Rained Out

Yesterday was World Tai Chi Day, and we were supposed to meet at Betty Virginia Park to join other schools and practioners. Rain, however, prevented that local event from taking place, although all over the world others were participating. Last year, it was unexpectedly cold and there was a little drizzel, but the event took place. Here is a picture from Robert Trudeau's blog (April 2005) of Master Guerin's group (Beth, Glen, Thomas, me (in white), Jimmy, "the dentist," Craig and Alison were among those who showed up. Janis Gabriel's Phoenix Temple school was also there.

It was disappointing that the rain canceled us, but we had class in a nice dry studio instead. A small class as only five of us braved the weather; only Jimmy and I were there for the second class, so we got one on one instruction as Master Guerin worked with each of us separately.

Garden in the rain yesterday morning before I left for class. See how eagerly the plants are soaking up their rainy blessing. Friday, I worked all day in the yard and transplanted several volunteer seedlings and potted up some more stuff for Laddie, Amelia, and Erin. Erin took back several plants including another volunteer peach tree. The squirrels have buried the peach pits for years and seedlings show up all the time. Since losing the original tree in Rita's aftermath, I'm more grateful for these peachy offsprings. Dozens of little rose campion babies that were abruptly snatched from their original spots and placed elsewhere were visibly grateful for yesterday's rain. As were the Queen Anne's Lace...a weed I love beyond all logic.

I'm not a gentle gardener. While throwing away perfectly good plants is difficult for me and I do my best to give them another chance elsewhere, I have literally pulled many up by the roots to dispose of them and then decided to see if they would survive in another spot. It always surprises me that the majority do manage to thrive after such indelicate treatment.

So Long, Farewell, Via con Dios

The Well-loved Child and her Adored Mother left yesterday afternoon. I missed them as soon as they left...placed all of the books we'd read back into the book baskets, washed the sippy cups, told the rabbit we spotted yesterday morning grazing in the garden and who "hided in the bushes" that next time Mila would appreciate a longer conversation, folded the sunshine yellow panties that were left in the dryer, and comforted my heart with promises of seeing them again soon.

We went to the Board Walk along the river yesterday for some Mila shopping (and for her anticipated little brother) and lunch. Wish I'd taken more pictures of this nice little shopping development that is built like a little town with bricked streets (all cars are in a large parking lot and the only transportation in the "little town" is by trolley - whose tracks run down the middle of the streets).
Mila rode the carousel; after careful consideration of which animal to ride, she chose a bright red crawfish.

Then we discovered the POP-UP FOUNTAIN...an absolute delight for children and adults both. Right under the bridge, the fountain remains in shade, and the various spigots spout water in a pattern that begins with random spouts, carefully examined by fascinated children, and ends with all fountains spouting before starting over again. We sat for nearly an hour watching this engaging display as the children actually talked to and called to the water. I forgot about my camera until shortly before we left, but managed to get a few shots.

Poetry Thursday and another paired poem

Deb used High Flight for her poem this Thursday. I always tear up when I read it. The following poem is one that shows the same love of flight in the context of an earlier war. Robert Gregory was the son of Yeat's dear friend Lady Gregory. Flying was a passion, an obsession for him, and in 1915, Gregory joined the war effort, although Ireland was neutral. He earned a Military Cross for conspicuous gallantry and devotion to duty, and was shot down over Italy in 1918.

An Irish Airman Forsees His Death

I know that I shall meet my fate
Somewhere among the clouds above;
Those that I fight I do not hate,
Those that I guard I do not love;
My county is Kiltartan Cross,
My countrymen Kiltartan's poor,
No likely end could bring them loss
Or leave them happier than before.
Nor law, nor duty bade me fight,
Nor public men, nor cheering crowds,
A lonely impulse of delight
Drove to this tumult in the clouds;
I balanced all, brought all to mind,
The years to come seemed waste of breath,
A waste of breath the years behind
In balance with this life, this death.

