Summer Vegetable garden gone crazy

In these days of the summer doldrums with heavy rain each day, I go out to inspect the vegetable garden that has fed us throughout the fall and winter and spring.

Summertime when the days are humid and the sun is punishingly hot, no tomatoes will set fruits, and mostly everything else is past. We still have okra and black-eye peas, neither of which we care enough about to pick. Eggplants, sweet potatoes growing everywhere and peppers strive meekly to produce a few fruits among the weeds that now have taken over everything.

The stalwart volunteer army of the zinnias and cosmos and red sage entice the butterflies by the dozens. Soon enough it will be time to clear out the seminole pumpkin vines and the sweet potato vines, and cut back the sprawling tomatoes. But, for now, we can relax, let the stink bugs have their way and enjoy all the insects that are here in this magical garden.

Skunk vines cling tightly to the deer fence and one early morning I will cut them down.

Meanwhile, the lawn is green and vast, the bromeliad garden and the others are doing well. Rainy season is just about my favorite. I have ordered the fall seeds and bulbs and my husband has begun constructing and installing the new raised beds for the vegetable garden.

The garden spiders are busy depositing their egg cases in each place they call their own, frogs are calling every night in joy after the rains, the hummingbirds are frantic to get enough nectar from our feeders.

I picked several pounds of grapes today - determined to get them before the raccoons do- and tomorrow I will make grape jelly.

TKAM, another view

I have read Mockingbird so many times out loud to generations of students, and to four grandchildren. We have watched the film together and noted that the editing was deficient, but, on the whole we loved Gregory Peck and the passel of characters that were so familiar to us. We choked up as Atticus was going out of the courthouse after the trial and Jem, Scout, and Dill watched from the 'colored' balcony as their father was passing by and all the colored folks stood up.

This book was never preachy, and there were so many ideas to conjure with - not just the race issues, but justice in all forms. (And how many kids that I know to whom I have explained 'rape'?)  It was about the tension between Scout and her culture there in Macomb, Alabama. Most of all, kids from ten on up, could think about Boo Radley and his eventual coming into the light as a good and true person.

TKAM has been a touchstone for so many millions of young and old Americans. It was perfect just as it was. Kids got it that when Atticus shot the rabid dog surprising things can happen.

So, when the new book was announced I pre-ordered it, lined up to buy it, made time to read it.

The pundits had gotten there before me and they scorned this newly discovered novel. (Maybe they only read the first ten pages!)  Lots of folks, who, like me, have loved Harper Lee's first book unlike any other, said they would not read "Go Set a Watchman".

There is probably some back story about the discovery and publication of this newly discovered work we will not immediately know. No doubt greed in publishing is a factor.

Today, I finished "Go Set a Watchman".  I choose not to think of this excellent coming-of-age novel as connected to TKAM. Yes, there are references and expansions of some of the prior experiences of Jem and Scout in their Macomb childhood.

This novel can stand on it's own. In the light of recent events in Charleston and elsewhere, we need to think about these thorny issues of race. "Watchman" is sometimes shrill. I think of a young person whose thoughts and ideals just tumble out too fast with too many words. Jean Louise, at twenty-five,  now living in New York as a writer,  is inflated with so many emotions about her culture in both places, and making peace with her father and her origins, stumbles all over herself. The passage of Jean Louise's visit to her uncle Jack probably tells the whole story. It ints true.

This new novel has the signature Harper Lee's  excellent writing - sometimes spare, other times folding into pedantic literature.

This book is not TKAM. Don't expect it to be!

I love that this book has come out at a peak of our national interest in race relations. Something to think about!

Changing our Thoughts

Looking back on my life, there are, of course many things I wish I could take retract. As do we all.

It was a stellar week in some ways, and a total jolt in another. Seeing our president singing Amazing Grace brought tears to my eyes. And I cried with joy at the news that the Supreme Court affirmed the legitimacy of gay marriage. Personally, this means so much because my child is married to her wife, they are bringing up a kid, and I have been crazy with fear that their domestic life could be so compromised by law. Now, we can relax.

I was jubilant that the Court came out in favor of the spirit of the ACA. I have seen so many folks here in Florida who have truly benefited, and who would be devastated if the ruling had been the other way.

In the aftermath of the Charleston massacre, we all must search our souls. The ACA has been done, and the gay marriage issue is resolved throughout the nation.

And now, we need to move on and address the hard issue of racism in America. Each one of us needs to search our souls and conscience - all of us, black, white, hispanic and whatever. First of all, we need to know each other, and then, perhaps, over time, we can forgive each other as the families of the nine slain in Charleston have done.

