Posted tagged ‘quiet’
June 6, 2015
The rain started during the night and has just stopped. Rain, even a bit of it, seems to dampen sounds. I don’t even hear birds. I did hear Gracie barking in the back yard, but I couldn’t find what prompted the warning. She has since come in and settled down for her morning nap, probably exhausted from all her barking. Fern too is napping for no other reason than just because she is a cat, and that’s what cats do.
My list did not get finished yesterday so I have to do the errands today. That’s okay as the tourists aren’t here yet for weekends, other than Memorial Day weekend, so I’ll find a place to park and not have to wait in line. I have three stops.
My father used Saturday mornings for his errands. Sometimes he would invite one of us but mostly he went alone. My Dad knew everybody in town so his errands took a while. He went to a two-seater barber shop. The one in Mayberry always reminded me of the one uptown. There was no Floyd but there was the same barber for years. He never had to ask how my father wanted his hair trimmed. He knew. The Chinese laundry also knew how my father liked his shirts. Back then my father only wore white shirts and they were always starched. I never thought about my dad taking his shirts to a laundry and not having my mother do them. That was just the way it was. Much later my father wore different colored shirts which didn’t need to be ironed fresh from the dryer. The first was a yellow button down collar shirt I gave him one Father’s Day. My mother said he’d never wear it, but he did. Another stop for my father was to visit his friend, a pharmacist at his own drug store. It was a small store crammed with anything and everything that bigger drug stores had. It even had a four stool fountain. Those stools had red covers. The last stop for my dad was sometimes at the Red Men where he’d have a beer with the guys. My dad was a member for a long time and one year was even Sachem. The organization is the nation’s oldest patriotic fraternal organization of American origin. I never knew that until I was much older. I just thought it was place for guys to sit around and have a beer or a drink. Come to find out it is both.
Some days develop personalities. Sunday is church day. Monday is the dreaded back to work day. Tuesday and Thursday are just days of the week that nobody seems to mind. Wednesday is hump day, the middle day, the starting line for the countdown to the weekend. Friday opens the weekend. We used to go out Friday afternoons when there were happy hours. It was a weekly ritual. Saturday is for chores and errands but it the best night of the week. Anything special happens on a Saturday night.
Categories: Musings
Tags: a beer or a drink, barber shop, barking dog, Chinese laundry, days of the week, errands, happy hours, hump day, Mayberry and Floyd, morning nap, quiet, rain, Red Men, special Saturdays, starched white shirts, to do list
Comments: 15 Comments
June 20, 2014
The morning is cool and breezy. I slept in a bit later than usual as did Fern and Gracie, but for some reason I have been busy already. I made my bed first thing then watered the vegetable garden and the deck plants, filled the bird feeder, put the dog blankets and pillow in the washing machine and hauled up from the cellar bags of cans for recycling. It is as if I am Popeye after eating the can of spinach.
Today I had nothing planned, but I’ll take in the cans and see how much I make, pick up a few things at the grocery store, buy canned dog food and maybe take a ride to nowhere. I haven’t done that in a long while.
When I was young, I loved just sitting and reading. The library was a weekly stop for me. The librarian, on the kids’ side, was the epitome of librarians with her bun hairdo, her old lady silky looking dress with buttons and her clunky tie shoes. She was a husher who would put her finger across her lips to remind whoever was talking to be quiet. Libraries back then were like churches. You sat quietly in your seat or you walked, almost on tip toes, from bookcase to bookcase. If you spoke, it was always in whispers. Even the librarian whispered. I’d find my books and leave as quickly as I could. Nobody hung out at the library. Sometimes on the walk home I’d stop and sit on one of the benches near the town hall and read a bit. The benches were shaded and there was usually a bit of a breeze and I couldn’t wait to start a new book. I’d read a few chapters then walk the rest of the way home. The next week I’d do it all over again.
My little town library is a hubbub of activity. There are speakers on some Thursdays, the librarian has no bun, wears pants and talks aloud to all her patrons. The library is a welcoming place. The kids’ section is filled with wonderful books, stuffed animal book characters and kid-sized tables and chairs. In the summer there are story hours and not a single kid is ever hushed. I can always count on a perfect recommendation for a book from the librarian, and I don’t have to speak in whispers.
