Trying to Understand the Rednecks

I so love all the ways my neighbors arrange life. They have all kinds of animals and crops, and they are so interested in anything rural. We talk about what they have planted in their gardens and what works. Their kids approach us to sponsor their animals in the county fair.

These folks are fiercely independent Americans and they want no truck with "government" and they want to have their guns at the ready. These people do not recycle and do not believe in climate change, or understand it. T.V. plays constantly in their dimly lit homes. In many cases their yards are full of trash and plastic.

And yet, these folks have many wonderful values. They take care of each other, and on many occasions they take care of us, whose values are wildly different. Some of them are truly caretakers of this land.

We call these folks "rednecks", though actually my neck is redder than most because I am outside most of the day. This term really is about education, or the lack of it. O.K. It's about the vast ignorance so many of my fellow countrymen have.

For years we tried to buy a contiguous sixty acres from an old and cranky guy who owned it. After having put in a lot of effort and money to have it surveyed, and a lot of energy removing trash from the property, he finally refused. We were planning to give away two thirds of it to his daughter, and to the man who put major work into restoring this land. This was disappointing, but we went on.

Some years later, we decided to place all our land into a conservation easement. This means that nothing more than what is here can be added to. We cannot build anything more on our 300 acres. This land can continue to be a wildlife corridor from the Withlacoochee River, through the Green Swamp. Annually, the water board comes to check on how things are going here. When and if we sell this place, the easement goes with it. We liked thinking that this paradise would be forever.

Since we made this decision we have enjoyed the burgeoning of the wildlife here. It is truly the peaceable kingdom where every imaginable Florida critter and wildflower thrive. I drive on our mile long driveway to get the mail and see bobcats, many deer, wild turkeys and every kind of bird. It was a good decision.

But now we are revisiting the desirability of buying that contiguous sixty acres. Over the last ten years, (who knew?), we became close with a family, all scientists, who more and more frequently came out to visit. We formed such a strong bond with them! They really "got it"! They helped in the work of the ranch - mowing and clearing trees, working in the gardens. We share meals, love their kids. They have become a very important part of our family.

They love this place so much they want to have a part of it for their own. They got a windfall and promptly offered a juicy contract on that desirable sixty acres ( a lot of it is swamp, but to herpetologists, so great!)  And that crusty suspicious redneck family still holds out! They never use it unless it is to shoot stuff!

The in-law son, Mac, now approaching seventy has Parkinson's. He's our ranch manager, owns the herd of cows and is here every day. I love him beyond the beyond and we would do anything for each other. If our younger friends could buy into that land, it would benefit everyone, especially Mac, in so many ways. If our "new" family lived here it could be such a win-win situation! The pastures could be mowed, fences fixed, the cattle pens repaired. We old folks could be staying here for a long time.

But these folks still say "No." They are not thinking about the welfare of Mac over the long haul. They are not thinking of Mac's wife who may need the money, and certainly they do not think about the stewardship of the land. These folks freely strew trash around. Makes me nuts!

It's hard being neighbors here! Stay tuned. There is always plan B, and maybe plan C.

Thinking about Syria

I see the photos of the terrible devastation of war in Syria and they grip my heart and I cry for those refugees now in Jordan and Lebanon. I have seen those places in another more peaceful time when I learned to love the stark deserts and the impossibly green spaces where water flowed.

More than fifty years ago when I was a teenager in Beirut, I accompanied my father on the trips he took to various archaeological sites in the fertile crescent. He was a classicist and was taking his knowledge on the road to various cities and towns that had been the cradle of civilization.

We would set out in the VW with various maps. It was always an adventure. I was responsible for the slide show and in each town we hired a translator. The venues were packed. (There was little else to do in these towns.) It was hairy getting from place to place, and I worried about my attire. I will always remember the dark shirtwaist dress and the black shawl I sometimes needed to cover my hair and arms.

We would set forth, through the lush Bekaa Valley of Lebanon and soon begin our trek through Syria and on into Iraq. We loved Damascus with its lovely buildings and the amazing maze of the souks- where I bought meters of cloth to take back home for my mom to sew into dresses. I learned to not notice the attention that was paid me for my wild curly blonde hair that kept escaping from my shawl.

We had a gig in Aleppo and enjoyed the town and its lovely leafy main street. Now this place is in ruins.

Lots of times our respite for the nights were sketchy. We were served roasted song birds and sheep testicles. We tried hard to enjoy these things, (my dad threatened me if I would not at least try them!) and the pay off for me was seeing the incredible blue to pink skies as day dimmed over the desert.

I was in all respects a typical teenager and I longed for my boyfriend back in Beirut. But, somehow I knew that these expeditions were part of the adventure of my life.

