Swan Song

One year ago this week I posted my first blog entry. No one is more shocked than I am that I completed a year’s worth of entries. I honestly believed that I had about six stories in me and that would be the end of that. Each week I was sure that I was writing my last post. Each week, however, another idea popped into my head and my fingers started typing away.

When folks ask me why I started a blog, I have no definitive answer. It was certainly never on my bucket list and I knew next to nothing about the process of writing and posting stories in cyberspace. I guess I just needed to experience a new experience. The lessons I’ve learned from this process are numerous. Here are a few that come to mind.

1) Don’t wait until you are an expert to try something new. Obviously, I am not a professional writer and I know even less about the world of blogging. Since beginning my blog, however, I have learned how to begin and end a story in 500 words, more or less. I also learned that blogging is a fairly safe way to practice writing. The grammar rules are rather fluid and I have no worries of being red penned into submission. Practice hasn’t made me perfect, but it has made me more experienced.

2) Be surprised.  I wasn’t sure who would take the time to read my blog and I thought the only group that might possibly show any interest was the over fifty crowd, thus the name of my blog site. The over fifty crowd has now extended all the way down to folks in their 20’s.  My overall readership may be small, but I like to think that we are a mighty bunch.

3) Embrace beige. It doesn’t take long for my readers to realize that I live a dull life. I do not rappel down precipices, hike into wildernesses, swim with eels or jump out of moving objects. I teach, read, cook, clean (sometimes), drive to the grocery store and go to dentist appointments.  None of this makes for exciting blogging material. All of it, however, is enough for my kaleidoscope and I’m not ashamed to say it.

4) Clueless isn’t the same as hopeless. Before I began blogging, I did not even know where our camera was stored, much less how to use it. I am currently at a D minus in photography, but, as they say in my business, “she’s improving.” I even caught myself wishing I had my camera with me a few days ago as I gazed upon an interesting sight. Could that mean that I might actually upgrade to a new cell phone with digital capabilities? Clueless can also be dangerous.

4) Every party needs a few guests. I don’t believe in reincarnation, but if I did, I’m pretty sure I would have been the old lady that spent her day preparing the leg of dinosaur for the evening meal around the campfire. And once the last morsel was slurped up, I would be the one with a story to tell. Mumbling away in the cave alone all day is never as fun as sharing the day’s events with others. You, my dear readers, have made my blogging an interactive experience and for that I am grateful.

And now for the good or bad news. I have decided to take a sabbatical from my blog. I don’t know if it will last a week, a year or indefinitely. I just know that it’s time to hit the refresh button and see what happens.

Who knows. I might just take up scrapbooking instead. Choke. Maybe not.

I do promise, however, to let you know if a new adventure pops up on my radar so we can board the Happy Day Express together. Toot. Toot. 

The View

I have five windows on the south wall of my living room. When we first built our home, the windows let in lots of sunlight and we had an unobstructed view of the field across from our house. Since then, the little river birch tree that we planted in our front lawn has become a towering sentinel, reaching high above the roof of our house. The sunlight streaming into my living room is now more dappled than direct and our lawn has a little more shade than when it was first seeded. The field across the street has also seen growth. Rather than a wide open space, there are houses as far as the eye can see.

All this has created the view from my favorite reading spot in my living room. At a glance, I am able to use the stately birch tree as a weather station. I can determine whether the wind is blowing, how hard it is blowing and what direction the wind is coming from. The tree provides my book weary eyes with an ever changing seasonal display. Spring is filled with bulging buds and flying seeds. Summer is head on, in your face greenery. Fall spikes the lawn with a mosaic of yellow and rust foliage. Winter limbs create dark outlines that bend and shape shift with the blustery air currents.  No two moments are the same as I watch the action from my reading perch.

The birds also seem to enjoy our tree. My favorite tweeters are the White-breasted Nuthatches that like to creep along the craggy bark. They use their tweezer-like bills to glean insects as they quickly flit about in jerky movements along the tree’s trunk. The robins also like to be a part of the tree’s graceful protection. Many fat little robinettes start their flying lessons on a branch of the tall birch. Fortunately, the lawn is a soft landing pad for those that need a few more tutorials.

I must confess that lately I have been especially enamored by another animal in our tree. One afternoon this past spring I saw a roiling, boiling mass of fur moving along the side of the tree’s trunk. From a distance I was unable to identify the animal that was causing the ruckus. On closer inspection, I realized that I was not observing one animal, but rather, five animals. Four baby squirrels were scampering over, under and around their spunky mother as they moved in one roly-poly ball upwards on the tree. As they parted ways, the little ones continued to chase and twirl about as only squirrels can do, high above the ground.  Every day their circus antics provide me with new adventures. I know I shouldn’t get attached to the furry bird feeder bandits, but they are just too cute with their little Velcro hands. I find myself having conversations with them and encouraging them to watch for cars as they scamper across the street. I do not want to find squirrel paste by my driveway some morning and know that one of my mammal friends made a bad move.

My views throughout the day are not always as inspiring as the one from my living room couch. Other landscapes often need my attention such as my kitchen, my computer, my laundry room and my closets. I am glad, however, that whether I’m peeking into my oven to check on a batch of cookies or looking into my clothes dryer to monitor the dampness of my laundry, I always have a lovely view imprinted in my brain that allows me to escape for a few moments if need be.

Enjoy your views this week.

  

 

The Pool

On the way to my local library is a swimming pool. This time of year it is quite naturally filled with the squeaks and squeals of kids and families bobbing around in cool waters on a hot day. I am amazed at the design of so many of the pools in my city. They are really aqua-parks, complete with tube slides, lazy rivers and sand play areas. Brightly colored clown slides and animal structures make the pools fun places to be.

