Halloween - Past and Present

THIS IS A TIMID DAYTIME JACK O'LANTERN


When I was a kid, we waited anxiously until it was pitch-black dark before we went trick-or-treating. If there was a parent, they usually carried a flashlight, but us kids relied on our "night-vision cat-eyes", and considered it sissy to carry a light. We were free to go anywhere and knock on any door, say "Trick Or Treat!", and hold out our brown paper grocery sack for the goodies.



THIS IS A SCARY NIGHT-TIME EVIL PUMPKIN!

You could usually tell which house was rich and which was not by the quality and amount of candy they handed out. One year we got an entire caramel candy apple on a stick from one house, and a softball-sized popcorn ball from another. Rarely did we get a candy bar, but I was happy with Tootsie Rolls or Tootsie Pops, or even the smaller lollipops. Double Bubble gum was another favorite, even though Mother didn't like us to chew gum (not ladylike). We never worried about there being a razor blade in an apple or a poison pill in a box of Milk Duds.

Favorite costumes were hobos, clowns, cowboys, witches, scarecrows, and mummies. If your mom made the costume, you were a sissy; if it was store-bought, you were a spoiled brat. The best costumes were put together at home, with the moms and older kids helping.

We ran in bunches from house to house, knocking or ringing the bell, and when someone answered the door we all shrieked, "Trick or Treat!" at the top of our lungs. It was a very special and happy time.

When my older sister and I went out together, we sometimes took a jar of Vaseline to grease doorknobs or car windows, but only on the houses where no one answered the door or where they were grumpy and mean. That was the only "trick" we even knew about. Nobody "toilet-papered" other people's yards and trees and houses back then. If there was a group of older boys being loud and raucous and running down the middle of the street, we quickly cut over to the next block. I guess they were the genuine tricksters.

When I was in high school, I had to take my little sister around on Halloween. Boy, was that boring! She was so shy... but she was so cute... always looking like a little orphan with her big brown eyes and straight-as-a-stick brown hair. In those days, the homeowners would invite the kids inside and talk to them about their costumes, making a big deal out of trying to guess who each kid was. If we didn't actually know the people, it was frightening to be in their house. Very scary, much scarier than being outside in the dark!

Once back home, we would dump out our treats on the living room floor and make some trades, sometimes even sharing with a parent. After stuffing ourselves sick, our treat bags went into our own clothes closets, where they rarely lasted through November. I don't remember being told to ration the candy to "one a day", nor being reminded that sugar rots your teeth. It was our "take" and it was ours to eat.

Sure not like today. People still carve pumpkins, but this year I have a PLASTIC Jack O'Lantern in the front yard that lights up at night. Some folks decorate their yards with strings of orange lights... how weird is that? The Wal-Mart costumed trick-or-treaters go with their parents and their flashlights to allowed areas at designated hours. Anyone walking around outside after dark is deeply suspect, Halloween or not. The stores are packed full of individually wrapped candy for sale, as if the wrappers would prevent some maniac from poisoning kids.

Sure, we buy candy. Sure, we leave our porch light on. Sure, nobody comes. Sure, we eat the candy ourselves. Trick-or-Treat!

The Great Coffeemaker Adventure

What do you do when your old faithful coffeemaker goes kaput? Reach down into the cabinet and pull out another one? Not likely. Check out the warranty on “old faithful”? In my case, that was only to learn that, duh, I bought it in 2006 and the warranty ran out in 2007. Um-m-m, okay, now what? No time to delay when your body is screaming, “Coffee, Coffee, Coffee!”

What happened was that it was taking much too long for the water to drip through the filter into the old coffeepot, and the coffee grounds/water mix was overflowing the filter, making a mess and putting grounds into the coffee, ugh-yuk. Why? Not because there were too many grounds in the filter, because we only make 7 cups at a time (5 oz. cups that turn out to be about 2-1/2 mugs); couldn’t be because the filters were too small (short on the sides) because we were using the same size for years; couldn’t be the coffee itself, because again, it was the same old coffee. Research showed that sometimes if the water is too soft (!) it won’t flow through well, causing overflow. Again, we’ve been using the same water softener for years, with no apparent change in the art of coffee-making. So, what now?

