May Showers Bring????

May has been a depressing month in New York.  Cloudy days have far outnumbered those with blue skies and sunshine, and "April showers" have continued on almost a daily basis -- often in the form of steady, heavy rains.  While our plight is not as serious as that of the Mississippi flooding, rivers and lakes are at record heights, and many homes along the shores are flooded.  After a particularly cold and snowy winter, we were looking forward to spring -- the joke is on us!!  The cool, rainy weather has been particularly beneficial to the weeds in my garden.  My feeling of accomplishment after weeding last week is somewhat lessened today as I see once again fluorishing weeds throughout the garden.  The grass has grown inches since we mowed, and the entire yard has an unkempt look.  I love my free-flowing natural garden, but if the rains continue, the weeds will be more plentiful than the flowers. 

There are treasures to be enjoyed -- my neighbor's little arbor garden is a Monet masterpiece, with bleeding hearts and forget-me-nots blooming their hearts out.  My own bleeding hearts are gorgeous, and the ferns around my little pond are lush and enchanting.  Despite the extra rainfall, my herbs are doing well, and my love of gardening and cooking brings great joy as I cut fresh herbs for omelets on lazy Sunday mornings, and add them to sauces simmering on the stove.  Fresh herbs add texture and  flavor to every dish they enhance.  

Of course, I am fortunate to live on high ground -- many gardens along the rivers and lakes are under water.  The lovely homes along these waters that we envy on beautiful summer days are paying a huge toll this year for their proximity to the normally peaceful waters.  

I am also blessed with a spirit that isn't depressed by long bouts of clouds and rain.  In fact, I love the patter of raindrops, and the coziness of the house on a chilly, cloudy day.  Of course, I miss early morning coffee on the porch with sunshine filtering through the trees, and puttering in the garden at will.  I am tired of wet shoes and soggy sweatshirts, and towels that never feel completely dry.  I desperately want to plant some zinnia seeds around my mailbox, but must wait because one rainy deluge will wash the tiny seeds down the street.  I haven't planted my tiny impatiens in the windowboxes and planters, because I worry that they will be floating in the soil.  

Maybe Memorial Day Weekend will be our turning point.  Maybe by then the sun will come out for more than a half hour at a time.  Maybe I can spend a day planting my seeds and tending the gardens. Maybe the waters will recede so our waterfront neighbors will be able to determine the extent of damage to their homes and gardens and begin to return to normalcy.  And maybe I will be able to stand in the sunshine to watch the Memorial Day Parade in our little town.

  

A Profusion of Lilacs

Tonight my white ironstone pitcher sits in the middle of the kitchen table, filled with abundant free-spirited purple lilacs; the scent of spring has overtaken this old house. 

This has been a stressful week -- we filed for our bankruptcy on Monday, and face losing so much that we have worked very hard for over the years.  I am worried, upset, angry -- tumultuous feelings that have unsettled my spirit.

This afternoon, though, Alivia and I walked up the street to a lovely stand of lilacs in her other grandmother's back yard.  Pruning shears in hand, we gathered our incredibly beautiful bounty of heaven, holding them lovingly as they spilled over our arms, soaking in their scent as we worked.

I tell everyone that roses are my favorite flower, but as I gather these vivacious lilacs, I realize that they are truly my first love.  Their arrival each spring is a precious occasion.  Their abundant bloom is a gift -- their scent soothes my soul -- and because they are so short-lived, they remind us to enjoy life "in the moment."  They are here in all of their beauty for a few days, and then gone until next year --

We brought them home, cut their stems, and immersed them in water -- their glorious blooms will bring joy to my soul while they are here -- a blessed abundance that must be enjoyed now.

I was reminded of a poem that touched my heart:

Stealing Lilacs

A guaranteed miracle,
it happens for two weeks each May,
this bounty of riches
where McMansion, trailer,
the humblest driveway
burst with color -- pale lavender,
purple, darker plum --
and glorious scent.
This morning a battered station wagon
drew up on my street
and a very fat woman got out
and started tearing branches
from my neighbor's tall old lilac --
grabbing, snapping stems, heaving
armloads of purple sprays
into her beater.
A tangle of kids' arms and legs
writhed in the car.
I almost opened the screen door
to say something,
but couldn't begrudge her theft,
or the impulse
to steal such beauty.
Just this once,
there is enough for everyone -- "Stealing Lilacs," by Alice N. Persons

Happy Mothers' Day

Mothers' Day this year will be bittersweet.  My mother-in-law is no longer with us, so this will be my first Mothers' Day with no "mother" to celebrate -- placing flowers on her grave is no substitute for seeing her eyes light up with pleasure for a special gift.  The gift of my brand new granddaughter, Emma, is the highlight of my own Mothers' Day this year, though.

