Well, I rose to the challenge and made it through the entire alphabet. Not only do I feel a sense of accomplishment in having completed the Alphabiography, but here we are at the end of May, which means I've been writing almost daily for three whole months. The goal I set for myself was "every day", but when I fell short I decided that it would be okay to make up a few entries along the way, as long as I made them up in the same month. I kind of changed the rules as I went along.
What I've enjoyed most about all of this writing is that there is a small community of fellow writers who are also writing daily or nearly so. Checking in on their pieces every several days entertains me, wows me, and encourages me to keep writing.
The Hundred Day Challenge is not quite over, so I guess I'll be back tomorrow!
Sunday, May 31, 2020
Saturday, May 30, 2020
Alphabiography Review Poem
A is for applesauce which tastes so sweet
B is for braids that look so neat
C is for cousins who bring us fun
D is for doorways which lead us to sun
E is for elevators that stretch to the sky
F is for FaceTime bringing smiles to the eye
G is for gardens both large and small
H is for home where the heart is for all
I is for iris, short ones and talls
J is for juggle, with three tennis balls
K is for kudos to all who deserve
L is for lantana, full of verve
M is for maps that show us the way
N is for neighbors who greet us each day
O is for omelet so tasty to eat
P is for Play Ball! a sound so sweet
P is for Play Ball! a sound so sweet
Q is for quarantine that drags on and on
R is for roses that greet the dawn
S is for is for swimming in lakes or pools
T is for is for toiling with all the best tools
U is for umbrella, protection from rain
U is for umbrella, protection from rain
V is for for vegetables, fancy or plain
W is for Waldo, my first kitty boo
X is for x-ray that’s long overdue
Y is for yodeling, a wondrous sound
Z is for for Zoom, where meetings abound
Z is for Zoom
This past Sunday evening we finally Zoomed with Grandma Kathie. All four of us were no match for her excitement at seeing us there, all lined up in our little squares, smiling and laughing. She was like a conductor, bringing us all in at the right moments and keeping the tempo of the visit constant. Before saying our goodbyes, we resolved to do another Zoom with the entire Dunbar clan, or at least the Illinois folks, next weekend.
Life Lesson: Keeping in touch with the people that matter is important.
Friday, May 29, 2020
Y is for Yodeling
According to my brief research, alpine yodeling originated in the Swiss Alps as a means of communication between livestock herders. It is a form of singing that alternates between the head voice (also called falsetto) and the chest voice, which is a normal singing voice. Yodeling was also used to communicate between alpine villages, but no amount of yodeling will cause an avalanche.
One of my all time favorite songs from childhood comes from one of my all time favorite childhood movies. "The Lonely Goatherd" (Rogers and Hammerstein, 1965). As a school aged child I would sit in the living room between the back of the sofa and the family stereo console belting out songs from The Sound of Music in sync with the well-worn vinyl record. I knew every word of every song. I even knew to account for the skips in the record. (Years later when I listened to the same music on CD, I was taken aback by the missing skips!) But my favorite song of all was "The Lonely Goatherd".
In the movie, Maria and the Von Trapp children sing and yodel while putting on a lavish marionette production for Captain Von Trapp and his fiance, the Baroness. Enterprising Max, a family friend, looks on hungrily, dreaming of the riches he could make promoting this family singing troupe, if only their father would grant his permission. The story of a young goatherd and his first crush is heartwarming, and the entire production riveting against the backdrop of the Captain and Maria falling in love with each other during the Nazi annexation of Austria.
Life Lesson: Singing feeds the soul, in good times and bad.
One of my all time favorite songs from childhood comes from one of my all time favorite childhood movies. "The Lonely Goatherd" (Rogers and Hammerstein, 1965). As a school aged child I would sit in the living room between the back of the sofa and the family stereo console belting out songs from The Sound of Music in sync with the well-worn vinyl record. I knew every word of every song. I even knew to account for the skips in the record. (Years later when I listened to the same music on CD, I was taken aback by the missing skips!) But my favorite song of all was "The Lonely Goatherd".
In the movie, Maria and the Von Trapp children sing and yodel while putting on a lavish marionette production for Captain Von Trapp and his fiance, the Baroness. Enterprising Max, a family friend, looks on hungrily, dreaming of the riches he could make promoting this family singing troupe, if only their father would grant his permission. The story of a young goatherd and his first crush is heartwarming, and the entire production riveting against the backdrop of the Captain and Maria falling in love with each other during the Nazi annexation of Austria.
Life Lesson: Singing feeds the soul, in good times and bad.
Thursday, May 28, 2020
X is for X-ray
X-ray technology has come to my rescue in a number of situations over the years. When I had plantar fasciitis, my chiropractor used ultrasound to break up the offending scar tissue. When I had a mysterious tunnel wound, interventional radiologists worked with the wound clinic to finally provide healing after months of treatment. Even an MRI could not definitively explain how a hematoma in one part of my hip led to a stubborn tunnel wound in another area. When I had appendicitis, I ingested barium sulfate prior to the x-ray that rushed me into emergency surgery. So I am no stranger to x-rays.
I recently realized that I'm overdue on my annual wellness checkup, my A1C fasting blood draw, my annual mammogram and a dental cleaning (not to mention haircut and nail appointments). I'm going to conveniently ignore the fact that I'm also due for another colonoscopy. Most of this negligence is because I dislike signing onto a portal to manage everything. This willful negligence does not extend to my children, however, who are all caught up with their medical and dental wellness since those anniversaries fall in autumn and winter. But mine are all in this spring of the Great Quarantine.
Of the above-mentioned procedures, the only one I detest is the colonoscopy, and really it's not the procedure itself, but the prep. The procedure is fascinating. To think that cameras can be used in those places! Places that x-rays alone cannot peruse.
Why aren't there an abundance of X words to choose from so that I don't have to write about my medical history? Perhaps I should have chosen Xenophobia.
Life Lesson: Always remember to take care of yourself.
I recently realized that I'm overdue on my annual wellness checkup, my A1C fasting blood draw, my annual mammogram and a dental cleaning (not to mention haircut and nail appointments). I'm going to conveniently ignore the fact that I'm also due for another colonoscopy. Most of this negligence is because I dislike signing onto a portal to manage everything. This willful negligence does not extend to my children, however, who are all caught up with their medical and dental wellness since those anniversaries fall in autumn and winter. But mine are all in this spring of the Great Quarantine.
Of the above-mentioned procedures, the only one I detest is the colonoscopy, and really it's not the procedure itself, but the prep. The procedure is fascinating. To think that cameras can be used in those places! Places that x-rays alone cannot peruse.
Why aren't there an abundance of X words to choose from so that I don't have to write about my medical history? Perhaps I should have chosen Xenophobia.
Life Lesson: Always remember to take care of yourself.
Wednesday, May 27, 2020
W is for Waldo
Waldo jumped out of a Christmas stocking and into my life on December 24, 1995. He was a gift from my childhood bestie who was in veterinarian school at the time. I remember how unsure I was about taking on a kitten, but she promised to take him back at New Years if I hadn’t formed an attachment by then. But I was a goner before twenty-four hours had passed.