Delay not being a possibility, I rushed off to Pamida (where I had gotten the old (bad) coffeemaker in 2006) and bought another one of the same brand (though a more recent version). Gleefully unpacking and setting up this new purchase, I stuffed the old pot and the packing from the new pot into one of the big trashcans outside the back door. Next morning… same thing happened… coffee grounds overflow… plus the new coffeemaker seemed to be making a great deal more noise than the old (bad) one. Not a good sign.

Pamida’s newspaper ad for the week showed a Bunn coffeepot on sale for what seemed an enormous amount of money, but knowing that the professionals used Bunn coffeemakers, I assumed it would be worth it. So… cleaned up the recently purchased coffeemaker to look new again… recovered the packing from the trashcan, wiped it off and gave it a good dose of Lysol spray… reassembled the box and took it with the sales slip back to Pamida. Bought a Bunn.

Turns out you have to buy special Bunn filters for a Bunn coffeemaker. Also turns out the filters have the same dimensions as the others, EXCEPT the sides are higher. Anyway, I set up the new coffeemaker only to discover that it requires two coffeepots full of water to sit inside it where it stays warm (!) until you add a third coffeepot full when you actually want some coffee. Certainly NOT an energy saver, plus you would be using less than fresh water to make your coffee. Mike and I both quickly said, “Thanks, but no thanks!” An electrical appliance that creates heat uses lots of electricity… and coffee tastes better when made with fresh, cold water.

Back to the drawing board. I packed up the Bunn for return and refund, and made the trip to Wal Mart. There I found a selection of coffeemakers that were, for the most part, of the same type as the Bunn… store and heat water for future coffee! (Gotta wonder if some electric company lobbyist got to the coffeemaker manufacturers!) Now, realize also how much more room these coffeemakers take up on your kitchen counter… twice as much! Inconvenience on top of expense… Again, no thanks.

You may have guessed my next move. Bought a new coffeemaker of the same brand as the original (bad) one, BUT bought Bunn brand filters (remember, higher sides). It works fine. Takes a little longer to drip through (haven’t figured out why!) but does NOT overflow.

You know, I’m convinced I could do without quite so much “adventure” in my life.

Coincidentally, an ad for Gevalia coffee and free coffeemaker arrived in the mail that day. Did you guess it? Yes, I ordered some coffee to get the free coffeemaker. Now, if our everyday coffeemaker “goes kaput” I can “reach down into the cabinet and pull out another one”!!

The Moon and the Tides

Is everyone affected by the moon like I am? There is a connection between the phases of the moon and the tides, so I'm told, and I believe that completely. I also think there is a very personal connection between myself and the moon.

For one thing, I've discovered that my hair grows faster during one phase, and doesn't grow at all in another. Probably my moods are affected, too, but I've never kept track since everything affects my moods.

I nearly always have trouble sleeping when there is a full moon. Why? I even have blackout shades on my bedroom windows, so it's not the light. I awakened shortly after 4 am today and tossed and turned until just after 5, when I gave up and got up. When I entered the kitchen I was amazed at the amount of light coming through the blinds, raised them up and there he was... the old man in the moon looking right in at me. It appeared to be a completely full moon, sharp edges and all. I checked the calendar, and sure enough! Full moon!

Sometimes I wonder just how much control we each actually have over our lives. Being connected to everything, as I believe we are, then I suppose it follows that we are affected by everything in some way.

Does this sound like superstition? Hocus-pocus? Am I someone who needs to be concerned about my "sign" and its corresponding daily horoscope? Well, shoot, these questions just confirm my notion that it pays to believe everything, so no matter what happens I won't be left out as a non-believer!

14 yr. old Lucas, a North Daviess Cougar!

Make a Smilebox postcard

Garden Report

My dream garden turned out to be a bit of a disaster. The cute little bunny rabbits ate the first planting of lettuce, the gully-washer Spring rains sent most of the seed in a westerly direction, and so I had to re-seed... just about everything. The rabbits were back for the lettuce again, and this time they found the spinach,too. The radishes sprouted and promptly died. The night after I picked my first green beans, the sweet little deer ate the plants to the ground. Wah!

I've had a few nice cucumbers, very sweet and firm, but the plants are dying already. I've had three lovely zucchini, but the blossoms are now dying before the zucchini sets. What's up with that? Are the nights too cool? My butternut squash has struggled from day one, and now I fear some critter likes to eat the blossoms. I harvested the carrots, thinking Peter Rabbit would get to them before I could, but they were virtually tasteless. No fair, I love homegrown garden carrots!