One thing by another thing, we need to go back and see what we are doing that promulgates the divide of race and ethnicity.

For example, we need to ask ourselves about the diversity of our friendships and our kids' friendships. Those dinner parties, those play dates- how diverse are they?

Do we have Lyme disease?

The "Peoples' Pharmacy' on NPR had a guy this week who had a mysterious case of what turned out to be Lyme Disease. He was a hot shot doctor in Miami, where of course, there is no such thing. It was a riveting show. It took four years to have this thing diagnosed and he ended up having to get a heart transplant.

Everyone has mysterious symptoms from time to time, and mostly, they go away and we never think about them again, let alone have to get an organ transplant. But this program made me think about all the dangers from day to day living we face.

Most of the time my skin is pocked with ant bite blisters, spider bites, gardening nicks, bruises and scrapes, age spots from too much sun over the years, and I don't worry too much about them beyond getting an annual full body check from my dermatologist. But I do check myself every day for the ticks that may have taken up living somewhere on my skin. Usually they announce themselves with a sharp specific itching.

I have been assured by my health practitioner that we do not have Lyme ticks here in Florida. But I wonder if I have had any number of tick born diseases in my lifetime? I am outdoors every day, often in thick woods and knee deep grass, and I rarely use insect repellant or wear clothes that protect from insects.

We do keep tweezers in every room so that we can remove ticks when we get them. (It's a must to have a partner who can examine nether places one can't access.)

When we take a vacation to some urban area and stay for a week or so, all the spots on my skin disappear, the bottoms of my feet become pink and soft, not gnarly and gritty. I discover no new ticks or mysterious bites. I feel ready for being public.

I guess it's the big trade-off. I could live in a lovely and pristine urban condo, and I would not worry about getting Lyme and Chickemunga and Leptospyrosis and Jaws and Maws and other horrid diseases, real or imagined. But I decide to take the risks of being free roaming in the natural world of the pristine Florida Green Swamp.  Maybe I have had all these diseases by now and I got over them and now have the immunities I need.

So, early mornings, I go out to check for tracks to see what's been there over night, and see what wildflowers are in bloom, if the barred owl is hunting in the creek, and look for swallow tailed kites and the crane families and the ibises gleaning in the wetland meadows. I have forgotten, once again, to apply the insect repellant. We have few mosquitoes because they are immediately eaten by myriad predators. I do not worry about West Nile Virus.

Maybe I will die of some insect born disease, or I will be bitten by a rattle snake or a black widow spider, or I could be attacked by an alligator though I doubt it. I tell our most timid visitors that for every snake you see, there are a hundred nearby that you don't. I love pointing out the hundreds of frogs at any given time one can see around our home. Many of them somehow find their way inside the house, so we have all become adept in frog catching. "O.K, guys, you have to go out side," I hear my spouse saying to the current group as he is brushing his teeth.

What is sheer paradise for me is terrifying to others. I am beginning to get that. So, mostly, I invite the kids into my world, and we seem to be on the same wavelength.

Tai Chi and Me

About a year ago I decided to try Tai Chi. I had no real idea what this ancient form of martial arts was, but I had seen dozens of folks in a park in San Francisco a few years earlier and they looked so peaceful and balletic all practicing their moves in unison. I knew then that I wanted to do this too.

I had seen the sign for Tai Chi in a Karate studio along a route I often take on my daily rounds so I stopped in to sign up for a twice weekly class that met at a convenient time. I paid for three months of classes, bought a black Tai Chi tee shirt, found an old pair of soft and baggy black pants, and I was ready!

The Tai Chi master, Ms. Linda, a champion black belt, gave me a print out of instructions, really nothing but a list of all the 109 moves. Yikes!

There is a red square in the middle of the rubber floor of the studio, and that is where Ms. Linda placed me. I was surrounded by men and women who were so far beyond my competence! No one ever coached me in how to do all the moves. I just have to watch others carefully. It took weeks before I knew when and how to bow in and out!

When I decide to do something, I don't dabble. I commit. For Tai Chi I committed to going to each class unless there was a real reason.

I began to see what great exercise this is for the mind and body and breath. Unlike Yoga, one doesn't have to be nose to a mat. It's all upright with deep knee bends, plies and stretching. Before Tai Chi I had thought that I might be a candidate for a hip replacement, and now I can't remember which hip it was!

In Tai Chi there is no competition, just friendly silence and the sounds of all of us breathing deeply. We have no mission to find out about each other, though from time to time, the back stories appear. As in so much else of the life we lead here, the people are of all colors, ages, walks of life. I glean that the Tai Chi people are pilots, doctors, quilt makers, ranchers, snowbirds..

