Archive for the ‘Musings’ category
March 31, 2013
The sun is shining on this Easter morning. The air is still, and the day is getting warmer. No winter coats will cover pastel Easter dresses. I can hear birds singing even though the windows are closed. Yesterday I saw a few buds on one of my bushes. The buds are tiny and closed tightly, but they are another sign that spring is gaining hold.
The alarm rang at 6:15 this morning, and I turned it off and went back to sleep for an hour. I had set it early so I could sneak down my friends’ house and decorate the tree which hangs over their deck: it’s an annual Easter surprise. Though if it’s annual, is it really a surprise? Anyway, when I realized how late it was, I was afraid they’d be awake, but Gracie and I went anyway. The car was covered in frost so I scrapped the windows and off we went. At their house, all the shades were down so they were still abed. I went on the deck and started decorating. One of the giant decorated paper lanterns fell over the deck rail. That meant walking off the deck then all around the outside of the deck and through the underbrush to retrieve it. That was an adventure. The leaves and branches were soaked and sucked up one of my slippers. I had to yank it out of the muck. I found a bird feeder covered in wet leaves and put it on the deck rail. I also saw a mango. I’m still perplexed a bit about the mango, strange spot for one. While I was mucking about, the door opened and out came Darci, their dog. Whoever let her out never looked so I wasn’t caught. I walked back to the deck, petted Darci for a while, hung the lantern then sneaked away. I just got a call thanking me for the surprise and telling me how lovely the tree looks.
I remember so well Easter Sunday mass when I was young. The church was always beautiful and filled with light. The sun shined through the stained glass windows. The dark purple of lent had been replaced by white and all the statues were uncovered. Flowers decorated the floor in front of and all around the altar. I remember the lilies because they were the tallest. The church was always crowded. Women wore hats, fancy hats with veils, small see through veils that went down as far as their eyes. The men wore suits and carried their hats into the church. Little girls wore dresses in pinks and blues and all the different shades of pastel. They wore short white gloves and round hats with ribbons. Their shoes were patent leather, both black and white, and were worn with fancy white socks with lace around the edges. Some boys wore suits, ones with jackets checkered in the front. Others wore white shirts and ties and new pants with deep creases. The shoes were always new and always with laces. The choir sang at Easter. If I had known the word back then, I would have said it was majestic, mass on Easter Sunday.
Happy Easter!
Categories: Musings
Tags: birds, church', decorating, dressy clothes, Easter, hats, Light, lilies, majesty, Mass, new shoes, pastel dresses, suits, sun, Tree, veils
Comments: 14 Comments
March 30, 2013
Mother Nature is spoiling us with these sunny days and blue skies. It is chilly still but not cold, true sweatshirt weather. Fern is sprawled and napping in the sun streaming through the front door while Gracie and Maddie are napping elsewhere. I just watched Godzilla which I haven’t seen in years. It made me laugh. Most of the film is still in Japanese so scenes with Raymond Burr were inserted so we’d know what the heck was going on. He spends the entire movie looking straight ahead and doing voice-overs. The special effects are mostly miniatures, easy to spot. I got a big chuckle out of Burr at a press conference. He was writing for all he was worth while the information was being relayed in Japanese which he didn’t speak. In one scene a woman fell as she was running from Godzilla just as every B movie dictates but so did a soldier. That one is a new twist. It was in one of the inserted scenes and the guy was saved by Raymond Burr. During Godzilla’s rampage on Tokyo, Burr stands at a window, sweat pouring down his face while he describes the horror he’s watching for his editor into the microphone of a tape recorder. He just stands there until Godzilla destroys the building and the ceiling falls in on Burr who does survive. Godzilla doesn’t.
My neighborhood is quiet. I haven’t even heard a car going down the street or a dog barking. I have no plans for the day, no errands and nothing to do around the house except make my bed, but I’m hesitant as I’m thinking afternoon nap. I’m in the middle of a Lisa Gardner book called Touch and Go so I may curl up on the couch with my iPad and read away the afternoon.
Holy Saturday was always just an ordinary Saturday. We didn’t go to church: there were no services. We’d play outside weather permitting. That night we’d take our usual Saturday night baths with maybe a bit of extra scrubbing. The Easter Bunny was coming, but he never conjured the same excitement and anticipation as Santa did. We knew they’d be jelly beans and chocolate rabbits, a candy egg or two, a coloring book, crayons and a few small toys. My mother would let us eat one choice from our baskets, never the whole rabbit, and then we’d have to get ready for church. Our new clothes were all laid out, tags snipped and ironing done. After we’d gotten dressed, there were usually pictures, black and white pictures. We wore pastels.