Good news, though. There are tomatoes galore and they are delicious. I've put up several pints of tomatoes for winter soups and sauces, and if we could just get a few more really hot days, I think the remaining green tomatoes would "red up". If not, I can pickle the green tomatoes, make relish out of them, or just eat lots of fried green tomatoes. The green peppers are few but beautiful and growing a bit every day. They taste SO good; nothing like store-bought.

I put in a variety of herbs, but everything disappeared or never came up except a few sad little dill plants and the basil, which has been prolific. So I'll be making pesto, which I love. The chives that I planted three years ago are doing a repeat performance again this year, and I keep reminding myself to cut, chop and freeze some for winter recipes.

What's doing beautifully are the flowers! Sunflowers and marigolds everywhere and every size and shade of yellow, plus cosmos in all those lovely lavender/purple/pink colors, zinnias (a large, deep orange blossom appeared this week), and even a couple nasturtiums finally decided to bloom. Should I forget the veggies and just grow flowers?

Anyway, I guess things aren't too bad after all, but it certainly wasn't the garden I had hoped for. Mother Nature wins again! Next year? 1) A good, deep-tine tiller 2) More compost 3) More topsoil 4) More mulch 5) Wider paths between rows 6) A rabbit/deer fence? 7) Forget the whole thing and grow native wild flowers? :)

A Little Bit of Everything

It's been a busy month, and though I continue to take pictures to share, I've not found (or not taken) the time to post them with a story or at least a comment on my blog. So...



Most recently I drove up to South Bend for Mike's dad's estate auction, and here are a couple pictures from that busy day. Several family members were there to help out, both to act as deputy sheriffs to prevent theft and also to help one another get past the sorrow of seeing the sale of the "stuff" that represents a person's life. Makes one realize that the value of our stuff cannot compare with the value of loved ones.


One misty August morning, Mike's camera caught this deer (dear) family in our front yard. I expected them to decimate my garden, but they simply wandered on by as if they were only imagined.




My flowers continue to amaze me with their contrasting colors and textures, so here are a few shots of these miraculous beauties.

























Speaking of contrasting colors, take a look at this picture of one day's produce from my garden. The garden itself may be ugly as can be, but the vegetables are great!


What's doing best in the garden? The volunteer sunflowers! There are also volunteer tomatoes and cantaloupe and gourds, thriving with the rain and sunshine of August.

Adventures

There’s been a delay in posting this story; perhaps because it needed a little time for me to absorb and digest it before sharing.

As you can see from the picture, the 2009 U.S. Senior Open this year was held at the Crooked Stick Golf Club, which is located in Carmel, just north of Indianapolis. Mike had tickets and we drove up on July 31st. We decided to take my car because it’s reliable and gets great gas mileage, has good tires, just had its 15,000 mile checkup, and the air conditioner works (none of these things apply to Mike’s car). On the way north I realized, and commented to Mike, “It’s been a long time since you and I have gone, just the two of us, on an adventure.”

We walked around Crooked Stick, seeing the pros make both bad and good shots, just like the rest of us seniors. I think we both enjoyed watching the people more than the golf. Crooked Stick is a nice course, but not fancy with flowers and shrubs and trees because it’s a “links” course with narrow fairways and lots of hillocks and large sand traps and tall, thick grass in the wide roughs. Not that we were disappointed; just that we weren’t particularly impressed.

We found our way off the course and out to the buses, and remembered to get off at the White Stop, which would be the closest one to where we were parked. Where were we parked? Neither of us had counted rows or yards or steps from any spot to any spot, so we had no idea where to start. We took alternate rows, walking up and down, and about an hour later we found the car. We were both just dumbfounded that we couldn’t locate the danged car! That wasn’t the sort of “adventure” I had in mind.

Applebee’s provided us with a good meal along the way, and we continued driving south. Then, I woke up suddenly from a short snooze to realize that the car was slowing down and all the dashboard lights were blinking. Mike said that the car had no power and he pulled off the highway. Then I saw that we were out of gas! There is a series of short horizontal bars on the dash that disappear from top to bottom as the gas tank empties, and when it has only one bar left it blinks madly, wildly, noticeably, even though it has 30-40 miles of gas left. Neither of us had noticed any blinking! Another “adventure”…

Before we were married, we had a habit of running out of gas. Back then it was a euphemism for finding a place to be alone with your date, but we actually did run out of gas. It got to be a joke. It became a series of similar, laughable “adventure” stories, some of which occurred even after we had kids. And here we were again, alone together in a car, and out of gas. Groan. Somehow it’s more fun when you’re in your 20s than it is when you’re in your 60s.

