Happy Halloween!

Happy Halloween!  I got the pleasure of skyping with a certain young lady dressed up very nicely in a Holstein costume looking like the cutest moo-cow I ever did see!

Nightengale: A Memoir of Murder, Madness, and The Messenger Of Spring

After seeing the play "Glensheen" at the Minnesota History Center, I felt obliged to read Nightengale: A Memoir of Murder, Madness, and the Messenger of Spring by Suzanne Congdon Leroy.  I felt I owed it to the Congdon family to read about the life of Elizabeth Congdon because so much media attention has been given to her death.  Talented in math, physics and German, Elizabeth was ahead of her time. She was a feminist before it was cool to be a feminist.  She had goals in life and she accomplished them.  Unable to have children due to health problems, she adopted two girls.  In the 1930's it was unusual to adopt anyone much less talk about it but very unusual to let a single woman adopt.  No doubt her social prestige helped grease those wheels.  Wealth and social prestige aren't everything.  In the case of Elizabeth's daughter, Marjorie, wealth and prestige, in my opinion, made her life worse.  Marjorie might have been better off growing up in poverty.  The book is about Elizabeth who was cultured, grateful, gracious, generous, interested and interesting.  Well written by Elizabeth's granddaughter, Suzanne, the book tells Elizabeth's story without spelling things out directly. 

Not A Good Time to Molt

Robinson Crusoe, my one remaining chicken has come out of her depression.  She is more active.  She gets out of the house more often.  She is more talkative.  But I got to say, she picked a bad time to molt.  Given the precipitation that fell in a slow and meandering style today, she picked a really bad time to molt.

Not Sure If I Have Jasmine In My Mind

  I was at the gym after work when I heard a song come on the radio.  Seals and Croft were singing Summertime.  Suddenly I was not at the gym on the elliptical with a heart rate of 135 and 156 calories expended so far.  I was transported 43 years back in time to 1972.  I am in a cherry apple red Volkswagon VW camper van with my friends Debbie, Sandy, Kathy and Renee.  We are traveling in Nevada.  We left Las Vegas and are driving back to Minnesota.  The sun has gone down and there are not many cars on the highway.  One of us has her jeans drying in the window.  That is how we dried our clothes on this trip.  We rolled the waistband of our jeans tightly in the window and let the legs fly in the air outside the van to dry.  A cassette is playing this song in the tape deck.  We are tired, hot, and sunburned from spending the day at the swimming pool.  The high that day was 112 degrees and we spent the day outside on deck chairs by the pool.  When we got too hot we would jump into the cool water of the pool.  The change in body temperature gave us a rush so strong it was almost like having a seizure.  We couldn't stand the water very long so after a few minutes we would go back to our deck chairs to warm up.  We are tired and content, rolling down the highway.  The five of us sing along to Seals and Croft.  As I listen to this song on the radio today I know every word.  Today I listen to the words and realize they don't make sense.  In 1972 it didn't matter to us what the words actually said.  The song was about feeling content and that was all we needed to know.  I am no longer in contact with those four fellow travelers.  If somehow we could get together, for sure I would make sure we heard this song.

Fall

On my way home from work tonight I saw a gorgeous red oak standing alone among a group of yellow ash trees.  Wow.  Just wow. The redness of the tree was a stark difference from the yellow neighbors. The ash trees seemed to be placed there just to celebrate the oak. In the summer or the spring or the winter I drive by this group of trees and see bare branches or green leaves.  Sugar maples are a pretty crimson red right now but the barn red of the oaks is also a luscious color.  Fall creates the difference that makes it easy to pick out one species from the other.  If the growing season in Minnesota was made into a play, fall is when the actors (trees) take a bow and the spotlight falls on each one highlighting their talent, their beauty, and their worth.

Trees

By Joyce Kilmer

I think that I shall never see

A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest

Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day, 

 And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in Summer wear

A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;

Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me,

But only God can make a tree.

Same Tree?