As we drove through the deserts of Syria and Iraq we saw a number of hills just jutting out of the landscape. My father told me these were called "tels"-ancient hills that covered up towns and cities, now lost to civilization. We saw so many of them! It piqued my imagination. What happened to the inhabitants of these cities? I wanted to get out and dig them up ASAP.

On one trip across the kitty litter desert after nightfall, we ran into a donkey, probably killed it, and it certainly did major damage to our VW. The donkey shepherd appeared out of the night, we paid him off in piasters, and we drove on without a windshield, shards of glass embedded in our clothes (the shirtwaist). The entry point into Iraq was fraught and we had to wait hours as they searched our car and constantly thumbed through our documents. Finally, we returned to Syria and Damascus where we had the possibility of getting the car repaired. A few days later we caught a plane back to Beirut, and eventually the VW was returned to us.

This middle east is so beautiful and amazing. I hate seeing so many places in rubble, so many people killed from the war, refugees,  and I know that so many of the iconic archaeological and natural sites have been ruined for all time. The wonderful people of the middle east deserve more. Our entire world deserves more.

And I do not know what to do about it!

Old Lady in the Digital World

O.K. I am trying my best. I was an early adopter of these things and I wanted my kids to have access to computers, so we bought the first computer, an Apple, more than thirty years ago. Of course, we were all hooked, we learned how to program games and we endured the clackety clack noise of those first printers. The internet was in its infancy.

Time passes and I have had many computers and gone from the very slow dial-up to satellite to DSL and beyond. My first computers were Apples and then for a long time I switched to Dells that had more currency in my work life.

While all this was happening I adopted the cell phone life, and was thrilled with my first smart phone!. Of course, it was able to do more than I needed and its interface was ever seeming too small for my middle aged eyes. Not to mention my fingers that refused to be able to text.  On to the iPhone and a steep learning curve of texting, Instagram, and all the rest.

And now I have a brand new huge Apple desktop and this is a wonderful toy. In these days they do not give you any instructions. You get to figure it out yourself, and if you can't shift those photos to another album you can always click help.

I used to think that my computer was my inside pocket of privacy. No more. If my Mac can automatically provide the correct spellings and even find faces in photos and find so much else, including where the photo was taken, I have got to revise my thinking.

When looking at Google Earth looking down on our very private 300 acres, I saw that every single cow, every single plant in the vegetable garden, is visible! Yikes!

I suppose that for most of us our privacy is in the sheer vast numbers of us out there in the digital world. and so we hide in the crowd. Who is going to look us up on Face Book amongst 600 friends?  And yet, I know that nothing on our computers is really private. Our comings and goings are photographed on security cameras many times a day as we go about our business in stores and gas stations and all the rest.

Now, being seventy-two, I have come to realize that all the stuff I have written is not important in this vast world of writings. My kids can read my book, the documents in my computer files are mostly temporary and I delete them as necessary. Maybe they are permanently in clouds. I do not need to keep vast files and I can delete them as I do the boxes in closets and the hangers of clothes no longer wanted.

This is a whole new world and I am at the tail end of it. Where is it going? What will this mean for our children and grandchildren?

Meanwhile, I am doing the best I can with this new technology and loving every minute of it.  I am thankful I do not have teenagers under my responsibility because they are so vulnerable, though I would love to have one of them sit by my side and easily tell me to click on this or that.

But Siri soldiers on, helping me navigate everything.

Thoughts about our Community/school Garden

Spring is here in Central Florida and everything is a startling green. Fireflies are about finished and the love bugs are about to appear as they always do about this time of year. And our community garden at the local school is beginning to produce something other than the ubiquitous collards.

We 'Garden Ladies' feel proud of what we have brought to this school. We got the grant of a few thousand dollars to set up the beds and the irrigation system, buy a load of garden soil, and a lot of seedlings and seeds, and the ancillary things one needs to keep a vegetable garden growing.  We put up a colorful garden sign and a place for folks to write about the garden. We have a large garden supply box where kids can find new seeds to plant, hand lenses to look at the bugs and whatnot, tools for digging, gloves to wear. Even band-aids.

It was way harder than we imagined to engage this school in gardening! The administration and the teaching staff was so enmeshed in their problems about the FCAT and how the school would be letter-wise, they had little time and interest in the vegetable garden that kept on growing out back. It took us some time to figure this out. Gradually, we found that some classes came out to the garden and enjoyed digging and planting and watering. Most of the teachers who brought kids to the garden told us they enjoyed it, and yet, many continue to let their students foul the compost bin with plastic bags and other non-compostable garbage. Often, we find lots of trash around and tools left lying out.