A “Good Samaritan” helped us out, thankfully… and I would like to say our gasoline adventures have ended, but who’s to say?

Flower Garden

Take a short walk with me around my flower garden. Cosmos, zinnias, even a valiant hibiscus with two large blossoms. A veritable riot of color. There are even some wildflowers. Can you find the bachelor buttons?

Can You Hear Me Now?

Okay, here (hear) they are :-)

I've had these little babies for three days now and can't believe the difference in my ability to pick up the tiniest sound. It's nearly as remarkable as when I got my first pair of glasses and realized that normal people could see that trees had individual leaves.

As a child, I had frequent and extremely painful ear infections that my parents treated with warm olive oil dripped into the ear canal and held there with cotton, and by blowing cigarette smoke into the ear canal (go figure). If that didn't work, a shot of penicillin would. Magic! One winter there was an abscess near the eardrum that a doctor had to lance to allow it to drain. Even giving birth cannot compare to that pain. A mass of scar tissue is still there on the eardrum; I saw it on the screening monitor.

Back in my National Gypsum days, all employees took mandatory hearing tests on a regular basis. I saw then that my hearing was gradually deteriorating; nothing spectacular, but enough to get my attention. A couple years ago, a come-on for a free hearing exam appeared in the mail. Those nice folks tried to convince me that I was in desperate need of hearing aids and it would cost me only $9000. Huh. Nobody's that desperate.

Then, a couple weeks ago, another come-on appeared. Having found myself saying, "What?" and "Sorry?" and "Can you repeat that, please?" much too often, I thought maybe it was time. Mike was being very patient with my sitting close to and turning up the TV, not to mention having to say everything twice or even three times. If you've ever noticed, when a person's hearing is going, they smile and nod a lot, and look hard at your lips, and cock their heads to put their best ear forward. They're nearly uncommunicative in a crowd because they can't distinguish one sound from another. Well, that was me. I knew it, and apparently had been hiding it pretty well because even family and friends didn't know and were surprised that I got hearing aids.

No, they didn't cost $9000, but they are "top-of-the line" technologically, and as you can see from the picture, pretty much invisible. The biggest part goes behind the ear, with a tiny tube running around the top of the ear and directly into the ear canal where the aid itself is completely hidden. A short "tail" curls into the ear, also unseen unless you look hard. I visit the technician every week for a month for any needed adjustments. There are free visits, consultations, adjustments and upgrades for the life of the instrument, plus a two-year warranty.

Already, I'm a believer because I'm hearing sounds I had forgotten existed. Life continues to be a wonder!

Books, Books, Books

I think I’ve figured out why I read so much … well, actually, why I read so much fiction. Not that I don’t enjoy an occasional historical novel, or a biography, or even a “how-to” self-help book… but for the most part, my choice is fiction. Not just any fiction, though; for instance, the “bodice-rippers” that some women enjoy seem light and fanciful and silly to me. Neither do I prefer science fiction, though I’ve read a lot of it in my time. Mysteries are fun; nothing like a good “whodunit”. I enjoyed all of Harry Potter (not purely a children’s series), and most of Stephen King (shudder). In fact, I’ve found that once I discover an author who “speaks to me”, I will make every effort to read more books by that same author. What a joy to find a really fine writer, a master of words, a magician with description and dialogue, a lover of nuance and suggestion, someone who moves the reader into the story with ease!

Some people say that reading fiction is pure escapism; others say it’s to live a fantasy. I’ve come to realize that it is far more than that. A good story has a beginning, a middle and an end. The characters appear, interact, develop and change, and find their place in the plot. The story takes on a life of its own, and becomes part of the reader’s experience/knowledge base/consciousness. Whether or not the author intends any effects, a good novel affects the reader. Sometimes it provides a means of relaxation or of reward, and yes, a way of getting away from “real life”. How and why that happens is the interesting part.