Yesterday I went for a walk in a nature center.  Before this place was a nature center it was a small farm owned by my Grandfather.  I walked with my nephew who came here all the time when he was in a local school.  Part of his curriculum was to walk to the nature center every week.  "Let me show you this cool tree," he says, "Everybody in my class liked it."  We went to the tree that looked dead and big enough to take three people to stretch arms around the trunk.  He said it was hollow inside and that is why it is a cool tree.  I looked at the grooved bark and burls and gnarly branches.  Is this the picnic tree my Grandparent's talked about?  Things around here have changed so much but I think it could be the picnic tree.  Is this the tree where my mother's family gathered to eat outside?  Does this tree remember me?  Who and what has this tree been watching all these years standing here at the bottom of a hill next to a wetland?  If this tree could talk, what would it tell me?  I look up at the tree and feel suddenly insignificant and also spiritually renewed.

Normally I Sleep Alone

Normally I sleep alone at night.  Last night I slept in close company with Moe, a friendly golden retriever.  Moe wanted to play.  I wanted to go to sleep.  I stretched out on the sofa that he sometimes rests on and covered myself with a blanket.  Moe thought great!  She's at my level.  I'll bring her my toy and we can play.   I didn't want to play.  I was tired.  Moe was not tired.  Every time I moved a muscle Moe took that movement as an invitation to play.  His movements indicated, "Play now?  No?  How about now?  Ready now?  If I wave my tail near your face will that make you ready to play"  I rolled over to find a more comfortable position.  Moe was right there.  "Play now?  With my toy?  I'm ready to play."  I put the pillow over my head.  Moe responds with, "Ready to play now?"  Dogs.  Gotta love their  eternal optimism.

Circling The Sun

I had already read a book about Beryl Markham when I read her autobiography West With The Night.  I think I learned more about Beryl in Circling the Sun by Paula McLain.  This book focused on her childhood and her 20's.  Beryl was an unusual woman.  Given her upbringing on a horse farm outside Nairobi, Kenya, her abandonment by her mother at a young age, the abandonment by her father at age 16, how could she be anything but unusual?  Beryl seemed fearless.  She rode wild horses.  She traveled through the wilderness alone and at night.  She flew a plane over the Atlantic Ocean and became the first person to travel that way from west to east.  Beryl didn't care about rules of genteel society, expectations of her Scottish mother-in-law, or expectations of appropriate behavior for women in a British colony.  If the papers wrote scandalous words about her, so be it. Beryl was out to live a full life and to follow her dreams.  Sometimes that meant using people to get what she wanted.  She is an interesting woman and I enjoyed this story about her life.

A Good Omen

This morning I left the house at the transition between night and day.  As I turned south on Highway 47 I saw in the light of dawn a barred owl sitting on a wire on the west side of the road.  The owl had it's back to the highway and it was looking down at the field with great concentration. This owl sighting is a good omen.  Today is going to be a very good day.

David and Goliath

I actually bought and paid for this book at full retail price which is unheard of for me.  I am a loyal public library customer.  I was desperate when I bought David and Goliath: Underdogs, Misfits and the Art of Battling Giants by Malcolm Gladwall.  I was at the SeaTac Airport facing three hours with nothing to do and nothing to read.  This book held me interest at 3700 feet very well.  I was fascinated by the premise that good can be bad and bad can be good.  Dyslexia, for example, who wants dyslexia?  One would not think a learning disability is a problem that would improve your life.  But because of dyslexia, you may be better at listening than other people and you may have more creative problem solving skills than the average person who did not have to struggle so hard to learn.  Dyslexia can give you a leg up on life if you use it right.  Another example he gives is getting into a prestigious college or university.  That would be a good thing, right?  But prestigious universities are not the best choice for everyone.  Surrounded by people who are as smart or smarter than you can lead to a lack of confidence and a lesser chance of success.   And then there was David who looked too small to beat a giant like Goliath.  Your size isn't as important as your aim when you are slinging a rock at someone.  This book made me wonder if Marjorie Caldwell, who grew up in the Glensheen Mansion, would have been a more successful, more law abiding person if she had grown up in the East End of Duluth.  We'll never know.  This book was entertaining and also somewhat mind bending.