Out irrigation system automatically waters everything, but we have fifteen grow boxes along a corridor that are out of range of the water. These are supposed to be the property of individual parents and teachers and they need to be cared for. I am surprised that some of these earth boxes get watered and that whoever waters them never thinks to water those of their neighbors!

What I have learned from this project is that kids love gardening! They are interested in everything that is growing. They want to keep a few of our broccoli plants that have gone to seed with their beautiful yellow flowers for the hummingbirds and butterflies. One small girl has taken it upon herself to keep the hummingbird feeder full of nectar. Another regular kid turns the compost bin. They love to plant stuff and they love to pick what's ready and take it home to cook and eat. They love to dig in the pile of garden soil and they love to water with the fertilizer water that smells of fish.  They love finding frogs and bugs. These kids love to be outside in the Florida sunshine (Their classrooms are windowless!) These kids are proud of what they are growing!

I have found that a few teachers come out to the garden on a regular basis and harvest the lettuce or collards or whatever and take it home for supper! We have picked many vegetables and cooked them in the classrooms with kids chopping and cutting and combining. The kids love these cooking groups.

So, we rejoice in this.  We wish that the school garden might have been a more compelling activity for everyone. We wish that there had been more support of our work.  I do not think that our major efforts have been for nothing in this food desert. We just need to think that the vision of good nutrition happens little by little, and we have had a part in this.

Amazing Day

I have never named this school I write about in my blogs. But now, everyone knows that this is the same Lacoochee Elementary School that hit the front page of the newspaper today because of the fact that all the faculty will be let go because it has been a D school for three years running. There are a lot of unanswered questions. There is a lot of baggage there, a lot stemming from the previous Superintendent who constructed huge road blocks to progress.

I know that there are a lot of unanswered questions about this school! Why is this school at the top of the list to be restructured in some way? We need more information.

From the point of view from a long time volunteer who has been judgmental (because I have been  a school principal and I think hard about these things), I have been saddened and sometimes outraged about what happens in this school that I love.

So many times I have noticed how unfriendly I feel at this school. Very few "Good Mornings!" Many reasons I can't do this or that.

The students I have in classes are so enthusiastic and bright! They love the creative teaching I do with them. But the administration is hard to get by, to let me actually teach!

It has been a hard slog in this school! The four of us who got a grant and brought a community garden to the place have been barely seen, never understood or appreciated. We thought this would be an exciting and fun place, full of educational experiences about good nutrition and the science of botany.

Most of the teachers have never even known that a school garden was out there (So verdant and green and burgeoning with harvestable vegetables) The kids love being out there in the garden, but there are plenty of teachers whose kids have never been out there to water and pick off the bugs , learn about how to grow things, and take home bags of vegetables. No one but us takes any responsibility or pride in this. Makes me sad. Cooking the vegetables has been hard because there is always the issue of the locked (high security) room where we have our cooking supplies. Daunting.

We volunteers have noticed that so many times that if any kids come to the garden they are accompanied by substitute teachers. Why is this? The actual classroom teachers are in meetings?

The school garden is just an iconic thing about the general health of this school.  No one would ever bother to water the plants or think about what it takes to make anything grow. (Including kids!)

Why is this? It's not because people loathe vegetables or harbor ill will towards us who superintend the garden. I think some of them are proud of this work their students do. Some of them harvest food to take home. People at this school do not have any time! The school has been under state supervision this year so that it could make a better grade than a D. Those kids absolutely must do well on the FCATS or else! So the teachers are constantly in meetings with "the state" or preparing for meetings with "the state" or coaching the kids to be better test takers.  It's hard to find time to teach!

Or else! just happened. Maybe knowing that the other shoe has dropped the folks at Lacoochee can find some time for fun and some joy and a big bite of a fresh tomato.

The current principal tried really hard in a very difficult situation.

That said, I am thinking that in the best possible world a new principal will be appointed. He/she will be enthusiastic and affirming, speak standard English (maybe Spanish). This new principal will be very well educated and open to new ideas, read widely, and be able to guide the staff of teachers to new heights. This new principal will encourage the wild ideas of a creative staff. This new principal will be inclusive and energize the teachers and let them all know how important it is to affirm every parent , child and community member for what they do. This new principal needs to have a sense of humor and fun. And this new principal needs to have a strong support system in their administration - including a strong parent/community person who can seamlessly know what needs to be done. This new principal needs to have a vision of what can be done in this amazing community of mostly hispanics.


And this principal will have the time to lead and inspire a great team.


I am thinking that the best principal will know how important it is to have every single teacher be in his/her classroom every single day!  Pare down those "important" meetings.