Categories: Musings
Tags: bath night, Godzilla, Holy Saturday, Japanese Horror movie, pretty day, quiet neighborhood, Raymond Burr, reading, sunny day
Comments: 20 Comments
March 29, 2013
The day is lovely, sunny and fairly warm. I stood outside a long while this morning checking out the lower forty: okay, a bit of an exaggeration there. It was the side yard where the day lilies grow. I noticed their shoots are all above the ground. In the front garden the most beautiful cluster of yellow flowers is blooming. It deserves a picture so I’ll go back out later. All of the crocus are up: purple, yellow, white and a few variegated. I’m thinking they are the best harbingers of spring.
My feeders are empty again, good thing I bought more seed yesterday when I did my errands. Gracie and I did four of them including the dump and Agway, her two favorite spots. I also stopped at Hot Diggity Dog and bought Gracie some pastries for Easter then went next store to Buckies Biscotti and treated myself to lunch and a cupcake. It was altogether a most satisfying day.
We always had Good Friday off from school though the nuns expected us, the older kids, to pick an hour to do vigil between noon and three. The vigil was in the downstairs church, never in the big church upstairs. I remember how dark and quiet the church was. All the statues were covered in purple cloth. The only sounds were the creaking of the pews as people came and went or just tried to make themselves more comfortable on the wooden pews. I remember wearing play clothes to do vigil, even pants. It wasn’t like a Sunday when you had to wear a dress. There was always a nun sitting in the back checking us in and out. We only had to stay an hour, but it seemed far longer just sitting there quietly and supposedly praying. I sneaked in a book a couple of times and got caught once. The nun just held out her hand, and I gave it to her. I must have look too suspiciously pious with my head bent in constant prayer. She gave me back the book when I left.
Some years, when I was teaching, Good Friday was just before April vacation week so I got to leave early, on Thursday night, for Europe. I usually went every April. One year my sister and I went to London. She had never been there, and I had been there several times so I let her pick what she wanted to do, and we did everything on her list and more. I remember waking up on Easter morning and finding the Easter Bunny had left fudge eggs and cards, both compliments of our parents who had sneaked them to each of us to give to the other. That Easter Sunday we went to Windsor Castle, and there were huge crowds wandering around and a band was playing. I remember it was really windy and cold. That’s my strongest memory of that Easter Sunday.
Categories: Musings
Tags: bird feeders, Buckies, Crocus, day lilies, errands, Good Friday vigil, Hot Diggity Dog, London, lovely day, Lunch, nuns, prayer
Comments: 14 Comments
March 28, 2013
The morning is cloudy and was rainy earlier but it was a small rain, droplets. I would moan and groan about the sunless world in which I live except this morning was different. Over the sound of the rain I could hear birds singing. They were greeting the morning, and rain didn’t matter: it was the joy of the morning.
I stood at the kitchen window and watched the flicker pecking at suet in the feeder I bought just for him. A bird I don’t know waited its turn. I’ll look it up later in my bird book. One goldfinch was bright with color, the first to break out of winter drab. I noticed the thistle feeder is empty. I’ve had more goldfinches than ever, sometimes seven or eight at the same time, and thistle is a favorite of theirs. The chickadees are few, and I miss them. They, the titmice and nuthatches are the sunflower seed birds. I have three different feeders for them. The sole woodpecker is either at the suet in the small feeder or tapping a pine tree. The small suet feeder looks like a house. It’s kind of cool and the birds grab on upside down.
I don’t remember people having bird feeders in their yards when I will little. The few times we went to Boston in the warmer weather, I remember feeding the pigeons and the ducks at the Public Garden. I also remember feeding the squirrels. That was before their spawn days. I thought it was really neat to see them so up-close. Pigeons are still fun to watch. Drop a few pieces of bread and they all move to the same spot, pushing and shoving and even taking to the air. They are very noisy birds. I always feel bad about pigeons. They’re nobody’s favorite bird. They have squat bodies and are dull in color. Pigeons seem to hang around in large numbers so the odds of getting bread are slim. I always try to throw some to the back of the pack which then makes all them turn just about at the same time and they all squawk about the inconvenience.
My mother used to get pigeons at her feeders, city birds we’d call them. It frustrated her to no end. She wanted cute little birds like chickadees, but, instead, she’d get sparrows, almost as common as the pigeons. The crows dropped by often because my mother was always throwing out something for them. “Save it for the crows,” she’d tell us. Once she got a seagull. That was a puzzler. She called to have me guess the bird which had visited. I didn’t guess seagull. That’s one bird which has never ever stopped at my feeders. I guess my mother’s was a country cousin of sorts visiting its city cousins. She never saw another seagull in her yard.