Call of the Wild

My plan was to go to the gym and swim laps after work. But when I saw the temperature was 75 degrees I heard the call of the wild.  I know I have to put my kayak away for the season but why not take advantage of a lovely fall day and take one last spin around Round Lake instead? The lily pads were all tattered and torn.

Sprinkles?  Schminkles!  I am made up of mostly water anyway.  I scared up a pair of trumpeter swans.  They flew up and away.  When they landed they had a gray cygnet with them.  I saw 4 mallards, three gulls, at least 150 coots, two muskrats and hundreds of red winged blackbirds.  I think the  blackbirds are using Round Lake for a staging area before migration because there weren't this many when I was here in July.

I also saw a fishing spider way out from shore.  Was it drowning?  I didn't know.

It's either a striped fishing spider or six spotted fishing spider.  They look very much alike.  I picked it up with my paddle to get a photo.  Then I put it on my kayak.  Immediately the spider climbed to the side of the kayak and went over the side.  Did it cling to the side of the kayak or go back into the lake?  I don't know.  I tried not to think about it.

I completed my trip around the lake but stayed out on the water until the sun set.  What better way to end a glorious day than watching the sun set from a boat?

So today was the last time I tie my red scarf to the boat.  The 2015 kayaking season is officially over.

Ten Little Turkeys

Ten wild turkeys looking might fine, one checked her FB and then there was nine.  Nine wild turkeys think they're pretty great, one got distracted and then there were eight.

Eight hungry turkeys think they are in heaven, one found an oak leaf and then there were seven.

Seven crazy turkeys running just for tricks, one ran too fast and then there were six.

Six wild turkeys glad to be alive, one flew away and then there were five.  Five flying turkeys spread their feathers to soar, one flew too high and then there four.

Four handsome turkeys wearing beards and goatee, one got a shave and then there were three.

Three hungry turkeys finding things to chew, one got full and then there were two. Two visiting turkeys, seeing a chicken is fun, one went away and then there was one.

One wild turkey thought she was done, heard the lawnmower start and then there were none.

Glensheen

My friend and I toured the Gleensheen mansion in Duluth about 20 years ago together.  I think I have visited it at least three times and it has been the same number of visits for her.  Last night we got together for dinner and went to the History Theater's production of Glensheen.  We laughed, we cried, we were shocked, we were appalled, and we were entertained. The woman who played Marjorie was very good but not as good as the woman who played Elizabeth Congdon and Ron Meshbesher.  Yes, she played Ron too and she was hilarious.  After the intermission she takes the microphone and we think she is going to talk to the audience about turning off our phones or something but she starts by telling us to raise our hands if we have ever read a romance novel, if we ever saw the tv shows of Dallas and Dynasty, or if we aspired to be a housewife.  We figure out that she is asking actual jury selection questions.  Sometimes I thought the production went too far.  These are real people in this story.  Elizabeth Congdon still has family around.  They must be appalled by this play. When the actors held up black and white faces on sticks with the actual faces of the jury that acquitted Marjorie Caldwell of accessory to murder I thought they went too far.  These people didn't ask to be in a play or have their images put on stage.  They were real people doing their civic duty.  When the production mocked them for inviting Marjorie out to lunch with them after the trial I quickly looked around the theater.  Who knows?  Maybe one of those jury members is sitting in this theater right now!  The truth is Glensheen is a classic murder mystery story that occurred during my lifetime.  People do love murder mysteries.  The play mocks the Glensheen Mansion tour policy of not talking about the murder which I have to agree does deserve a little mocking.  The nurse who was murdered was named Velma and the play did a nice tribute to her and her story.  If the purpose of a play is to provoke and entertain then Glensheen gets high honors.  If the purpose of the play is to honor the memory of those who have suffered then it falls short.  Frankly, after last night, I am grateful I grew up in a middle class family instead of Glensheen.  I read that one of Elizabeth Congdon's grandchildren wrote a book about Elizabeth's life because she wants her Grandmother to be known for what she did instead of what was done to her.  I requested the book at the library.  I think Elizabeth deserves my time and attention.