My first-ever feline friend saw me through some hard, lonely years and into two new phases of life: marriage and motherhood. Along the way he taught me to make time for play and laughter every day. I miss my orange guy. He was an old soul, gone too soon at only thirteen. But life goes on. Our sweet girls, Izzy and Bella, have wormed their way into my comfy chair, the laundry baskets, and of course my heart.
Life Lesson: Love the one you’re with.
Life Lesson: Love the one you’re with.
V is for Vegetables
Let this summer hereby be known as the summer of heathy, colorful vegetables! From rainbow chard to multicolored carrots, from sun gold tomatoes to green beans, from yellow squash to red peppers and purple potatoes... let the growing season begin! On your mark, get set, everything in the ground by the end of May, and go!
Life Lesson: You are what you eat.
Life Lesson: You are what you eat.
Tuesday, May 26, 2020
U is for Umbrella
Several years ago I purchased six large Ikea umbrellas with alternating blue and yellow panels to have available for Reading Buddies on rainy days. Since we used to walk the half mile to Patrick Henry ES and back, having umbrellas in our own school colors to share with the Buddies seemed like a good idea. Only one of them was destroyed by inappropriate use. Five remain.
When Fleet ES opened right next door to us, I realized we would no longer need umbrellas for Reading Buddies, so I took three of the umbrellas and put them in the garden shed for those hypothetical occasions when we get caught outside in a fast moving rain storm. Earlier this Spring I actually found myself inside the shed during a downpour, wondering how I would get back to my car, when suddenly I remembered that the umbrellas were right next to me! Well done, Past Self, I thought.
The two remaining umbrellas should still be inside Room 272, in the corner by my desk. In the event of beautiful mornings and nasty afternoons, those umbrellas are there to save the day for myself and any other colleague who happen to be in need. They are also perfect golf-sized umbrellas, for my brother or my son this summer. I should probably retrieve them when we are allowed to go back into the building before the end of the school year. Or maybe I can use one of the garden shed umbrellas in our upcoming school video. Hmmm....
Life Lesson: Always be prepared.
When Fleet ES opened right next door to us, I realized we would no longer need umbrellas for Reading Buddies, so I took three of the umbrellas and put them in the garden shed for those hypothetical occasions when we get caught outside in a fast moving rain storm. Earlier this Spring I actually found myself inside the shed during a downpour, wondering how I would get back to my car, when suddenly I remembered that the umbrellas were right next to me! Well done, Past Self, I thought.
The two remaining umbrellas should still be inside Room 272, in the corner by my desk. In the event of beautiful mornings and nasty afternoons, those umbrellas are there to save the day for myself and any other colleague who happen to be in need. They are also perfect golf-sized umbrellas, for my brother or my son this summer. I should probably retrieve them when we are allowed to go back into the building before the end of the school year. Or maybe I can use one of the garden shed umbrellas in our upcoming school video. Hmmm....
Life Lesson: Always be prepared.
Monday, May 25, 2020
T is for Toiling
Yesterday morning I walked down to Fort Bernard to deliver tomatoes to a friend who was toiling away in her garden plot, alongside her nephew. While inside the fence, I treated myself to a self-tour of the entire garden to see what folks are up to in their individual plots. This is where I get ideas and inspiration.
Saturday is typically my day for toiling in the school garden. With six volunteers, myself and the garden manager, we were able to get our cukes and squash planted, among a number of other chores on our never-ending list. Today when we went back to lay soaker hoses in the newly planted areas, we found oodles of toiling striped beetles transforming our cucumber leaves into green lace. Well humpf! Good thing my garden partner stocked some Diatomaceous Earth powder and Neem Oil!
Finally my own garden got a little attention this afternoon. I planted six native perennials that had been sitting in pots for ten days, and I up-potted several geraniums. Then I weeded for a couple of hours. And now this day’s toil is complete.
Life Lesson: A gardener’s work is never done.
Saturday is typically my day for toiling in the school garden. With six volunteers, myself and the garden manager, we were able to get our cukes and squash planted, among a number of other chores on our never-ending list. Today when we went back to lay soaker hoses in the newly planted areas, we found oodles of toiling striped beetles transforming our cucumber leaves into green lace. Well humpf! Good thing my garden partner stocked some Diatomaceous Earth powder and Neem Oil!
Finally my own garden got a little attention this afternoon. I planted six native perennials that had been sitting in pots for ten days, and I up-potted several geraniums. Then I weeded for a couple of hours. And now this day’s toil is complete.
Life Lesson: A gardener’s work is never done.
Saturday, May 23, 2020
S is for Swimming
My first memories of swimming happened when I was in pre-school at Duke University. Yes, that's right. I attended Duke as a very young child while my dad was working towards his Ph.D. in Theology. My brothers and I took lessons from a former possible Olympian whose name may have been Dr. or Mr. Persons. By the mid-60s he was an old man, so he taught from the pool deck while his students were in the water with us. I will never forget his resounding voice urging us to, "Kick, kick, kick..." from the sidelines.
Surely I took additional lessons once we moved to Harrisonburg in 1969, but perhaps not. In any case, I had learned enough to swim independently at Westover Pool as well as at the swimming pool back at Highland Retreat Mennonite Camp in Bergton, Virginia (almost West Virginia) throughout the 1970s. As a teenager I was trying front flips, back flips and one-and-a-halves off the low diving board to impress one or another of my crushes.
Solo bike rides to and from the swimming pool to meet friends for summer afternoons was my first taste of freedom. As a young adult, I worked a temporary office job one summer at the Harrisonburg Department of Recreation, in the building beside Westover Pool. That summer I swam a lot of laps while remembering the big decisions about how to spend my childhood allowance at the snack bar: a salty-sweet PayDay bar? A classic ice cream sandwich? Some french fries doused in ketchup? My dollar was not enough for more than one of those delicacies, along with some ice water, so I had to choose carefully.
As an adult, swimming laps has been my mainstay in the realm of regular exercise. I especially appreciated the outdoor pool at my Belleview condo when I was a new teacher. The laps helped me decompress from my long days. Later in life, as an at home mother of small children, I found the midday lap swim to be a perfect escape for some me-time, and would schedule teenaged babysitters accordingly. Most recently, right before the quarantine began, I had returned to water aerobics for the first time since my pregnancies, and was really enjoying those workouts.
Now I find myself concerned about whether or not the high school indoor pools will reopen for lap swimming, or whether the regional outdoor pools that we've enjoyed in recent years will open at all. Will this summer be a complete wash-out where local swimming is concerned? Or will the muddied waters soon become clear? And speaking of muddy waters, maybe we will plan weekly explorations of regional lakes, such as Cunningham Falls near Frederick, Maryland or Lake Arrowhead, in Luray, Virginia. There is also Chris Greene Lake on the way to Charlottesville....
Life Lesson: Necessity is the mother of invention.