At the end of my first year, I received my first 'belt'-white. It will take many more months to get my blue belt. But who knows?

In the class we do a couple of the whole Tai Chi rounds. In between, the people who do swords and fans do that. After many months I decided to participate in the sword forms and so I bought a beautiful wooden sword and I fling myself and my sword around, hoping that I will not decapitate anyone nearby. People are patient.

What about all those 109 moves? Well, it gets easier. I still watch Ms. Linda, and mostly I can anticipate what is coming next. Sometimes it seems graceful and seamless to me. While doing this I only think of breathing. It will be awhile before I could lead the class, but I know that might be never. It is not a competition.

I have a wonderful wooden sword and I am working to perfect the sword forms one and two. Doing this is good for my arthritic wrists, not to mention my concentration! Using a sword also addresses my basic ten year old boy self. I think I will never be able to wield two swords at once as some of the others do. But today I received a beautiful red silk fan that someday I might be able to wield in that graceful Tai Chi fan dance. I will practice opening it, slapping it shut, throwing it in the air and catching it. And then, I will be ready to be a newbie in fans.

Tai Chi is so ancient, and yet so appropriate for today. It is the opposite of the digital world. Everything there is quiet and so relaxed. We are in the moment, and that is quite delightful.

The Graduate

Here we are in the usual graduate photo of the honoree and his paternal grandparents, But, Wait! There were many more grandparents making up this amazing village that reared this amazing young man.

Diego had this special suit made for him for his graduation from Bard College on Saturday. He had his claque sitting for hours in the tent waiting for that glimpse of him making his way across the stage and flicking his tassel as he received his diploma.

Truly, it was a great two day celebration for this boy, youth, young man we have all loved and nurtured for almost 22 years.

This Diego was my first grandchild, and for that reason and for so many others, he was first under my heart. I have no doubt that he'll make his way and change a part of life on this earth.

There we all were- the family of parents, siblings, half siblings, in-laws, ex-laws, outlaws, godparents, aunties, uncles, cousins, friends, lovers, and everyone else. We were there to celebrate. And of course we did.

The party food was spectacular. The Puerto Rican and Spanish contingent provided much of the food (to die for!), people made cakes and desserts and fried cod fritters and heaps of salads and quiches and everything else one could imagine.

The weather in upstate NY where we gathered was a perfect clear bright blue, the little kids danced on the lawn, the recent graduates were polite to their parents, and everyone was glad to see each other, despite the history that would make some families cringe.

It was a real nice picnic and we're very glad we came..

Back in the Garden

Here are Wilson Blount and Andrew digging potatoes today. We filled two five gallon pails with the spuds - enough for every child to take home enough potatoes for a meal. Everyone, kids and adults, love this potato harvest when we find such treasure underground. Our hands are black with dirt and we exclaim about every worm we find in this good soil.

It was so hot today, but no one complained. We removed many spent broccolis and gone to seed lettuces and the collards that were riddled with holes from the caterpillars. We examined the one tomato horn worm we found on a pepper plant. It was HUGE and I wanted to squash it, but it was taken away to the side of the woods.

There are still a few rows of beans about to produce and a full bed of cabbage, summer peas, peppers, okra, and the cheerful flowers along the walkway.

I love this companionable time with interested kids in the garden. I have no need to shoot out the teacher energy to get them on track. There is enough time to examine everything and we don't mind that some kids are sorting through worms, catching insects, washing the potato harvest. They are not thinking about what plants need to be removed to the compost or what cover crops we should plant for the summer. They are doing what kids should do. I celebrate this.

This is the best of the best!

What I love!

I'm back! I tried Tumblr and it was so gadgety and complex I couldn't spend the time navigating it.

I still find that I want to write about this paradise where I live, and I hope this site will still accept me.

Tonight we are having thunderstorms, most appreciated in the usual spring droughts. I always thank the gods of rain when I do not have to water the gardens for a day or two.

I am not about writing of fashion or aging any more. Tried those, but it's not me.

Today my spouse was not here. When I went outside I noticed that one of our traps had an enormous opossum, and so it was up to me to dispatch him. I chunked the 'have a heart'cage' into the trunk of my car and drove it out several miles close to the state lands where I intended to let him go.

This opossum would NOT go out of the trap! Here we are together in a vast field, and I, this 75 year old woman in shorts and flowered gardening gloves is trying to get him to please turn around and skedaddle. This is a BIG opossum and he is spitting and drooling and hissing and I think he would bite me if I gave him half a chance and I am thinking rabies and stitches and god knows what else.  So, I walk back to the edge of the pasture where I think I could find a sturdy stick. When I return the opossum is still there in the trap and the door is still open. These critters must have very small minds.

