Lily Pad Season

Two of the ponds in the places I go for walks have been wet enough in the heat of Summer to sustain flowers on the lily pads.    

I find them magical.   

In year when so much has felt difficult and worrisome, I have appreciated the splendor of Summer more than ever.    

That’s happy!

In Praise of New Jersey

On Monday, a major water main in my corner of New Jersey broke, as 100 year old water mains will sometimes do.  The water authority notified us at once and a boil water order went into effect.  On Tuesday, while the boil water notice held, we were notified of places to pick up a case of bottled drinking water.  I drove over to one of the 6 locations and in less than five minutes, a case of water was loaded into my car.  The staff and I exchanged the standard Jersey “take care” message and I was home in 10 minutes.

New Jersey gets something of a bad rap nationally and the traffic is as bad as you’ve been led to imagine.  But there are pockets of extraordinary beauty all over this state and our government is good - smart (because it’s mostly Democrats who run the show), responsive, caring, organized, and not prone to bullshit or lies.  

As pandemic stupidity and anti-vaxing rages in the vast fly-over parts of this nation, I have grown to appreciate New Jersey more than ever.  The people here are a community; we look after and try to do right by one another.  

I’ll take it.

The Joys of a Simmering Crock Pot

A few summers back, I saw a recipe for summer corn chowder on the  Southern Living Instagram feed.  This chowder is made in a crock pot and uses fresh corn, two things that I can always get behind.  The taste is full-on amazing, so that’s a third advantage.

I made the soup yesterday and the smell of the crock pot in the afternoon, plus the promise of a supper that could simply be ladled out when we were ready to eat, made for a happy afternoon.

Try it for yourself.  

Trying Again

The blog and I have been on an extended dance mix break in the past few months and I can’t really explain why this is the case.  I have a few ideas, of course, because if there is one thing I have perfected in the pandemic, it is over-thinking everything.

My best guess is that a hand-written journal took the space of the digital journal during the pandemic.  In March 2020, I began a daily Covid journal that was a hand-written affair and I think that some of my writing energy went there.  For months of this trial of a time, thinking about the pandemic and how to handle it at school (not to mention teach hybrid, teach remote, or, frankly, teach at all) consumed a lot of my time and energy.  In my free time, I turned to books as a distraction from the near-constant worrying.  In late June of 2021, when it seemed that my steadily vaccinating part of the nation was starting to re-emerge (pre-Delta variant in the U.S., of course), I converted the handwritten pandemic journal to a weekly update.  That has freed up time for me to write for the blog.  Why it took me another six weeks to start up postings is rather a mystery, but here we are.

If the pandemic has taught me anything valuable, it’s to go easy on myself and so for this re-start, I am not planning to back fill with postings that were begun or written while I was not posting regularly.  I will just begin and hope to continue.  Come to think of it, that is the keep-on-keeping-on tactic that has gotten me this far in the pandemic.  As strategies go, it’s not a bad one.

Here we go.

The Joys of April

After an especially hard week, I treated myself to a spa pedicure on Friday afternoon.  Today, while I sat on the front steps getting ready to put on my yard work shoes and cut the grass, I looked at my feet and realized that my summer flip flop tan line hasn’t faded out completely.

There’s something quite hopeful about such a revelation.  In my daydreams of late, I imagine day after day of flip flops and some real time off this summer.  Reservations have been made and my packing list is ready.  That is a most happy prospect for me to contemplate.  In the meantime, April has pink tulips.

Iris blooms.

And lush, green grass to be cut.  Here’s to the first mow of the season and to the many more to follow.

Putting Patriarchy on Notice

When I was a Junior in high school - at age 16 - I complained about the way some male classmates were treating me and the Assistant Principal told me to toughen up; that boys would be boys.

I told him to fuck off.

Yes, that is the language that I used.  He called my dad, who for once used less profanity than I employed.  But my dad stood up for me, though in more diplomatic terms.

The event is cemented in my mind because that was the moment my general desire to leave my hometown became a vow to myself: I would get out.  In those days, patriarchy was inextricably mixed with my understanding of my hometown and it’s old-fashioned ways.  Now, nearly 40 years later, I know that patriarchy isn’t just the condition of small town America, it is the condition of all America.

I am 53 and the willingness of men to continue to demand that women wait their turn and be grateful to simply sit at the table is infuriating.  It’s not all men; it’s not all places.  For example, I couldn’t be more pleased that President Biden has moved so aggressively to promote women and women’s issues in his vision of America.  That it’s not just lip service is truly promising.  

But Biden’s attitude and his willingness to take action is not the approach of every person with power; it’s certainly not the approach of every man in power.  And it’s nowhere near the majority point of view in this nation.  I have grown weary of the struggle; of the fight to have a seat at the table and to be honestly valued when I am there.  

The pandemic has reduced my patience for the disregard and ill-treatment of women.  It has made me think about how I need to restructure my investment in relationships and institutions where patriarchy reigns supreme.  There was once a time when I was willing to play my part and wait it out, convinced that patriarchy was on the wane.  But I am not 16 or 25 or even 40 anymore.  And I am no longer willing to wait.

Hopelessly Behind, Again

Postings have been light of late because, as seems to be my pattern in the past year, I have gotten behind.  I feel sad when I get behind because this blog and the writings that fill it are a source for real happiness to me.  In the coming weeks, I will get half-completed posts to completion and then get them posted.    So please stay tuned, regular readers, updates are coming…..

Flower Whisperer

March is such an expectant month and each year I am convinced that my longing for flowers and blooms has reached a new high.  This year is no exception and when T and I spied crocuses getting ready to bloom last weekend I couldn’t help myself from popping by today.  Things are coming along nicely.

Very nicely indeed.

Spring Adventures: D&R Canal in March

After some cold months, T and I are back to our weekend walks in the woods.  Last weekend, after a few days of unusual warmth, we headed to our favorite spot on the D&R Canal.  We like this location all the time, but especially at twilight this time of the year when the Spring peepers can be heard.  The canal is quiet at twilight and the reflection of the trees is lovely.  The trees are not yet ready to leaf out, but when I look closely the signs of Spring are there.

On this Saturday evening, as we got ready to turn our clocks ahead, the most hopeful sign of Spring was the sound of the peepers. Last year, the state had an 8 pm curfew and we were eager to do our part so we didn’t hear the peepers very much.  This year, feels more hopeful for a lot of reasons but especially because we could hear the peepers as we enjoyed the last of the sunlight.

Tulip Tuesday

The forced bulbs are coming along nicely.  I expect the morning sunlight they receive in this spot is helpful.

Everywhere I go, I keep my eyes peeled for bulbs peeking through the soil.  March is such an expectant month - always - but especially now as I watch fro flowers even as I track the daily vaccines given in my state.  It feels like we are in a race and I hope that we can win.