Time for Growth

This week the breezes have quickened. They whisper to the dry leaves still clinging to their familiar stark limbs that it's time to drop so Mom can sleep and bring new birth. The yards painted shades of brown beckon their owners to get out, enjoy the beauty of sunshine and rake those dead soldiers into piles to be burned.

Every day I stand in the kitchen I see through the window the tree across the street with dead leaves unable to shake themselves from the cold limbs. Why, they ask? Look at my neighbors who still are green, why must I die when they stay alive?

And so those friends and relatives with cancer are asking the same questions, why me when others are healthy? I see the new year as a need not to rake their lives into a pile and turn the other way, but to keep some flame of hope burning.

Just like those leaves, I must drop some unproductive aspects of my life and allow growth of my person. I must listen more, talk less. I must find more time for silence. I need to quit stereotyping people. I need to care for those losing hope and life. Needs, Wants, Have-to's--can I achieve these in another year?

Year Ending, Another Beginning

As the New Year advances I'm reminded by www.goalsguy.com how some countries celebrate the end of one year and the beginning of the next:

AUSTRIA - The suckling pig is the symbol for good luck for the new year. It's served on a table decorated with tiny edible pigs. Dessert often consists of green peppermint ice cream in the shape of a four-leaf clover.

ENGLAND - The British place their fortunes for the coming year in the hands of their first guest. They believe the first visitor of each year should be male and bearing gifts. Traditional gifts are coal for the fire, a loaf for the table and a drink for the master. For good luck, the guest should enter through the front door and leave through the back. Guests who are empty-handed or unwanted are not allowed to enter first.

WALES - At the first toll of midnight, the back door is opened and then shut to release the old year and lock out all of its bad luck. Then at the twelfth stroke of the clock, the front door is opened and the New Year is welcomed with all of its luck.

SICILY - An old Sicilian tradition says good luck will come to those who eat lasagna on New Year's Day, but woe if you dine on macaroni, for any other noodle will bring bad luck.

SPAIN - In Spain, when the clock strikes midnight, the Spanish eat 12 grapes, one with every toll, to bring good luck for the 12 months ahead.

Some of these ideas are interesting enough to observe ourselves: the gifting of the first visitor to the home, dinining on lasagna, eating the grapes. . .well, we have the blackeyed peas for good luck. And we make resolutions. No longer do I create a list, makes me ill-tempered. But for posterity this time, here's my compilation:

I want to

remind my family more often how much I love and respect them,
continue to fight clutter,
dole out more compliments,
hug more,
keep in contact with my generation of cousins and elderly kin,
work with my jewelry like I'm the Grandma Moses of jewelry,
enrich the friendships with those I've formed
pray more dilligently for peace, understanding of those different from ourselves,
continue to support my country and appreciate my freedoms.

As our young family was growing, we celebrated New Year's Eve at Ann and Harry's along with their kids and those of another family. Now those kids are grown up and having their own parties. Later through my school contacts we began meeting with Vivian M who loves people and has the grandest year-end celebrations --and after 20 years we anticipate the wonderful friendships Vivian has introduced us to when December 31 returns. She always starts the new year serving her great biscuits, grits, bacon, and coffee.

And we are reminded that same night that oh so many years ago we welcomed our second son into the world, relieved that he made it before the first of the year. He had the looks of his so-called North American Indian ancestry (my grandmother was supposed to have had an Indian in the family) with his dark hair and olive complexion. His older brother, just turned one, was confused by all the hoop-la. This time I wasn't the frantic new mother begging the nurse to tell me what to do when I got home with the bundle of arms and legs. I had had a year to get ready.

We were fortunate to hire an excellent caretaker to help me and guide wee brother Jim into a routine.The memory of that woman remains, her name is lost. She taught me to reserve time with the toddler, take care of myself, and educated me in the routine of general family life that I needed at that time. She and her husband, a part-time minister, were killed in an automobile accident only a few years later. Thank you, my Caretaker, for your lessons.

Second son celebrates his 45th birthday this Saturday night. His distance away hinders us from celebrating this important event, and there's always a hole in our hearts. As a family we are big on togetherness, communication, and support. Happy Birthday, Scott!

And Happy New Year to all my friends, relatives, and occasional visitors!!

Best Gifts We Can Receive--and Give

This Christmas season, I wish for America the gifts of deliverance, restored memory and renewed vision. She needs a self-esteem boost. ...

I have something to say, and, I have questions for fellow Americans. America is spinning in self-inflicted ruts. We, her citizens, are bickering among ourselves as if we are of different nations. We are tearing away at our foundation, one tenet after another. We are relaxing our allegiance to God, our Cornerstone. Do we remember American's source of light in dark time, her peacemaker in trouble spots and her deliverer from oppressors? Why are we quiet about the path America once traveled, the authority she once revered and the high moral standards she once held? Lawmakers and culture-shapers are rewriting our family history and.. its.culture...and now debating whether to rename "Merry Christmas" ...to "Winter Break." And we call this progress?