Plan B is to poke him from the rear.  The elicits just more snarling and hissing but he doesn't turn around. I turn the trap on its side so that he won't activate the door. But he leans against the activator pad so I must keep on releasing the door anyway. Finally, I realize that this animal is out to thwart me so I just jam the stick into the release mechanism to keep the door open. I leave the trap and the opossum in the middle of the field. I have other plans for the day.

Later, when I went out to retrieve the trap, it was empty.

So often, I think about what an unusual life I lead here in Green Swamp West. A day that includes critter release, so many bird sightings, deer everywhere, and, tonight, millions of fireflies in the palmettos gives me inordinate pleasure.

good bye, faithful friends

This is the last blog at this site. I have had a great time writing it over the years and some of you have appreciated it (or not!). So, I am off to be writing a double memoir with an old friend since toddlerhood. I will let you know where my new blog is on Facebook.
Our old dog died this week and many other threads of my life are coming together. The community garden flourishes, spring has come with many hummingbirds back and the swallow tailed kites wheeling overhead. The twin grandkids are turning three and the oldest grandson will soon be graduating from college.
I am still making quilts, still volunteering at the local elementary school.
Our place here in the Green Swamp is more beautiful than ever.
I am sick of contentious politics and still embarrassed by Florida!
Thank you, friends!

why I hate football

O.K. I know that grown men have cried when their super ball team lost on Sunday. Millions of Americans watched this gladiator blood sport. I don't get it.

Many years ago I would be so judgmental about this particular sport. Why would anyone want to watch people hurting one another??  Years pass and I learned to shut up and just observe this weird thing we know of as football. Of course, I would never have let my own kids play this sport. I was O.K. with soccer, baseball, basketball, tennis and swimming.

Now we know for sure that football damages the players. They have injuries that will be in their bodies and brains forever. We select the athletically best of our young men to spend themselves on the altar of football.

For many of our young men, almost always African Americans, football seems the best way out of poverty. I think that in doing this we may as well have been putting those muscled young men on the slavery block to be bought by the big business of professional sports. We send them to college first, and everyone knows that this is a farce because they are so ill prepared. Then they are bought by big business- the business of football. We pay them exorbitant amounts to play (and wreck their futures!).

But this is big business! All those ads! All the hype! Hotels and car rentals get big returns from the Super Bowl. Why are we surprised when our 'favorite quarterbacks' get into deep trouble with sexual assaults and domestic violence? Why are we surprised when we hear so often about our pro players cannot keep their financial lives together? Why are we surprised that such a large proportion of retired players have some kind of dementia from having their heads bashed again and again?

This so called sport is crazy and inhuman.

Grandma in the digital world

After my garden club meeting today, at which we learned all about how to graft heirloom tomatoes, I stopped by the Verizon store to investigate getting a new and updated iPhone. The Verizon store is next to the feed store where I get gardening supplies and plants so it seemed doable.

I had done the research on the various phone deals; which phone would actually be best for me since I needed a better camera, which plan would cost the least. But I had put off doing this because of my frugality and how much I dislike the process of being in the hands of the young techies who are so smooth and fast, whipping their pointed thumbs across the screens and coming up with numbers that seem to change as I look at the screen.

My family knows that I am not good at shmoozing and hanging out, but that is just what it takes. I am good at hammering away at the bottom line.

The young man I dealt with was your typical young man who does this - slender, young, a bit nerdy, friendly. We discussed the various options of which phone would be the best for me. Though the biggest phone had some advantages, I couldn't imagine having conversations on a device as large as a toaster. So we settled on an older version, small enough to stick in the back pocket of my jeans and way cheaper, but was slightly bigger and had the updates to the camera and a few other marvels of technology, including a portable hotspot for other devices.

Now, I needed to have all the tremendous and untidy array of stuff on the old phone transferred to the new one. This required some passwords I have no clue about. No matter. My guy at the Verizon store, Greg, seemed to be able to do some work arounds to accomplish this.

All the while there was this multitasking chatter between us. After more than an hour I probably know more about Greg than I do about my own grandsons. In the course of the Big Transfer of data, Greg is searching Google Earth to locate my home. I am creeped out that Google street view is able to see our compound in such detail one can see our little dog squatting in the yard! Greg is fascinated with everything Dade City and is a foodie so we talk about restaurants.

Meantime, a number of couples as old as I am come into the store with questions about their old flip phones, and by the way, how do you turn this dang thing on? I am impressed with the politeness and warmth and patience these two guys in the Verizon store show to everyone.