William Butler Yeats
And Much Less Than High Flight- the baby robins left their nest yesterday, and here is one whose flight was less than stellar on the first try. Careful not to touch, Mila talks to him, telling him that his mother is calling to him, and waving "bye bye" to him as she leaves.

"There's a hippo in the bathtub..."

Erin and Mila arrived yesterday, and I did a great deal more dancing than usual. I'd ordered Anne Murray's children's CD (the same one that was in album form when Erin and Amelia were little), and Mila and I danced to

"Hey, Daddy, there's a dragon in the driveway,
Mama, there's a grizzly on the lawn.
You'd better come quick there's a hippo in the bathtub,
And he's going down the drain,
Oh, no, he's gone."

And danced again. and again. and again.

Last night we met Amelia at a nice little restaurant and watched Mila wear Amelia out. :) That dancin' can get pretty exhausting!

Up this morning and wants to hear "the hippo in the bathtub" again. and again...

More on Providence

I didn't realize when I created this collage that the program was cutting down some of the pictures to fit! Oh, well. Aunt Mary has on the gold jacket, Laddie is in blue shirt, niece Katie is the lovely young lady in the white top, nephew Cody (handsome lad) in green shirt and hat, brother Marty in red shirt, niece Maggie in glasses and her dad, brother Steve with beard, cousin Susan in black with dear sister-in-law Robin also in black, me with glasses dangling and messy hair. The food at the Log Cabin was delicious...ummm. Peach cobbler delight.

I wish I'd taken a tape recorder to the service at Providence, especially to get Miz Doriz Gardener addressing the questions she had been asked. She stood up and without preamble said, "No, to the fire ants. We've tried everything. The last stuff cost $28 a bag, and they ate it for breakfast. We will keep trying, but not that problem has not been solved." "No, to the stealers. It's true that the wind can occassionally play havoc with flowers, but there is a stealer. Who could stoop so low as to steal graveyard flowers?! However, there is hope. They caught the man who was stealing flowers from a cemetery in Minden. Someone asked what I would do if we caught him, and I told them I'd take a half page add in the Shreveport Times and post his picture! But then I thought... anyone who would steal flowers from a grave wouldn't mind that. He'd probably like it!"

There were some statements that started with "Yes." However, I suspect I was laughing too hard at the "No's" to listen carefully. Miz Doris has been on the Providence Cemetery Board of Directors since 1931! Can you believe -- 75 years on the board and still as feisty and full of beans as a woman half her age. Her granddaughter has followed in her foot steps, gradually assuming responsibilities, but Miz Doris is still the one most people talk to when they have questions. Bless her heart and generous soul.

Bluebonnets.

Won't you come into my parlor...

said the spider to the fly.

These are tiny spider webs in the grass. The largest is about 3" in diameter. Aren't they pretty covered in dew? There were 5 or 6 of these tiny webs scattered through the grass.













Dew on salvia.







Papyrus bloom (upper left) and pond photos. The robins and other birds like to bathe where the water spills on to the rock -- with lots of splashing.

Yesterday, I went and picked up Aunt Mary and brought her over to spend the night with Laddie. This morning Marty and Robin, Laddie, Mary, and I went to church in Ringgold, then to lunch, then to the annual Providence Cemetery service and meeting at 2:00.

The Providence Cemetery, a little country cemetery between Ringgold and Jamestown, was established in the early 1800's; the church was built in 1850. The service at Providence was delightful, and we all enjoyed it. The music was a violin and a guitar -- peaceful and uplifting. Mary and Laddie especially enjoyed visiting with old friends at both the Methodist service and the Providence service.

16th century and 20th century poems

Two posts in one day. When I read Vicci's poem, a favorite of mine by e. e. cummings, I had to search out this one by Sir Philip Sidney. Are they a pair or not?

