The House I Loved

Picture in your mind a woman who is not mentally healthy.  She keeps secrets and allows those secrets to burn in her soul.  She doesn't accept reality.  She despises change and refuses to adapt.  She is stubborn to a fault.  That is the story of Rose Bezoulet in The House I Loved by Tatiana de Rosnay.   Rose, she is a stubborn one. She lives in Paris in the 1850's and 60's - the time of the  American Civil War.  A Paris city planner, named Hausmann plans to change Paris to allow for traffic, rid the Paris inhabitants of the danger of cholera, and enhance the city with wide boulevards threatens Rose's house.  Hausemann is a real person and the changes he made were real.  Yes, he took people's homes but he had a larger public welfare in mind.  Rose can't adapt.  She can't accept the change. She can't see the good.  She clings to her house which actually is the house of her husband, Armand.  I understand that property means very much to people.  But when it comes to life or death. property doesn't mean so much to me.  I loved Rose as a person. Maybe she didn't connect with her daughter (which I don't really get because my daughter is above average) and maybe she wasn't the most adaptable person but I grew to love her. I, too, once lived on Saint Germaine.  My Saint Germaine was in Saint Cloud and underneath an antique shop, but it was Saint Germaine nonetheless.  Although this story doesn't rank up there with Sarah's Key, it was an enjoyable story.

How?

I have had Migwe, my Russian canary for eight years.  I got this flight cage about six years ago and that is where he has resided ever since.  Today, since it was nice out, I put the cage outside on the deck. I typically do this in the summer.  I put his blue towel over half the cage so he could get relief from the sun shine.  I thought, maybe, he could commune with the golfinches like he usually  does.  Today I finished gardening about 4:30.  I wondered if I should bring him in now or let him enjoy a couple more hours of fresh air.  I decided to bring him now.  And I am so glad I did because when I removed his blue towel there he was hanging upside down by one leg.  One tiny canary talon was stuck between the bars of his flight cage. How did this happen? I don't know.  How long has he been hanging upside down like the baby brought before King Solomon and claimed by two women?  One woman says, "Go ahead. Cut that baby in half." The other woman says, "Let the baby live."  The mother who wants the baby to live is the one King Solomon decides is the true mother. I don't know how long this canary has been topsy turvey but I figure it couldn't more more than four hours.  I talk to Migwe as I rescue his tiny a$$. Is it my imagination or does he understand my comforting words?  Within a few seconds I get his tiny claw free of the cage wires. He falls to the bottom of the cage. I hope he is okay.  He flies up to a perch but looks a little lopsided. He's not bearing weight evenly.  I bring him inside. His wings work fine; it's his right leg I'm worried about. I give him 20 minutes to collect himself.  I go to give him fresh water and fresh food but he is at the food dish searching for seeds. That is a good sign!  I wait until he is done before refilling his food dish.  How did this happen? Six years in this extra large flight cage and never before has he been strung up by one leg like he was today.  What happened?  Did another bird frighten him?  Did the breeze blow him into this position?  The poor fellow!  My dear canary! His leg must be killing him. If only I had some canary tylenol; better yet canary oxycontin.  All I can do is hope for the best and send loving vibes his way.  The average life span of a captive canary is between 9 and 10 years.  I've had Migwe since 2008; a little more than eight years.  His songs have made me so very happy.  Migwe had brought life and joy in my darkest hours.  He's not singing tonight though.  Poor, dear Migwe!  What a day he has had.  I got to youtube and play some Russian canary songs.  At least he can enjoy some of his own kind talking tonight.  

Grandma

This week I have spent time fondly remembering my Grandmothers.  One was born on June 1st and one was born on June 4th.  I miss the one who was born on June 1st and the one born on June 4th.   As a child, I would sit by their side and listen to their stories and enjoy every minute.  At the time I remember thinking, "Other kids might get tired of this sitting and listening but I don't."  Sometimes the stories were ones I had heard before.  It didn't matter. What mattered was the love.  Both of them loved me; talked to me; listened to me; and treasured me.  One taught me how to bake a cake; how to grease and flour the pan; how to mix the batter; and how to check for doneness with the straw off of a broom.  As I write that I realize how unhygienic it is to insert the straw off of a broom into a cake but that is how we did it in those days.  Another taught me how to make a glossy cookie frosting with egg white, vanilla, and powdered sugar. Who uses unpasteurized egg white raw now days? Salmonella much? Okay, so maybe my Grandmas didn't have the latest public health information on hygiene but they knew how to love a granddaughter.  They knew how to make her feel safe, to feel loved, to feel worthwhile.  And by her I mean me. They didn't have much education; in fact neither one graduated from high school.  They didn't dress in the latest fashions. Neither one used any make up or nail polish or wore any jewelry beyond a gold wedding band.  Neither one traveled very far.  Neither drank alcohol. Both were strong and generous.  Both were loyal.  Both were loving and beautiful.  Both were amazing women.  Both were strong role models. Both enjoyed life and treasured relationships.  Both were industrious.  Both had true grit. Both of them meant the world to me. I miss them very much. If only we could go back in time and have another five minutes with the ones we love!  Because I would go back and I would spend another five minutes with both of my Grandmas and it would be the best five minutes ever. 