This school is inhabited by the best children on earth. They are the brightest and best, like any others in our schools.

They deserve the best.

Getting Personal

I listen to and watch the news every day. Seems like we have hit the edge when some of those men in suits in our legislatures change their minds about those important issues that have engaged Americans for years. I am glad they do.

Everyone has their price, nothing new. But when one of those legislators has seen their grandchild's body splattered to death by an assault weapon in the hands of a madman, he has to think whether the rifle association with all it's money and support for the next election is ethically worth it.

Interesting, that with less money involved, so many of the "suits" have come on  board for gay marriage. I would bet that there is not a family out there who does not have some gay members. Who could be opposed to these civil rights?

We have for too long swept under the rug the issues of the undocumented folks who do our work so well, have really smart kids who will be the heart of productive America.

For the "suits", you only know that the undocumented folks mow your lawn and clean your houses and do extraordinary work on building your houses. It is easy not to see that these hard workers may actually be engineers or physicians, and are clawing their way up to be part of the American Dream.

But everyone has their price, money talks, and I am disgusted with our current lot of politicians who waft in the wind, try to appease their base and get the money from PACS and the rich who ferry them around in private planes.

What happened to ethics?

Fashions for Senior Gals

O.K. I know there is a website out there written by a great guy who loves old ladies of fashion. I am paying attention. But I do not ever want to dye my eyelashes orange (what there are left of them!) At 72, 5 feet six inches and one hundred twenty-two pounds, I am the same as I was at 22. But not really..

I have always wanted to have my own signature style. I imagined kind of flowing garments, Eileen Fisher, sweeping the ground, classic, suggestive. I liked the idea of being able to cover up my wrinkled body, but maybe not.

My hairdresser now knows that I want a short style for my curly hair that I don't even have to brush out after a shower. I am happy with that.

My closet is full of things - the lovely light pink maxi skirt, a fuscia sleeveless top, gold sandals. But everyday I pull out the Chico jeans and a White Stag cotton tee shirt from Walmart, shove my feet into Birkenstock Arizona sandals, put in some colorful earrings and I am good to go all day.

I guess this is my style. Swim suits are problematic. Mostly, I swim in the nude since there is no one there. Actually, I have a huge number of bathing suits - all bad in one way or another. I hate that horrid time of making all those straps and tight criss crosses behave. I will don a swim suit when guests are here, of course. Will I wear that modest polka dot swim dress that takes ten minutes to put on, or will I wear the "cute" boy shorts with that incredibly uncomfortable top?

Old ladies, even thinnish ones as I am, have to think about how we will display our upper arms and thighs in the clothing of today. I have muscular upper arms, no flab. All good. But there are those horrid wrinkles! You can't wear Spanx all day and not be grouchy and touchy. You can't wear a bag over your head!

So, back to the loose and flowing garments. Except that you can't garden or use major tools or hike in those. I guess it's back to the jeans and tee shirts, wrinkles be damned. I am elderly and I will be comfortable. My style.

Clay Night

Last night was Clay Night at Lacoochee Elementary School. As you can see there were about seventy people present. We invited the second grade and the fourth grade classes. The families of these children from grandparents to tiny babies came on time- and actually before.

Their kids have told them about this Ms.Molly and they know how much time and fun I provide in the garden and in other classes. So they brought their families last night. And what a good time we all had!

Maybe two thirds of the participants were the Mexican families. We did our best at translation. Some really beautiful clay objects were made, and afterwards everyone helped clean up and tote the finished clay things to my car. People told me that this was the best fun they have had all week.

No actual parent or community meetings have had this turn out of interested folks. I think how it would be to have clay/art nights once a month and include a pot luck supper from our garden harvest.  Last night there was a lovely feeling of community and family fun. People- moms, dads, families of all kinds, need to play

with each other.

Volunteering at the school, constructing a community garden there, teaching some classes, has been a very uphill endeavor for me and for the other volunteers. I love the kids and get tremendous affirmation from them. The administration often seems unwilling or unfriendly or not caring about our efforts. Hundreds of hours and dollars we have contributed to this school. In some ways I think that these beleaguered folks have all they can handle considering the fear of FCAT.

I do think that common courtesy might motivate them to communicate things to us volunteers. We ask, but it never happens. And, like Lucy and the football, I keep going back.

Clay night was wonderful! We could build on that if only, if only..

Need to Play

The four of us- 'the garden ladies' as we are known, because we secured the grant for this community garden, and continue to be there for a time each weekday, have been puzzled by the irrigation system problems. It was all set up, running beautifully, and timed to water every day, morning and evening.

