since birth

The day I turned 16 we were packing to leave the only home I had known. My father would not let me tell anyone the news of our move until he had announced it to his congregation. My very best friend was on her family vacation at the time. I remember writing a letter that would be waiting her arrival back home, so she would hear the news from me first. We had been friends since I was born, if that's possible! She was six months older, and "waiting for me" in the church nursery when my mother first brought me there. Our parents were friends and colleagues. Maybe that's why we formed an instant attachment. The first 16 years of our lives we were inseparable. Then I moved away, and at the same time she began dating a young man she would later marry. I came back to be in their wedding; she missed mine as her first child was due on our wedding date.

We've always kept in touch, and seen each other occasionally over the years. We've been e-mailing quite a bit this year as it is the centennial anniversary of the church we grew up in, where she has attended all her life. We are having a ball scanning in old photos and remembering ...

Last week we had dinner with S. and her husband in their home. I was amazed. The starters, the meal, the dessert, her china and table setting, her love of blue and white ... could have been mine. I told her I felt like I was at home. How could we be so alike? We happen to both in the middle of three sisters, we're both nurses, we both are the care-givers to our parents, we both have ended up being writers, and editors ... we both have tall husbies ... and so the comparisons could go on.

It's interesting to think about what our friendship would be like if I had never moved. Even so, we've kept close, writing letters, cards at birthdays and holidays. It's one of those friendships where you just pick up where you left off. What a joy. But I'm still pondering our visit. I think what tickled me the most was when she offered cheese as a topping on her apple pie. That is my favorite, but when I suggest it, people here in the south look at me like I'm a bit crazeee.

5:02

Forty-one years ago I marched with my friends out into a garden surrounded by the sky scrapers of Manhattan. In a minuscule post-60s rebellion we trimmed our uniform hemlines to the knees. It was a proud moment in my life as I walked up to receive my B.S. degree in nursing, starched cap pinned to the back of my head. The crisp uniforms, white stockings and caps are long gone, and this week, after gainfully using that degree for all but 6 of these 41 years, I pack away my scrubs--the uniforms of today.

The scrubs are just the smallest symbol of the changes that I've seen come to my beloved profession over these many years. Bureaucracy has imposed itself in more ways than I care to be a part of any more. Time for patient care seems short changed by "progress" and there's no going back to how things used to be. But I think the exhausting 12 hour shifts is what sealed the deal for me. It is time to go.

And so such a sobering time has come to me. For my nursing was never just a job, it was a life calling to the very core of my being. Since a small child, I dreamed of being a nurse. I went to a very competitive nursing school so graduating was a huge success for me.  Over the years I have loved making patients more comfortable, helping their families cope, and in the last 24 years, I've enjoyed a job helping new moms learn how to breastfeed and care for their wee ones. Working in a big city hospital has provided enough human interest stories to fill a book. And so I will miss it as I retire this week. It's a bit like having an arm cut off. It will be an ache for a long time.

But I will adjust. Of course I have a long list of long neglected projects needing to be done and friends to have coffee with. My mother needs more attention, I long to spend more time with our grandchildren, and I look forward to continuing to encourage younger women.

My bedside alarm clock has been set to 5:02 for many, many years. Set so I would wake to the weather of the day and then the traffic, anticipating the early morning commute. My guess is the alarm may not always stay at that time, but it's my internal clock that will continue to wake me before dawn.

for Missy

 A blogging "buddy" of many years suggested I get rid of the "white monster"
(see post below re. Monument to Patience"), remove tomatoes, and take another photo. 

That was easier said than done, but here it is, M., in its full morning glory.

Then, playing with my camera, I thought, why not embrace the whiteness?
So, here we are. Call this "Hydrangeas on white with two antique chairs."
Speaking of antiques, I'm feeling like one today. Yesterday I worked 14 1/2 hours
caring for wee ones from 34 weeks to 37 weeks to full-termers, whose moms
were tucked in spare rooms all over the maternity floor. 

We are so busy with new little lives,  and there isn't even a full moon.

After a day like that I am in recovery mode for the next 24 hours. Thus the camera play.

This marvelous, also antique, vase currently has the seat of honor on the dining room table. 

It was a 50th wedding anniversary gift from my grandparents to my grandmother's parents. 

I'm guessing it's at least 80 years old. It came to my parents when my grandmother 

"broke up housekeeping," and then to me when my mother "broke up housekeeping." 

