WordSisters

Tag: gardens

  • The Company of Others

    Six of us sitting around a table in a nice restaurant. Maybe as much as twenty years difference between the youngest and oldest. We don’t ask about age. Fish tacos, salads, a burger ordered. A few look tired, most are having a good day. One open chair because someone had to work.

    Serious personal challenges stir under the calm surface of at least a couple of the women, but those may remain unnamed. Before talk turns to general interests, pictures of grandchildren pass around the table spreading the happiness tiny ones generate. Dogs and landscaping photos are admired. We are inspired to share our own child-rearing and volunteer work with young kids, funny stories of pets, grumbles about critters eating hostas and geraniums and hydrangeas. We relax in the warmth of our regular monthly gathering before iced tea and sodas are delivered. Much later our discussion may move to deeper topics. Usually move to deeper topics.

    I can’t speak about how the guys gathering for breakfast on Thursday mornings settle into their friend time. I’ve watched out of the corner of my eye more than once. They’re drinking coffee, eating large amounts of food, laughing, listening quietly, voices loud then back to conversational level. Back pats as they leave. Most digging keys out of pockets as they head two by two to the exit.

    We don’t leave as best friends forever, but we carry away a small piece of caring for each other, a bit of comfort from the time passed together, reminders that we are not on the journey alone. 

    This is my first blog written without the presence of Rocky, our family companion, who passed in August. He also appreciated the company of others.

  • Tending the Garden

    On walks through the Arizona neighborhood where we are staying, many yards have been let go because of the severe ongoing drought. Prickly pear cacti that often look plump and rosy are shriveled and wrinkly. Shrubs and trees are brown and brittle—not dormant, but dead. Here and there, homeowners have planted clumps of yellow and orange flowers. In the struggling landscape these small patches are obviously tended and watered. I understand the wish to cultivate one small burst of joyous color.

    My husband and I are grateful for our escape from Minnesota’s frigid cold (-11 degrees air temps the morning we left). While here, I could easily drift into wondering about our sons, their wives, and our granddaughters (everyone’s OK, but thinking about them is a hard habit to shake). Dismay and foreboding about our democracy remain a dark undertow. 

    However, my husband and I are mindful we are lucky to be getting away, so we tamp down those concerns and tend to our joy. Notice the sun on our shoulders, blue sky and high wispy clouds. Hazy mountains in the distance. Soft 75 degree breezes. The pleasure of patio dining and hearing birdsong again.  

    We take the break. Turn toward happiness. Are almost carefree.

  • 16 ½ Things I Love About Summer

    1. Early morning walks around the neighborhood (a.k.a. my own tour of gardens).

    2. Strawberries, peaches, and cucumbers with dill in sour cream. Burgers/brats/shish kabobs on the grill. Homegrown tomatoes and sweet corn in August.

    2 1/2.  Picking fresh herbs from my patio pots: basil for caprese salad, fresh mint for mojitos, and cilantro for quesadillas.

    3. Waking up to birdsong at 5:30. Being awake and refreshed when hardly anybody else is up. Adding that extra hour to my day.

    Mears Park, St. Paul

    4. Cutting through Mears Park, along the man-made stream on the way to the St. Paul Farmer’s Market on weekends.

    5. Walking to get an ice cream cone from the Grand Old Creamery.

    6. Feeling bathroom tile that’s pleasantly cool to my bare feet—not frigid—so I don’t have to hop from one throw rug to the next.

    7. Sunning with a book and swimming at Schulze Lake in Lebanon Hills Park.

    8. Grabbing Wednesday night supper from the food trucks at the Nokomis Farmer’s Market.

    9. Fireflies in late June.

    10. L o o o n n g days that stay light past 9:30 p.m.

    11. Heat lightning.

    12. Road trips—leaving early with a sack full of snacks and a cooler packed with cold drinks. Passing rippling fields of impossibly green corn and soybeans. Pink, purple, yellow, and white wildflowers tumbling across ditches.

    13. Drinking wine and reading after dark on the front porch.

    Powderhorn Art Fair, Minneapolis

    14. Art fairs bursting with jewelry to adorn me and artwork to adorn our home.

    15. Outdoor dining at area restaurants—in hidden shady gardens, improvised patios framed by flower pots, or even at tables three feet away from traffic.

    16. Drinking beer (don’t tell the park rangers) around the campfire we don’t really need and seeing a breathtaking number of stars come out overhead.