As always, Mothers' Day is one of my favorite holidays for pondering and remembering.  I was fortunate to be raised by a loving mother and additionally blessed to have my grandmother living with us throughout my childhood.  The unconditional love of two "mothers" is truly a gift to a little girl.  Both my mother and grandmother have been gone from my life now for a long time, but their words echo in my heart every day.  I am thankful for the loving bonds we shared and for their patience and encouragement in shaping the mother and grandmother I have become. 

I give thanks for my Aunt Irene, also gone from my life now, but forever a part of lovely childhood memories.  While raising two daughters of her own, she always had time to listen to and love her nieces. 

My Aunt Bonnie is still a loving presence in my life.  She has a large flock of children, step-children, grandchildren, nieces & nephews, and children of her heart that she loves and prays for.  I am particularly grateful to her for holding us all in her heart.

And now, I have a new generation of mothers to be thankful for -- my two daughters-in-law, who have blessed me with four precious grandchildren.  Tomorrow morning we will gather together for brunch, to celebrate our special day.  There is nothing more wonderful than to be surrounded by your children and grandchildren on Mothers' Day. 

Motherhood is a gift in itself, and those of us who were "well-mothered" ourselves are doubly blessed.  How wonderful it is to have a special day set aside to celebrate the mothers in our lives.  

Can We Improve TV

In mid-April I had dental surgery and spent most of my week snuggled into my living room chair -- ice packs, hot packs and soft foods abundant.  This is not the way I would have preferred to spend my "spring vacation" from the grandbabies.  My usually hectic days came to an abrupt stop when I returned from the dentist with my swollen face and pain medicine.  My resultant drug haze made reading and writing difficult, so I was left with no choice but to watch TV for hours on end.  I do not  enjoy many TV programs, so the multitude of cable choices do not tempt me.  However, this week of television viewing provided me with time to really think about the programming available to our society and its negative influence on our children.

Coincidentally, recently I watched an award show on the TV Land channel.  TV Land features reruns of TV shows from the 70's, 80's and 90's.  On this Sunday night, one of the stars of the sitcom "Facts of Life", thanked TV Land for providing TV programming that our children can watch.    As I watched this award show, I enjoyed the glimpses of the past -- the years when I was raising my own children and we gathered around the TV together in the evening.  Programming then was naively entertaining.

During my long, boring week of recovery, I scrolled through the cable guide to find something that would hold my interest.  The reality shows are not worth viewing; the sitcoms are disgusting, and I cannot stomach the blood and gore of the various CSI's.  For the most part, I was drawn to the cooking channels and the channels which featured old reruns.  Now I remember why I don't watch TV anymore.

Unfortunately, most of today's TV programming highlights the worst of our culture -- our lack of morals, civility, and ethics.  In a world that so much needs examples of good parenting, responsibility and accountability for our actions, and the knowledge that success is not a matter of income level, there is little in our programming to provide any of these examples.

Watching reruns of "The Waltons" and "Little House on the Prairie" particularly sparked comparisons in my mind with today's TV selections.  Both "The Waltons" and "Little House on the Prairie" were realistic portrayals of family life in the time periods they represented.  There were struggles and hardships to endure, and the families were not immune from tragedy.  There were also dishonest, greedy neighbors who continued to thrive, despite their lack of character.  However, values such as honesty, loyalty and hard work were held up as something to strive for.  Children were given an abundance of love, but taught responsibility and values from an early age.

It seems to me that TV programming today is designed to celebrate material excesses, sex without feeling, and a pervasive nastiness in human relationships.  Could it be that what our children are watching plays a large part in the serious problems of bullying, violence, and lack of civility in our society?  How can we bring back quality TV programming?

