10:04 AM
Wednesday was cool and rainy, just like most days lately. I went in to work after art class, only to find us overstaffed and undercustomered. Within an hour I was bored silly. Luckily, Peggy was all too willing to let a couple of us off for the rest of the day, and I happily chose to spend the afternoon doing some much-needed cleanup in The Finch House.
I was sorting through back stock, pricing and putting out whatever I found (won’t sell if it’s in the cabinet, now, will it?) when I heard voices outside the door. I looked up to see three little people, shoes in hands, hair dripping.
“We’re wet because we were shaking the willow tree!” said the eldest - pretty, long-haired, dark-eyed, and about eight. “We’re playing Secret Garden and this is the BEST place!” I agreed absolutely, all-of-a-sudden turning eight myself. (Never read the Secret Garden, but I could imagine... Lovely rainy day, shaking the willow tree Just Because. Trailing hands in the koi pond, wishing they would trust you to pet them and wondering how it feels to wear scales. Seeing the ground and all its secrets much more closely for being so much closer to it…can I play, too?)
“I’m Michael,” piped up her little brother, “and she’s Emily, and this is Mia,” pointing to the youngest, a toddler wearing a big, delighted smile.
We chatted a minute or two more, then they were off, heading towards the gravel path. I grew up enough to call after them, telling them to watch where they stepped with their bare feet (and activating Dad, who wasn’t far off, who moved in to get their shoes back on them Right Now This Minute…)
I went back to my work, and came across a little stone plaque. It had a pretty, long-haired girl with a long dress and a basket, and its title was “Emily’s Garden”. I had special-ordered it long ago for someone, but she never bought it and it had hung on the wall, small and unnoticed by other customers, ever since. I took it down, gathered up a couple of other kid-type things, and found the Dad outside.
I told him that I had met his kids, and that Michael had introduced them, and I was so delighted with them that I wanted them to have these things, and that the stone plaque reminded me of his daughter and even had her name, Emily.
He looked puzzled. “You mean Charlotte?” he asked. “And Isaiah?”
My turn to be puzzled. “The little boy over there – I’m sure he said his name was Michael, and his older sister is Emily, and the youngest is Mia.”
More confusion. “Why would he say that? His name is Isaiah, and that’s Charlotte. The little one is Emilia, and we do call her Mia, but why…”
Oh, rats. I know that kids like to play at changing their names sometimes. So she’s Not Emily. The stone plaque doesn’t fit after all. Hiding my disappointment, I told Dad that they were so sweet and just delightful, and he could tell her that the stone is named ‘Charlotte’s Garden’ if he wanted to.
He called the kids over to tell them about their gifts and to ask Isaiah about the name changes.
“It’s from the book,” Isaiah said, in that don’t-you-remember-I-told-you-before kid voice. “We’re playing Secret Garden”.
Well, duh. “Emily’s Garden”, after all, for real! Guess I didn’t stay eight long enough today to remember that Actors Must Stay In The Role. And my education seems to have a serious gap in it – time to hit the library for a copy of The Secret Garden, pronto.
It wasn't till this morning that I finally realized exactly why these kids touched me. They had stepped right out of my own childhood and, for just a minute, had taken me back there again. Back where the worlds made from imagination are no less real than the one adults battle with every day, and where shaking a willow wins out over Nintendo or basketball practice. (How many kids even know what a willow tree looks like, any more?)
Hope their hearts keep the imagination alive, and that some day years from now someone small will help them be eight again, too.
Friday, May 8, 2009
Back once more...
9:23 AM
Okay, so I'm back again... This has been the busiest winter-into-spring I can remember! We moved into the new Upstairs on Valentine's Day, and proceeded to tear up the first floor - not construction, just moving furniture/closet stuff/etc. Meantime, the basement is getting it, too: Tom cleared out, cleaned up, and painted the coal bin (storage room under the porch). He found LOTS of metal shelving at a bargain price, intstalled new lighting, and Presto! Finch House Warehouse Room! Now, as I'm filling it up, he's wondering why there isn't more space showing up in the basement.