Downtown

I got up early this morning and drove downtown.  The air was chilly after the first killing frost last night.  I could have used mittens after standing outside for almost two hours.  The views were spectacular.  The river was clear and calm.  Standing on a bridge to Nicollet Island I could see the clear outline of a large tree underwater from the roots up to it's many branches.

The river flowed gently forming a mirror for the yellow trees.

Offspring #2 ran five kilometers.  No one was even chasing her!

What A Way To Travel!

On my trips to see my grand daughter I take many modes of transportation.  I drive through Minneapolis to the airport, get on a plane, walk to the light rail, take the train, walk 5 blocks to the wharf (walking fast so I don't get run over by my own rolling suitcase), get on a ferry, walk to a street corner, get in a car and go to her home.  I do the opposite on the way home only this time the walk from the Seattle wharf to the light rail is a steep uphill climb.  I can walk 40 flights of stairs on the stair master in ten minutes but after one block up Marion Street in Seattle, I have to stop and wait to catch my breath even if the sign says "Walk."  Seattle has some very steep streets.  I walk by some people who appear to be homeless but not threatening.  Some of them ask me for money, some of them give me helpful directions, and some of them smile at me and say, "Welcome home!"  Do I look like a Washingtonian? There is something about the ferry though that makes the travel enjoyable and worthwhile.  The ferry ride is about 50 minutes.  A ride costs $8 to get to Bremerton but the ride back to Seattle is free.  On the ferry ride I can relax, be in the moment, and ground myself.  I don't have to take off my shoes and put all my liquids in a quart sized baggie.  On a ferry I can walk around or stretch out on a bench.  I can stay inside where it is warm or go outside and feel the wind and sun on my face.  I can spy on dolphins showing their backs on their paths through the sound or sea lions basking on buoys.  I can see pelagic cormorants and gulls and mergansers.  The ride has a gentle rocking to it because the waves don't get very large in the Puget Sound.  I see clouds in the distance and I know they're hiding mountain ranges and peaks.  Fir trees make the air smell good.  The ferry to Bainbridge Island leaves at the same time and as I watch it progress I fix the location of Bainbridge Island in my mind in a more permanent way than when I see it on a map.  I watch the other passengers on the ferry and I see school field trips, sailors, mothers with children, and commuters coming home or going to work.  On the ferry it takes no time to get on board and to disembark.  I know the ferry takes a tad longer but I prefer it. Riding the ferry reminds me of American history like crossing the Potomac or the Hudson River. I like having a ferry ride form book ends to my excursion because ferry travel is different, quaint, old, economical, scenic, relaxing, sensory, and short lived.  

What We Keep

A friend lent me What We Keep by Elizabeth Berg.  I took it on the airplane thinking it would keep me occupied.  The story is about two sisters and it did keep me occupied until Great Falls, Montana when I finished the last page.  This book is a quick read and I enjoyed it but boy, those miles over Montana, Idaho and Washington were long and boring without anything to read.  I did enjoy the story about the two sisters and their mother whom they thought abandoned them.  In the end they learned that each one of them was doing her best and isn't that true of all of us?

Beets

I don't like beets.  I get beets as part of my csa allottment every week for the past seven weeks and I give them away.  They thank me and I thank them for taking them off my hands. One week I kept the beets thinking I would try to make red velvet cake without the food coloring.  Those beets are in the freezer.  This weekend, talking to a person who loves beets, I got the idea to make pickled beets.  I kept one beet, roasted it in the oven for almost an hour, peeled it, sliced it, and soaked it in apple cider vinegar overnight.  I ate it at lunch today.  I can't say I loved it but I did manage to eat the entire beet.  I guess beets are like cucumbers.  I don't like cucumbers either but I can tolerate pickles.  I think it's odd that vinegar improves the taste of some things because alone, vinegar is nasty.  Finally, I found a way to eat beets.  Maybe next year I won't have to give so many away.

