water. I have also prepared another activity of making stickers. The balls for net games have been inflated, bug repellant is at the ready, and tables have been set out. I have engaged some volunteers to help and I am ready!
My spouse will be a lifeguard at the pool, and I am hoping to engage some of the moms to help with the lunch.
Ye gads! The lunch! I am going to have tuna salad (full of vegetables), whole wheat sandwich rolls, organic no sugar peanut butter, all fruit jam, cheese cubes, carrot sticks and tomatoes and peppers from the garden. Watermelon and bananas and water to drink.
So, with this in mind I went to our local super Walmart to stock up.
I rarely go there, but since I needed some containers of glue, tape, glue gun supplies etc., in addition to the food, it seemed a good choice.
I found everything I wanted except for the marbles. When looking for the marbles I came across a couple of kids in the toy department. (No Walmart employees are in evidence) They were spinning hula hoops and lobbing basketballs wherever they wanted. They were awful and awesome. So I engaged them in my hunt for marbles. We looked everywhere, hooting to each other.
"Look in the games place!" "Try the lego place!" We couldn't find them anywhere and decided that some kind of strange ping pong ball might do. I love these chance encounters.
Then I had everything I came for and I headed toward the checkout, wending my way between the scooters and carts of extremely fat people. Three times people in scooters asked me to hand them something they couldn't reach and I was happy to do it. The store should issue grabbers with the scooters.
I see a check out line but it says 'twenty items!' so I proceed to the next line.
Turns out that this line has a new checker with an experienced checker behind her. For some reason I always seem to get in the line of novice checkers. My karma. So, I start unloading all the stuff - the glue guns, the two enormous watermelons, the adhesive googly eyes, the masking tape, and all the lunch stuff and a bale of toilet paper.
And then I notice the dead silence.
In back of me are about fifteen people to check out. They are regarding me with such reptilian loathing and I don't know why. Finally, the woman in back of me says, "This is a quick check out line. Right there it says 'Twenty items or less'."
I hate Walmart, especially the Super Walmart. I don't know the protocol, I am not fat enough or savvy enough.
"What?", I say. "I thought this line was fine! I moved over from the other line."
All those good people patiently standing in line behind me with their fewer than twenty items regard me with distaste. The super checker is friendly and assures me that everything is o.k. (but please look at the twenty item or fewer rule next time. Please look at the overhead cone that designates what check out aisle you should enter.)
Meanwhile the very new checker is struggling with my $200 order and my desire to pack it into the weird grocery bags I have brought.
I am swiveling my head to note these cones for future reference. As the new checker slowly moves all the stuff over the console, I feel I must say something, make a statement, do a dance, whatever, to mollify these stony faced folks who are waiting in line.
I have swiped my card, and I proceed back down the line of waiting customers to tell them thanks, I didn't mean ill, I was ignorant, forgive me. I offer the woman behind me a banana. No dice. Finally I play the Pity card and tell them that a) I am not familiar with this store, and b) I am buying all this stuff for a free camp for Mexican migrant kids. No one took me up on the free bananas.
As I take off fast with my cart overfilled with stuff in strange bags, I call out my thanks.
They still look like snakes.