WordSisters

Author: cmkraack

  • Spiders, Jeans and Apples

    Daylight now plays secondary to darkness. Not the awesome state of Dec. 21, but the gradual nibbling away of four minutes a day of sunlight. That doesn’t sound like a big bite of time until added up and you’re twenty-eight minutes behind the game in taking a walk, taking pictures of the last of summer’s flowers or merely reading without a lamp. 

    Temperatures are also supposed to be heading to lower numbers. The boys will wear shorts until their friends pull out sweats or long jeans. It’s all relative. In March sixty degrees suggests that a sweater can stay in the car or at home. In October someone will pull out a jacket and hat, maybe even gloves, when leaving for work. Spiders find their way into the house, spinning webs where no one wants to see a creepy critter hanging. The hummingbirds are gone, but the geese increase in number, pooping everywhere and honking at ungodly hours.

    Since the pandemic, things have changed. Or maybe it’s my age. Instead of planning a fall and winter wardrobe, I found new black pants, a pair of jeans, a new sweater, and comfortable shoes. A writer’s life is simple without office mates remembering that you’ve worn the same long black turtleneck for a few years. 

    Open the windows for cool sleeping. Bake apple crisp or apple pie or apple cake. Celebrate the passing of mosquitos when walking the old dog. If it wasn’t for November 5, this could be the best time of the year.

  • Work is Work

    This past week I drove a loved family member to cancer radiation treatments, a first for me. One round of appointments was completed which, with agreement of the patient, was celebrated. Staff wearing silly headbands clapped as the patient rang a large bell. Lots of hugs and high fives were exchanged as music chosen by the patient played. Some folks danced. I took pictures for my relative’s wall. 

    Thankfully the media carried Kamala Harris and Tim Walz sharing smiles and high hopes in their political campaign because a lot of people need to see other people enjoying their labors, even twenty seconds of joy. I wouldn’t want their jobs unless something truly despicable was the alternative. I would love to spread some of their positive energy across all whose work is unseen or unknown. Work is work.

    This Labor Day weekend I wish I could embrace every person who works where the emotions and decisions are so immense. For those who hug, shake hands, wear sparkly hair baubles, bring cold water, sit in the quiet of difficult times, may you also find comfort. For people carrying hard news to virtual strangers or closing the doors of valued places, know that emotions projected by the impacted are not personal. It is hard to be on either side of that work.

    For the caregivers, the news bearers, everyone working to keep family alive, building tall buildings, fixing tires, mopping, cooking, gathering eggs whatever honest labor you do, thanks. Even the writers. We’re in this together. Happy Labor Day. 

  • Summertime Expectations

    This time of summer talk turns to tomatoes whenever a few Midwesterners gather. Leaf color, plant height, fruit size, bugs, skin splits suggest gardeners dominating the discussion. The rest of us wait to add our dinner plate observations about juice, pulp, flavor, returning to juiciness. If you like BLTs, caprese salad, a plate of tomato slices, the conversation always features juiciness. A BLT that doesn’t drip some combination of mayo and tomato down the side of the bread is just a sandwich that could be made any time of year.

    We’re having a mediocre tomato harvest in this part of the state. There’s tales about plants growing taller than their gardeners, producing a few blossoms, and two or three golf-ball sized fruit that stay green. More people had plants that developed brown leaves on the lower stem and minimum blossoms or fruit. A friend who usually pushes tomatoes and cucumbers on anyone who comes near his house has had about eighteen tomatoes this year from a half dozen plants. 

    The juice factor isn’t ranking as well as past years either. Caprese salad at a very good Italian restaurant last week had solid, almost too solid, tomato slices. Firm texture and minimal taste. Farmers market tomatoes had woody white streaks throughout the insides. The experts say these are signs of stressed plants as well as highly humid conditions during the wrong time of the season.

    So our tomatoes are stressed. That condition we all understand. So many things out of our control, but we all do our best to do our best. Makes me feel kind of bad for dissing tomato plant output. At this time of summer, optimism for awesome fresh produce dishes stays high. Heading back to the market to bring home new tomatoes with great expectations. Maybe the plants found a happier time later in the growing season to forget their stress.