     

The Community of Neighborhood

The morning sunlight filters through the lace of my curtains as I sip my coffee and read the Saturday morning newspaper.  I treasure quiet weekend mornings when I can leisurely read the paper and take the time to read a bit more deeply.  I was particularly interested in a piece by Peter Lovenheim, "In Search of our Neighbors."  Lovenheim has written a book, In the Neighborhood:  The Search for Community on an American Street, One Sleepover at a Time.  I have not read this book, but will place it on my book list to read in the future.  A tragedy on his street ten years ago sparked his interest in the value of "community." 

The disconnection of our modern life, when we often feel closer to a "chat room" buddy than our next door neighbor, is sad.  Lovenstein cites several reasons why neighborhoods still matter.  He states, "They matter because if we want to start rebuilding a healthy civil society by learning to understand and live peacefully with people whose ideas may be different from our own, a very good place to start is with the people on our own block."

I have been fortunate to live in a neighborhood with a tremendous sense of community for forty years.  When we first moved into our old Victorian house on this quiet deadend street lined with homes of similar vintage, we were the youngest couple on the block.  We were welcomed with open arms.  The street has always housed a generational blend, from newborn babies to the very elderly.  Over the course of these forty years, the residents have changed, but the spirit of community has not.  People very seldom move by choice from this neighborhood.  Most of the vacancies that occurred were the result of an elderly person's unwilling move to a nursing home, or a death.  The new young families that have moved in were all looking for that special something that existed here -- a safe place to raise their children in an atmosphere of acceptance and mutual caring.

When my children were young, there were others close in age to play with, and they formed bonds with these friends that still endure (in fact, my older son and his wife grew up here together).  The children were also able to develop relationships with the older folks on the block.  Some of these relationships were warm and supportive; there were also some neighbors who met the criteria for "mean old man" perfectly.  Yet, even the "mean old men" were there in a heartbeat if a child was hurt or needed help. 

There has always been a level of caring on this street that is amazing.  We watch out for one another and keep up on each others' lives and families.  Everyone is busy -- this is not a neighborhood where we get together frequently for coffee or parties -- but we manage to stop and talk when we meet, and fill each other in on the important happenings in our lives and of those around us.  One of our oldest neighbors is a strong-willed, spirited man whose health problems necessitated a leg amputation.  Fred knows he can always call on us when he needs us, and I know that if I needed him, he would be out the door in his wheelchair and wheeling up my driveway without delay.  The cycle of life in this neighborhood is always completing itself.  My little grandchildren love to visit with Fred, and they brighten his day. 

The young children on this street feel safe and secure with the people around them; the older neighbors know that they are not isolated or adrift -- one call for help will summon a caring neighbor to their door.  This is what community is all about, and I feel extremely blessed to have lived on this street with all of these special people for forty years.

My hope for the future is that people begin to look next door for their sense of community, as well as to the internet and the workplace.  Learning to live with and care for our close neighbors is a tremendous life lesson, as well as a source of comfort and security in this often cold world.

Beginnings

While April 1 holds the title "April Fools' Day" in the minds of most people, to me it is one of the most beautiful dates on the calendar.  In my heart it represents the true beginning of spring -- the mud of March is behind us (although, not this year), the birds are singing, crocuses, daffodils and tulips are poking their heads through the warming earth, and the air is filled with the promise of re-awakening.  What a joy it is to contemplate the rebirth to come.

This year spring represents new beginnings in my life as well.  Last weekend my new granddaughter, Emma Christine was born.  Nothing can compare to the profound awe of holding your newborn grandchild in your arms for the first time, tracing her silky cheeks with your finger and tenderly kissing her.  As I looked into her eyes, deep blue like her Daddy's, the deep connection was immediate and profound.  We will love and cherish this child, and her genes will carry a part of all of us into the future. 

My children are all in the midst of their own new beginnings, too.  Emma's Dad is in the process of having a new house built for his growing family.  My other son has started his own business, and my daughter has moved into an apartment in our home to continue her education and find a more fulfilling path in her life.  

Our family business has succombed to the economic slowdown.  While we had planned to continue working until retirement and then pass a healthy business down to our son, this, unfortunately, was not to be.  Juggling the care of my grandchildren and hours of office work have been difficult, but to be suddenly unemployed is a shock.  However, though this is an unexpected ending, I also see it as a beginning of a different way of life.  In the fall I will have my new grandbaby to care for along with her brother and cousin, so my days will be full.  We will "downsize" our lifestyle to match our reduced income -- gone are the days of two cars and dinners out.  But, there is also a challenge in economizing and watching pennies, and my evenings and weekends will be my own -- no office work will beckon to me.  As a stay-at-home Mom when my children were young, my lifestyle was frugal, and I will once again return to old habits.  There is a peacefulness and simplicity of sorts in frugality.