Libraries have a lot of competition from e-books. I buy them too, but I still love visiting my library. There is something comforting about being surrounded by all those books. I can walk up and down the aisles, pull out a book, read the jacket and then decided whether or not I want to read it. I always end up with three or four books. I save the e-books for when I travel. I just can’t curl up with a good book on my iPad.
Categories: Musings
Tags: energy, filling bird feeders, hushed, kids' library area, librarians, libraries, Popeye, quiet, sit and read, story hour, watering flowers
Comments: 12 Comments
October 17, 2013
When I went to get the papers, I was surprised by how warm the morning is. The sun is shining but not with much enthusiasm. I am still struck by how much the light has changed with the season. Gracie and I will go out today and one of our stops will be the dump. Right now she’s enjoying her morning nap.
The Sox-Tigers game on Tuesday was the stuff of legend. The Sox managed to win with a single home-run being the only score on both sides, a 1-0 game. Last night was awful. The Sox lost 7-3. I’m still dealing with the horror of it all. The series is tied 2-2.
I saw a clip from a recent Celts’ game, and Paul Pierce was on the opposing team. It was strange to see him in other than Celtic green. I have been a fan of the Celts since I was young. Back then few games were on TV so I got to listen to Johnny Most on the radio. He had this raspy voice, and it filled with emotion when he was describing spectacular plays. He was a screamer: sometimes in joy and sometimes in indignation. I remember hiding my head under the covers so I wouldn’t get caught listening to the games from the West Coast on my transistor radio. I used to try to visualize the plays as Johnny described them. He had names for all the players like Jumping John Havlicek and Leaping Larry Siegfried. He was such a Celtics fan himself he never once criticized the team. He even had nicknames for opposing players but they weren’t complimentary. Magic Johnson was Cry-Baby Johnson so named when he disputed a call so all that season he was just called Cry when Johnny described the action. Even when the games were on TV, I always turned down the volume and listened instead to Johnny on the radio. His most famous line is “Havlicek stole the ball!” and I can remember him screaming that into the mike. That steal gave the Celts the series against Philadelphia, and they went on to beat LA for the championship. I still watch the Celts once in a while now and even took in a game a couple of years ago. Tommy Heinsohn, a former Celtic from the glory days, is the TV announcer, and he’s pretty good, but I miss the Johnny Most days. He made basketball, even on the radio, colorful and fun.
My neighborhood is so quiet now. The storm doors are up so I don’t ever hear voices anymore. The kids are in school. Every now and then I hear a dog bark, and if Gracie is outside, she’ll carry on the conversation, but most dogs are inside until their people come home from work. It is getting to be isolation time.
Categories: Musings
Tags: ALCS series, barking dogs, Celtics, dump run, Havlicek stole the ball!, isolation time, Johnny Most, quiet, radio, warm day
Comments: 19 Comments
June 13, 2013
Yesterday it rained in Hyannis. At the same time, the sun was shining when I got to West Yarmouth a bit down the road. The paper says rain again today, and we already have a sky filled with clouds. The day is also damp and has a bit of a chill. I’m going out for a few errands later. I have a list.
My usual quiet has been broken, The house next door is being reshingled, and all I can hear is the nail gun and its tap, tap, tap, tap, always four taps in a row. One guy is doing the whole job. It took him two days to do the small side of the house, the one nearest my house. Now he’s working on the back of the house.
When I taught, I traveled every summer. I’d be gone five or six weeks. I usually did Europe though I did have that one South American summer. I always had my backpack, my Go Europe guide-book and my Eurail pass. I never packed too many clothes: a couple of pairs of pants, a few shirts, underwear and a light jacket. I had my flashlight and my Swiss army knife with all the doo-dads. That was all I needed. I always traveled with a friend, and our only planning was deciding which countries to visit. We grouped them. One summer it was England, Scotland and Ireland. Another summer it was Denmark, Finland, Russia and England. You’re probably wondering about England in that grouping, but we always tried to spend at least a few days in London before we went home. Spain and Portugal were an obvious duo.
