Do-Over

I'm glad to turn the page on July.

It was a month of great loss for us with the deaths of Ken's dad and our dear friend Dave. It was also another month of transition for me as I continue the search for a routine that works.

I have a new measure of clarity about my future in terms of my work and although there were plenty of good days in July, as I look back I see I just wasn't myself.

So welcome August. I'm ready for you. There's no count-down to the start of school this year and I'm just fine with that. I do have a favor to ask of you though. I'd be most grateful for a do-over. 

Please and thank you.

Momento

Yellow roses and white lilacs for my dad

Pink and white peonies for Ken's mom Flora

Howard's garden fawn to grace them.

Plenty

Wegmans is stocked with folding bookshelves, 10-for-a-dollar mac 'n cheese and cheap kitchen utensils. Back to school signs sprouted overnight while we were away this weekend. Cue August...

 I thought I'd beaten the critters this year by planting my tomatoes in hanging baskets until I looked out to see two chipmunks on the patio...one rolling a ripe cherry tomato in the direction of it's tunnel and the other happily sitting in a hanging basket trying to wrangle a ripe one off the vine.

Glad there's plenty left to enjoy.

Missing Howard

Ken's dad Howard passed peacefully yesterday surrounded by his children and grandchildren. His journey was accompanied by their sweet soft singing of his favorite hymns and folk songs. I am relieved his suffering has ended.

I will miss his stories. Tales of riding a horse to school, harrowing stories of surviving the dust bowl in Kansas, his adventures in Palestine, and stories of his never ending work for peace and justice in the world. He was a man with a soft heart. A writer of poetry, who wept when reading a poem about a childhood friend tragically killed in a farm accident. 

 His love for butter pecan ice cream.

What I Learned From Dave

When we got the news that our dear friend Dave had died suddenly of a massive heart attack it hit like a sucker punch in the gut. He was 62, sitting in his beloved Jeep at a red light on his way from the hardware store on a totally mundane errand. He was probably headed home to fix something. When the light changed to green he didn't go. It was that fast. Like snapping your fingers.

Besides the sobering wake up call to take better care of ourselves I've been pondering the many things Dave taught me.

Don't judge a book by its cover
When I first met Dave I thought whoa, what's that biker dude doing at a contra dance. He had just a hint of gruffness about his manner and a whole lot of "I'm me and I don't care what anyone thinks about that". Scruffy beard, straw hat, kooky tee shirts with lefty sayings. What lay beneath his somewhat crusty exterior was extraordinary. Dave was one of the smartest people I've ever known.  He read voraciously and knew a lot about everything and not the kind of "know it all" way - he actually did know something about everything. Also, that scary biker dude exterior was a thin shell and underneath it was a passionate, loving, funny man who loved music, was loyal beyond words to his friends, adored his family and gave great hugs.

Anything can be fixed
Dave could fix anything. He had that rare gift of being able to look at something and not only know that it could be fixed, but how to do it from start to finish.

Smile and chat with everyone you meet
Dave could chat up anyone about anything and in a way that was completely genuine (because he was). He talked to everyone, made friends on the spot and didn't do any of that bookcover judging I'm prone to.

Rum is for sipping

I miss you Dave

A Good Start

July is off to a great start...

 I'm enjoying the view,

 and trying to bloom where I'm planted.

(So glad a garden can't hold a grudge.)

 I'm learning to fly...

and appreciating a good sparkler.

Mostly I'm enjoying my independence.

All's well

    March

                                      April 

                                                                       May

The garden's been located and excavated, and has produced asparagus and strawberries, poppies, lilacs and peonies. Hydrangea, tomatoes, baby robins, wrens and bunnies are are here now.

It's finally summer...

We've been reacquainting ourselves with the sweet house we live in. Since we last looked we found that the clapboards covering our chimney were rotted and discovered that the groundhogs never  actually left, they just moved to the other side of the yard. Our gutters still don't work and there is mold growing on the garage doors. We still can't get either car in the garage but we're used to that now. There is much to be done but there is time to do it now.

I am on leave from the ivory tower for a full year. I have taken off my professor hat and stored it in a corner of the coat closet. I have never been happier.

 

 All's well here.