By now, Greg and I are now old friends and we are trading stories about good restaurants in the Dade City environs and where the best hiking trails are. Everything from the old phone is now transferred to the new one. I will leave with directions for how to recycle my old phone.

When Greg returns home tonight, if he speaks of his day at all to his wife, will he say that this crazy old grandma of a person came into the store today, and knows about geometry - and she'll be my friend forever?? Who knows where serendipity will strike?

I love my new phone! It is almost perfectly configured and even easier than my last one.

New Year, Old Dog

Here is our ancient dog that we thought was a goner several times in the past year. But! She still likes the quality of her life, the routines, the good meals, and being next to her people (who are polite enough not to notice that she really smells like an old farting dog.)

Many years ago, we invited a group of psychologists to come to our school to do workshops with the kids and staff about what it is to let go and move on. This particular one has resonated with me since then. I was directed to focus on the fact that people who are leaving let us know by being difficult. At that time I was dealing with the teenagers in my house who would soon be leaving for college - and they were just awful! They were telling me that it would be o.k. to leave. Our very old parents were hard at the end as well. They were telling us that it would be o.k. for them to leave.

Our old dog, Lola, is telling us that she would be o.k. to leave soon. We don't take walks anymore and she can barely get her hind legs to move. Sometimes she poops on the floor, and we have to carry her outside. We cannot really go anywhere because it is such an issue to get anyone to care for her in our absence. When she was younger, this was no problem. But who could ask a dog sitter to take on the geriatric issues of canine great age?

I remember this hardy little dog who ran with us on long walks and was the star of our neighborhood.We wonder how and when we'll know that her time is up?

Desperately poor and no way out

What I have been doing every day as a volunteer at our local elementary school could not have prepared me for what I experienced today. I have been reading to kids every day in their classroom. And I have been extremely critical of what I see as a dismal and uninviting place for children to be. I finish this semester dispirited that I could not have made much of a difference for these kids.

The kids clearly love having me come and they seem starved for personal conversation and connection. Most days, a fair number of the kids are absent - who knows why? Certainly these eight year olds have no control over the act of getting to school. So, how can they really focus on a chapter book and what has happened in the story so far? I am a dramatic reader and I choose engaging books but many of them squirm and twist and ask to go to the bathroom and pick and pat at every part of me as I sit in the designated rocking chair with the book we are reading. They quickly explore any bag or purse I bring and they perk up when I bring one of the many activities (crafts, food, origami..) These activities are difficult because every single child needs and demands personal attention as they try to do the given task.

I love these kids! For more than thirty years I was an excellent teacher of middle class helicoptered children. They had a solid general knowledge and by third grade had good reading and math skills. But here, this is not the case through no fault of their own.

In that dreary classroom with no natural light and nothing inviting, I now see it as a respite from the home life so many of them have. More than 95% of them are on free lunch and breakfast.

A few weeks ago I mentioned to the school secretary that I would be happy to contribute to any school outreach to families over the holidays. I have known that so many families depend on the Back Pack program that feeds families over the weekends. Then, one day, the school secretary told me that she had a family in need of a holiday food basket. A single mom with five children under ten!

O.K. I put together several large boxes of food with lots of protein, bags of rice and dried beans, applesauce, canned vegetables. My grandson got into it and contributed a huge bag of lightly used outgrown clothes and toys. After a major Walmart trip, we wrapped a doll and several gifts and clothes and games for the family. A lot of stuff!

Then the school contributed a frozen turkey! I was really reluctant to deliver all this. I always want to be anonymous. But what was I thinking?? This was not about me. This family just was desperate. So my husband and I drove the bounty to the designated home, and as planned, the family was waiting.

At first, I just saw an ordinary small block house with roses blooming in front. There were no piles of derelict toys and cars about. Only a broken above ground small pool and a tilted basketball hoop , nothing notable.

It looked like thousands I have seen driving by. The neighborhood was all the same.

When we arrived I saw several people in the car port, a man in a wheelchair and a couple of women. They were waiting for us. All of them were smoking and the air was heavy with the fumes. The mom, I guess, was about 25 or so and she seemed sad and had such a low affect, but she was clearly glad to have all this stuff delivered. A very small girl appeared and then we went in to put down the heavy boxes of food.

Inside, the space was very dark and crammed with large couches. In the gloom I saw a baby in a walker near the enormous t.v. tuned to something unfamiliar to me. The kitchen area was piled with junk. We were only inside for the time it took to deliver the food. But I saw the raw desperation of this life. I will always remember the flat expression of this mother of five. She barely could say "Thank you".