My True-Love Hath My Heart

My true-love hath my heart, and I have his,
By just exchange one for the other given.
I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss:
There never was a bargain better driven.
His heart in me keeps me and him in one;
My heart in him his thoughts and senses guides:
He loves my heart, for once it was his own;
I cherish his because in me it bides.
His heart his wound received from my sight;
My heart was wounded with his wounded heart;
For as from me on him his hurt did light,
So still, methought, in me his hurt did smart:
Both equal hurt, in this change sought our bliss,
My true love hath my heart and I have his.

Sir Philip Sidney (1554-1586)

And if you haven't read DebR's sonnet, you had better get over there and read her praise of Johnny Depp! :)

I have taken Mac for his checkup, been to Home Depot, Walmart, the cleaners, and completed several errands. AND I've edged and mowed the back yard, cut down two trees, and transplanted a rose bush. Now I'm catching up on some of the blogs I've been missing, before getting back to work.

Miscellaneous

Last Saturday found me in Minden. Laddie and Mary enjoyed the visit, looked over some old pictures, reminisced. We had lunch at Mom's Diner,and when we got back to her apt. we had some of Aunt Mary's delicious strawberry bread for dessert.

Our baby birds hatched this weekend, and now are keeping both parents busy feeding those hungry mouths. Baby birds have a long way to go to achieve the simple beauty of adult robins! Look at the size of those beaks in comparison to the entire head!
Pink guara - another graceful and drought tolerant plant. No care, perennial, tough.

I bought this rose several years ago because it reminded me of the wild roses that grew in the ditches and spilled over the back fence when we lived in the country in Lincoln Parish. Those wild roses reached a crescendo of beauty by the end of May, and that was it; a short and magnificent show. This simple rose that resembles them blooms spring through fall with no let up.

We have almost finished with the painting in Erin's old room. She and Mila are coming next week instead of this week because we just couldn't get the room finished. I have to get a little more paint to do the closet, and then we're open for business. Fee put in new carpet and things look a whole lot better than they did a week ago.

It has been really busy around here lately, and today is no exception. I have to take Mac back for a checkup, make copies of some pictures for Laddie and Aunt Mary, take my dress to the cleaners, make chicken salad, do some errands and some shopping, balance my checkbook, get more paint to finish up, and pay bills. Blah! That's all I can think of right now, but I know that isn't all.

And we're off...

Well, this morning I'll be "driving Mr. Laddie" to Minden to see his sister, my Aunt Mary (we've been talking about this for weeks, and I've said, "Any day except Saturday). Last night at dinner, he said he wanted to go, and I said, "Great." Then he said, "Tomorrow." And I said, "OK" and thought ...

We called Aunt Mary, and fortunately, she said she would be home around 10-10:30. Whew! Laddie wanted to leave at 7:00!

wandering thoughts

Hot and tired. Taking a break from the yard to post about some things that have been running through my head as I weeded, transplanted, cleaned up.

1. A family anecdote: When Erin was in the first or second grade and little girl popularity and acceptance a great concern, she explained the difference between one of her friends and herself: "Lane is 75 mph, and I'm only 50 mph." An astute observation as Lane's family had lived in that tiny town forever, owned the local bank, and had power, prestige, and money, but were also kind and generous and down-to-earth. Erin was a recent transplant. Lane was absolutely confident and probably rarely questioned her actions, thoughts, or behaviors. Erin was more diffident and always reflective. It was an excellent comparison for the time, and her Dad and I were impressed. Erin continued to pick up speed, of course, and gained in confidence and sometimes now keeping up with her mouth and mind is difficult for me. I'm still chugging along at 55 mph, I'll never quite catch up. She has her father's quick wit, I've never been witty or quick, but I'm a great appreciator of both.