But almost every day we notice that the spigots are turned off or the sprinkler heads are turned every which way. Last week when I was there with many kids what I saw was that they ran to the tools, got dixie cups from the garden bin, rummaged around to find every last seed, no matter what it was. And then, with a satisfied sigh they settled down to PLAY in the pile of dirt we use for the raised beds! They flung the soil about, excavated for worms and grubs, dug with any tools they could find, piled the dirt into the wagon and then dumped it out back onto the dirt pile. They loved it! Of course the irrigation system was discombobulated!

This is what we wanted, what a children's garden should be! By now, after a long harvest season  and the beginning of a new one, these kids are confident. They pick and eat the last of the broccoli and the pea pods. They break off the huge collard leaves, stuff them in bags to take home for dinner.

 They love to be outdoors, and they especially love the freedom to dig and get dirty. Yeah, they'll water and weed, but what they really want is a HUGE dirt pile, some tools, small containers, and maybe even some small vehicles and plastic people. Unfortunately, this is not to be in the careful and circumscribed world of FCAT. But we do encourage the digging and have rethought the irrigation system!

After this long year in the garden we have learned so much, most of it unexpected. But what I have learned all over again is that these kids, like all kids, need to play!
So much the better that they know that they can grow and eat good things along the way. They know where vegetables come from and they know that in the garden their teachers become lax and limp and cast a blind eye to their capers on the dirt pile. A triumph!

Our grandson, Quincy, is staying here for his spring break. He's eight, and unlike the public school garden kids I mostly see, he's a student at a private school that has a richness of play materials- blocks, clay, art materials, a school garden. But still, he needs to have uncounted minutes and hours to explore his own world which is now Lego. He spends hours constructing huge habitats. He explains them to me and I try to respond in appropriate ways. (What's a grandma for?)

Quincy knows that here on a ranch everyone has to do chores. So he pulls on his boots and gloves and cheerfully helps us clean up the downed trees from yesterday's storm. He's really learning to be a big help, he's strong and willing. I see him playing on the downed tree, reveling in his strong young body.  But I know he is really wanting to get back to his most important work- that imaginative play!

Here on our ranch, Quincy is kind of a prince .- and he knows it! But a prince has to set and clear the table, do some chores. And what he really gets here is the time to play.

We all need to play!

Carlos

Carlos first came to my attention in maybe the third grade. All the kids had the  assignment to present the biographies of their favorite celebrity. The class had many entries in this assignment: all were about the usual teen aged idols and a few sports stars. All were quite dismal and banal in their presentations.

And then, Carlos stood up with his hand written notes. He spoke about Gandhi, and suddenly the room was quiet. The other kids clearly had no idea about this man and his ideas, but they were enthralled by Carlos' and his enthusiasm and careful research.

The school knew that this boy was exceptional, but in this tiny impoverished place, no one knows what to do with the few gifted kids that pass by their purview.

I tracked Carlos through his elementary years and we became friends. He is a Mexican boy, and entered this country illegally on his mom's back. Later, I became friends with his mother who has helped us with our summer camp, and since then has become the best housekeeper we have ever had. (If she were a legal citizen she would be running something, no doubt.)

Carlos has gone on to middle school, the one that enrolls all the Lacoochee Mexicans. I worry that he is not being challenged and from time to time I make it possible for him to be a member of the soccer team, or go to camp, or go on a trip to Washington, D.C.

Carlos, even with the backing of a strong but struggling family invested in education, needs to have the vision of that wide wide world that may be possible. From this family and their community, I have learned how difficult it is to be undocumented in America, how terrified they are, like so many others, to contemplate the fate of this highly gifted kid who could soar. But he's illegal and they worry about this all the time.

As we read in the NYT today, so many high achieving but poor kids just do not have any idea that they could go free to the most selective colleges. (They have not heard of Smith or Yale or ..) They settle for the local community colleges, and there is nothing wrong with that in most cases. We need to ask why those so-called college advisors in the high schools are not directing these gifted, but poor kids to the highest and best.

But, Carlos needs more challenge, and if I have anything to do with it, he'll be there one day at MIT or Brown or wherever.

I am doing what I can. I am trying to give Carlos  some vision about the future.

Twins visit!

Here are Emilio and Valentina in baskets. They are about to break out and crawl like crazy around the house. Emilio will head for the book shelves and if there are any loose books he'll pull them out. Valentina, who crawls even faster (maybe 20 mph?) will search for the dog.

It was such a wonderful visit! These kids' parents are endlessly patient and loving, talking to their children in two languages and seeming to savor every moment, nothing too hard to do for them. We provided vegetables from the garden that were ground up in the baby food grinder, just so, and the kids mushed all the food into their mouths, splatted blueberries on the floor and all the fourteen of us, the critical mass including my best closest grandson, eight years old now, enjoyed it all immensely. We all cooked enormous communal meals.