Where, oh where does one begin to make these lives better? And how in the world could I expect that the kids I read to, who come from these homes, could possibly be interested in watercress sandwiches that Lewis the Swan ate in the fanciest hotel in Boston??

The mom looked blankly at the frozen turkey twirling on my husband's wrist. She said she didn't know how to cook it. It was obvious that she didn't have an oven up to the job, nor was she about to try. I told her that she might be able to get a neighbor to help, and, hey, there are instructions on the wrapper.

So we chunked that turkey and all the boxes of food down in the terrible kitchen and left feeling that no gifts had been given either way.

As we begin the Christmas season with all the gifts and great food and wonderful family and friends I am humbled and grateful.

Our Fifteen Minutes of fame, or whatever

When I retired from work nine years ago, it was new territory for me. I had worked every year of my life, and for forty years I had been a director/teacher in a small private school in Pinellas County. Each day was wonderful and full of challenge and great colleagues and the children! The ripples from my time there ran wide and still I hear from many former students and I take pride in their accomplishments.

In retirement, you don't necessarily become a non-person, but you do have to know that you could become irrelevant if you wish. You could play golf all day or sit in front of the T.V. And that would be o.k.

You could do something quite wonderful, quite different. You have the time and energy. I think of my friend, Richard Riley, who lives not too far from me in this rural community. He is also a retiree, from Maine, and he has been here as long as me.

Richard and his wife, Kathy, have carved out an amazing place in this community. Richard is a gifted photographer and he has set out to document everything that happens here. He posts his photos on Facebook so all of us who live here can instantly see what and who about this day or yesterday. He has been a major player in the community development of our tiny impoverished place and is tireless in every effort. He has twice taken on the leadership of the community development group, always making sure the agenda, minutes, plans, are perfect.

Both Richard and Kathy are so accessible to all of us in the community it is a model for any CEO!
Kathy's great interest is in the Garden Club and in our circle that grows the community garden.

Most of all, I see these folks as humble, trying to do their best, and being so effective as the glue for our lives here. Their ripples will flow wide.

Richard writes a weekly blog telling everyone what the upcoming community events are. He also includes links to the recent newspaper articles concerning our community. And, as a liberal Democrat and atheist, sometimes he gently lets his thoughts be known.

I think that the Rileys and I have that same sense of adventure about this later and interesting phase of life. You just find a place you can be and then do it! And it's freeing to know that you are doing it because you love it and find it important. No need, now, to consider resumes or awards or whether you'll get into Harvard or Heaven.

So Richard photographs the senior doings and the Girl Scout cookie sales and the food banks and everything else in-between. He keeps the local government honest, and he is always there.

Sometimes I see some of Richard's photographs that are so wonderful I want him to have an exhibit, or do a book (or become famous!). But, I deeply believe that folks such as Richard are in their highest and best place right now. This lovely man will go to his grave knowing that he made a difference, indeed, documenting and leading a community.

I keep on going to the local school every day to read out loud and make sure those kids have some practical skills. I hope it makes a difference.

Before I must fade away into an old folks home, this retirement deal is really a great time of life!

The Pinnacle of Beauty

Tonight I saw on Facebook a lovely photo of one of my former students. Her dad posted this on the event of her graduation from college. It was almost hard for me to recognize this young woman who is now so beautiful and composed. But I could see the wonderful girl she was, crooked teeth, skinny long legs, lanky hair, so bright. All that. I loved her then. And I knew she would turn out to be terrific. She has!

It is the pinnacle of perfection: a college degree, flawless skin and a slim body and so many options for her life.

I love seeing how these young persons turn out! I know they will have hard times discovering who they will be and what they want to do. They will get love handles and bunions and all the rest. But for now everything is perfect.

I do not want to punch this bubble of perfection, but I do agonize about the future world for these kids who have been so carefully nurtured, always empowered, always loved and cherished by their parents, teachers and the community.

Is this enough? Are we preparing our young for the very different world that is to be?

My Yard

Here is a photo of ibis on a cypress tree. Guess they are enjoying the high water we have had this winter.

I have not written this blog lately because I have been so busy with family and community and everything else. Also, I am trying to settle down and write about what I love, what interests me.

This is not about growing older, nor fashion, nor cooking! What really interests me is looking at all the natural stuff on our property.

These days I am fascinated with the water that comes and goes from the swamp to the river and back. We had eight inches of rain last week (all in one day!). It took a couple of days to see the back and forth flushing of the swamp and river water. Early mornings I drive the mile to get the newspapers from our box. Usually I stop at the box culvert bridge to check on the conditions and look at the birds. This morning there were dozens of wood storks, way more than I have ever seen on this place. Hundreds of ibis too. Do they text each other that the water is up and full of tasty things to eat? The harsh cackling of bird disagreement were everywhere! (or was it just plain joy?)