In a good novel the reader is presented with a setting and a situation, and from there on it becomes more or less complicated and more or less convoluted, but it always has a resolution. Actually, I find it rather comforting to realize that we readers are not responsible in any way for how things turn out. We can laugh or cry, and run through the entire gamut of emotions, but a novel, a piece of fiction, is, after all, make believe.

On the other hand, there is real life. It has a beginning, but we don’t know when we are at the middle, and who knows when or how the end will come? Life gets complicated, and more often than not there is no resolution… we just advance blindly into the next maelstrom. Our thoughts and actions and emotions are very, very real, and we are definitely responsible for how things turn out. The pressure is on, and it never lets up… we can’t close the book until we have time to look and see what happens.

Can there be any wonder why so many avid readers escape into fiction?

Who Likes Golf?

Lots of golf in my life this last week. 18 holes on Thursday and another 18 yesterday. Thursday I played 9 holes with J.D. Faris in Senior League (he was subbing for Wilma) followed by 9 holes with Lucas (playing our Community League round). Friday I played 9 holes with Colleen, just for fun and to warm up for a second 9 holes, during which she was subbing for Shirley Jeffers, another one of my Community League partners. You would think I actually liked the game!

Mostly I enjoy being outdoors (and not working), and being with good friends and/or family. That’s a good thing because I certainly do not enjoy the scores I end up with (the scores with which I end up?... no… the scores up with which I end?). “Dangling participles”: I wish I had never heard of them. English is terrible with all its rules and contradictions, and I am constantly reminded how glad I am that I don’t have to learn it as a second language!!

We took over the management of the golf course in January of 1998 and I spent most of the next several summers working in a flimsy, crowded 10’ x 12’ structure that does a poor job of pretending to be a clubhouse. I started playing golf sometime during the summer of 2000 after having realized that I could certainly not do any worse than some of the people I had been watching through the windows. (Little did I know.) Another reason I attempted learning the game was to become more comfortable with the language, and to be able to share stories with other golfers. I did successfully achieve some of those goals, but I still feel awkward and out of synch when I try to play the game. Maybe learning a new sport at age 60 is not such a good idea. Any improvement is offset by getting even older.


On the other hand, never in my life was I an athlete, only an occasionally interested observer of a few select sports, and then only in small doses… so there you go.
One especially fun thing about golf is that there are so many excuses why one isn’t doing well that day… and I have used most of them :-)

Flowers... Indoors?!

Flowers are so lovely growing outside, whether in the wild or as we humans think looks best. Though I love having flower arrangements inside, my preference is to enjoy them in nature. The seed for these cosmos and zinnias were given to me by a golfing friend. Merrily tossing them onto barely disturbed ground early this spring, I had no idea they would turn out to be quite this glorious. Not knowing whether or not he checks my blog, this picture is my tribute to him and to all those who share their love of nature. Little did I know this little plot of ground in front of my house, which has been in the past totally unsuccessful in demonstrating any fertility whatsoever, would provide such beauty.
Thanks, Ray!

The Beauty of July

We're into the most vigorous growing season of the year, and the plentiful Spring rains followed by long, hot days helped all the plants, shrubs, flowers and trees around here to thrive. Some of my shrubs got carried away, showing growth well beyond what we usually see in early July, so I was busy outside today with our electric hedge trimmer. We've had some really hot days, but the humidity has been bearable. This makes Summer a much more pleasant season for me. (Shh-h-h, don't let Mother Nature hear; she will slam down the humidity!) The rose bushes enjoyed an early, spectacular blooming phase, and then put all their energy into growing up and out, with no new rosebuds showing. So they got whacked way back, too. It is now possible to approach our front door from the driveway, along the walkway and onto the porch without picking your way or getting swallowed up by greenery.


My garden is creeping along. I've decided to adopt Ruth Stout's method of mulching, using hay that is simply pushed aside for planting in the Spring, and added to as needed to keep the weeds down. Hay allows rainfall through and holds the moisture in the soil. It also gradually decomposes and becomes part of the soil, enriching it over time as well as or better than any of the purchased mulches. I've harvested my first lettuce and radishes, and there are green tomatoes and small peppers ripening. The first cucumber showed up a couple days ago. I've had to replant several things because of the rascally rabbits, but once I get the hay fully distributed I don't think it will be so pleasant for them to approach the garden rows. One can always hope.