March in Florida is totally glorious, though a tad chilly right now. Emilio and Valentina seemed very interested in the outdoor life here as we trundled them around in the stroller and the golf cart and in the back of the pick up to explore the property. When I took Emilio out to the vegetable garden to gather the vegetables for dinner, he started cramming lettuce leaves into his mouth, flinging the unwanted ones away.

It was somewhat exhausting with so many folks here and the necessity of leaping to keep the twins from harm and keeping the house and kitchen going. But everyone was on duty to help. I certainly enjoyed every minute. Grandma talking. I love it!

Growing Old with Siblings

My friend Suzanne is about to retire next week. She has six or seven sisters and one of them has taken the vow of silence and retreated to a nunnery. Suzanne is excited to think about going to live with her favorite sister in a lovely place north of us where she'll have her own space, the garden, and the company of her sister and her husband she likes. Snip snap and she's got it all together. Not so easy for everyone.

I am one of five children. One brother died young, another brother leads a life circumscribed by his disabilities from cerebral palsy. So that leaves me, my big brother two years older, and our little sister and we are all getting older.

Big brother Brooks lives as far from me as anyone could be. None the less we manage to see each other at least once a year and for years we have taken trips together with our spouses to wonderful places around the globe. And those have been some of the best trips of my life. For the shank of my working life, big brother and I were cordial but attenuated by circumstance and distance.

And now, I cannot imagine not having the clot of memories we have together and the times we help each other, all the conversations on the fly, the books we send each other, the long phone calls, and the sense of connection we have to the important things in our lives. We have the same drive to give back to our communities. He plays music in old folks homes, has an NPR music show, connects with his neighbors, and is into local politics. And I do the school garden, community organizing, and am a volunteer teacher in our local school. In retirement we both have the same vision.

Our talented little sister is more enigmatic. Right now she is midway through a two month stay at an ashram where she does not speak, only meditates. This is the sister who went on a pilgrimage a couple of years ago through northern Spain to Santiago. This is the sister who makes incredible tile installations all over the world. This is the much married sister who is deep into sobriety issues. Seems that she is about herself.

I hope to begin understanding her, but it is hard. I have missed connecting with her and so treasured a postcard she sent me yesterday about her ascetic life.

My other sibling is Maria, adopted by each other many years ago. I needed another sister and she had no siblings. This wonderful brilliant Maria is my sister in every way. I can ask her and tell her anything, she's a part of the family, we can not talk for days, and then talk all the time. She gives me advice, listens, and I listen. She will pick me up at the airport in the middle of the night. She loves my grandson like I do and we love to hang out. I think about her all the time.

So, we are all growing old together and we have this thick bond that will help us through the tough times ahead.

What if it were just you, the one and only, growing old alone? I can't imagine it. I have this wonderful and robust family network, and we'll see each other through.

So Cold but Spring has Sprung

My neighbor's chickens are laying like crazy so tonight we had a yummy omelet full of Swiss chard from the garden. We hope this will be the last cold snap (I covered the tender potatoes) and everything else will just have to manage overnight.

Today I took collards and a mess of lettuces to my neighbor who appreciates this gift. I also take some tomato and pepper starts to other neighbors I think will grow on these heirloom plants.

Tonight, as always, I gaze into the sky that is quite pristine with no lights from Earth. I can see the constellations and the whole Milky Way, and even a few harbingers of spring- the fireflies.

We live here, way out on the margin of the Green Swamp, nothing toxic, everything perfect in this wildlife corridor. The sand hill cranes elegantly walk the fields, tens of deer cavort at the margins of the pastures, red shouldered hawks scream overhead, and there are dozens of birds on our many feeders. When we awake in our bedroom without curtains or shades and open to the elements, we hear the morning cacophony of the birds and see the hummingbirds zooming fast by the windows.

There is something so magical about experiencing the natural world! Kids who come here understand this and they are enthralled by the ant lions, the yellow rat snake on the porch, the armadillos in the yard, and the sighting of deer across the field. They understand something amazing as they watch the birth of a calf and salute the first wobbly steps.

We are looking forward to the first visit here from our grandchild twins this week. Right now they are too little to remember much, but they'll see the chickens, pick oranges with Grandpa, and ride around the fields in the golf cart. They will go out at night with Grandma and look at the stars.

Life is sweet.

The Baby Needs New Shoes

Being grandma to eight grandchildren is the best. They always need new shoes! Here you see the eight year old in our playroom at the ranch. Undoubtedly, his shoes are in shreds, flopped over as he pronates.