When I became an administrator, I had to work summers so I traveled April vacation but to only one country. I had become a suitcase traveler by then, but I still brought my Swiss army knife and a guide-book: still no plans ahead except the country and a rental car. I’d have a vague idea what I wanted to see, but I was always open to any adventure. Sometimes we’d see a sign with an arrow pointing to a side road and an attraction and we’d follow that arrow. We were seldom disappointed. Most times we had no reservations but still found great places to stay. I remember a farm in Belgium and a really old house in Ireland. Its steps going upstairs were bowed.
I’m not traveling this year. Two trips to Ghana have depleted my resources so I have to start saving again. A one year hiatus is about as long as my wanderlust will handle. Pinching pennies here I come!
Categories: Musings
Tags: backpacks, dampnes, England, Europe, Go Europe, quiet, rain, suitcase traveler, summer travel, Swiss army knife, travel, week vacations
Comments: 10 Comments
June 8, 2013
When the rain came yesterday, it arrived with a vengeance and poured all afternoon and evening. I left my window open here in the den so I could hear the heavy drops hitting the deck and trees. The wind was so strong it blew one of my huge umbrellas over, but I was lucky, though, as it missed 4 lanterns attached to the deck rail and three clay pots. My deck is again filled with debris, small branches and leaves, but I’m leaving the cleaning until the deck is dry.
Saturday is usually a busy day on my street, but it is still and quiet outside: no lawnmowers, no kids playing and no dogs barking, a rarity on any day. I went out yesterday to Hyannis and early last evening to dinner with my friend so I have not been housebound, but I feel it anyway. I think the clouds and the rain close in after a while.
Today I have no plans, nothing on my dance card. I might just do laundry; it’s been sitting in the hall for a few days. A while back that would have driven me crazy, and I would have had it finished the same day I brought it downstairs. That was when I still worked. My days had structure back then; they had to so I could get everything done. Now I do my chores whenever the spirit moves me. The laundry doesn’t bother me anymore. I’ll get to it sometime.
I have this cabinet, the one with all the pots and pans, assorted dishes for special occasions, small appliances, bowls and some Tupperware, and I think way in the back of it, in the corner, is a mouse nest. I know the mice are all gone, but I know the nest is still there. Before I started the Great Mouse War, I found gnawed paper towels, a perfect nesting material, soft and comfy. I keep saying I’m going to clean that cabinet, but I have this vision of starting the project, getting too tired to finish and leaving the kitchen floored covered with whatnots from that cabinet. A while back I did clean it, and the cabinet looked great, but right now it’s filled. I don’t even remember what is in the way back. I’m thinking Skip, my factotum, might be just the guy for this project.
Categories: Musings
Tags: cabinet cleaning, cleaning cabinets, cloudy day, mouse nest, quiet, quiet day, rain, torrential rain
Comments: 9 Comments
June 3, 2013
Last night it was a mighty storm. I saw the lightning then came the thunder, booming thunder getting closer and closer until it was over my house shaking the rafters. I fell asleep to that rain, but it was gone when I woke up. In its place was a dark, quiet day, the sort you sometimes get after a storm when all the sounds had been used up by the rain. Right now, though, the rain has started again, and I can hear the drops falling steadily on the trees and the deck. It will be around all day into tonight. The sun will be back tomorrow.
The rain makes me want to do little or nothing today, but my mood is neither lethargic nor somber. It is from the quiet and the darkness. Rain muffles all sounds except its own. My room is dark lit only by the computer screen. The window is wide open, and I have heard the progression of the rain. It started with a few small drops but is now the heaviest of rains. I have no gutters on my house so nearest the windows the rain falls in a sheet from the roof. No shopping for plants today, no planting flowers today.
Gracie is asleep in her crate. Fern is asleep on my bed and Maddie is in here with me sleeping on her chair. Animals know how to be cozy on a rainy day.