Surely I took additional lessons once we moved to Harrisonburg in 1969, but perhaps not. In any case, I had learned enough to swim independently at Westover Pool as well as at the swimming pool back at Highland Retreat Mennonite Camp in Bergton, Virginia (almost West Virginia) throughout the 1970s. As a teenager I was trying front flips, back flips and one-and-a-halves off the low diving board to impress one or another of my crushes.
Solo bike rides to and from the swimming pool to meet friends for summer afternoons was my first taste of freedom. As a young adult, I worked a temporary office job one summer at the Harrisonburg Department of Recreation, in the building beside Westover Pool. That summer I swam a lot of laps while remembering the big decisions about how to spend my childhood allowance at the snack bar: a salty-sweet PayDay bar? A classic ice cream sandwich? Some french fries doused in ketchup? My dollar was not enough for more than one of those delicacies, along with some ice water, so I had to choose carefully.
As an adult, swimming laps has been my mainstay in the realm of regular exercise. I especially appreciated the outdoor pool at my Belleview condo when I was a new teacher. The laps helped me decompress from my long days. Later in life, as an at home mother of small children, I found the midday lap swim to be a perfect escape for some me-time, and would schedule teenaged babysitters accordingly. Most recently, right before the quarantine began, I had returned to water aerobics for the first time since my pregnancies, and was really enjoying those workouts.
Now I find myself concerned about whether or not the high school indoor pools will reopen for lap swimming, or whether the regional outdoor pools that we've enjoyed in recent years will open at all. Will this summer be a complete wash-out where local swimming is concerned? Or will the muddied waters soon become clear? And speaking of muddy waters, maybe we will plan weekly explorations of regional lakes, such as Cunningham Falls near Frederick, Maryland or Lake Arrowhead, in Luray, Virginia. There is also Chris Greene Lake on the way to Charlottesville....
Life Lesson: Necessity is the mother of invention.
Friday, May 22, 2020
R is for Roses
The fragility of roses, and life, was one of the themes of a live-streamed memorial service I followed today. The deceased had cultivated generations of roses, as a hobby. He also cultivated poetry, music and kindness.
I have a love hate relationship with roses. I’m pretty sure it’s because I have not found the right roses for my spaces. The trellis roses were not true climbers, and my so-called easy care Knock-outs have had a fungal infection for a couple of years now. I keep meaning to replace them with Drift Roses, but I suspect that the fungus would remain. So I’m a bit stumped on roses at the moment.
In memory of Jay B Landis, I will endeavor to get it right with roses in the coming year.
Life Lesson: If at first you don’t succeed, try try again.
I have a love hate relationship with roses. I’m pretty sure it’s because I have not found the right roses for my spaces. The trellis roses were not true climbers, and my so-called easy care Knock-outs have had a fungal infection for a couple of years now. I keep meaning to replace them with Drift Roses, but I suspect that the fungus would remain. So I’m a bit stumped on roses at the moment.
In memory of Jay B Landis, I will endeavor to get it right with roses in the coming year.
Life Lesson: If at first you don’t succeed, try try again.
Thursday, May 21, 2020
Q is for Quarantine
We are now beyond two months into the Great Quarantine of 2020. What I have learned is that there are good days and not so good days, just like in Before Times. It's good to occasionally stop and take stock of how a day or a week is going.
My lows this week:
My highs this week:
I guess as long as the highs outweigh the lows I should count myself among the fortunate. Which I do, every single day.
Life Lesson: Always look on the bright side of life
(doo-doo 🎵 doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo 🎶🎶...)
My lows this week:
- I have not been very productive between my meetings and Canvas Conferences lately.
- Technology left me very frustrated and demoralized on Tuesday.
- My window visit with Mom last Saturday felt so inadequate.
My highs this week:
- I'm finally feeling more adept at Canvas Conferences for student support.
- Student alpha-biography writing/commenting is more interesting all the time.
- Mom's Care Plan Zoom Meeting on Tuesday went well, and I got to FaceTime with her afterwards.
- The Friends of Urban Agriculture helped us get some mulch into the garden.
- Jose scraped, power washed and repainted our front stoop and railings on Wednesday.
- Molly's HBW 2020 Graduate sign showed up in our yard on Monday night.
- Will has finished all of his assignments for the 2019-2020 school year.
- The new neighbors have moved in and are very happy with their new home.
I guess as long as the highs outweigh the lows I should count myself among the fortunate. Which I do, every single day.
Life Lesson: Always look on the bright side of life
(doo-doo 🎵 doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo 🎶🎶...)
Wednesday, May 20, 2020
P is for Play Ball!
Even with MASN Classics and the MLB channel’s Great Games programming, I still miss the excitement of a current, ongoing baseball season. Each new game is like turning the page of a riveting book. The favorite characters are all there. The familiar setting a perfect backdrop to the drama of a still-young season, ripe with possibility or fraught with injuries. At this point I would even settle for a no-live-spectator curtailed season. But will we even get that?
My family’s shared baseball fettish began in 2012, the year that the hometown Nationals finally gelled into a team with realistic post-season prospects. A contender at long last! As the fan base grew, the stadium crowds got louder. An evening at the ballpark became a coveted destination. Granted, one of us in this household has been a baseball fan for decades before saying “I do”. But now it's a joint pursuit.
Admittedly, the pandemic’s arrival offered something of a reprieve for the Houston Astros in the wake of their cheating scandal. They would have faced resounding boos from opposing fans in every ballpark they visited this year. But now, after weeks of no baseball at all, even the most bitter of opponents is likely to forego retribution in favor of collective euphoria at the first “Play ball!"
Life Lesson: Better late than never!
My family’s shared baseball fettish began in 2012, the year that the hometown Nationals finally gelled into a team with realistic post-season prospects. A contender at long last! As the fan base grew, the stadium crowds got louder. An evening at the ballpark became a coveted destination. Granted, one of us in this household has been a baseball fan for decades before saying “I do”. But now it's a joint pursuit.
Admittedly, the pandemic’s arrival offered something of a reprieve for the Houston Astros in the wake of their cheating scandal. They would have faced resounding boos from opposing fans in every ballpark they visited this year. But now, after weeks of no baseball at all, even the most bitter of opponents is likely to forego retribution in favor of collective euphoria at the first “Play ball!"
Life Lesson: Better late than never!
O is for Omelet
Fresh eggs are always plentiful around here. Typically we buy them weekly at the Columbia Pike Farmers Market. Since March, however, we've also been receiving midweek deliveries of fresh milk and eggs from South Mountain Creamery. I never tire of eggs, but I do find that I have to change up how I make them throughout the week.
My latest craze is a three-egg omelet that holds me all day long. First, I sauté some onion and red pepper, then I add in a cup or more of fresh spinach until it is wilted. Next I beat and add the eggs, followed by an ounce of grated gueyere. Finally, I add fresh chopped tomato to the top of the omelet once it's on the plate. Along with two clementines, this meal that I often eat around 11:00am is both my breakfast and my lunch.
Eggs are so versatile. Hard boiled, soft boiled, over easy, scrambled. When we get ahead on eggs, Brian makes a classic soufflé. Or Molly starts baking. Hmm....I think I feel some deviled eggs coming on soon....
Life Lesson: Variety is the spice of life.