The twins are not into shoes yet. They are still crawling fast, steering with bare feet, but, no doubt, grandma will send on those easy velcro shoes they'll require quite soon. Just today I sent shoes to the ones who live out west whose feet grow and grow.

How are we to think about our kids and their progeny who need so much from us? (college tuition, money for camp?) We were the generation who may have been the last one to actually do better than our parents financially. Our parents did not remotely imagine that they would contribute to their grand children's education. For better or for worse we were launched.

And now it is our pleasure to buy those shoes, or whatever, for these grand kids. This is a new world for us all who are trying to make it work.

Grandma collard seed

Such a gift this week to have the school garden come together with such exuberance. The four of us from the Dade City Garden Club (aka the garden ladies) received our grant to do it in August.

With tons of help from spouses and friends we installed the raised beds, irrigation system and shoveled in the soil. We planted many seedlings and seeds with help from the kids. It was so hard getting the school staff and teachers to come out and participate.

This school has been under state supervision because its rating was a D. All the more reason it seemed to us garden ladies, to bring some joy and soul, science and good eating to this place. We prepared lessons and art activities, the kids loved the bugs and frogs they found. We had cooking groups for the vegetables we harvested.

But there was something immense missing. Seemed that the school did not care, there was no communication however hard we tried, our cooking groups often couldn't happen because the kitchen was always either locked or being used. Many times no kids showed up on schedule. We felt dismissed and unappreciated. We were dispirited. But always, we regrouped to try something else. We knew that these folks at this school were fearful and anxious and we knew also that this garden project could be great.

We admired the garden so burgeoning with produce, a field of fluffy green and tons of flowers, many butterflies. No problem with growing stuff! We invited and cajoled everyone at school to pick the harvest, take it home to eat. It was hard. We went to the garden and no sign of anyone harvesting anything. Gradually, a few classes began to pick collards and broccoli and carrots. We encouraged the kids to just eat beans and peapods off the vines.

Keeping on, we invited parents and teachers and community members to come and learn about growing their very own earth box of what vegetables they choose. Amazing! People showed up! Kids came. It was a wonderful morning of shared work and fellowship. The school parent coordinator, the school science coach, even the principal all showed up - and it seemed they GOT IT! Many e-mails have been whizzing back and forth since then about garden issues. Kids who came to the garden confidently extracted seedlings from the nine packs and deftly inserted them into the beds.

Our broccoli plants have been trying to flower. We leave a few for the butterflies. Two lovely children who had been hanging out working in the garden all morning couldn't bear to throw the spent plants into the compost and saved a plant, sticking it into a pot. "What are you gong to do with this?" I asked. They said they were gong to give it to their teacher! As they hauled it off I called out, "Come back here and tell me how she reacted!"

Five minutes later they were back with mile wide grins. "She loves it!"

These kids and a few others loved being in the garden with a motley group of folks. They hung around as the adults talked vegetable cooking techniques and they spoke up with their own opinions. This is just the way it's spozed to be! I think that now this school has ownership of this magical place.

Grandma collard seed

Grandma Collard Seed

Being Sick

A whole week of my life disappeared. It began happening on a Tuesday afternoon when everything in my body began to hurt with shards of dull pain. I was cold, then hot, I began to cough, I took ibuprophen and went to bed early, and by morning I had changed my sweat soaked p.j.'s twice. My husband was suffering with the same thing and had actually come down with it a couple of days before me.

I was only faintly sympathetic. (I never get sick! Hey, I got the flue shot and have been vaccinated against whooping cough and pneumonia. No worries.) I made soup, my best effort as Florence Nightingale.

But when I became ill, it really was the worst since I had had Asian flu as a teenager. We moved slowly from room to room seeking flat places to lie supine. The dog loved this choice of super warm bodies to cuddle up to. At one point I was lying quietly upstairs on our grandson's bed, and with so much time and nothing to read, I examined everything in the room: the many post-it notes all over the walls. When did this boy do that? I did not have the energy to go and see what they said and my eyes moved on to an amazingly complicated Lego construction on the table. What ARE these turtles?  Then there are the framed child paintings I have not examined in years, and the large photograph of me as a lovely three year old. This is a strange room. And I can't possibly live feeling like this.

After hauling myself in to see my doctor, who said I had nothing unique, a sinus infection and I should rest, drink chicken soup and take a course of antibiotics I felt no better for several days. We continued to cough and ooze from couch to couch, bed to bed. Sometimes we roused ourselves to make some comfort food, stuff we usually never eat such as mac and cheese, dumplings, more soup. It was too much trouble to go out to the garden and pick a salad. I forced myself to tend to the two hundred tomato and pepper seedlings on the porch. Couldn't let them die! One morning we did four loads of laundry- all those sweaty sheets and pajamas.