Answer? Stuff multiplies. You can't organize Clutter. You must get rid of it. We'll be working on that for years, now. Yard Sale, anyone?
As for me, I launched into February with classes at work. The Finch House volunteers hospitality, which means grocery/ baking/ schlepping/ displaying/ serving/ lots of to-do listing. We had two classes a week through February into early March - on my days off, which means I was at work for the better part of two additional days a week (unpaid!). Plus craft shows, teaching classes, yadda yadda. In April, I officially added days/hours to my working schedule, which means I have Fridays off at home by myself. Period. Which means I'm really not at home, but grocery/bank/post office - etc. (I miss my Tuesdays terribly.)
Long story to say "Time is waaaaay short". Haven't touched the garden yet. Haven't totally switched winter clothes to spring. Housework? I laugh! Dinner on the table? HA HA HA!
Don't know how people with kids and four-footed pets do it, sometimes. You all have my open-mouthed admiration...
Okay, so I'm back again... This has been the busiest winter-into-spring I can remember! We moved into the new Upstairs on Valentine's Day, and proceeded to tear up the first floor - not construction, just moving furniture/closet stuff/etc. Meantime, the basement is getting it, too: Tom cleared out, cleaned up, and painted the coal bin (storage room under the porch). He found LOTS of metal shelving at a bargain price, intstalled new lighting, and Presto! Finch House Warehouse Room! Now, as I'm filling it up, he's wondering why there isn't more space showing up in the basement.
Answer? Stuff multiplies. You can't organize Clutter. You must get rid of it. We'll be working on that for years, now. Yard Sale, anyone?
As for me, I launched into February with classes at work. The Finch House volunteers hospitality, which means grocery/ baking/ schlepping/ displaying/ serving/ lots of to-do listing. We had two classes a week through February into early March - on my days off, which means I was at work for the better part of two additional days a week (unpaid!). Plus craft shows, teaching classes, yadda yadda. In April, I officially added days/hours to my working schedule, which means I have Fridays off at home by myself. Period. Which means I'm really not at home, but grocery/bank/post office - etc. (I miss my Tuesdays terribly.)
Long story to say "Time is waaaaay short". Haven't touched the garden yet. Haven't totally switched winter clothes to spring. Housework? I laugh! Dinner on the table? HA HA HA!
Don't know how people with kids and four-footed pets do it, sometimes. You all have my open-mouthed admiration...
Thursday, December 11, 2008
I'm still here.
I'm just submerged for a little while, that's all. Or, Not Enough Thyme On My Hands! Craft show season caught me, then Christmas... hopefully I can start updating more frequently after the first of the year, if not before!
Friday, November 7, 2008
Happy Birthday to me.
Believe it or not, I love a rainy November day - and that's just what I have for my birthday today! I was poking around for fun on the web, and dropped by a biorhythm/fortunetelling site that I visit once every couple of years or so. There was a phrase describing a tarot card (the sun, reversed) that really describes my kind of day/time/feeling: "Poignance of dusk. Twilight shadows. Nostalgia. Haunting memories." Surprised?
That seems to be when & where I feel most at home. Poignance of dusk - the time when we're coming home, when the house is warm and glowing with the "twilight shadows" gathering outside. Supper on the stove. A time of comfort, winding down, preparing to just be home.
I'll probably add more to this post later, since my sweet sister is picking me up for lunch. But it remains a cool, cloudy day and I remain quietly smiling. It's a good day to be snug, a good day to celebrate, and a good day for a birthday. Even when the birthday has a "zero".
That seems to be when & where I feel most at home. Poignance of dusk - the time when we're coming home, when the house is warm and glowing with the "twilight shadows" gathering outside. Supper on the stove. A time of comfort, winding down, preparing to just be home.