Categories: Musings
Tags: bird feeders, bird songs, chickadees, ducks, goldfinches, pigeons, Public Garden, rain, seagull, sparrows, squirrels, sunless world, thistle
Comments: 25 Comments
March 26, 2013
The snow never materialized last night but it did sleet then rain for a short while, and the morning still bears the remnants of the storm though storm seems a bit grandiose a description for a bit of rain and sleet. Our familiar gray skies are back, but the sun has been making quick visits then disappearing to wherever it’s been going for what seems like weeks. I watched the bird feeders while my coffee was dripping, and my suet feeder had a huge guest, a flicker. I also noticed the gold finches are getting brighter. The tops of the hyacinths are appearing above their leaves, and there are several daffodil buds. I think we’re in the two steps forward and only one step back part of spring. It makes me hopeful for one really warm day when I can sit on the deck, close my eyes and fall asleep with the sun on my face.
The perfect day when I was about ten was always in the spring. It was warm and sunny but not hot. I’d wear my spring jacket, my favorite of all jackets. It had a front zipper and was pale pink. The first wearing of that jacket was a symbol back then though symbolism was lost on the young me. I just knew I loved my jacket because it was light and pink and had replaced the heavy, dark winter coats and layers we’d worn for months. Wearing it was the acknowledgment the season had finally changed and winter was passed.
On my perfect day, usually a Saturday, I’d go down the cellar and maneuver my bike out the door and up the stairs. That was never easy. The door faced a wall so the angle was all wrong. I had to lift the front wheel in the air to get the back wheel out. Once up the stairs I’d get on my bike, ride across the side lawn and down the grassy hill, a maneuver forbidden by my dad who’d yell later when he saw the tire marks. I’d always get the how many times do I have to tell you lecture, but the little ride was worth it. My dad just didn’t get how neat it was to start my adventure by going down his small hill. From there, I’d sometimes ride down the big hill on which we lived or I’d take the side street and head toward the field with the horses. I remember how bright the sun seemed and how the trees had buds and the grass was finally turning green. I’d see the colors of the spring flowers blooming above the ground. The air smelled fresh and brand new. I always took my time, not wanting to miss a single thing though I’d taken that same route so many times. I remember feeling joyful and as alive as spring as I rode through the small streets.
I have that same feeling every year on the very first warm spring day even without my bike.
Categories: Musings
Tags: bike riding, buds, Clouds, flicker, flowers, fresh air, gold finches, green lawn, hyancinths, perfect day, spring, spring jacket
Comments: 24 Comments
March 25, 2013
This morning the alarm woke me at 4:30. That’s right, 4:30, the most ungodly of hours, which is a bit of a play on the day as I got that early so I could leave at 5 to go to the 20th anniversary mass for my father. It is nearly beyond belief to realize he has been gone that long. I think of him often, and we still miss him every day. The mass was in a church about an hour and a half from here, close to where he and my mother used to live. My sister from Colorado is here for a few days and came especially for the mass. I left at 5 and arrived at the church about 5 minutes before the mass ended. A traffic accident on the expressway kept me in bumper to bumper traffic. I celebrate birthdays, the Fourth of July and a Christmas or two before the traffic broke, but once I knew I was going to be late, I was patient sitting in the car, so unlike me, but I hadn’t any other choice. I listened to the radio and learned all about the fiscal crisis in Cyprus, the snow coming my way and traffic updates on the 3’s. I’m hoping someone opines about Cyprus so I can jump in with my opinion. The ride home was just as awful. Another accident kept me in bumper to bumper traffic before I even reached the city, but once through the mess, I whizzed my way home. I had an errand which I didn’t care to do and, instead, went straight home and back to bed. I just woke up.
We all went to breakfast after the mass. Three of my cousins took the day off so they could go to mass and breakfast then they’ll spend the rest of the day with my two sisters. I like my family. I am much older, and though they are closer to my two sisters and spend lots of time together, I always get the hug and the kiss when we see each other. We are a family of huggers and kissers, even the guys. That’s a cool thing.
Two inches of snow are coming my way. I swear my sister brought it as she left over a foot of it behind in Colorado. The snow won’t last, according to the six or eight weather forecasts I heard, as it will be warm enough to melt the snow the next two days. I think the words were seasonably warm which didn’t get my heart thumping.
Well, that’s it for today: not much happening when you spend most of the day sitting in a car moving at a snail’s pace and listening to a combination of NPR, WBZ news radio and WEEI sports. Did I mention I found out that a 15th seed has made it to the sweet 16 for the first time?