Such a strange, old fashioned expression. Have you heard it before?

after the mow

 Mowing today was a challenge. The Gardener put the mower at the highest setting since 

we have just recently aerated and seeded (necessary every fall here in the south -- maintaining 

a lawn is a constant battle.) So it was hard to tell where I had mowed. 

 I did a few swirls (vee) and probably left some undone.

 But after I had worked up a good sweat I noticed a few presents left for me by the Mow Fairy.

Yes we are still harvesting tomatoes, but never have we this late in the season. Picture perfect!

And hydrangeas? A bush full? Never before that I remember. 

I was surprised by beauty this morning,

(and pleased to see the baby new blades of grass bravely peeking out of the soil).

Simple pleasures!

And the large item taking over my dining room, covered by a sheet? 

My Monument to Patience. 

It's been there all summer while a room was vacated; now waiting patiently for 

some small repairs, and then I will flourish the paint brush and move in the bed.

 I'm hoping for next week!

city in the rain

 It's been years since I've been in Chicago proper --- just a 

stone's throw from where I grew up. 

But I found myself there the end of last week and
remembered what a friendly city it is ... and so easy to get around.  

While our husbands were absorbed in meetings, a friend and 

I took the train in and looked around, drank a coffee,

and did the Art Museum (which I've never seen before with 

an artist ... wow did she teach me a lot!)

I seemed to have new eyes to see things,

and this is one of my new favorites.

 I popped out of the museum to walk a few blocks to eat lunch 

 with my sister who works in a very tall building. 

It was a cloudy day and turned into a rainy day. I didn't mind it a bit.

 In fact, I loved walking in the (chilly) rain! 

  The lights came on and the reflection on the pavement was beautiful.

 We crammed a lot into the weekend and I'm a tad tired 

 but am enjoying catching up on my blog reading!

when will I ever learn?

This is my "go to" window in the front of our house: it's good for checking playing children, the weather, cul de sac activity, if the mail has arrived, if guests have arrived ... and you get the idea. When we had the disastrous tree limb fly through another window in front, it became necessary to get replacement windows.






They'd been badly needed but put off and put off again. I love my wood windows with the panes ... and hated to see them go, but you can't have one odd new window in front, can you? Well I guess you can but ... I was also concerned the windows were a different white than the house trim.

So I was fussing about the loss of the old, decaying windows I hold so dear. I was away the day they "popped out" the old ones and "popped in" the new ones.

Why do we fuss and not trust? Or I should say, why do I fuss and not trust?

The windows look just fine. Actually good. And I barely notice a difference. I almost can't wait to clean them, they will be so easy! I don't miss the old brown metal storm windows either. and yes, already, our power bill is lower.  Sigh. Will I ever learn just to take what comes?

Making a Difference in the Day

I like to read a bit from the writings of Amy C*rmichael as often as I can.  She was a little lady who lived out her life caring for orphans in India. She had much to say about life. When she talks about cherishing thankfulness it causes me to stop and ponder. I try to be thankful, but do I really cherish the concept, and make it so much a part of life that being thankful is a thing dear to me?

Amy frequently gives a good illustration of small things to be thankful for: "I have come more and more to watch those minute touches of the love and forethought of our Father which are shown in the smallest things of life, such as the coming of a flower, a message, a picture, a letter, a book; the touch of a loving hand, the look in loving eyes, the tones in loving voices--things too small to tell, but making such a difference in our day."

Lunch out

Al fresco dining ... on individual balconies. The waiter pops out the shutter-type door to serve or check on diners. The views are of the river, and wharf, and the tops of pedestrians' heads. Looks like a fun place to eat on the NC coast. But I didn't.

go rain

Go rain!  As in, a cheer for the rain we need. But on this particular day I was wishing it would really "go." I ran into a big box store for just a few things when the sun was shining. A scattering of clouds looked like they were predicting some weather, but it was, after all,  only a quick visit. I came out to the most torrential rain that I've seen in a   l   o   n  g  time.  I waited calmly, thinking it would certainly blow over in a minute. But it didn't. So what does one do in such a situation?

Re-bag the groceries so they are rain protected. That includes purse. Go back and ask for more bags, thinking head cover. Wait. Watch others and what they do. Wait some more. Take a few pictures. Check email and FB. Call home. Wait, beginning to be concerned about the cold food in the heat.  How long can a torrential downpour last?