The pools of my neighborhood are a far cry from the swimming possibilities of my youth. My earliest memory of swimming is at a lake or the Missouri River. The lake was murky, mossy, fishy smelling and rife with leeches. The river was murky, mossy, fishy smelling and rife with currents that could carry you away in a second. The “beaches” harbored rattlesnakes and prickly, stubbly vegetation.

My first swimming lessons were conducted at the lake. As a child who made fretting a career, I was only too happy to conjure up a myriad of monsters in the lake to support all the reasons that I was sure to drown. During my lessons I was clingy, whiny, wide-eyed and hopeless. In defense of myself, I did go into the water and splash around in the beginning. I can still feel the oozy goo between my toes and the silt of mud coating my swimming suit. Every aquatic plant that brushed up against me resulted in a gasp of fear and soon my mantra became, “Do I have to do this?”  Our final test was to swim to a raft positioned out in the lake. The raft was probably not more than 50 feet away from the shore, but in my mind it was as far away as the Arctic Circle. Needless to say, I was less than successful in my attempt to pass the class. I don’t know who my swimming instructor was, but I am sure he either resigned or asked for a new group for his next round of teaching. I know his pay wasn’t worth the likes of me.

Later on in my youth, our small town built a swimming pool. Surely, the cool chlorinated water would inspire me to finally learn to swim. No rattlesnakes, no mud, no fish, no rogue currents. Well, once a fretter, always a fretter. Again, I tried to make a go of passing a swimming class. I was now a very big beginner, splashing around with little water bugs who had no fear of the unknown. I blew the required bubbles, floated the dead man’s float and believe it or not, I somehow managed to pass into an intermediate level. Frankly, I don’t know if I really passed the beginner’s class. I think my instructor felt so sorry for me that she thought this might boost my self-esteem and inspire me to keep on trying.

I did keep on trying. In college I was required to take a P.E. credit and swimming was one of the choices. I decided that it was do or die time. Last chance to overcome the monsters of the deep. I was blessed with a very patient instructor who I’m sure was shocked that someone my age could be so inept. She gave me pep talks. She worked with me individually. She gave me extra time. And, finally, she looked at me and in a sweet and sincere way said, “I’ve done all I can. I think you need to seek professional help.” Enough said. I hung up my bathing suit and made friends with the life vest.

I’m not afraid of pools anymore. In fact, I spent many happy hours watching my daughter from the edge of the kiddie pool when she was growing up. The difference is that I have re-focused my expectations and accepted the fact that I am and always will be a terra firma girl.

Hope you all find some fun ways to keep cool this summer, whether it be by land or by sea.

Here is a yummy dessert that is guaranteed to keep you cool.

Buster Bar Dessert

1 15.5 oz. pkg of regular Oreos

½ c. margarine, melted

½ gallon vanilla ice cream, softened

1 c. peanuts

Crush cookies and add margarine. Press into 9x13 pan. Spoon ice cream over crumbs. Sprinkle with peanuts. Place in freezer.

Topping:

2 c. powdered sugar

2/3 c. chocolate chips

½ c. margarine

1 12 oz. can evaporated milk

Combine ingredients in sauce pan and heat until chips melt. Bring to a boil and simmer for 10 minutes, stirring occasionally. Cool thoroughly. Pour over dessert and freeze until firm. Before serving allow to soften slightly

Feathers

It is said that birds of a feather flock together. I would like to adjust this adage and change it to: birds of a feather flock together, unless it’s a family reunion. This time of year the calendar seems to fill with family gatherings of one sort or another. The dynamics of such events are dictated by the birds that migrate in for the occasion. The following is a breakdown of the species that might attend any given function.

1) Geese: They are the loud, dominant ones. They like to fly in formation so they are often the planners of the event. If your V flying pattern is a little off, you’ll hear about it. Go with the flow or find another reunion.

2) Chickadees: These folks like to flit about and chat with as many kin as possible. They are sweet in a chirpy sort of way and always have a smile on their beaks. If you are shy, stick with the chickadees. They will nudge a conversation out of you and help you pass the time until you can go home.

3) Vultures: This group loves drama. They circle around until the edginess of flocking together cracks a few folks. Then it’s time to swoop in and stir the pot. Let the games begin.

4) Eagles: They like to watch from afar. They are often found by the food table so they can scan the flock and look for another eagle. They are content to keep their mingling to a minimum.

5) Cowbirds: They love reunions because they are fond of mooching off others. They are the ones who volunteer to bring a bag of chips or a jar of pickles and they are the first ones in line to take home any leftovers.

6) Warblers: You’ll know when they arrive because they start chirping immediately and don’t take a breath until the last cake crumb is eaten. They can be entertaining but are best taken in small doses. It’s recommended that they flutter throughout the flock so they don’t wear out their welcome too quickly.

7) Bluebirds: They are the perpetual optimists. 105 degrees heat index at the park, no problem. Drink more lemonade. Aunt Sally forgot the potato salad, no problem. Eat more chips. No air-conditioning in the gathering hall, no problem. Bring fans. Bickering amongst the flock members, no problem. Pretend you’re another bird.

8)  Ducks: They are the jigsaw puzzle pieces that are in the wrong box. They try to fit in but their social skills are a bit weak. The flock usually shares the responsibility of keeping them entertained.  Like the warblers, they are best taken in small doses.

There might be fewer feathers ruffled if birds could gather with just their own species, however, healthy ecosystems thrive on diversity. So, if you find yourself seated next to a warbler at your next reunion, I won’t be offended if you move to a different seat. There is usually a chair open by the ducks.