I'll probably add more to this post later, since my sweet sister is picking me up for lunch. But it remains a cool, cloudy day and I remain quietly smiling. It's a good day to be snug, a good day to celebrate, and a good day for a birthday. Even when the birthday has a "zero".
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Autumn on the Way
...and here it is! The first Sweatshirt Morning of the season! I was puttering around in the kitchen, making fresh hummingbird nectar and a crockpot of bean soup, and the breeze through the open back door raised a few goosebumps on my arms. Sixty-seven degrees, with last night's downpour picking back up again.
I love cool, rainy mornings. Somehow it's a relief to have the sun covered up for a little bit, and to be just a little more grateful for that hot cup of tea. Bonus - I don't have to go anywhere today. I can just be home home home. Snug. Kettle on the stove. Fresh box of Earl Grey tea and some of Mr. Harry the Bee-Man's honey from the greenhouses, Woody crunching through her breakfast and giving me an occasional "weep!". Home.
There's a book with an idea that I just love - The Deliberate Home by Susan Miller Cavitch. The introduction starts out, "The purpose of this book is to remind people that we have enormous freedom to creatively design our lives at home...Home is a haven, a private world where we have infinite possibilities - choices we can make about how we want to live." It then goes through different things that make up Home - from "clearing the land" (metaphorically speaking) to gardening to crafting to feeding the family, promoting emotional health, raising children, welcoming others, and keeping the Sabbath. I have read chunks of the book, but not all the way through yet - I just love the idea of it. And mornings like this make me want to dive back into it, grab all the ideas, and make my own home a snug, candle-light-glowing, dust-and-clutter-free refuge filled with the sound of Celtic music and the smell of freshly baked bread. (And a totally weeded garden, going to sleep for the winter.)(And a hand-knitted afghan or two.)
Whoops. Reality Check Time!
I get this way every Fall, just when Sweatshirt Days start happening. This year, I'm finally consciously realizing a few things: firstly, all this does not happen at once! It happens fifteen minutes at a time, in between real life stuff. Secondly, it especially does not happen with me seated in front of the computer. Thirdly, having part of it happen is better than going into Fully Frozen Procrastination Mode and winding up with none of it.
So, I've got a crock of bean soup going, and will be making cornbread to go with it (that counts as freshly baked bread, I guess). I can put the Celtic music on any time I'd like - scuse me, be right back... Okay. Music is a "go". We can eat with candles on the table tonight. And the garden, while far from perfect, is better than it's been in years. Cool, so far.
The rest of it? Well, ask me six months from now.
...the afghan, however, might take a bit longer. I really ought to finish the one I'm on first - and I started it somewhere in the early 1980's, for two friends' wedding.
(Yes, Nancy and Dale, I still have "that dog I'm knitting for you". Somewhere.)
(Um, does your living room still have rust and cream colors in it anywhere?)
I love cool, rainy mornings. Somehow it's a relief to have the sun covered up for a little bit, and to be just a little more grateful for that hot cup of tea. Bonus - I don't have to go anywhere today. I can just be home home home. Snug. Kettle on the stove. Fresh box of Earl Grey tea and some of Mr. Harry the Bee-Man's honey from the greenhouses, Woody crunching through her breakfast and giving me an occasional "weep!". Home.
There's a book with an idea that I just love - The Deliberate Home by Susan Miller Cavitch. The introduction starts out, "The purpose of this book is to remind people that we have enormous freedom to creatively design our lives at home...Home is a haven, a private world where we have infinite possibilities - choices we can make about how we want to live." It then goes through different things that make up Home - from "clearing the land" (metaphorically speaking) to gardening to crafting to feeding the family, promoting emotional health, raising children, welcoming others, and keeping the Sabbath. I have read chunks of the book, but not all the way through yet - I just love the idea of it. And mornings like this make me want to dive back into it, grab all the ideas, and make my own home a snug, candle-light-glowing, dust-and-clutter-free refuge filled with the sound of Celtic music and the smell of freshly baked bread. (And a totally weeded garden, going to sleep for the winter.)(And a hand-knitted afghan or two.)