This is the view from the bridge. Usually it is just a trickle of water from the swamp, but now the water spreads out over everywhere.

The birds are happy and so am I! This winter, so far, has been kind and warm and taken care of our vegetable garden and all the others. I went up to put in some time in the school garden today and picked a peck of green beans, some tomatoes and broccoli which I gave out to anyone I could find.

For supper tonight we had fried green tomatoes, collards, a wonderful salad of our lettuces and grapefruit. I love the bounty of the land!

Way after dark, I heard the cacophony of the sandhill cranes. Why is this? They are supposed to be asleep. So many interesting questions and so much to keep on learning.

Last week my son and grandson and I went out at night with our flashlights to see if we could find any alligators in the pond. We saw no alligator eyes but we did see some amazing bioluminescent points of light all around the edge of the water. Grandson thinks it comes from tiny worms.

This is the season I love best, early winter before the frosts when the mornings are cool, the days are warm and the nights are chilly.

Reading- Again!

It has been sometime since I last published this blog. My reading gig for four days a week in a public school third grade goes on.. I always thought I could reach kids through reading interesting books and I have thought that I have a sort of gift for choosing exactly the right books.

I am humbled. I have read a number of books out loud to this class - Road Dahl, E.B. White, "Mr Popper's Penguins, "Farmer boy", some poetry. Many of these books are a jumping off place for interesting conversations with the kids. In this class of twenty kids, some of them are gripped by the reading and follow the story. Many others are lost and are unable to follow the thread and do not yet have the imagination and furniture in their minds to do this.

 Many others have spotty attendance so, of course they cannot sustain interest. And some just cannot maintain interest because they don't know the words (many are struggling to be fluent in English) and are so needy they just want to pluck at my ankles and constantly vie for my attention.

There are three or four kids who sit close to me and are truly interested. Out of twenty! Yikes! Most of the others fade in and out, roll on the floor, twirl, tattle, have to go pee, and have back conversations.

What really interests these kids are the "activities" I sometimes bring. They have loved the origami and finger knitting and making gods' eyes, and a penguin habitat, the making of p and j sandwiches from their written directions. These kids are starved to DO things!

 When I come in they explore my bag and purse like curious monkeys because they know I will always have something interesting to share. They love it when I come in with a huge load of books from the public library. They love to tell me stuff and there is just not enough of me to go around!

Some days, I am dispirited and discouraged and think that it really isn't enough to bring reading to this (or any other) class. I really know that what has happened in the first five years of each of these kids' lives probably has set them on their life course. I must believe in the outliers, I suppose.

And I am dispirited by the gray doggedness of the teaching staff as I see it. Seems that there is this perpetual impetus to put those square pegs into round holes, i.e. THE TESTS!  I see little joy or curiosity and for belly laugh humor I go to the custodial staff.

When I signed up for this I had little idea of the dailiness it would entail. When I make a promise to kids, I always keep it, and so I will be there until the end of the year.

And what a lot I will have learned so far.

Thinking about Ebola

I am glued every day to page sixteen of the NTY because of their stellar coverage of Ebola as it plays out in west Africa and the fallout in first world countries.

With the exception of one case, Mr. Duncan, our first - and so botched- everyone who has been treated here has recovered so far. Today I learned in specifics how these Ebola cases are treated in such dire circumstances in Africa. Just the simple hydration of patients, the monitoring of electrolytes, the tending of other disease issues such as malaria, can make such a huge difference in outcomes. There is such a need for the basic medicine we can do so well here! There is such a need for more health care workers on the ground in west Africa! There is such a need for ambulances and ultra sound machines and all the small things our medical institutions take for granted. I read today in the NYT how the health care workers are constantly figuring out new ways to make their practices better. The recoveries will increase as these afflicted places get more resources.

We cannot imagine how hard it is to be doing this in the extreme heat and humidity of equatorial Africa, covered in heavy personal protection garments. We cannot imagine (in our comfortable lives) how it can be that so many Americans and other people have gone there to the Ebola region of west Africa because they have the mission to care for each person in the world. These people are our heroes.

It saddens me that a few politicians have made hay with this for their own benefit and drum up panic. Glad to note that our Florida governor has stepped back from this.

