Author: Rene

…in the front yard bloomed. Sorry, Mr. Whitman, but you came to mind. My lilacs are budding, not blooming, however the five forsythia bushes have not blossomed for over twenty years, when first planted.

Gazing out my front window I saw the splotches of yellow which drew me to planting on a hill years ago. We really aren’t the right micro-climate here but I didn’t know that then. I could only see yellow and cheerfulness every spring! Suffice it to say I chopped them down last year and was determined to dig them up this year. Did they catch a whiff of my intent?

Whether weather, tender gardening, or just plain “it’s about time”-ness, they are doing something, and this year they are about spring and hope, even if they are a little mangy looking.

(“When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloomed,” poetic tribute to Abraham Lincoln by Walt Whitman)

My driveway is beautiful. This weather, coupled with three young artists and one older one, presented the opportunity for a colorful “mural” of sorts.

My artistic ability is limited to what I can copy from someone else. Otherwise? I still draw like a five-year old. Yet, I love doing it. The only caveat – I like to create when I know the weather forecast includes moisture. This weekend, it will all be erased.

It’s wonderful spring time therapy!

The sewing machine is out and I’m making items for three little girls. As I’m finagling the fabric, chatting with my sister, we laughed at our mother’s admonition. “You can always do with a 1/4 yard less than the pattern says.”

I remember going to the fabric store pre-school year, picking a pattern with seven or eight different looks, having to share with it “Pindy”, and then choosing fabric. This took hours, truly, not counting the hour-long drive to the big city. It was an all day event.

At times my mom would open the pattern and lay it out just to re-work the strategy and buy the smallest amount of fabric necessary. Leftovers? If there were any, it could be a bandana or good scrap for a quilt later on. I learned a lot of math with her training. Area, measurement, corners that “could be cut,” and of course, corners that couldn’t be touched! When the arrow says “go with the grain,” you go with the grain.

Sewing always brings me back to her masterpieces, my favorite being that burgundy velour coat she made me one winter. Maybe that’s why I love to sew coats? They are a rewarding accomplishment.

This headline in today’s paper grabbed my attention.

When weren’t they a fall hazard? Just as a bicycle pretty much was a fall hazard, a razor, roller skates, skateboards…How did we survive? (I had a piece of pea gravel in my knee until college, the result of a bicycle mishap. One day it just popped out of my knee after it had been circulating there for years. That was fun.)

To be fair, there was a mechanical part on these Segways which could inadvertently cause the falling. I did read the entire article out of curiosity, so, I guess the writer did know how to catch my attention? I only rode one at The Garden of the Gods years ago. That was enough for me. Thank goodness I gave it up before I fell!

Yesterday we had a visitor. He was darn cute. Unfortunately, he was also injured.

It was hard not to feel bad for this little raccoon. I made three phone calls to find someone who could either rescue him or tell us what to do. No one handles injured wildlife in our city, nor apparently in the state. So strange. I don’t know how many more calls I could have made, but after three hours he moved on, leaving our sun-drenched porch.

We didn’t see him today but I’m hoping he was able to recover a bit after his visit. I like to think he knew it was a safe haven since I had already seen him limping along in the morning on the property. Before he left he stood up and looked right in the window of the door at me.

He really was a cute little fella.

It doesn’t matter what I do. If a piece of avocado touches a plate or bowl it will be firmly cemented on that dining dish via the dishwasher. I might as well wash by hand because I’m going to have to do it anyway.

Because of this propensity for stick-with-it-ness, I began to wonder what that little botanical fruit is doing inside my body? To what is it adhering? Are they really that good for me?

Prompted by these niggling thoughts I did my research and present the findings. I’ll keep eating these overpriced gems because I like them and they have a bunch of good stuff packed into such a little berry. (Yes, technically a berry.) And I’ll keep running the plates through the dishwasher and rewashing them, ever hopeful they will one day make it out of there without baked on green stuff.