The zinnias and marigolds and cosmos are hard at it, making the place more beautiful. Right now, though, the lilies get the prize for magnificence. They are in competition with the glory of the skies overhead.

"Gibbous" Moon

No matter how old we get, there is always wa-a-ay more out there to learn. Thank heavens for Google, right? Recently I came across the term "gibbous moon", and recalled having read it in a poem (perhaps "Jabberwocky"?). I found that, once again, I absolutely had to know what it meant. Goggle has many, many references that explain the term in many, many ever-so-slightly different ways, but this is the best because there are pictures!

For those of you who are leery about accessing sites you aren't sure about, here is the explanation in a nutshell: A waning gibbous moon is a bit more than half illuminated on the left side. A waxing gibbous moon is a bit more than half illuminated on the right side. So, to be "gibbous", the moon phase has to be approximately halfway between a full moon and a new moon. Got it? To really complicate things, a gibbous moon is close to the horizon, so not all that easy to see. Fun, huh?

Cat Sitting

I lived at daughter Miki's house in Bloomington this last week, cat-sitting while she and Kevin went on a trip. Much of the inside of the house enjoyed a recent renovation, and it is lovely. While there I read and watched movies and slept a lot, went for walks and sat outside in the sunshine with nothing to do but just "be". There were no shoulds and oughts (other than feeding the cats) so I just let my mind and body float through the days.




The cats, Maurice and Kahlo, were very entertaining. Their personalities are quite different, and I found it amazing that they were able to communicate so well, non-verbally, with one another and with me. Part of the charm of my stay was that those cats generated a lot of laughter, and there's much balm for the soul in laughter. Of course, I couldn't resist generating a little stress by working on an impossible puzzle that I had spread all over their dining table.


Home now and all caught up with the bookkeeping and laundry and emails and phone calls. I find that I am completely relaxed and contented... well, almost comatose, after a week of quiet ease. Of course, it is always nice to be back in one's own home, but I hope Miki asks me again when she needs a cat-sitter.

Precious Grandgirls

If you thought the picture of our daughters was lovely, have a look at these grandgirls!
Could they be any cuter?

Thoughts on Fathers' Day

My own father died nearly 55 years ago, so it’s no longer a big deal that he’s not around; he would be closing in on 100 years old by now, so most likely gone anyway. I have to admit, though, that I do allow myself to feel a little bit sorry for myself on Fathers’ Day. He was a good and loving dad, funny and gentle and generous with his three daughters. I like to assume that he would have continued to be a positive influence on my life and that we would have grown to have a close relationship as I grew older. Why not imagine the best that could be? Who really knows?

I was only thirteen when he was suddenly just… not there. He died in a horrible one-car accident. At age thirteen, I think I must have been in love with my dad. (Perhaps at age fourteen I would have found fault in everything he said and did, but we never had to suffer through that.) I lived for the times when he was at home. He was a traveling salesman, gone for a couple of days or a couple of weeks at a time, depending on the customers on his regular route, and our lives were built on “when Daddy was coming home”.

Needless to say, there was a huge, empty hole in my life when he died (as there was in my mother’s and sisters’ lives). Home never meant the same after he was gone, and though my mother tried valiantly, her own grief overshadowed her ability to give me what I needed. I finished high school and went many miles away to college before I began to discover who I might be without a father.

One of the reasons I have the husband that I do is that I felt he would be a good father. Observing him with his nieces and nephews, I realized that they liked him and laughed a lot, a big selling point. He had an impossibly high standard to live up to, because in my mind it was as though my own father had achieved sainthood, but I think he did a pretty good job of being a father to our four offspring.

Now our kids are grown, and one of them has fathered children of his own. As far as I can tell, and recognizing a certain bias, I would say he is a wonderful father. I recognize, however, that it’s horribly unfair to give any man a grade on how well he rates as a father. Even his own children have impossible expectations, and that goes both ways… some fathers have impossible expectations of their children as well. So it’s a good thing we have Fathers’ Day when they can be treated in special ways… given gifts and hugs and thanks… receive cards and emails and phone calls.

Personally, I think it should be called Dads’ Day, though, because it’s easy to father a child but much harder to be a good dad.

Daughters!

Just in case you missed it on Mike's blog, here is the best picture from the time spent in South Bend June 7th and 8th. Danielle and Miki, the amazing and wonderful daughters of Mike and Diane. Wasn't it just yesterday when they were small?