Frog and Toad Survey #2

Last night we completed frog and toad survey number two.  As I headed north and west and crossed Trott Brook, I saw a large bird over my car.  The wings beat three times and the bird coasted.  Five wing flaps were completed followed by more coasting.  It wasn't until the bird bent it's tail down to land in a big tree did I recognize it as a bald eagle.  I figured seeing this eagle was a good omen and I was right.  As I stopped to pick up my frogging companions, I was treated to home made peach and blackberry crisp hot out of the oven topped with vanilla ice cream. What a treat! We heard four species of frogs on our route. The gray tree frogs were the loudest but we also heard spring peepers, chorus frogs and American toads.  I thought we would hear pickerel frogs of green frogs because I heard those the weekend before on the Saint Croix river but no luck with those tonight.  The night was loud with the wind blowing, crickets, red winged blackbirds, mallards,  Canadian geese, veery, snipe, sand hill cranes, robins, and common loons.  Fire flies lit up the night. We saw deer and raccoons crossing the road.  The wind kept most of the mosquitoes at bay but might have also kept us from hearing more frogs.  The rain held off for us and we enjoyed the nice evening using our ears in the swamps.

Now I Am Ready

I bought a yellow car to match my yellow house and that felt good and right.  I happened to have a yellow umbrella already. What was missing was yellow sunglasses for me to wear in my yellow car when motoring to or from my yellow house.  Last night I happened to be at the dollar store and what do I find?  For one measly dollar?  A perfect pair of yellow sunglasses!  Now I am ready.

The Red Badge of Courage

Stephen Crane knows what he was writing about when he wrote The Red Badge of Courage.  The red badge that indicates courage is a blood stain.  I feel so incredibly sad that young men think the only way to display courage is to bleed.  The other thing that struck me from this book, written about the Civil War, is that people were plainly marked blue or gray.  There was no hiding behind burkas or using children to set off incendiary bombs. Either you were blue or you were gray.  And to set yourself apart, each party had a flag bearer in the lead.  It was a honor to be the flag bearer!  How times have changed.  You don't see ISIS bearing flags.  You don't see the USA bearing flags.  To be succinct, war sucks. In this story we follow Henry Fleming,often referred to as "the youth."  Henry is worried that when battle comes, he might turn tail and run.  He does turn tail and run,  Later he becomes a flag bearer and is honored by the people in command. Yet, through it all, Henry is still Henry.  During the battle Henry changes from a youth to a man.  The Red Badge of Courage is a sad tale, illustrating how we humans resemble animals. I loved the story and I totally understand how this became a classic of American literature.

Marshbird Survey #2

Who lives here?  Rapunzel?

Today is the first of June and, not to brag, but I started the month of in a most awesome fashion.  Up at 4 a.m. and out of the house by 4:30, three of us were at the first stop of the second marsh bird survey route at 5.  As I stand to get out of the car I hear the sweet "pumper lunk!" of an American bittern. We get our papers ready.  The Bluetooth speaker is hooked up to the iPod and Christmas music spills out over the grasses, the rushes and the alder.  Oops!  We are supposed to play the sounds of marsh birds.  We laugh and save the Christmas hymns for six months.  The wind is very slight and the sky is mostly clear.  The temperature is about 56 degrees and hardly any mosquitoes are out.  We hear many pheasants and chicken as well. I must need more coffee because my sibling is winning at saying "Pheasant" first.  A marsh wren twitters in the swamp. At our second stop hear but do not see sand hill cranes. At the third stop we see but do not hear sand hill cranes.  We mark down each minute they are sighted.  Because cranes stand upright and bend over in the swamp, we don't see them every minute.  Stops three, four and five are difficult because we are on a busy county road; the main road between Zimmerman and Isanti.  Cars, trucks, semi-trailers, school buses, and other vehicles go by all the time.  Since we three are wearing our safety green vests, no one stops to question us.  The fifth stop is a pleasant relief from all that traffic. An added bonus is that we can hear and see the common yellow throat calling "whichity whichity whichity."  They are easier to hear than to see but today we are lucky. Two piebald horses watch us uncomfortably closely.  They are probably wondering why we are playing the sounds of marsh birds.  They look at us to steadily with their pointy ears aimed our way that I feel judged.  We look for the screw we placed in the ground decorated with curly ribbon.  We can't find it. So we use the Garmin GPS and find the latitude and longitude again.  After we're there for 5 minutes we see the screw and the marker in the tall grass.  We have to do things at exactly the same spot so it's good we found it.  I see a female wood duck rise up out of the tall grass and land in the branches of a dead tree 15 feet off the ground.  I know it's a wood duck because that is the only duck I know that lands in trees.  I'm right!  We hear a couple sora rail's calling on this road.  After the seventh spot we see the round silo with the room on top that I saw before. This time we can see it in the full sunlight.  I think of Rapunzel living up there.  I take a photo.  We drive slowly off and see a man in the driveway of the Rapunzel tower. He saw me take a photo.  He has a long white beard and long white hair.  He looks a little bit like Santa except he's not smiling; he's glaring at us.  I smile and wave in my most innocent manner as we drive by but he continues to throw shade at us.  We enjoy the solitude and the safety of the 8th and 9th stops.  We didn't hear any Virginia rails or any yellow rails but we did hear soras and sand hill cranes and marsh wrens, pheasants and common yellow throats, Canadian geese and a bazillion red winged blackbirds, grackles and starlings, robins and blue birds, mallards and wood ducks, swamp sparrows and a yellow warbler. By the time we are done it is after 8.  The wind has picked up enough to rustle branches and the sky has become mostly cloudy. The weather forecast was for a sunny day but the sky begins to drizzle as we arrive in Zimmerman.  By the time I arrive at work around 9 a.m. I feel like I have lived half a day at least.  June 1st was an awesome morning to be alive and to spend time with wonderful people outside, listening to sounds of nature, trying to identify what we were seeing and hearing, challenging ourselves to learn new things, collaborate, work as a team, and to enjoy the heaven on earth known as June in Minnesota.