2. Karoda's comments on journals. I, too, have kept written journals since college. I never reread them, they are the epitomy of boredom: to do lists, poems, book titles, recipes, daily grind, etc. The earliest ones mention people that have evaporated from my memory. All of them contain the angst K. mentions, and rants and self-pity and remarks that were never intended to be read. I keep thinking that I'll destroy them... after going through and pulling out the important things: Amelia saying, " Look, Mama, the moon is broken!" or Erin's "I've got an idid!" (idea) The time Erin shut Amelia's fingers in the back door, the first visits to Santa, the birthdays, all those little moments that have value. But I have not yet gotten around to it and suspect that I will never be able to go through them all. A dilemma.

3. Blogging and the Flat World. Deborah and Karoda have commented on the importance of blogging and both of them mentioned aspects of blogging that appeal to me as well. As I continue, oh.so.slowly, to make my way throught Friedman's The World Is Flat, I see the communication barriers that have been erased in the blogging world. The creative minds and talented people, the innovative ideas, the new designs, the inventive techniques, the modern tools, improved materials, the imaginative challenges that are available to all of us so quickly and easily.... The inspiration to be found in various blogs goads and motivates us; we aspire to more. If there is no local community of like-minded people or stores that stock the new tools and materials - the blogs become the community, the internet the source of supplies. Marvelous, really, yet I have begun to take it for granted.

All directions

Our spare bedroom is a complete mess. Fee took the carpet out in preparation for painting the room and putting in new carpet, and then got sidetracked with work and taxes. Now, it needs immediate attention in anticipation of a visit from out daughter and her family. I'm a nervous wreck.

Yesterday, I got out the sunprint stuff and made an effort. Walked outside with the painted fabric and toured the yard for leaves, holding the board with the fabric with one hand and grabbing leaves and placing them with the other. Why didn't I gather and press the leaves first, or decide on an arrangement? Good question. I'm not at all happy with it except that it worked! But I only used a small piece of fabric, so it goes into the experiment folder...

Made this little lady with scraps. Used a Prismacolor pen for her mouth - which bled into a mess. Have no idea why I even made this except that I am just not doing anything and wanted to have fabric in hand.

The strips that are still on the design board are going nowhere, and I need to work on them, but won't for some reason. And I've not been able to decide how to do my April JQ. Really need to make up my mind about that and get started. If I wait until the very last minute, the joy goes out of it.

Have you noticed how quiet things are on the blogging front? I guess everyone is busy with Easter prep and gardens and generally enjoying the spring weather. Hard to stay inside when the sun is shining and the temperatures are just right.

Even our Tai Chi in the park group has been hit or miss lately. Feeling of deprivation set in when a week goes by without being able to get there. Thomas and Beth don't get to as many formal classes anymore, so if I don't make it to the park, I don't see them. Nina does usually come on Saturday, but she missed last Saturday. Jimmy and I are the regulars during official class time.

Spring is such a lovely time of year, but the distractions are everywhere, and to take Fran's comment on Debra's blog and reapply it, I try "to get on my horse and ride off madly in all directions." Not surprisingly, I don't get far. I want to sew, work in the garden, go to Tai Chi in the park AND classes; I have to do laundry, various chores, errands, other obligations.

I'm going back outside and pot up some bee balm and lambs ears for Laddie. We spent Saturday afternoon and Sunday visiting various garden centers, buying plants, and planting them in his small garden.

"Poetry is the language

in which man explores his own amazement." Christopher Fry


For the Sleepwalkers

Tonight I want to say something wonderful
for the sleepwalkers who have so much faith
in their legs, so much faith in the invisible

arrow carved into the carpet, the worn path
that leads to the stairs instead of the window,
the gaping doorway instead of the seamless mirror.

I love the way that sleepwalkers are willing
to step out of their bodies into the night,
to raise their arms and welcome the darkness,

palming the blank spaces, touching everything.
Always they return home safely, like blind men
who know it is morning by feeling shadows.
And always they wake up as themselves again.
That's why I want to say something astonishing
like: Our hearts are leaving our bodies.