Just before we turned the corner I got the idea in my head that I wanted to eat pound cake. No one could possibly make the trip to the store.
And so my husband said he'd make a cake. It took six eggs and a prodigious amount of butter. By the time the cake was nearing doneness, he was clinging to the counter, whipped.  We ate it for dessert after one of our comfort food meals we pretended to enjoy. The cake was actually lovely.

Then, this morning after the freeze, we awoke human again. Maybe not quite well, but the possibility exists. We had things to do, places to go.

I have been hungry all day, eating everything in sight. We both lost so much weight in a week it's scary.

 From one Downton Abbey to the next that I watched from my couch, I seriously began to love Maggie Smith's face and began to think of her as my fashion guru.

I will be more sympathetic from now on with everyone, anyone who just has something non unique that is serious to them. The kids never called, not that we had alerted them. But I did think about the many times I sent them off to school sick and was not entirely sympathetic to the various spots and scabs of their childhood.

Such is life.

                             

Many Guests, Many Veges

The tomatoes lasted until the end of January, and even tonight there are probably a few wizened ones left. It has been an amazing winter, warm beyond what anyone has ever seen.

Our New England family is hunkered down watching the snow fall, thinking about tomorrow when all that snow will have to be removed.

  And, here in paradise, I spent the day setting out seedlings, weeding, mulching, planting the new crops to join the broccoli, collards, carrots, and potatoes we are already enjoying. The porch is full of dozens of heirloom tomato and pepper starts I planted just after Christmas that will go into the garden in a couple of weeks. Many of them will go to the school/community garden and to friends.

 It is a new thing to have had vegetables from the garden non-stop for the entire year. Yeah, sometimes there are a lot of repeats. Collards and broccoli several times a week, salad every night.

Yesterday, when we made a last breakfast for our departing guests, we had those exquisite tiny new red potatoes with the eggs from a neighbor and the last of the tomatoes.

My brother and his wife had been visiting for two and a half weeks. They stayed in our lovely guest house that perches on a ridge overlooking the pond. My husband  and I and my brother and his wife have spent two or three weeks together every year for the past twelve years. We have been in Italy and France several times, to Alaska, to New Zealand and places closer to home. Sometimes our sisters were a part of these trips, but always it has been the four of us.

This time they came to visit us here and it was the best visit ever. I could be working in the garden and listen to my brother playing his violin from the porch on the guest house. We read and talked our heads off about books and politics and family. They loved the outdoor shower and the walks through the woods and the panorama of Florida spring with the wild yellow jasmine vines in the trees. We ate marvelous dinners and took day trips all around the vicinity and we had friends over and we sat on the bench by the pond and watched the birds.

It was a perfect visit from this big brother of mine. How I enjoyed the several hours when he prepared a bed for the strawberries and tenderly inserted the plants into the compost amended bed. When it's a long visit, everything doesn't have to be addressed immediately; important issues come in bits, more to come later.

Everyone Wants Money

Most of the calls I receive these days are from people wanting money:  requests from paramedics and police in our community, the democrats, the environment, my college, breast cancer, all kinds of other worthy causes.

 But I have donor fatigue. If I give money to a particular cause all I get in response is a request for more and more. So, sometimes I listen to the pitch, and feel guilty as I say no to right now. Sometimes the folks who are earnestly making the pitch engage me. "So, can I put you down for a thousand bucks?" I think of these young people who are manning the phone banks who have been schooled to make the "Ask". Sometimes, I quietly hang up. I cannot deal with this. Sometimes I tell them that, quite frankly, I do not have the money, but thanks for asking.

When I attend community meetings, most of what we discuss is fundraising. These groups need money! Funds enable kids to make a trip to Washington, D.C., and play football.  Funds enable the community to furnish a community center or provide meals for needy kids, or make it possible for children to get dental care.

Everyone needs money! And I know money is out there. There are many small grants in reach. There are many prosperous people who would willingly give to a cause. There are many people who can buy expensive cars or boats or whatever, but never really think about how far a hundred bucks could go to fund a kid for a soccer club or three hundred meals on wheels. 

We need to have a redistribution of money in this society. Lots of people- the haves- just don't think about it. Our American society is very generous. We just need to be constantly reminded. When the media highlights a story about a kid needing a lung transplant, money pours in . When the media has a story about a miserable dog that was shot with an arrow, or was spurned by our governor, money pours in.

We all do what we can, generous Americans that we are.

But I am not picking up the phone for Telefund - ever!