When I think of Ghana, I remember the smells and colors. My favorite of all is the aroma of wood charcoal burning. In my mind’s eye, I can still see smoke rising from the compounds behind my house when small charcoal burners were lit in the early mornings. My own burner was small and held only a single pan. First the charcoal was started. Thomas cooked for me and he’d squat in front of the burner fanning with a reed fan. When it was time for breakfast, he’d first boil the water for my coffee, my instant coffee, then the eggs and bread were cooked at the same time. The bread was leaned against the side to make toast. The eggs were cooked in groundnut oil, peanut oil, which gave them the best flavor of any eggs. I think breakfast was my favorite meal.
When I bought my first grill for this house, I never bought briquets; instead, I always bought wood charcoal. I used to sit outside on my little farmer’s deck not only to mind the grill but also to smell that charcoal burning and to remember and relive in a small way those mornings in Ghana.
Categories: Musings
Tags: aromas and smells, cozy day, dark day, Ghana, mornings, quiet, rain storm, thunder and lightning, wood charcoal
Comments: 10 Comments
May 30, 2013
Last night Gracie went out about 11 for her last visit to the yard before bed. When she came in, we went upstairs. I saw something out of the corner of my eye, light I thought, but I looked outside and saw nothing so I got comfy in bed to read. All of a sudden the loudest clap of thunder rattled the windows and went on forever. The rain came next, heavy rain, and then more thunder as loud and long as the first. I figured it was lightning I’d seen out of the corner of my eye, a warning of what was to come. I read for about an hour and then fell asleep to the sound of the rain. This morning I woke to sun and warmth. It is supposed to be around 83˚ today: too hot for May on Cape Cod.
It is just so quiet outside. The birds were singing earlier, but I don’t hear them anymore. A few leaves flutter on a branch but make no sound. I do hear Gracie snoring from her crate in the kitchen. It is often her spot for a morning nap. I don’t know where the cats are, but I know they’re sleeping somewhere. Today is my day to buy flowers for the deck and the front yard and vegetables and herbs for the side gardens. I’m going with red and white flowers for the deck, basil for the window boxes and cucumbers and tomatoes again for the garden. I’ll decide one more vegetable and a few more herbs when I roam at Agway. This is one of my favorite days though I usually end up going back at least one more time. I just can’t resist those flowers, and this year I have all those new pots to fill on the shelf I had built on the deck.
I’m leaving deck cleaning for tomorrow if my back cooperates or Saturday if it demands a day of rest which I suspect will happen given all the hauling from the car to the deck to the gardens. Tomorrow will probably be a recuperative day. No complaining here about sitting outside with a cold drink and a good book. I just started another Patterson, an Alex Cross, a perfect book for a summer’s day.
My laundry has been sitting by the cellar door for three days but hasn’t inspired me to do anything about it so it can sit a bit longer. As Scarlett was wont to say, “After all, tomorrow is another day.”
Categories: Musings
Tags: Alex Cross, back problems, dump, flower shopping, flowers, garden shop, leaves, lightning, quiet, rain, reading, Scarlett O'Hara, sun'heat, thunder, veggies
Comments: 14 Comments
May 21, 2013
The day is cloudy and has a bit of a chill, a long sleeve shirt sort of day. Everything is really still and quiet. I like a day this way. Sun all the time makes for a dry lawn and garden while clouds all the time make for gloom so I’m happy with a mix of days. Yesterday was a perfectly lovely day so I don’t mind today’s clouds.
A chickadee is building a nest in one of my bird houses or at least I think so as I have seen her going in and out of the house which is a flamingo with swaying legs. It is pink as flamingos are and has a small opening, perfect for a chickadee. I’ll keep an eye.
Dandelions get a bum rap. They appear in the lawn and are dug up or summarily destroyed. They were the first flowers I ever gave my mother. Nothing so beautiful could possibly have been anything but a flower to me. Dandelions reminded me of the sun: round and bright yellow. My mother always took my gift, the bouquet of dandelions, with profuse thanks and put them in a vase in the middle of the table. She never saw them as weeds. They were a gift.