Annie Barrows

I read Annie Barrows book for children Ivy and Bean.  She has a series about Ivy and Bean. I'm not that into children's literature but I was reviewing her other book, The Truth About Us, for my book club.  Most people loved The Truth About Us, just like I did when I first read it several months back. So how does it feel to know that a room full of 30 people (minus one) loved a book you recommended?  Good.  It feels good.  And it was a good book with great character development and a good grasp of how things were in 1938.  I led the review with some basic information about the author and about current events in 1938.  We had a good discussion and now my job as book club reviewer is done for now.  Next month we're reading The Martian. I guess there is a movie coming out which is why I have to buy the book instead of borrow it from the library.  And it will be my turn to bring treats.  Maybe I will have to come up with some Martian treats.

My Little Fox

Here is my grand daughter perched in a hollowed out fir tree stump at Mount Ranier National Park wearing a little fox hat and as happy as can be.  She has little Ugg boots on her feet that keep her warm on a rainy day.  I had a wonderful weekend spending time with her, reading her stories, kissing her neck, playing peek-a-boo and listening to her talk.  I read her the story of "The House That Jack Built."  This long, tongue twisting nursery rhyme is complicated.  I remember my Grandmother reciting it to me from memory.  I am going to have to practice before I am as good of a Grandma as my Grandma's were to me.

Mount Ranier State Park

Standing tall and alone at over 14,000 feet, Mount Ranier proudly projects it's crater shaped top into the atmosphere.  This is one of the many lodges on the western slope.  We ate lunch and visited the museum here.

This Douglas Fir started growing in the 12th century.

The mountain is a mix of fire and ice.  Fire builds it taller. Ice brings it down.  The glacial rivers are full of sediment and large rocks.  The streams go fast.  We saw many waterfalls and some of them were 100 feet high.  We hiked the trail of shadows in a light rain.  The other hikes we had planned were cancelled because of the downpours.  Although the rain ruined our hike it did make for spectacular waterfalls.

Fungi

Old growth forests have a mixture of living and fallen trees, much diversity in tree species and insect species, and are continually changing.

This side of Ranier can get 100 inches of rain a year.  In fact it was raining today.  We saw the clouds climbing up the slope.

From this vantage point you can not see a pristine view of Mount Ranier.  You will just have to take my word for it that it is right there in front of me above those trees in the distance.  People can stay in the park for weeks and never see Ranier.  I want to come back again and explore this national park further.

Goo Goo Ga Ga

Yesterday I had a long day of travel that involved a car, a plane, a train, a ferry and back to a car again.  But now I am here in Washington bonding with a 4 month old.  She seems to be a completely different person than when I saw her last. She babbles all day long.  She babbles in her stroller.  She babbles on the floor.  She babbles on my lap.  She babbles in her car seat. You'd think her voice would be hoarse but it isn't.  She babbles when she is alert and she babbles when she is falling asleep.  She babbles in sentences and paragraphs.  She babbles entire stories to my while I nod, listen, and add comments like, "I  hear you sister," or "Anyone would have done the same thing in your place."  She adds intonations to her babbling.  Sometimes I hear frustration or excitement or exhaustion.  Maybe I never paid attention before but I don't remember other babies talking as much as this one talks. She babbles as her Daddy sings her a song about boobs.  When he comes to the word boob she gets all excited and dances on his lap by shaking her legs and throwing her arms up in the air. She is either busy or asleep.  She fidgets and wiggles around all the time.  Her arms and legs have good muscle tone.  I imagine she did no less than 3,000 repetitions of ankle rotations today.  I try to read her a story but she babbles right over it.  She is so freaking cute I can't stand it.