Eggs are so versatile. Hard boiled, soft boiled, over easy, scrambled. When we get ahead on eggs, Brian makes a classic soufflé. Or Molly starts baking. Hmm....I think I feel some deviled eggs coming on soon....
Life Lesson: Variety is the spice of life.
Tuesday, May 19, 2020
N is for Neighbors
We’ve got some great neighbors in Douglas Park. We exchange greetings with them over the fence, across the street, and on their porches as we’re strolling by. I enjoy the feeling of being surrounded by friendly folks who are all going through this quarantine together. Ours is the most diverse zip code in Arlington, and I would not have it any other way.
I grew up in a wonderful neighborhood, too. Park View is a mostly Mennonite enclave at the northwest edge of Harrisonburg, nestled against two hillsides on either side of a college and a retirement community, both operated by Mennonites. There’s a K-12 school there, now, that was only grades 8-12 when I attended. For years my whole world was that community. It was more insular than where I live now, but no less friendly or nurturing than my current neighborhood.
In recent months my home community has lost four members, all elderly parents of my childhood friends. It is sad to see these folks slip away. Folks whose homes I was in and out of frequently. Whose yards we trampled and camped out in under the stars. Extensions of our own families. Our village. It was a safe place where we could walk at night, and grow up gradually. Sometimes I still ache for those tender times, especially as we begin to lose the old guard, one by one.
My homogenous upbringing definitely presented drawbacks, then and even now, but it's possible to move out into the world at large, embrace all the good that is here, and still appreciate where I come from and the ties that bind me to my past.
Life lesson: Don’t ever forget where you come from.
I grew up in a wonderful neighborhood, too. Park View is a mostly Mennonite enclave at the northwest edge of Harrisonburg, nestled against two hillsides on either side of a college and a retirement community, both operated by Mennonites. There’s a K-12 school there, now, that was only grades 8-12 when I attended. For years my whole world was that community. It was more insular than where I live now, but no less friendly or nurturing than my current neighborhood.
In recent months my home community has lost four members, all elderly parents of my childhood friends. It is sad to see these folks slip away. Folks whose homes I was in and out of frequently. Whose yards we trampled and camped out in under the stars. Extensions of our own families. Our village. It was a safe place where we could walk at night, and grow up gradually. Sometimes I still ache for those tender times, especially as we begin to lose the old guard, one by one.
My homogenous upbringing definitely presented drawbacks, then and even now, but it's possible to move out into the world at large, embrace all the good that is here, and still appreciate where I come from and the ties that bind me to my past.
Life lesson: Don’t ever forget where you come from.
Monday, May 18, 2020
M is for Map
I have always loved reading maps. Not just when I travel, but anytime that I am curious about the location of a place I am thinking about. I used to enjoy the fold-out and pull-out maps included in feature stories of National Geographic when I was a kid.
I also remember the map at the beginning of the 1965 Houghton Mifflin paperback edition of The Lord of the Rings trilogy, and how that map drew me into the series one summer. I recall flipping back and forth from text to map constantly, while reading, and how that connection with the physical journey of the characters helped me visualize both the characters themselves and the landscape they travelled across. From the hairy feet of the home-loving Hobbits to the grotesque, grabby fingers of pathetic Gollum, from the serene and peaceful Shire to the horrific furnace inside Mount Doom in Mordor, my recall of that epic story is absolutely vivid. I never needed or wanted to see the movie versions.
Very recently, while I was going through a cabinet on the front porch, I came across old familiar ADC road atlases, now rendered useless by our phone maps. But I remember what a godsend they were when I first moved to the area, and how they helped me to patchwork together one area I had walked, biked or driven and committed to my visual-spacial memory with another, and so on, until I knew exactly how to navigate from Old Town Alexandria to Upper Northwest D.C. and back again through the tangle of bridges.
I wonder if I should have been a surveyor, or perhaps a cartographer?!
Life Lesson: Use every resource available to navigate your way.
I also remember the map at the beginning of the 1965 Houghton Mifflin paperback edition of The Lord of the Rings trilogy, and how that map drew me into the series one summer. I recall flipping back and forth from text to map constantly, while reading, and how that connection with the physical journey of the characters helped me visualize both the characters themselves and the landscape they travelled across. From the hairy feet of the home-loving Hobbits to the grotesque, grabby fingers of pathetic Gollum, from the serene and peaceful Shire to the horrific furnace inside Mount Doom in Mordor, my recall of that epic story is absolutely vivid. I never needed or wanted to see the movie versions.
Very recently, while I was going through a cabinet on the front porch, I came across old familiar ADC road atlases, now rendered useless by our phone maps. But I remember what a godsend they were when I first moved to the area, and how they helped me to patchwork together one area I had walked, biked or driven and committed to my visual-spacial memory with another, and so on, until I knew exactly how to navigate from Old Town Alexandria to Upper Northwest D.C. and back again through the tangle of bridges.I wonder if I should have been a surveyor, or perhaps a cartographer?!
Life Lesson: Use every resource available to navigate your way.
Sunday, May 17, 2020
L is for Lantana
I've known about Lantana ever since my sister-in-law planted it along the walkway at their first home in Macon, Georgia. But only recently did I realize that the multicolored beauty in my next door neighbor's planter box all last summer was also Lantana. Oh, how I admired it!
A couple of weeks ago when I was at Meadows Farms on a rainy day (the best time to go to nurseries during a pandemic), I saw it! So I texted my neighbor, who goes nowhere except the grocery store right now due to her husband's in-progress chemo treatments, and asked if she'd like me to pick it up for her. She was thrilled, and proceeded to tell me how much the humming birds enjoyed it last summer (which I had not realized).
This summer she'll have the usual three Lantana plants in her planter box, and I will have a single one in my urn just across the fence on the edge of my front bed. We are hoping that the humming birds might stick around even longer with two colorful points of interest so close to each other. Regardless, it's fun to have someone next door who enjoys plants and birds just as much as I do.
Life Lesson: Surround yourself with beauty.
A couple of weeks ago when I was at Meadows Farms on a rainy day (the best time to go to nurseries during a pandemic), I saw it! So I texted my neighbor, who goes nowhere except the grocery store right now due to her husband's in-progress chemo treatments, and asked if she'd like me to pick it up for her. She was thrilled, and proceeded to tell me how much the humming birds enjoyed it last summer (which I had not realized).
This summer she'll have the usual three Lantana plants in her planter box, and I will have a single one in my urn just across the fence on the edge of my front bed. We are hoping that the humming birds might stick around even longer with two colorful points of interest so close to each other. Regardless, it's fun to have someone next door who enjoys plants and birds just as much as I do.
Life Lesson: Surround yourself with beauty.
Friday, May 15, 2020
K is for Kudos
Kudos are in order for so many people right now.
Hats off to the Governor Hogan of Maryland and Governor Northam of Virginia for stepping up to lead when our president wouldn't, and to Mayor Bowser for being a strong and steady voice in the District of Columbia. The DMV region is in good hands all around.