Categories: Musings
Tags: breakfast, bumper to bumper, Cyprus, family, hugs and kisses, memorial mass, nap, NPR, Snow, traffic, WBZ, WEEI
Comments: 30 Comments
March 24, 2013
What a bright, sunny day it is with the bluest of skies. Though still a bit chilly, only in the high 30’s, the sun makes it feel much warmer. The breeze is slight and only gently rocks the branches. The snow is just about gone. Today must be an apology of sorts from Mother Nature for the grayness of the past week.
This morning I watched a spawn of Satan be thwarted by my bird feeders. It tried all three sunflower feeders but got nothing except frustration. Its paw jabbed and jabbed inside the wires and still came back empty. Take that, you spawn of Satan!
I have high hopes. My back is getting better, my outlook on life is rosier, Easter is next week and baseball starts April 1st. Life is good.
When I was a little kid, small things gave me joy. Blowing puffy dandelions into the wind, catching fireflies, picking and eating blueberries or watching pollywogs at the swamp were the best ways to spend part of a summer day. Getting dirty while doing it was a bonus. I’d lie on my stomach and look into the water at the edge of the swamp because that’s where the pollywogs first appeared. We’d go and see them every couple of days and watch them grow. They were the tiniest black specks at first darting so quickly I could almost miss them but then came the arms and legs, and they were easy to see. When they were full-grown, they just disappeared, moved on to somewhere else in the swamp, probably in the back among the trees and bushes where we seldom went.
That swamp was my favorite of all places when I was young. It had a wide open area in the front where we watched the pollywogs in spring and where we’d ice skate in the winter. Small channels on both sides led away from the wide front. In the summer these channels were bordered by overgrown bushes and trees growing on what we thought of as islands. Exploring into the swamp meant jumping from island to island, getting scratched by the briers and getting wet feet if you weren’t careful, but at least once every summer we’d explore as far as we could. In the winter it was easy. The channels froze and the trees and bushes were bare. We walk and follow the channels as far as they went holding on to limps to keep from slipping and falling. We’d get on our hands and knees to look into the ice. It was like looking at a tiny world. The ice was so clear we could see all the dead leaves, the vines and the limbs of trees which had dipped into the water and been frozen. I can still see it all in my mind’s eye. I thought it was beautiful.
Categories: Musings
Tags: blue sky, blueberries, dandelions, ice, ice skating, pollywogs, spawn of satan, sunny day, Swamp, winter swamp, \exploring
Comments: 16 Comments
March 23, 2013
When I woke up, it was closer to afternoon than morning. I suspect it was the combination of pills I’m taking for my back. Gracie and Fern were still with me, both asleep. I imagine they too had excuses for sleeping so late, but I have no idea what they are. They don’t share. It took me a while to get out of bed, but I yelped less than yesterday. I guess that’s a barometer of sorts for my back getting better.
The sun is out and the sounds of drips are in stereo from the front and back of my house. Mostly they are falling from the roof onto the deck. The snow is quickly melting. I can see grass again and the streets are perfectly clear. The sky has more blue than it has clouds so I’m thinking it’s a lovely day. I filled the bird feeders yesterday, and they are now fully occupied. The woodpecker seems to be enjoying the new suet which is a far better alternative to the shingles on my house he was pecking yesterday.
The other day I thought of Mrs. McGaffigan. She used to live in the huge house on the corner at the bottom of my street. She was the other half of our party line. My brother and I used to try to listen to her conversations, but we usually giggled and got caught. She was never happy about eavesdropping and was brusque about our hanging up right away. We usually did but once in a while we only pretended so we could keep listening. I remember picking up the phone to make a call and hearing Mrs. McGaffigan. She’d tell me to hang up as she was already on the line as if I couldn’t hear her. I don’t remember exactly how we knew which calls were ours, but it had something to do with the ringing. Those were the days of clunky black phones and letters as part of the phone numbers.
I remember my mother making sure I had a dime when I went out with friends in case I needed to call. Phone booths were everywhere. I never walked by one without checking the coin slot. Sometimes I’d get lucky and find a dime. In the rain, a phone booth was a great place to wait out the storm for a while. Two and sometimes three of us would jam ourselves inside. We’d be dry but none of us could move. A phone booth always looked kind of cool in the dark when the light went on as you shut the door. I didn’t like it when the booths started to disappear and the phones with small shelves took their places. Now, though, pay phones have pretty much disappeared, and soon enough no one will even remember they existed.