Our hearts are thirsty black handkerchiefs
flying through the trees at night, soaking up
the darkest beams of moonlight, the music

of owls, the motion of wind-torn branches.
And now our hearts are thick black fists
flying back to the glove of our chests.

We have to learn to trust our hearts like that.
We have to learn the desperate faith of sleep-walkers
who rise out of their calm beds

and walk through the skin of another life.
We have to drink the stupefying cup of darkness
and wake up to ourselves, nourished and surprised.

~ Edward Hirsch ~

This is Henry Duelberg salvia, discovered by horticulturist Greg Grant in an old cemetery surrounding the graves of Henry (d. 1935) and Augusta Duelberg (d. 1903). Maybe Grant named the salvia after Henry because Henry outlived Augusta by 32 years, and the "new" salvia showed similar longevity. Nothing else had survived
the Texas heat and drought, except for this blue salvia. It has been named a Texas Superstar for 2006. I've had it for 3 years and love it for its hardiness and drought tolerance.

Potato vine. Not sweet potato vine which I also love, but a perennial vine given to me by a wonderful gardener who has turned her huge lot into a series of gardens. She dug up a bit, wrapped it in a paper towel, and sent it home with me, where its glory has increased each year.

Gold and Purple

Denver Gold columbine...I love this spring bloomer. It always reminds me of "nothing gold can stay" and puts on its show until the weather starts to warm up, then disappears. I've another columbine which blooms later and lasts longer than the Denver Gold, but doesn't have the effect that Denver Gold has with its cheery yellow.


Love the way this cluster of comfrey blossoms kind of spiral out with its little purple bells and hairy leaves - the delicate and the coarse are such a nice juxtaposition.

Comfrey has enjoyed a long-standing reputation for healing wounds and broken bones. Its very name, a corruption of the Latin "con firma," means "grow together." Similarly, the Latin name, "symphytum," is from the Greek "symphyo," meaning "to unite." In the early 20th century, allantoin, an active ingredient in Comfrey, was frequently prescribed as a remedy for wounds and ulcers. There is considerable justification for this reputation. The allantoin in Comfrey stimulates reproduction of cells, thus promoting the formation of new tissue. Other compounds in Comfrey effectively reduce inflammation and swelling, and a recent trial of Comfrey ointment confirmed its efficacy for certain types of joint paint. Nevertheless, this herb--particularly the root--also contains toxic pyrrolizidine alkaloids that are known to cause cancer in animals, inflict damage on the liver, and harm the digestive tract and the kidneys. Internal use of any part of the plant is therefore ill-advised; and the root should be avoided entirely. (PDR Health)
Comfrey fertilizer: With its' high levels of potash comfrey tea can be used as an excellent fertilizer for tomato, pepper, cucumber and potato plants. The smell while it is "cooking" is strong. Pick a good sized handful of leaves. Place them in a container with enough water to cover the leaves. Cover and let this cook for 4 weeks in cool weather or 2 weeks in hot weather. Then squeeze the leaves to extract as much juice as possible Strain and use at a rate of 1/3 cup 0f comfrey juice to one gallon of water Use as a foliar feed and soil drench around the plants. Put the solid wastes into the compost pile. (Gold Harvest Organics)

Home again, home again, jiggedy jig

Here is Mac, back at home, and (metaphorically) licking his wounds. He is in his bed next to the computer.





And mama robin with a glint in her eye guards the nest, while her partner fusses on the fence.












Variations on a lack of theme.

a rose for Mac (recovering)

This rose -a David Austin- is for Mac who is finally doing better. He had to have surgery for a blockage - which turned out to be threads wrapped around small sticks! Now that he's had the surgery, the pancreatitis is responding as well. Whew! It's been a long week.


I'm finally working on something...not sure what. I'm playing with solids in a kind of Denise Schmidt or Nancy Crow style.

Sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast. ~Lewis Carroll

Poetry Thursday- denise levertov

The Secret

Two girls discover
the secret of life
in a sudden line of
poetry.

I who don't know the
secret wrote
the line. They
told me

(through a third person)
they had found it
but not what it was,
not even

what the line was. No doubt
by now, more than a week
later, they have forgotten
the secret,

the line, the name of
the poem. I love them
for finding what
I can't find,

and for loving me
for the line I wrote,
and for forgetting it
so that

a thousand times, till death
finds them, they may
discover it again, in other
lines,

in other happenings. and for
wanting to know it,
for

assuming there is such a secret, yes,
for that
most of all.

-Denise Levertov

Mock Orange and Robins

I love mock orange; it puts on such a show in the spring. Unfortunately, mine doesn't have the lovely scent. Should get another variety that has the heavenly fragrance.

Still stuck in "sewer's block," unable to muster the energy to make decisions about which project and which fabrics. So many other things are crowding my mind right now, that when I try to decide on a project, my anxiety goes up, and I abandon ship. This too will pass...always does. Usually, this time of year means all day in the garden, but I'm facing the same wishy-washy, can't decide what to do where, too much to do, overwhelmed, frustrated mind-set there as well. Yesterday, I made a list of things that need to be done and decided to just begin going down the list, regardless of importance. Priorities require decision making. Just...list what I see and work on the list one item at a time. That helped.

I worked back and forth on the house list and garden list and got a bunch done. Accomplishments, however small, spur the motivation to do more.

A robin has built a nest by our outside light and fusses at me frequently if she thinks I'm paying too much attention. Have been unable to get a picture of her on the nest, because when I have the camera and get close, she moves to the tree or fence and lets me know how unhappy she is. Hope to eventually manage to catch her on the nest...

Lonely Monday

Mac isn't coming home today after all. Dr. Core is back and says Mac is settling down again, but had another episode of vomiting. He is such a little fellow, and I don't feel as confident as I did on Saturday morning.

Going to Tai Chi in the park for stress relief. And aroma therapy - scented geranimum (pergolarium).

"a thank-you on my palm"

Welcome Morning

There is joy
in all:
in the hair I brush each morning,
in the Cannon towel, newly washed,
that I rub my body with each morning,
in the chapel of eggs I cook
each morning,
in the outcry from the kettle
that heats my coffee
each morning,
in the spoon and the chair
that cry “hello there, Anne”
each morning,
in the godhead of the table
that I set my silver, plate, cup upon
each morning.

All this is God, right here in my pea-green house
each morning
and I mean
though often forget, to give thanks,
to faint down by the kitchen table
in a prayer of rejoicing
as the holy birds at the kitchen window
peck into their marriage of seeds.

So while I think of it,
let me paint a thank-you on my palm
for this God, this laughter of the morning,
lest it go unspoken.

The Joy that isn’t shared, I’ve heard,
dies young.

--Anne Sexton

Poor Mac

Yesterday morning, Mac wasn't feeling well. I checked his bedding and found where he had thrown up that foamy bile stuff during the night. Decided to watch and see if it was a temporary stomach upset before calling the vet. He wouldn't eat the rice I fixed him and continued to be lethargic, so I called the vet and took him in fearing pancreatitis...again. He had to have some blood tests, and they confirmed it. He is staying over the weekend and will have an IV to deliver fluids as he was dehydrated. Poor baby. He was just fine on Thursday, but Friday morning, sick as the proverbial dog. I will call and check on him after 8:00.

Yesterday's sprinkles lasted less than 30 minutes and then the sun came out. A beautiful day, even if I couldn't enjoy it for worrying about Mac.

Took Laddie to Imperial Cathay and split the "Sizzeling Delight" (which he and Mother always ate). He likes the seafood, and I like the snow peas and broccoli so it works out well. We each had a glass of wine, which made it easier to sleep when I got home. Fee should be home today.