Dr. Fauci has been the loan voice of consistency and reason in the daily briefings from the White House over the past number of weeks. He is a top infectious disease expert and the only one with whom President Trump has been willing to associate. However, Trump does not seem to have appreciated Dr. Fauci's recent warning to Congress about the dangers of lifting pandemic restrictions too soon, so their relationship could change.
Comedian Jimmy Fallon has been hosting his show from home quarantine, with his wife on the camera and his two young girls helping with signage and Thank You Note audio. Having tuned in fairly consistently over the past two months, I can attest to the gradual improvement and polish of his new format. Like the Channel 4 news team, he is consistently there for us during this pandemic.
My family has been a source of continual comfort and we are all pitching in to make this extended time together enjoyable. My school colleagues have been working hard and creatively to keep as many students engaged as possible. They are an inspiration to me daily.
William from Deloitte has been a steady presence at the TJMS Community Garden for the past two months, and because of him we have made noticeable strides with infrastructure.
Thank you to my writing cohorts as well. I look forward to reading your posts several times a week.
Life Lesson: Never underestimate the power of saying "thank you".
Hats off to the Governor Hogan of Maryland and Governor Northam of Virginia for stepping up to lead when our president wouldn't, and to Mayor Bowser for being a strong and steady voice in the District of Columbia. The DMV region is in good hands all around.
Dr. Fauci has been the loan voice of consistency and reason in the daily briefings from the White House over the past number of weeks. He is a top infectious disease expert and the only one with whom President Trump has been willing to associate. However, Trump does not seem to have appreciated Dr. Fauci's recent warning to Congress about the dangers of lifting pandemic restrictions too soon, so their relationship could change.
Comedian Jimmy Fallon has been hosting his show from home quarantine, with his wife on the camera and his two young girls helping with signage and Thank You Note audio. Having tuned in fairly consistently over the past two months, I can attest to the gradual improvement and polish of his new format. Like the Channel 4 news team, he is consistently there for us during this pandemic.
My family has been a source of continual comfort and we are all pitching in to make this extended time together enjoyable. My school colleagues have been working hard and creatively to keep as many students engaged as possible. They are an inspiration to me daily.
William from Deloitte has been a steady presence at the TJMS Community Garden for the past two months, and because of him we have made noticeable strides with infrastructure.
Thank you to my writing cohorts as well. I look forward to reading your posts several times a week.
Life Lesson: Never underestimate the power of saying "thank you".
Thursday, May 14, 2020
J is for Juggle
Once summer when we were too young to have jobs outside the home, and our only ongoing source of income was the penny per Japanese Beetle that our mother paid us to rid her garden and our trees of that scourge, my brothers and I learned to juggle. It took the better part of a week, as I recall. Although we practiced and gained proficiency with tennis balls out in the back yard, it wasn’t long before Robert began juggling fruit in the kitchen to get a rise out of Mom.
A decade or more later, I found myself teaching my boss at the graphic design firm in Toronto, still a friend, how to juggle. We were spending the afternoon on Toronto Island, as I recall, and I must have found three tennis balls outside the public tennis courts somewhere along the way. To this day, whenever I see three tennis balls lying around, I am compelled to pick them up and start juggling. This amazed George, and he wanted to learn how to juggle right then and there. So I started teaching him, and within a week or so he had it down.
Just the other day, out of nowhere, my daughter sent me a video of her younger brother juggling! We didn’t even know he’d been learning how, but he picked it up from a character in one of his favorite Madagascar movies. Just like that, or so it seemed. No sooner had he performed for his sister than he demanded we both delete the video. But unbeknownst to him, she put it on Facebook before she deleted it on her phone, and I managed to send it to Grandma K and and couple of friends first. He does not like celebrity, though he was obviously pleased with his accomplishment and how impressed we both were.
Life Lesson: You are never too old (or too young) to learn new tricks!
Just the other day, out of nowhere, my daughter sent me a video of her younger brother juggling! We didn’t even know he’d been learning how, but he picked it up from a character in one of his favorite Madagascar movies. Just like that, or so it seemed. No sooner had he performed for his sister than he demanded we both delete the video. But unbeknownst to him, she put it on Facebook before she deleted it on her phone, and I managed to send it to Grandma K and and couple of friends first. He does not like celebrity, though he was obviously pleased with his accomplishment and how impressed we both were.
Life Lesson: You are never too old (or too young) to learn new tricks!
Wednesday, May 13, 2020
I is for Iris
I just counted, and I now have four varieties of iris in my garden beds.
The original variety, Bearded Iris, has been along the neighbors property-line garage for so long that I've forgotten the particulars of its origins. This variety is not native to North America but it is everywhere here, and very easy to grow. Mine is deep purple, and it blooms in striking concert with our white Shirley Temple Peony, a gift from my late mother-in-law. For this reason alone, it has earned its keep.
Siberian Iris came to me by way of divisions from my former landlady in Cleveland Park, D.C. This variety is not bearded, and it is thinner and more delicate that the bearded iris. What I love about Siberian Iris is that you can plant it in wet areas and it will thrive. I'm hoping to transfer some of mine to the school garden once we figure out the drainage area there. In the meantime it lines one of my river rock drainage beds here.
About five or six years ago, my family visited Monticello during Spring Break when all the tulips were in bloom. But I found an additional treasure blooming along the shaded pathway from the parking lot to the Welcome Center. Crested Iris is low to the ground, and considered a native in this area. I was delighted to find that some had been potted and were being offered for sale, along with other native plants, outside the gift shop. I've tried them in a couple of different spots with varying degrees of sun, and they are naturalizing happily in the shadier spots.
Just this week, on a trip to visit my mother, I stopped at the food co-op near Kline's Dairy Bar in downtown Harrisonburg because I saw plants outside the entrance and around the corner under the entire length of the covered portico. I was impressed with the number of native perennials displayed, and came home with a Virginia Iris, native to the Eastern North America.
Dutch Iris is a fifth variety that I've enjoyed in the past, but requires Fall planting of bulbs every few years in this zone.
It seems I've become an unwitting collector of Iris varieties over the years.
Life Lesson: Surround yourself with that which brings you joy.
The original variety, Bearded Iris, has been along the neighbors property-line garage for so long that I've forgotten the particulars of its origins. This variety is not native to North America but it is everywhere here, and very easy to grow. Mine is deep purple, and it blooms in striking concert with our white Shirley Temple Peony, a gift from my late mother-in-law. For this reason alone, it has earned its keep.
Siberian Iris came to me by way of divisions from my former landlady in Cleveland Park, D.C. This variety is not bearded, and it is thinner and more delicate that the bearded iris. What I love about Siberian Iris is that you can plant it in wet areas and it will thrive. I'm hoping to transfer some of mine to the school garden once we figure out the drainage area there. In the meantime it lines one of my river rock drainage beds here.
Siberian Iris
About five or six years ago, my family visited Monticello during Spring Break when all the tulips were in bloom. But I found an additional treasure blooming along the shaded pathway from the parking lot to the Welcome Center. Crested Iris is low to the ground, and considered a native in this area. I was delighted to find that some had been potted and were being offered for sale, along with other native plants, outside the gift shop. I've tried them in a couple of different spots with varying degrees of sun, and they are naturalizing happily in the shadier spots.