I have always believed in the old adage, "When God closes one door, he opens another."  As our new lives take shape, I will have more time to smell the roses and plant the vegetables and tend the precious grandbabies, and explore what God has planned for my next life chapter.

The Comfort of Simmering

"And when I cannot write a poem, I bake biscuits and feel just as pleased." -- Anne Morrow Lindbergh

The past few months have been very stressful for me.  It seems there is always more to be done than hours in the day, and I am constantly tired and far behind on my "to-do" list.  I find my level of patience has diminished as my stress level has risen.  One morning last week my desk was piled with unfinished business, my grandchildren were not at their best, and I had several important phone calls and online transactions to be made.  Unfortunately, as soon as I sat at the desk things began to go wrong.  Trying to access my insurance website was more complicated than necessary, looking through my files for a specific record took more time than I had anticipated, and one of my phone calls was unpleasant.  As the children were calling for me to pour their juice, the phone was ringing again, and I still had not had a chance to look at the piles of work waiting on my desk.

So, what did I do?  I came downstairs, poured the juice and got my grandchildren settled, and headed into my kitchen.  I went to the refrigerator, took out a package of ground beef, and proceeded to make meatballs and sauce.  To me, cooking is therapy for my soul.  My kitchen is a refuge from the world of work and its constant demands.  As I mixed the meat, eggs, bread crumbs and garlic, and formed small balls, I could feel the tension drift away a bit.   While the meatballs were baking in the oven, their delicious aroma surrounded me.  I sauteed onions in olive oil, added garlic, crushed dried thyme and parsley into the mixture, and poured two cans of pureed tomatoes into the pan.  As the house filled with notes of spaghetti sauce, I took pleasure in the anticipation of a delicious lunch for my family.

I have always enjoyed cooking -- when I was younger, my supper table usually included not only my own family, but an extra child or two.  Everyone was welcome at our table.  Most importantly now, though, in these tense times, I find an emotional release in cooking, especially comfort foods.  In the past month I have made a huge pot of soup every weekend.  As winter wanes, and we look forward to lighter summer fare, I will take advantage of the cold weather to simmer these soups I love so much.  Soup is a comfort from beginning to end.  I love the "process" of soup making -- the chopping of onions, carrots, celery, mushrooms, as well as the sizzle of sauteeing these vegetables.  I dry my own herbs, and I love to crush the dried leaves gently between my fingers and drop them into the soup, stirring their pungency into the mix.  Soup also needs watching -- as I go about a day of chores, I lift the lid of my old soup pot every half hour or so to stir the soup and breathe in its aroma.  Finally, at the end of the day, after throwing in some barley or pasta and cooking for a final few minutes, it is time to get out the soup bowls and some warm bread, and feast on the comfort of homemade soup.

There are several soup recipes which are favorites of my family.  Perhaps my personal favorite is beef vegetable.  Below is a recipe for this sturdy, mouth-watering concoction.  The wonderful thing about soup is that you can add or remove ingredients at will -- soup is a work in progress.  Before spring is finally here, get out a large pot and treat yourself to this soup -- it will bring peace to your soul as it works its magic.

Beef Vegetable Soup

Brown 2 lbs of blade steak or stew beef, cut into bite-sized pieces 

In separate pot, in olive oil, add a combination of chopped vegetables, one by one, sauteeing each as you are chopping the next:  two yellow onions, two carrots, three stalks of celery, two small yellow squash, one package fresh mushrooms, a handful of green beans, and three or four potatoes.  Add diced fresh tomatoes in season, or one can of diced tomatoes.  Add crushed dried thyme and parsley; sprinkle in some celery salt.  Add ground sea salt and ground pepper.  Stir the mixture together.  Add the browned beef to the pot.  Add two or three large cans of beef broth, and enough water to almost fill the pot.  

Cover the pot and simmer gently all day, stirring every half hour or so.  About an hour before serving, taste the broth and add more seasonings if necessary; add one cup of barley, and boil gently until tender.  Turn the soup off and let it rest for a half hour or so before serving.

ENJOY!!