Spiders of the North Woods

This is a book I actually bought instead of borrowing it from the library.  I took a class a couple weeks ago and Larry Weber, the author of Spiders of the North Woods was one of the instructors.  Another person on the trip mentioned he wasn't being paid to come on this trip so we could help him out by purchasing a book or two from him.  I got a deal because I see it for sale for $5 to $10 more than I paid.  I read the book this weekend.  How boring was it to read a field guide to spiders?  When faced with the alternative of cleaning the house, this book on spiders was riveting.  With their two section bodies and their 8 legs spiders lead fairly solitary lives.  Some spider babies immediately fly away on threads blown by the wind because if they don't their siblings will eat them.  Some spiders are carnivores and some are vegetarians.  Some make the classic spoke webs and others make bowl webs or corner webs and some don't make webs at all.  Some spiders remake their webs every day.  These are the ultimate recyclers.  They eat their old web and spin another one. They can spin sticky threads and non sticky threads. Spiders can't see very well so if a male spiders wants to court a female spider on a spoke web he has to vibrate and do a little dance so she doesn't mistake him for a meal.  Then he takes his sperm web that he made earlier and inserts onto the female for an indirect insemination.  So you can see how reading about spiders is much more fun that mopping the floor!  There is an entire series of things from the North Woods.  The publisher includes a famous naturalist from Duluth.  I already have Dragonflies of the Northwoods but there are also butterflies, fungi, lichen, moths and caterpillars, orchids and wildflowers.

Don't Know Much About American Presidents

This book, Don't Know Much About American Presidents by Kenneth C. Davis makes me mad.  I'm mad at the history teachers I had in school that led me to think I didn't like history.  I do.  I do like history.  I just didn't like the way they taught it. Why did I have to memorize dates when fascinating human drama is so much more interesting? I learned a lot in this book.  I did not know much about American Presidents.  It starts out talking about the writing of the United States constitution.  This makes me wonder what John Hancock and Benjamin Franklin would say if they could step into 2015 for a half hour or so.  I had no idea how big the topic of slavery was at that time.  At that time our leaders tabled the issue instead of risking the southern states wouldn't join the union.  The southern states would continue to push their influence even after the Civil War by insisting on segregation and allowing the KKK to flourish.  After that the book goes through all 43 US presidents, one by one.  I learned about their entire lives, their parents, sibling, spouses and children plus the significant events in their presidency.  Ken Davis also gives them a grade on their performance.   I tried to read this book with an open mind.  I tried to read this book not as a Democrat and not as a Republican.  Yeah, that proved impossible.  The Democratic party must be in my blood because I know it's deep in my brain.  I hear Tea Party propaganda and my reaction comes on a visceral level.   Sometimes I agreed with the grades.  Of course George Washington and Abe Lincoln get A's.  On the other hand I think earlier presidents who advocated breaking Indian treaties and actually kept slaves to serve them while acting as US President don't deserve A's. Maybe I put more emphasis on social issues than most people. If our Presidents had the courage to express anti-slavery sentiments maybe we could have avoided the Civil War.  I was a little bummed when he gave Clinton a B (that is fair considering his sex addiction) but perked right up again when Dubya (George W. Bush) got an F.  Then he talked about the process of selecting presidents.  Four times now, like in the election Dubya won, the President elected did not get the most popular votes.  What a crazy system we have!  I know more facts when I buy a new appliance than when I vote for President.  If only there was a Consumer Report on politicians. People thought Lincoln wasn't prepared to be a US President.  How are we to know?  There is no standards to check off on a list.  Does a good President need a law degree?  Franklin Pierce was a lawyer and he got a F grade which makes me sad because everyday on my walk at lunch time at work I walk across Pierce Street which is named after him.  Should the next President be a member of the Freemasons? What is a good job to have before being a president?  A military leader like Grant or Eisenhower?  A drifter and hitchhiker like LBJ?  A peanut farmer like Carter?   Instead we make our decisions on sound bites and razzmatazz.  The next leader of the United States of America is an important decision to make on razzmatazz!  Lucky for us citizens, the authors of the constitution put in enough safe guards that our country has been able to weather our good presidents and our not so good presidents.  I learned so much in this book and much of it was things I felt I should already have known.  I already knew about the British burning down the White House and how Dolly Madison cut the portrait of George Washington and saved it from the fire.  But did you know the reason the British burned down the White House?  We invaded Canada and tried to take over Montreal! Hello!  The United States invaded Canada? How did I not know that before?  Why was my education about my country so sanitized?  I also realized, more than ever before, that graduating from high school in 1972 was a pivotal time.  People were realizing and coming to terms with Vietnam which reminds me of the story of the Emperor who wore no clothes.  Our country did not belong in that nation but we were too proud to admit it. That plus Watergate, the Munich Olympics terrorist attack,  bombs exploding in Belfast, George Wallace is shot, student demonstrations at the University of Minnesota and Mark Spitz won 7 gold medals all added up to a big year in the news.  People were marching in the streets and shutting down Washington Avenue in front of Coffman Union where I intended to go to college in the fall.  I remember seeing that violence on the television made me nervous. 1972 was a year of turmoil in our nation and becoming an adult in that year has made me who I am today.  I could read this book again and learn even more the second time around.  Not only was it an interesting book to read, it is an important book to read.  Oh, and by the way, in case you were interested in what grade Obama got, it was an I for incomplete.      