Just this week, on a trip to visit my mother, I stopped at the food co-op near Kline's Dairy Bar in downtown Harrisonburg because I saw plants outside the entrance and around the corner under the entire length of the covered portico. I was impressed with the number of native perennials displayed, and came home with a Virginia Iris, native to the Eastern North America.
Dutch Iris is a fifth variety that I've enjoyed in the past, but requires Fall planting of bulbs every few years in this zone.
It seems I've become an unwitting collector of Iris varieties over the years.
Life Lesson: Surround yourself with that which brings you joy.
Monday, May 11, 2020
H is for Home
Home for me has been a number of places over the years, including Harrisonburg, Charlottesville, Toronto, and briefly, Brattleboro. Since 1991 I have been in this area continuously, first in Alexandria, and for the past twenty years in Arlington.
When I was in my hometown on Saturday, for my mother's birthday, I could not wait to get back to the safety of my current home, in Arlington. Harrisonburg, the Friendly City, did not feel friendly and welcoming, as it usually does. A favorite restaurant there is no longer open on weekends. Bathroom availability up and down the Valley was non-existent (other than my brother's house in Harrisonburg and a friend's house in Winchester). It was odd to feel so foreign in the place where I grew up and have visited continually in before times.
Arriving home was a huge relief, and I don't expect to leave this town again any time soon! My heart is firmly planted here on South Nelson Street in Arlington.
Life Lesson: Home is where the heart is.
Sunday, May 10, 2020
G is for Garden
Today I spent time just enjoying the garden, rather than working in it. I so rarely just stop and enjoy the fruits of my labor. But today I revelled in being home again, after my nine hour venture out into the world yesterday.
Weekends are still distinct from the rest of the week for us. There are chores, like laundry, grocery shopping, and cleaning the house. But there is also time to just relax, go on long walks or ride bike. Typically I do garden. The cold snap this weekend has us in a holding pattern at the school garden for a few days, and here I’m pretty much on pace.
Today was Mother’s Day and Homecoming all wrapped into one.
Life Lesson: Make time to enjoy the fruits of your labor.
Weekends are still distinct from the rest of the week for us. There are chores, like laundry, grocery shopping, and cleaning the house. But there is also time to just relax, go on long walks or ride bike. Typically I do garden. The cold snap this weekend has us in a holding pattern at the school garden for a few days, and here I’m pretty much on pace.
Today was Mother’s Day and Homecoming all wrapped into one.
Life Lesson: Make time to enjoy the fruits of your labor.
F is for Face Time
Yesterday found me far away from home for nine hours. Mom turned 94, so I gathered together the yard sign that Molly created, the annual vase of Lilies of the Valley, the Pepperidge Farm coconut cake; and I carefully placed the new cotton tops I'd ordered for her in a birthday bag with lots of tissue paper. Then off I went, out into the world beyond Arlington for the first time in nearly three months.
At the drive-through Starbucks in Front Royal, the debit/credit card machine sat on the marble ledge outside the service window. Patrons plucked coffee cups out of mugs extended to them by the check out server. Likewise, food items in bags were sent across the ledge in a rectangular container to minimize the chance of finger contact between humans.
Halfway down Interstate 81, I realized my bladder would have to be patient and resolute until I made it to my brother's townhouse in Harrisonburg because there were no other options. I was easily distracted by the pockets of alternating sunlight and shadow on the mountains slightly to my left, and the rolling farmland in patchwork hues of green, gold and brown on my right. With Siri's help I called an old friend for a speaker phone catch-up. Before I knew it I was at my exit.
Thankfully my brother had the finch socks, so we proceeded across town to Yoder House, our mom's complete care residence, on the campus of the Virginia Mennonite Retirement Community, fully masked and gloved. After wiping down the cake box, vase and gift bag handles with Chlorox wipes and waving to Mom through the front entry, we proceeded around the building to her bedroom window in the back. There, we planted Molly's Happy Birthday sign and replenished the finch socks on the bird feeder poles at the edge of the wooded area about 15 feet from her window.
Finally we had the opportunity to FaceTime with Mom through the bedroom window, to see her smiles, wish her a happy birthday, and acknowledge that she looks healthy and happy, despite needing a hair cut like most of the rest of the world right now. She was clearly basking in all the attention this day brought her, from the balloons on her bed to the tiara on her head, and a surprise midday visit from family.
Life Lesson: Always go the extra mile for family.
Life Lesson: Always go the extra mile for family.
Friday, May 8, 2020
E is for Elevators
My son has enjoyed riding elevators (and escalators) ever since our first trip to Springfield Mall for a haircut. He would never ride the old carousel that was in the atrium, but we would go up and down the glassed-in elevator watching it go round and round for what seemed like hours to me.
On family road trips our hotel rooms had to be on upper floors, or he was seriously bummed out and his proprioceptive system left un-stimulated. So we always planned accordingly. We also made sure to choose hotels with indoor pools so that Will could unwind from a long day in the car.
At my parent's first retirement community residence, Will enjoyed riding up and down in the elevator, politely asking the elderly residents "Which floor would you like?" He would not only press the button for them, but he would also hold open the door for them, knowing from his experience with my parents that old folks often move more slowly than young people. One old guy took quite a shine to Will and always saved him baseballs that had come over the fence of the college practice field nearby.
At a certain age, Will took note of each elevator's brand name. This passing obsession led me to choose Otis as my random favorite in order to have an answer to his frequent inquiries. But over time he has outgrown our mother-son mall trips that never involved shopping. Now he heads to the barber shop with his dad once a month, and they’ve made their own post haircut traditions. But on those rare occasions when I find myself at a mall, I always take the glass elevator.
Life Lesson: If you can’t beat’em, join’em!
On family road trips our hotel rooms had to be on upper floors, or he was seriously bummed out and his proprioceptive system left un-stimulated. So we always planned accordingly. We also made sure to choose hotels with indoor pools so that Will could unwind from a long day in the car.
At my parent's first retirement community residence, Will enjoyed riding up and down in the elevator, politely asking the elderly residents "Which floor would you like?" He would not only press the button for them, but he would also hold open the door for them, knowing from his experience with my parents that old folks often move more slowly than young people. One old guy took quite a shine to Will and always saved him baseballs that had come over the fence of the college practice field nearby.
At a certain age, Will took note of each elevator's brand name. This passing obsession led me to choose Otis as my random favorite in order to have an answer to his frequent inquiries. But over time he has outgrown our mother-son mall trips that never involved shopping. Now he heads to the barber shop with his dad once a month, and they’ve made their own post haircut traditions. But on those rare occasions when I find myself at a mall, I always take the glass elevator.
Life Lesson: If you can’t beat’em, join’em!
Thursday, May 7, 2020
D is for Doorways
Yesterday between IEP meetings I finally put together some specs on the new storm door that we need for our front entry, and I emailed it to my two contacts from a year ago at House of Doors in Alexandria. When both emails bounced back, I tried calling. When there was no answer, I went on line and learned that the place is permanently closed. Great. Back to square one. Except...