• Calories: 322
• Fat: 30 grams
• Protein: 4 grams 
• Carbs: 17 grams
• Fiber: 14 grams
• Vitamin C: 22% of the daily value (DV)Trusted Source
• Vitamin E: 28% of the DV
• Vitamin K: 35% of the DV
• Riboflavin (B2): 20% of the DV
• Niacin (B3): 22% of the DV
• Pantothenic acid (B5): 56% of the DV
• Pyridoxine (B6): 30% of the DV
• Folate: 41% of the DV
• Magnesium: 14% of the DV
• Potassium: 21% of the DV
• Copper: 42% of the DV
• Manganese: 12% of the DV

My return trip was interesting as I drove across the interstate with “blizzard warnings” for today. I was glad I left yesterday for that reason, even though I battled winds the entire way.

As I was mid-way in my drive, three weather alerts for dust storms came through. I did make it through some “brown fog” arriving home half an hour before the snow-hail arrived. What an interesting day of travel.

It all worked out, and the wind drama kept me from tallying roadkill or birds.

Every now and then I need a good drive. In the first hour of my adventure yesterday I was excited to see four Prairie Hawks. Taking that as an average, I figured I might be able to identify at least 20 of them on my six-hour hike to the Midwest region. Thus, I began the goal of spotting birds for my entertainment.

I have a penchant for counting when I’m on the road, probably a result of playing the “license plate” game when we traveled by car in my youth. We were always tallying. So, the score?

• Eleven hawks, two of which were in flight
• Two dead skunks, one rather odiferous
• Four deer, two alive and two deceased
• Five roadkill victims, unidentified

There is no counting regarding livestock on the journey. I should have been totaling up flapping pieces of plastic on the fences. The winds have definitely left their mark along the I-70 alley of turbines. I’ve taken the liberty of renaming the highway, “Wind Farm Alley.”

What to tally for the return trip? I’m just hoping for smooth sailing in this dicey weather month. I already hear the gusty gales tuning up.

…springs eternal!

For the past two evenings I have slept with the window cracked at night. It’s just been so warm and sleep evasive that I had to get some cold air in that realm. Of course, now I’m really itching to start that “garden in my dreams” plan.

Yes, last year my six gorgeous ferns were wiped out by hail two weeks after purchase. (Along with my car) They never returned to their former glory until approximately one day before I got rid of them – to a self-proclaimed “fern nut” who was willing to work with them. My gorgeous begonia finally bloomed beautifully in the garage in October, and my plan was to winter it since it cost an arm and a leg at the local gardening center. That intention never panned out as the chill of the garage doomed half the plant one evening. I then lost interest in being a nurse in the nursery.

Now a houseplant? I cannot kill them, even if I try. My benign neglect works wonders with this light here, and apparently they are as stubborn as I. They just keep going until I notice the droop or dead leaves. There’s always something of a resurrection around them.

So the dream garden? Well, it can’t be too big and it has to be hail and wind-proof and probably have a drip system. It should probably be a faux enterprise this season for the flowers, with the continued visits to farmer’s markets for produce, and the discontinuation of comparing my flowers to that of my neighbors. (Hers survive it all and we’re backyard enthusiasts. They even make it through winters in her garage!)

Well, at least it might look as if I know what I’m doing?

This new IPad thinks it knows what I intend to type. I find myself constantly changing what it inserts or changes as I rapidly whip through my missives. (Oh – thank you – typing 101 or whatever class I took for a semester in 10th grade.)

65 wpm was my highest on a manual typewriter. My entire goal was to be the fastest in the class, but with five other contenders, two of whom were my guy friends hunting and pecking, it wasn’t much of an achievement. I can copy quickly. However, this new “prediction” drives me nuts! I’m reading what it thinks I want to write, yet, if I stop to actually agree it takes me much longer to put thoughts to the paper. Thus, I’m not watching the screen anymore, but the television as I type.

How many words-per-minute would I do today? Hm. I predict far less than my old achievement on a manual.