Whoops. Reality Check Time!
I get this way every Fall, just when Sweatshirt Days start happening. This year, I'm finally consciously realizing a few things: firstly, all this does not happen at once! It happens fifteen minutes at a time, in between real life stuff. Secondly, it especially does not happen with me seated in front of the computer. Thirdly, having part of it happen is better than going into Fully Frozen Procrastination Mode and winding up with none of it.
So, I've got a crock of bean soup going, and will be making cornbread to go with it (that counts as freshly baked bread, I guess). I can put the Celtic music on any time I'd like - scuse me, be right back... Okay. Music is a "go". We can eat with candles on the table tonight. And the garden, while far from perfect, is better than it's been in years. Cool, so far.
The rest of it? Well, ask me six months from now.
...the afghan, however, might take a bit longer. I really ought to finish the one I'm on first - and I started it somewhere in the early 1980's, for two friends' wedding.
(Yes, Nancy and Dale, I still have "that dog I'm knitting for you". Somewhere.)
(Um, does your living room still have rust and cream colors in it anywhere?)
Friday, August 29, 2008
Not the usual 9 to 5.
Ah. Labor Day Weekend, and I'm officially off "work" until next Thursday. I'm still working, mind, just not at the greenhouses! I did do the busman's holiday thing today - I was supposed to be off, but we started a huge sale this morning, and no one had made signs with the prices. "If it's to be, it's up to me". So, I got out all my lovely rainbow of Sharpie markers and stayed up till about 1am last night, making the signs. Went in today to drop them off, and wound up helping customers and watering a greenhouse. Off the clock. Am I nuts? You tell me!
But it was a lovely morning. I like talking to people about plants. I like watering the herb greenhouse. I even like playing with markers after midnight. It wasn't too hot (yet), and I felt needed. When I was heading out the driveway for home, though, I got stuck in a reeaallly slow-moving traffic jam. HONK HONK HONK - Canada geese. Walking. Slowly. Single file. I counted twenty-two of them. And then, in one slow, gradual, graceful wave, they just lifted up over the front field and over Mrs. Margaret's house - back toward the lake, more than likely.
It's been ten years at the greenhouses, but I still see a little happening like that as a gift for the day. Wild geese. Hawks. Herons. Deer and skunks and coyote and a little groundhog now and then. Big orb weaver spiders in unexpected places, barn swallows in the rafters overhead, and the mockingbird that sings himself silly from the highest points he can find. The flock of goldfinches on the echinacea in the herb garden. Praying mantis everywhere right now. All of these creatures make the day for me, and I hope I never lose my wonder at encountering (and sometimes working right alongside) them.
Nine to five, indeed. Do I really want to be off till next Thursday?
But it was a lovely morning. I like talking to people about plants. I like watering the herb greenhouse. I even like playing with markers after midnight. It wasn't too hot (yet), and I felt needed. When I was heading out the driveway for home, though, I got stuck in a reeaallly slow-moving traffic jam. HONK HONK HONK - Canada geese. Walking. Slowly. Single file. I counted twenty-two of them. And then, in one slow, gradual, graceful wave, they just lifted up over the front field and over Mrs. Margaret's house - back toward the lake, more than likely.
It's been ten years at the greenhouses, but I still see a little happening like that as a gift for the day. Wild geese. Hawks. Herons. Deer and skunks and coyote and a little groundhog now and then. Big orb weaver spiders in unexpected places, barn swallows in the rafters overhead, and the mockingbird that sings himself silly from the highest points he can find. The flock of goldfinches on the echinacea in the herb garden. Praying mantis everywhere right now. All of these creatures make the day for me, and I hope I never lose my wonder at encountering (and sometimes working right alongside) them.