I remembered that I still have the ProVia sales pamphlet that I picked up at the showroom last year. So this time I searched for a ProVia dealer in the area, and up came NOVA Exteriors, a platinum award winning installer of ProVia storm doors, only a quick hop down I-395 in the industrial park off of Edsall Road. Easy peasy. So I called, and a guy named Eric walked me through the whole process, which involves me not even having to leave home. Even better!
This dang door situation has been hanging over me for an entire year now. The current Home Depot storm door has been there for twenty years, the last several of which water has been leaking into the particle board interior below the window panes, causing swelling and now rotting. It looks really shoddy, and it's been sitting at the top of my To Do list for far too long. This time around we're going all aluminum and glass, top of the line. A storm door for the ages!
It feels good to finally have something scheduled, and to know that by the time Memorial Day rolls around that job will be done, the front stoop will be repainted, and we'll be in tip top shape when summer comes a' knocking.
Life Lesson: Never put off until tomorrow what you can do today.
I remembered that I still have the ProVia sales pamphlet that I picked up at the showroom last year. So this time I searched for a ProVia dealer in the area, and up came NOVA Exteriors, a platinum award winning installer of ProVia storm doors, only a quick hop down I-395 in the industrial park off of Edsall Road. Easy peasy. So I called, and a guy named Eric walked me through the whole process, which involves me not even having to leave home. Even better!
This dang door situation has been hanging over me for an entire year now. The current Home Depot storm door has been there for twenty years, the last several of which water has been leaking into the particle board interior below the window panes, causing swelling and now rotting. It looks really shoddy, and it's been sitting at the top of my To Do list for far too long. This time around we're going all aluminum and glass, top of the line. A storm door for the ages!
It feels good to finally have something scheduled, and to know that by the time Memorial Day rolls around that job will be done, the front stoop will be repainted, and we'll be in tip top shape when summer comes a' knocking.
Life Lesson: Never put off until tomorrow what you can do today.
Wednesday, May 6, 2020
C is for Cousins
If siblings are our first friends in life, cousins are a close second. There are no long-lost cousins in my family because we have always been in fairly regular contact, thanks in large part to the close sibling relationships in our parents' generation. Our challenge is to maintain that connection now that these older folks are mostly not with us anymore.
My memory bank is full. I am rich indeed.
Life Lesson: No amount of money or success beats time spent with family.
Early images of cousin fun fill my memory bank. As the youngest of twelve cousins on my dad's side, and the fourth youngest of twelve cousins on my mom's side, I was most often the tag-along rather than an instigator. I remember...
- Laughing along when the games of ping pong became raucous escapades ending in wild chases.
- Helping to devour the extra large Magic Pizza covered with razor-thin slices of fresh Ontario mushrooms that we ordered at 10:00pm unbeknownst to our dads, who then had to go retrieve it for us.
- Squishing onto the back of the three-person toboggans as the fourth person, the one who bailed off onto icy banks when the ride became too rough.
- Sitting by a cozy wood stove in Vermont watching elder cousins knit and crochet elaborate projects as we laughed and visited for hours,
- Hiking up the steep trails under electric wires, picking up vintage green or blue glass insulators from the ground.
- Searching for tadpoles in the pond and wading bare foot in the creek.
- Playing highly competitive games of Monopoly and Clue.
- Sitting around so many dinner tables, reminiscing and basking in family.
My memory bank is full. I am rich indeed.
Life Lesson: No amount of money or success beats time spent with family.
Tuesday, May 5, 2020
B is for Braids
One of my first memories in life is sitting in the window seat next to my mother's vanity, watching her twist and weave her waist-length auburn hair into two long braids. She wrapped them around the back of her head, using bobby pins to hold them in place. Many women of the time wore their hair in similar fashion, at least within the Mennonite circles where I was raised.
Years later Mom decided to cut her hair short, and she came home from the hairdresser that day with two beautiful detached braids, rubber-banded at each end. For years she kept those braids tucked away in the drawer of her armoire. You never know, she once mused. Some day when I'm old I might need a hair piece. I remember opening the drawer every now and then to see if they were still there, and to feel their silky smoothness as my fingers bumped up and down the length of each chunky braid.
In elementary and middle school, the Old Order Mennonite girls all wore their hair with two braids. As children they did not wear their braids up and wrapped. The two thick ropes of hair would bounce along behind them during recess, and rest forward across their shoulders in reading group. I marveled at how quickly my friends could re-braid their hair, even without a mirror, when they came in from a particularly rough game of tag or a wild rumpus on the monkey bars. My hair was never long enough to braid, but I learned to braid my daughter's hair when she was still young enough to be excited about that.
Sadly, I do not know whatever became of my mother's two severed braids. Perhaps they were lost in one of the moves. Or maybe she ended up donating them to Locks of Love. I do know that her morning routine was forever simplified without the need to braid and wrap. And she never again wore a religious covering once her braids were gone.
The more I think about it, the more I realize that losing those braids signified a gain of freedom and independence for Mom, in an era and in a community that was very stifling for many women. She is old now, and thankfully she has never needed that hair piece.
Life Lesson: Take chances on new things. (Be a risk taker!)
Years later Mom decided to cut her hair short, and she came home from the hairdresser that day with two beautiful detached braids, rubber-banded at each end. For years she kept those braids tucked away in the drawer of her armoire. You never know, she once mused. Some day when I'm old I might need a hair piece. I remember opening the drawer every now and then to see if they were still there, and to feel their silky smoothness as my fingers bumped up and down the length of each chunky braid.
In elementary and middle school, the Old Order Mennonite girls all wore their hair with two braids. As children they did not wear their braids up and wrapped. The two thick ropes of hair would bounce along behind them during recess, and rest forward across their shoulders in reading group. I marveled at how quickly my friends could re-braid their hair, even without a mirror, when they came in from a particularly rough game of tag or a wild rumpus on the monkey bars. My hair was never long enough to braid, but I learned to braid my daughter's hair when she was still young enough to be excited about that.
Sadly, I do not know whatever became of my mother's two severed braids. Perhaps they were lost in one of the moves. Or maybe she ended up donating them to Locks of Love. I do know that her morning routine was forever simplified without the need to braid and wrap. And she never again wore a religious covering once her braids were gone.
The more I think about it, the more I realize that losing those braids signified a gain of freedom and independence for Mom, in an era and in a community that was very stifling for many women. She is old now, and thankfully she has never needed that hair piece.
Life Lesson: Take chances on new things. (Be a risk taker!)
Monday, May 4, 2020
A is for Applesauce
Two years ago I decided we needed to revive my mother’s and grandmother’s summer applesauce tradition, so I doubled-down my efforts to locate Yellow Transparent apples. Since I’d had no luck calling growers up and down the Shenandoah Valley, I continued my search in Pennsylvania, where my mother and grandmother grew up. I threw my quest out to cousins in Bucks County and Lancaster County.