Before I visit my sister, I go up the hill to the house where, other than this house, I have lived the longest time. I know every part of that house and can close my eyes and see each room. The kitchen was small with only a little counter space, a corner which barely fit the table and chairs and a small stove on the same wall as the table. The fridge was beside the back door, my mother’s bugaboo. The door was wooden and painted green and in the summer had a screen instead of a storm door. My sisters, who played in the yard most summers, went out that back door which always slammed behind them. That drove my mother crazy. Her warning, “Don’t slam the door,” always seemed just a bit too late, drowned out by the sound of the slam. For some reason my mother and that door are a strong memory from that house.
I have this mind which seems to hold on to so many things though words and some names are beginning to escape me. I have to think long and hard to remember some of them. The other day I was trying to come up with Pierce Brosnan, don’t ask me why as I don’t remember, and I was with a friend who couldn’t remember either. I gave her hints: he was Remington Steele and James Bond. Neither one of us came up with his name. In the background, while we were talking, music from the mid 60’s was playing, and we knew every word. Once I told a friend how many traffic lights she would encounter on her route through Boston. I just closed my eyes and drove the route in my head. I remember odd things of little importance, but sometimes I forget why I am in the kitchen or I lose forever that small list I thought I’d memorized. Even mnemonics don’t help as much any more. I sometimes forget what they mean. I do, however, have a hold on so many past memories, long ago memories, the best memories like the dandelions and the back door.
Categories: Musings
Tags: bird house, chickadee, chilly, cloudy, dandelions, flamingo, forgetting names, forgetting words, memories, quiet, screen door, slamming door, small kitchen
Comments: 16 Comments
October 9, 2012
Today is socks and sweatshirt weather. It rained again last night into this morning, and the day is bone chillingly damp. I had a library board meeting this morning, and I turned on the heat in the car: the first time this fall.
We’ve had days and days of dark skies and periodic rain. The temperature has dropped to the 50’s during the day and the 40’s at night. I figure this is a shoulder season: the time between the beauty of autumn and the cold of early winter. The blanket was welcome warmth on my bed last night as were Fern and Gracie huddled beside me.
Sunny, warm days are delights and give the birds reason to sing. Squirrels, the spawns of Satan, are active and jump from branch to branch and run across the top of the gate. The chipmunk who lives under my lawn scurries in the sun. Gracie sleeps on the deck. The cats sprawl in the sunlight streaming through the doors. I sit outside, read and take in those days, but they’ve been gone for a while. The warmth has been replaced by cold, rainy damp days. which are cause for staying inside, staying warm. I had to turn on the lamp as the house is so dark. It’s also quiet. Gracie’s snoring is the only sound I can hear.
I haven’t much ambition. Yesterday all my chores were completed except for the laundry which I’ll finish today, but then I’ll do nothing else. I have no list. As soon as I finish here, I’m going upstairs to take off my outside clothes and put on my cozy clothes. I’ll come back downstairs and let the afternoon unfold as it will.
Categories: Musings
Tags: cold, dampness, dark day, quiet, rain, sweatshirt weather
Comments: 19 Comments
November 20, 2011
This morning was warm, sunny and quiet when I left for breakfast. When I got home, my yardmen were just finishing clearing the pine needles from the front lawn and the oak leaves from the deck and driveway. I could see grass and pavement for the first time in a long while; however, soon after the men left, the wind started again, and the pine needled have begun reclaiming the lawn. Now the clouds have rolled in and the sun has disappeared. The day is much like yesterday, drab.
While I was talking to my sister, I watched out the window at one leaf twirling at the end of an oak branch as the wind was swinging it. The leaf would turn from left to right then back again. I was rooting for that leaf, but the wind was too strong. It took the leaf which drifted to the ground to become one of many in my backyard. I thought about that leaf and realized why I always think of this season as fall.
I buy flowers for my house this time of year. I start to crave color, and flowers always seem to pull me from the grayness of late fall and winter. The flowers I buy tend to yellows and pinks. They are the bright colors, the colors of my summer garden, and they always remind me that winter is but one of four seasons.
The only sound I hear is the deep breathing of Gracie as she naps on the couch. It will be a quiet day. It is the essense of me today.
Categories: Musings
Tags: drab, fall, flowers, leaves, Pine, quiet, Wind
Comments: 19 Comments
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