I have this image. It’s a room filled with all the stuff from my childhood, like phone booths, rabbit ears, skate keys and bottle tops on shoe bottoms, and one by one a piece disappears and no one notices.
Categories: Musings
Tags: coin slots, dimes, listening to phone calls, memories, party line, phone booths, rabbit ears, skate keys, sleeping in
Comments: 37 Comments
March 22, 2013
Sleigh bells ring, are you listening? In the lane, on the grass and on the deck, the snow is glistening. It started snowing around 10 last night, and we probably have about 5 inches of spring snow which sounds like an oxymoron to me. A dusting is spring snow. 5 inches is winter. The snow is heavy. I swept the walk to get my papers, and when I got to the street, I found slush under the snow. I left wet footprints. The branches of the pine trees are covered with a layer of the heavy snow and the bushes in the front are leaning from the weight. If I were a kid, I’d love this snow. It’s prime snowman snow: thick and heavy and sticky.
The Christmas cactus in here has a flower. I think of it as a gift as the plant was once my mother’s. It sat at the end of her kitchen table near the window. The table was in a niche in front of a bank of windows but one end of the table, flush with a window, had a cabinet beside it so we couldn’t sit on that side. The plants sat there instead. I remember when all of the cactus on the table were in bloom. The flowers were beautiful. Now I have one.
Today is just one of those days. I finished my monkey poop coffee, my back has soured my mood, and I am so tired of gray clouds. The sun was out for maybe a half hour yesterday, another taunt from Mother Nature. I can’t imagine what we did to anger her but it must have been a doozy.
I had two lady of the manor moments today. Skip, my factotum, came and plowed my driveway then shoveled in front of my car and mailbox. He brought in the bird seed and case of dog food I had left in the trunk because I couldn’t lift them. While Skip was here, Peapod delivered my groceries; he even put them on the kitchen counter. Now I’m wondering where my upstairs and downstairs maids are.
I am supposed to get an x-ray, but it won’t be today. I’m going to be a sloth again, and I’m using my back as an excuse, not that I really need one.
Categories: Musings
Tags: cactus flower, gray clouds, lady of the manor, moody, sloth day, slush, Snow, snowman, winter
Comments: 12 Comments
March 21, 2013
The clouds still blanketed the sky when I woke up, but I am passed caring. The dull, dark days have been the norm for months or even years: I’ve lost count. The sun appears periodically during a piece of the day, and I get so excited by the sight of if I think we should all dance in the streets wearing brightly colored clothes and flowers in our hair to commemorate the occasion. Then the sun disappears and toys with us no more. Today has just become one of those days. The sun has broken through the clouds, and the sky is turning blue. It’s cold, but it’s sunny. I’m okay with that.
Happy spring! We celebrated yesterday with our annual ceremony: sunrise at the beach, a few songs and then breakfast. Yesterday, though, was a bit different. It was so cold Clare, Tony and I sat in the car and waited. When the sun rose above the water, we ran out for pictures and sang Morning has Broken at a quick pace then ran back into the car to sing Rockin’ Robin. Usually we find a shell to remember the day, but this year we didn’t. The sand was hard and the wind was whipping so much none of us wanted to brave the elements to go down by the water. We watched the sun for a bit then left the beach and went to a new spot for us for breakfast called Good Friends. It is a small place with a paneled pine wall on one side, very old Cape Cod interior decorating still found in some rental cottages. My breakfast was delicious. When I got home, I went back to bed.
My back is troublesome, wincing, yelping troublesome. Luckily I had my yearly physical yesterday, and the doctor gave me some pills to alleviate the pain, and he wants my back x-rayed. I’ll do that tomorrow. I’ve already taken this morning’s pills, and now I’m ready to dance. I will, of course, be wearing my brightly colored clothes.
When I was little, I had a million dreams. None of them had to do with money or being rich. They were dreams of adventure and daring and seeing the world. I’ve been lucky and have lived many of those dreams. This morning, while I was waiting for the monkey poop coffee to drip, I watched the birds through the window and thought about dreams, my now dreams. Amazingly they haven’t really changed much though money has crept in as a part of those dreams. I want to go to Botswana on a safari and see the Okavango Delta, and I want one more trip to Ghana. Both of those are expensive so I got to thinking about an austerity campaign to save money. I like my creature comforts, but I figure giving up a few is a small sacrifice to fulfill some dreams.
Categories: Musings
Tags: blue sky, Botswana, breakfast, Dreams, Ghana, Good Friends, happy spring, Morning Has Broken, Rockin' Robin, sun, travel
Comments: 26 Comments
keepthecoffeecoming.blog 