Sure enough, Cousins Mary Jane and Rich located a grower in Lancaster County, ensuring that I now get to see them once a year when I pick up the apples. Two summers ago I took my kids and a visiting teenaged cousin from my husband’s family along, and we spent an afternoon at Hershey Park, or at least the water park portion of it. That evening Rich and Mary Jane hosted us for dinner and overnight. In the morning we picked up two bushels of apples, along with Shoo Fly Pie, Chow Chow, extra wide egg noddles for Chicken Pot Pie and other PA Dutch delicacies from my childhood, plus snacks chosen by each of my passengers.
Last summer we met my Lancaster County cousins and my Bucks County cousins in Philadelphia for a Phillies-Nats game. There were ten of us altogether, of divided loyalties, and every couple of innings we switched up the seating order so that by the end of the game I felt caught up with each of my cousins. Despite the Nats come-from-behind win, which Cousin Scott had predicted due to the dire straights of his Phillies bullpen, we all agreed that it had been a great reunion and maybe even a new tradition. After another day exploring Philly, we made the short trek over to Lancaster County to pick up the apples.
This year Cousin Rich and I are looking forward to making applesauce together at their place. It turns out that reviving the family applesauce tradition is not just about the sauce.
Life Lesson: Family traditions are the ties that bind.
Sure enough, Cousins Mary Jane and Rich located a grower in Lancaster County, ensuring that I now get to see them once a year when I pick up the apples. Two summers ago I took my kids and a visiting teenaged cousin from my husband’s family along, and we spent an afternoon at Hershey Park, or at least the water park portion of it. That evening Rich and Mary Jane hosted us for dinner and overnight. In the morning we picked up two bushels of apples, along with Shoo Fly Pie, Chow Chow, extra wide egg noddles for Chicken Pot Pie and other PA Dutch delicacies from my childhood, plus snacks chosen by each of my passengers.
Last summer we met my Lancaster County cousins and my Bucks County cousins in Philadelphia for a Phillies-Nats game. There were ten of us altogether, of divided loyalties, and every couple of innings we switched up the seating order so that by the end of the game I felt caught up with each of my cousins. Despite the Nats come-from-behind win, which Cousin Scott had predicted due to the dire straights of his Phillies bullpen, we all agreed that it had been a great reunion and maybe even a new tradition. After another day exploring Philly, we made the short trek over to Lancaster County to pick up the apples.
This year Cousin Rich and I are looking forward to making applesauce together at their place. It turns out that reviving the family applesauce tradition is not just about the sauce.
Life Lesson: Family traditions are the ties that bind.
Sunday, May 3, 2020
Quarantine Food Favorites
As the sweet aroma of garlic pervades the downstairs, I eagerly await my husband's pork shoulder roast. We hardly ever have pork anymore (having broken our bacon habit a year or so ago), but he picked this up fresh at the farmer's market and I'm not sorry he did. I can be a vegetarian for nine days, but around about that tenth day I still want some meat.
Eating delicious cuisine during this time of quarantine is perhaps more important than ever. Eating healthily is also good, and mostly we do that too. One of our favorites is a one-tray baked salmon meal that includes chick peas, zucchini and red pepper brushed with a cumin, coriander and paprika mixture. Simple, almost zesty and enjoyable. Another is lightly breaded, sauteed chicken cutlets with a lemon, white wine and caper sauce, served with asparagus.
We've also been growing microgreens and eating them on omelets, on mini-bagels with cream cheese and lox, on sandwiches and in soups. The Spicy Daikon Radish is my favorite so far. But I'm also looking forward to the Fragrant Fenugreek, which until this very moment I thought was pronounced Fenugeek.
This afternoon Molly baked banana bread. Sometimes she makes the griddlecake recipe from the Mennonite Community Cookbook. We like that one because it has you separate the eggs, and beat and add the whites at the end. So far none of us have become interested in keeping alive a sourdough starter, or decorating a focaccia with herbs. But in another six weeks, who knows?!
Eating delicious cuisine during this time of quarantine is perhaps more important than ever. Eating healthily is also good, and mostly we do that too. One of our favorites is a one-tray baked salmon meal that includes chick peas, zucchini and red pepper brushed with a cumin, coriander and paprika mixture. Simple, almost zesty and enjoyable. Another is lightly breaded, sauteed chicken cutlets with a lemon, white wine and caper sauce, served with asparagus.
We've also been growing microgreens and eating them on omelets, on mini-bagels with cream cheese and lox, on sandwiches and in soups. The Spicy Daikon Radish is my favorite so far. But I'm also looking forward to the Fragrant Fenugreek, which until this very moment I thought was pronounced Fenugeek.
This afternoon Molly baked banana bread. Sometimes she makes the griddlecake recipe from the Mennonite Community Cookbook. We like that one because it has you separate the eggs, and beat and add the whites at the end. So far none of us have become interested in keeping alive a sourdough starter, or decorating a focaccia with herbs. But in another six weeks, who knows?!
Counting My Blessings
After a day outside in the gardens, I feel renewed.
In the morning I borrowed an old beater of a truck to pick up a load of cardboard and a load of mulch for the school garden. While I was doing that, Reidy was planting and Carlos came by to continue his drainage project. It feels great to see all the progress we are making with the garden this Spring.
The truth is, we get more done without the students around, but we sure do miss them and all the moments of joy and wonder they share with us as they spend time in the garden and interact with nature, be it worms, baby shrews under a forgotten sheet of cardboard, or the first strawberries for tasting.
In the afternoon I mowed and weeded at home, and I dumped a year's worth of home grown compost into the raised bed where I will soon plant my tomatoes. I have several projects ready to go for my hired hand who will be here on Monday: a ten foot stone pathway, a drainage rock bed extension, and gutters to clean. Not to mention all the mini projects floating around in my mind to keep me busy over the coming weeks.
What would I do during these weeks of quarantine if I were stuck inside with no school garden to focus on, or a back yard in which to putter?
Disclaimer: this is yesterday's post that I was too beat to write and post!
In the morning I borrowed an old beater of a truck to pick up a load of cardboard and a load of mulch for the school garden. While I was doing that, Reidy was planting and Carlos came by to continue his drainage project. It feels great to see all the progress we are making with the garden this Spring.
The truth is, we get more done without the students around, but we sure do miss them and all the moments of joy and wonder they share with us as they spend time in the garden and interact with nature, be it worms, baby shrews under a forgotten sheet of cardboard, or the first strawberries for tasting.
In the afternoon I mowed and weeded at home, and I dumped a year's worth of home grown compost into the raised bed where I will soon plant my tomatoes. I have several projects ready to go for my hired hand who will be here on Monday: a ten foot stone pathway, a drainage rock bed extension, and gutters to clean. Not to mention all the mini projects floating around in my mind to keep me busy over the coming weeks.
What would I do during these weeks of quarantine if I were stuck inside with no school garden to focus on, or a back yard in which to putter?
Disclaimer: this is yesterday's post that I was too beat to write and post!
Friday, May 1, 2020
Stay Tuned
This was a tough week. I pretty much clawed myself through it, grasping for motivation and focus the whole way. But a weekend full of sunshine and gardening promises to pick me back up.
More to come.
More to come.
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