If you want to see more great pictures of the Bird family, go here and type "portraits from South Bend" in the search box at the top left of the page.

R.I.P.

Mike’s dad passed away in his sleep Thursday night after a long and painful struggle with colon cancer. He had been ill and failing for a number of years, experiencing a gradual decline in his health. The promise of release from suffering makes death more welcome, but still his family is saddened by the loss of his presence. He was a highly intelligent and talented teacher, writer and editor, with an interest in a multitude of subjects and the ability to pass on that enthusiasm. His mind remained sharp and clear to the end, for which I am certain he was grateful, as were the members of his family. Though he outlived many of his friends, those he had were strong and loyal.

He had eight children, none of whom thought of him as a particularly good father, but rather spoke of the tremendous impact and influence he had on their lives. While he sometimes was belittling, confusing, demanding and maddening, at the same time he expected and encouraged his children to use their minds and their curiosity and their intelligence to explore and research the many facets of their world.

I saw him as a man with a brilliant mind, but also the common inability of geniuses to exhibit common sense or to cope with practicalities. His expectations for people were beyond what most could ever provide for him, so I suppose he was both disappointed and despairing of making ordinary connections with people.

While at home, he spent most of his hours in his library, reading, studying and writing. His self-imposed loneliness included drinking, and at times he became a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde personality. Unfortunately, that behavior alienated me and some others like me. Still, there’s no denying that he was an interesting person, whom one would very much like to get to know. Some did, and because their forgiveness knew no bounds, these are the ones who will miss him the most. … and so it goes.

Groundcovers

We were in Bloomington on Sunday, and after brunching with Miki and Kevin, we toured their back yard. It's a shadowy hideaway with walkways and ponds and quiet, secret corners where one can rest and ponder and dream. Someone who owned the house in the past was gifted with imagination and created this lovely sanctuary. Their front yard is a study in contrasts, as it is brightly sunny and steeply sloping downward toward the sidewalk and the road. Miki spoke of wanting to replace the grass, which poses a danger to anyone mowing it, with a groundcover, perennials, or perhaps even making a series of terraces, as their neighbors have done. She requested information about groundcovers; thus, this series of pictures.


This first picture was meant as a caution rather than a suggestion. English Ivy is the chosen groundcover for many people, but I find it obnoxiously invasive and extremely difficult to eradicate.


This low growing plant appears to be, and acts like, a groundcover, though it spreads very slowly. I've entitled this picture "Mystery (weed?)" and encourage its growth simply because I find it to be a pretty addition to my front yard.


This may be creeping thyme... or some variety of thyme... The leaves are thyme-like and when crushed their scent approximates the smell of thyme.


This is a shade and moisture-loving groundcover called Ribbon Grass (or Dwarf Garters, which I find amusing). It's easy to take cuttings from existing stands, and it's hardy and slow to spread. I like the contrast of light and darker greens.


I found no explanation in my gardening books of why this is called Bishop's Weed. It grows about a foot tall and in the early summer it blooms with a stalk topped with what looks to me like a smaller version of Queen Anne's Lace. It can be invasive, but is also easily contained by planting it next to a foundation and surrounding it with rocks or some sort of edging. The leaves will start to get brown edges in dry, hot weather, but that doesn't harm the plant; in fact, a good deep watering will solve the problem.


This closely resembles what my books call Scotch Moss, other than the fact that my planting blooms yellow, while the books picture white blossoms. It grows thickly, forming hillocks as the stalks lay over on themselves. Partial shade and plenty of water are necessary for this groundcover, as with any variety of moss.


I believe this is the most popular groundcover around here, possibly because it is so hardy and will grow in sun or shade. I found some growing by an old, deserted farmhouse and barn, and helped myself to some starts. It has many names, including Common Periwinkle, Vinca Minor and Creeping Myrtle. It blooms in the summer, (periwinkle blue, of course), and grows thickly enough to choke out any noxious weeds that try to compete.


My personal favorite is this groundcover, called Ajuga Reptans or Bugleweed. There is more than one variety, but this picture and the next show the deep green and purplish leaves that appeal to me. It spreads by runners and establishes itself wherever it finds compatible soil. It's also easy to start with rooted cuttings. It can tolerate some sun, but for optimum performance it prefers mostly shade.


...and that's your lesson for the day. There WILL be a test. :)