Ten Years Ago

I would not have known what I did ten years ago if he hadn't put pictures and muffins in the break room today.  Ten years ago I organized my coworkers into painting the house of another coworker.  He had started the project and was too ill to finish. So we finished painting the rambler in New Brighton (or New Brigh-tan because there are a lot of tan houses in New Brighton) for him.  Honestly the chore was more fun that work because we had more than a dozen people helping out on two consecutive Saturdays and plenty of supplies.  Gather fun people, crank up the tunes, serve a little pizza and bada bing -bada boom, a house is completely painted and we all feel good about helping.  At the time we were worried because pancreatic cancer takes 95% of those unlucky enough to get it.  Like he said at the time, "95% is just a number."  Five % is also a number and it turned out to be a lucky number for him.

A Marriage of Opposites

I read Alice Hoffman's A Marriage of Opposites in a hurry.  I had the book from the library for only three weeks and I spent one of those weeks reading another book I had.  But it wasn't hard to finish this book because it was riveting.  I would almost call it historical fiction because it is based on the life of impressionistic painter Camille Pissarro's mother, Rachel.  Rachel was born in the tropical island of Saint Thomas.  The heat, the sun, and the smell of the tropics comes across the pages to me.  Rachel is  a rebel.  She doesn't do what is expected of her and ends up ostracized by the society on St. Thomas.  Her son is like her in that way.  He doesn't want to be a part of the family business on Saint Thomas.  He doesn't care about the store and invoices and  inventories.  He cares about art and painting and colors and impressions.  Such a story!  I especially enjoyed reading about Rachel's lifetime friendship with her BFF Justine.  Despite their differences in color, religion, and rank in society, they remain good friends until the end.

I dug up my blue potatoes today.  Digging potatoes is like gambling at a casino.  I get intermittent reinforcement. I dig and I don't get any potatoes.  I dig again and get a big fat one.  I try not to use the shovel. The potatoes didn't go very deep.  I have bad luck with the shovel.  I can slice 3 potatoes in half with one scoop.  I use my gloved fingers and rake the ground back and forth, back and forth until I see a splotch of blue.  Gold!  No, not gold, only potato but it is exciting to find one.  I find small button sized potatoes and others are a decent size. On my hands and knees I dig the soil and find my purple treasures.  I have a couple of pounds of potatoes which will be enough to serve purple potatoes at Thanksgiving.  Right now I have set them out in the garage to dry and cure for a day or two before I bring them into my lower level.  I'm sure they will be delicious in November.

Knock! Knock! Who's There?

This is my newly trimmed black walnut tree that still has about 100 walnuts yet to fall.  Many of them fall on my garage roof where they bounce a couple times before falling to the ground.  This hard knocking is probably not doing my roof any favors.  Plus it's not doing me any favors. I keep going to the door to see who's knocking!

I've got about a dozen walnuts per square foot in the front of my house.  Holy unsteady footing!  Anyone want some black walnuts?

Very Long Vine

I have this pot on my deck.  This spring I put in some chives and some sage and a hanging vine.  I used those chives and sage in my every day cooking spicing up my vegies and making them taste savory.  I thought the vine was doing ok, nothing spectacular.

But there is more to this vine that meets the eye at deck level.  This vine goes below the deck where the leaves are smaller and farther apart.

This vine goes all 8 feet down to the ground where it dangles just above the soil.  Looking at it from the top I never thought it was this long.