Finally, almost 30 minutes later, the slightest lull. I fashion a rain hat out of a plastic bag and head to my car, thankful for sandals as I wade through deep water.  Dripping wet and thinking an umbrella would not have helped.

Nothing much to learn here; it is what it was.












Please visit Mary's Little Red House to enjoy other mosaics.

keeping track

When I'm living right, I try to keep my focus on the positive. On gratitude. I look around at small things and big things that I'm grateful for. And yes, even difficult things, for there's usually good lessons there.  I have a little book where I try to keep track. It's a good exercise to write them down, and I can feel so humbled when I realize all there is to be thankful for.

Today I wrote down: "The constant encouragement of the 'Gardener.'" And, "A whole day with Little B." (yes, that's a day with my granddaughter today!) And, "The sound of crickets." As I sat on the porch this morning, they were as loud as ever. As much as I hate to meet them face-to-face, they do bring a comforting sound in the summer. It's the details I like to notice. Makes for a good start to the day.

city walk

Took a walk in a new park near the center of our city. Much beauty to see!  

See photo below in case you're wondering about the image in the lower right corner!

Linking to Mary's Little Red House for Mosaic Mondays!

once upon a post-script

I was touched at the number of you who affirmed my blog after my last post. I honestly wasn't out for that ... I was writing more about how I think I have nothing more to say, think about shutting down, and then something more comes along. Maybe that's the surprise pleasure (one of them at least) of blogging.

Anyway I did appreciate the comments because I don't have much confidence in myself, so it was nice to know some appreciate what I try to do here! Thanks! I also have had a very busy summer and find the creative juices flow less easily when life has a full plate. Big deadlines at work, helping both sons move and settle in new houses, adjusting to a new computer and design program, as well as a stubborn sinus infection have made it an unusual summer.

But I love "hope" --- what would life be like without it? And I have high hopes for the coming fall season. I'm hoping life will be simpler and I'm working to make it so.

once upon a post

Every so often I think it's time to put the "closed" sign on this blog. 

After nearly seven years, what more is there to say. But it's no secret that I have a

 pretty active mind. I don't need to listen to the radio when I drive. 

Yesterday when I arrived at work I could barely remember the drive, 

I had so much I was thinking about.

So this is how it happens. I walk through the kitchen and spot my red onion.

 I love to leave these in full view and consider them a simple, cheap,

 and beautiful additon to my home decor.  What a pop of color.

My mind began to consider how the simple things in life can bring us 

such enjoyment.  Such as a red onion. 

"Now, that might make an interesting post. I'd at least love to take a few pictures." 

The camera is always nearby. I took no more than five minutes to take the pictures, 

off load them onto the computer, and then another five to "edit" them

 (make them look more beautiful.) As I did that I wondered why we 

get such a kick out of close-ups in photos of things we can enjoy close up by just 

leaning in closer to look at the actual thing. 

Maybe it's just me, but I do love those close-up shots!

I put the images to my desk top and let them settle there for a day or two. 

Meanwhile in a tiny corner cupboard of my mind, I considered 

what I might say with these photos.

Another day, after I finished with some other computer work, 

I took a "creative break" and switched over to Podso's dashboard to write this post. 

I left it there in draft to simmer for awhile and edit it a time or two. And here we are. 

I guess Podso is not closed down yet.

How do your posts work?

quickie visit

Another drive by (camera) shot ... in the old city of Wilmington, NC near the beach. 

I simply love old houses and this one caught my eye. It would be so nice 

if I had a friend who lived in this house and she invited me for a visit.

 I just don't think 15 minutes would be long enough, do you?

Red Blocks

I think my father's love of bricks became mine. He loved brick streets and brick walls especially. And yes, built us a red brick house the year I was born. I remember so well watching bricks being made by hand out in the African countryside––a huge basin full of red clay slapped and smoothed into a rustic wood forms. And set to bake in the hot sun. Not all that different from making bread or cakes, really.

And what could be prettier than brick steps to leading to such a welcoming door?

Joining in Mary's Monday Mosaic at Little Red House. Visit to see more!

Lightening strikes . . . again and again ....

I was putting a load of wash in early one morning before heading to eldest's house to do some painting (I am the official family painter). A little white moth began to dive bomb around my head. At least one side of my head. It's no secret that I don't like things with wings flying inside my house ... birds, moths, bats ....  Nor do I like the surprise of little jumpers like crickets, which remind me of small frogs. But I digress.