Several times I have made trips to west Africa: Ghana, Ivory Coast and with stops in other countries.
The images and emotions that stick with me are all positive. I loved the colorful cloth worn by everyone, the warmth of the people, and the feeling of safety I had everywhere. (Yes! Yes! I know how dire and cruel some of the civil uprisings have been). I loved the markets and the unending tracts of dreadful slums with their red earth slurry after a rain. Most of all I loved those people. I loved being in a tent with a head man of some tribe. As we talked I was fascinated with his elephantiasis of his leg, and I politely declined his offer of palm wine.

Even though the poverty and differences were so cuttingly clear, I understood, in some of those encounters, that we were in this world together. I loved being in an intimate colonial dining room with the university chancellor and I loved watching huge geckos climbing the walls, and I wondered if the spectacularly colorful wrap of our host would ever fall to the floor.

Instead of the panic, we need to understand. This epidemic will be quelled, but we need to help.
Especially here in the U.S. where a fifth of our population has African roots and provides us all with the traditions and warmth of African conscience, we need to get over the initial panic. It's going to be O.K.

Plain Sunday

There are very few weekend days when I am free to do non purposeful things. But today we had no guests, no obligations beyond the usual care taking of the gardens and the house.

So, here is the new doll house I am making from a kit. It looked so cute on line, and I thought of my granddaughter who will be visiting here in a couple of weeks.

The directions are totally incomprehensible, requiring tiny nimble fingers and much flapping of pages. When we first opened the box, Andy, Quincy and I organized all the many pages of balsa wood and set to work. Quincy who is now ten and an expert Lego model builder was very helpful and his spacial sense is awesome. Andy, the grandpa who is a talented and experienced woodworker took the lead in constructing the basics 'by the book". None of us had fun doing it. I was just hanging back, biting my tongue, wanting everyone to enjoy the activity. After a number of burns from the hot glue, we abandoned the project.

I had remembered the wonderful doll house I had made from a kit years ago when our youngest was about eight. That project was one I looked forward to working on when I had a moment after the work day. When it was finally finished down to the roof shingles and the lights inside, we were all happy with it. It was a fixture of our playroom for years and finally just fell apart from the hard play it endured.

But this one is smaller and I am in a different place. As this one (The Buttercup) sat on the craft table waiting for more work, I began to think of how one of my sons approached model building. Chris was a maniacal model builder of airplanes and cars. They were plastic and required glueing that was probably really bad for his health. When he approached the task of completing a model, he just went for it the way he thought it should be. If there were pieces left over, that was O.K. And the completed models were perfect.

So, I thought of Chris and today started in again on the Buttercup. Who cares whether the door jams or the window sashes are inside or outside? Just decorate the roof how I want. Put the doors where they look good. Use lots of hot glue to keep everything together. Abandon those pieces I can't figure out. Think about how much fun granddaughter Caroline and I will have painting and decorating the inside and making furniture from the stray pieces of wood from the kit.

Doing this, I am not thinking of ebola or Syria or ISIS or fan issues. It is just a plain Sunday, a beautiful fall day. A gift.

Hobos from Mexico!

"Molly, I am worried!" Mikela is wrapped around my middle and then other kids gather around connecting to any piece of me they can. "So am I! The hobos are coming from Mexico!", says little eight year old Eli. (The names are changed to protect the innocent.) Other kids look at me with wide eyes. Seems they are all scared of these 'hobos'.

I am thinking fast. What are these 'hobos'? It's unusual for kids these days to even know about hobos.
I ask them to tell me more about hobos. "It's something very bad and it comes from Mexico and it can kill you."

O. K. We're talking about ebola and these third grade kids I read to every day are reflecting the fear whipped up by talk radio and Fox News. They just hear it vaguely and respond to their parents' fears and the media frenzy and panic. In the three minutes allotted to me I gently tell them that they have nothing to worry about here. Ebola is still in West Africa, far from here. (I wish there were handy maps in this classroom so I could show them, but not..)

I am so old I can recall practically anything. I vaguely recall my parents' fear of polio, but it didn't affect me. My husband recalls that sometime during that summer polio epidemic in the fifties he had a high fever and his parents took him to the hospital. Maybe he had polio and maybe he didn't. In any case, he's fine. But that dreaded disease was on everyone's mind at the time.

During the eighties when AIDS appeared, we were all so fearful! I often contacted my grown sons (who are not gay) to instruct them about using condoms and washing their hands. Now, I cringe at those memories.

Yes, ebola is one horrific disease, a terrible way to die, and something to be feared.

Of course, we are all on edge. But rationally, we know that ebola will not be a real threat here.

We need to tell kids on their level that they should not be afraid. We need to tell them in a gentle way that nothing is certain or uncertain but they shouldn't fear. And we have to have facts or at least the latest scientific thinking on this.

We'll be O.K.