Nine to five, indeed. Do I really want to be off till next Thursday?
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
You want some WHINE to go with that?
Whew. Wait a minute - it was just July! Where did it go??? And August????
Seems I was schlepping along, doing all my usual stuff, and then a few things started hitting the calendar - and a few more - and all of a sudden I'm in Fully Frozen Procrastination Mode! I have so much to do that I’m overwhelmed. I don't want to work on anything, I don't want to talk to anyone, I just want to disappear and be quiet. I don’t feel like I have “permission” to work on things like housework or garden, since there’s so much else hanging fire. So, I freeze and do nothing. There's probably some sort of official Syndrome for that, but I'm just going to label it FFPM and let it go.
Since onset, I've gotten a couple of major tasks done - teaching a class at Campbell's Gourmet Cottage and updating the greenhouses' e-mail list for this week's big annual sale. These things had deadlines. That helps.
But there's a whole lot left to go. Two more Campbell's classes between here and November 1st, several working weekends at the greenhouses, the annual art show at the studio where I take lessons, and - oh, yes - craft show season. Stresstresstresstresstress. Plus, there's vacation - a long weekend in Gatlinburg, PLUS a week in October at Lake Barkley. aaaaaaaaaaaaggghhh. (I know vacations are supposed to be relaxing, but it's getting there. And it's craft show season.) Plus keeping the Finch House running. Plus the house. Plus the garden.
Hm. Now that I'm whining in print, maybe it really doesn't look that bad. IF I'll get busy. IF I get on it. And that's where FFPM comes in. I think it's related to writer's block (which I encountered in serious form in college)... the more there is to jump on, the more I want to just sit and contemplate the universe. Play solitaire. Dust under the piano. Count the pages of paper in the printer cassette. You know - really useful stuff.
Which reminds me - I'm supposed to be at the grocery right now, NOT blogging. Even if I am a month behind on it. SO, how bout we label this one a "WHINE" and leave it at that! Hopefully I'll have something a little more interesting to add later...
Seems I was schlepping along, doing all my usual stuff, and then a few things started hitting the calendar - and a few more - and all of a sudden I'm in Fully Frozen Procrastination Mode! I have so much to do that I’m overwhelmed. I don't want to work on anything, I don't want to talk to anyone, I just want to disappear and be quiet. I don’t feel like I have “permission” to work on things like housework or garden, since there’s so much else hanging fire. So, I freeze and do nothing. There's probably some sort of official Syndrome for that, but I'm just going to label it FFPM and let it go.
Since onset, I've gotten a couple of major tasks done - teaching a class at Campbell's Gourmet Cottage and updating the greenhouses' e-mail list for this week's big annual sale. These things had deadlines. That helps.
But there's a whole lot left to go. Two more Campbell's classes between here and November 1st, several working weekends at the greenhouses, the annual art show at the studio where I take lessons, and - oh, yes - craft show season. Stresstresstresstresstress. Plus, there's vacation - a long weekend in Gatlinburg, PLUS a week in October at Lake Barkley. aaaaaaaaaaaaggghhh. (I know vacations are supposed to be relaxing, but it's getting there. And it's craft show season.) Plus keeping the Finch House running. Plus the house. Plus the garden.
Hm. Now that I'm whining in print, maybe it really doesn't look that bad. IF I'll get busy. IF I get on it. And that's where FFPM comes in. I think it's related to writer's block (which I encountered in serious form in college)... the more there is to jump on, the more I want to just sit and contemplate the universe. Play solitaire. Dust under the piano. Count the pages of paper in the printer cassette. You know - really useful stuff.
Which reminds me - I'm supposed to be at the grocery right now, NOT blogging. Even if I am a month behind on it. SO, how bout we label this one a "WHINE" and leave it at that! Hopefully I'll have something a little more interesting to add later...
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