The gardener was nearby and I called for him to help while I continued to load the washer. "Get this little moth, would you? He won't leave me alone." As the "moth" continued to fly at me, the gardener insisted I was imagining it. I twisted the dial to start the machine and turned off the light. It was barely dawn. I then realized I was seeing arcs of lightening to the side of my right eye. Not a little white moth. 

I was tired, I hadn't slept well after a busy weekend at work. I was sure the flashes were due to fatigue and would go away. The day got brighter and it seemed they were gone as I gave a second coat of paint to son's bathroom. I was so relieved. But I did keep watching for "clouds" or a "curtain" to fall over my eye (classic symptoms of retinal detachment, which I knew could be what I was dealing with).

Unfortunately as dusk approached later that day, I was disheartened to note the lightening reappeared and continued into the next morning.  I called the eye doctor and they said I must come in a.s.a.p., and they fit me in with a retinal specialist for that very afternoon. I began to be scared and started feeling a heaviness in my eye. Or was it my imagination?

After a two hours of waiting and varied exams, the Gardener and I left the doctors elated and very grateful that my eye was OK.  I only had PVD, "Posterior Vitreous Detachment." Totally age-related. Imagine that (hear sarcasm). And the heaviness in my eye? The doc looked gently into my fully dilated eyes and agreed it might be related to my reading about such a symptom. Imagination is my strong suit.

After a quick bite to eat we stopped by my mothers for a visit. We walked her down to the sun porch. It wasn't long after we settled in for a visit that a big storm arrived. Lightening flashed and thunder roared. I had a double dose of lightening it seemed. It struck again and again ... in the sky and in my eye. It reminded me of that old Lou Christie song so popular in the 60s ... remember it?  "There's a chapel in the pines . . ." Going on to the chorus, "Lightening strikes again and again ..."  My new theme song. (My symptoms may or may not go away, but I am already getting used to them.)

And note: If you ever experience such a thing, do not delay in calling  your eye doctor, just in case.

escape

Photo cards this month from posts several years ago of summer vacations 

in the mountains, and the lighthouse, obviously, at the beach!

Please visit A Haven for Vee for her monthly notecard party...a favorite of mine!

simply beachy

 We had not been to the beach at summer time in years. So the Gardener and
I slipped away in the middle of the week to use our choice hotel deal for two nights.
We had such a good time: walking on the beach,
 touring an old city by trolley; eating at interesting places, and ....

... walking around a Family Amusement park. It was mainly
for small children and we thoroughly enjoyed watching the excitement on
young faces and their exhausted parents. We actually felt somehow OK with the
 fact that those days were over for us! In fact one guy walked passed us
and said, "Wow, it looks like such fun to just sit and watch!"

Unfortunately our neighbor phoned us the last day to let us know a large limb 

had flown down from a tall tree and entered our house via the front window. 

So we rushed home to clean up before another storm arrived. 

Thankfully it's only the window ... 

Excuse the phone photos!

in the grocery line

It was her hands I noticed first, as she helped to load her groceries from counter into cart. Strong, aged, arthritic and obviously used to hard work. Firm but gentle. I could see them kneading dough and I could see them tenderly stroking the golden hair of a child. The kind of hands I love to watch.

Her gray hair was pulled back into a soft bun. She was tall and trim, dressed in black slacks and shirt, with a small black apron. Maybe she was coming home from work. Her groceries told me she was stocking up on supplies and that she cooked from scratch. She smiled readily and talked casually with the clerk.

Soft wrinkles lined her face. She exuded maturity, confidence, and at the same time apparently not concerned that she wasn't wearing the latest style, or that her hair had gone gray. She had reached that stage of life where she was comfortable with who she was.

As she headed out of the store, grocery bags piled high in her cart, I moved up to the counter. I wanted to follow her home and have a cup of tea at her kitchen table. I think I could learn things from her.

It was just one of those moments that I haven't forgotten.

(not my photo)

a first

I enjoyed a little recital when Little One finished a week at ballet camp. It was a lot of 

singing, hand motions, and a few twirls. Lots of fun. Little Brother seemed to take it all 

in. The busy activity and a few gold fish kept him entertained.

It came to me that this was a first ... of many. We are blessed to have our little ones in town. 

Joy.

Joining Mary's Little Red House for Mosaic Monday.