Change can be good or bad. Sometimes it's just different, not better. Someone will always be offended by something, at some time or in some way. That's the life of a diverse populace.

Fellow Americans, we are the "mother of exiles"--the "tired, the poor, and the huddled masses yearning to breathe free". In what way and for how long can any politically correct reform fix our diversity? We need to reflect on our image and behavior. We are looking ugly and sounding like bullies. Sometimes, we are embarrassed and made ashamed, Let's repent and forgive the bad and the ugly....We need deliverance.

The Golden Rule has proven to be our best recourse: "Do unto others as you would have them to do unto you." We can survive our differences and thrive, too, without dissolving the unity part of the United States... 'Tis the season to hear old words of peace and goodwill spoken to our broken spirits and troubled minds.We need to be reminded of some bold landmarks made in this country before the Constitution or the Bill of Rights. Americans we need to reflect on our image and behavior. Let's allow truth to reign and give us peace again at home.

The above words were written by my friend Jannie Johnson in a recent column for the local newspaper. She has for decades run a school to teach wayward children the values and the rewards of being good. Her Caring and Sharing classes are held in her family home rich with the heritage of her parents' fight for equal rights among the Blacks in Mississippi. She was the first and only parent to ask me what I was teaching her son in the Spanish language class; the first to visit the class on several occasions; the only parent whose family lived the values they inspire others to achieve. Her School of Preventive Counseling relies on donations to exist. Nevertheless, she continues teaching little children how to be better, to achieve a purpose in life, to get along with their peers. In so doing she teaches their parents responsibility. She never wavers in her beliefs. Her friendship is valuable.

Write me for her address if you wish to donate to her cause at nykudzume@yahoo.com.

What December Brings

December has proven to be an arduous month for us. We've been home in Mississippi just seven weeks and we've battled temporary amnesia we seem to be plagued with upon our returns each November: where is the shortcut to the airport? Wasn't there on that corner the restaurant we enjoyed last year? When did this road become a detour? Did Frank tell us he was moving? My gingko, taken in liquid form, isn't helping my memory any better than the capsules.

Then there're the decisions to make annually just before January when we want to schedule action: how to improve or upgrade our house. Let's face it folks, despite my boasting of living 4o more years, these decisions may curtail our lives considerably. All we've done these past years is shuffle the same furniture from one spot to the other,adding a few pieces here and there. Now we're ready to redesign our living pattern. And we can't decide which rug of the hundreds we'd like to live with for a decade or so! Decisions about redesigning the bathrooms leave us exhausted, design magazines lying like spilled toothpicks about the room; viewing bed frames on the internet until our eyes bulge; determining how to organize our precious junk-- I tell you, decisions are too much for our psyche!

The best decison came with celebrating our oldest son's birthday. He was born six days before Christmas. As the practice of overgifting on Christmas was not our choice, birthdays were and still are The Gift Giving Time. So despite his adult status, it was fun selecting his gifts and watching him enjoy the surprises as we've done in the past.

For a few years in his early teens, Jim always wanted a cheesecake for his special day. But only the cheesecake from the delicatessen of his choice. On one prior day to December 19 I made the purchase, took it home and placed it on the kitchen bar while I hung up my coat in the closet. Never did I think that Freckles would give Jim the worst gift. In the passing of two minutes, our Dalmatian couldn't resist the creamy cake in the box. He just swallowed it in a few gulps, leaving us with an empty carton.

We still laugh at that memory, and mourn the passing of this beautiful pet years later.

Then, unexpectedly, the shadow of disease darkens our doorway. My sister, living with us for a short time, receives the dreaded word that she has cancer. Just when we'd worked out a road map for her retirement. Helping her through two surgeries and impending chemo reminds us how precious life is and how easily cancer or another disease can redirect our lives. Richard and I have felt close to this disease with our friend Ed and my cousin Bobby and a number of other known friends and family battling for a few more years of life, feeling overcome by their fragility. Another cousin knows she has the disease but has chosen not to have any treatment, to enjoy the remainder of her life having a good time traveling and enjoying what is dealt. She plans to retire in nine more years. Perhaps she has the right attitude instead of putting those toxic chemicals into her body, reducing her to a wisp of a person, she's enjoying time she may never have again.

Our role as caretakers continue. First were the parents on both sides, now my only sister. I'll just dust off our cheerleader uniforms, pull out the pom-poms and practice the cheers.

Remembering the Season

Governor and Mrs. Haley Barbour sent this card to citizens with the statement inside, "God bless Mississippi and the wonderful people who make her great". They are standing in front of a yard on the Gulf Coast with only the statue of Mary still intact. A poignant moment captured to be remembered at this holy time of the year. The Bible verse quoted from Jeremiah states, "There is hope for your future, says the Lord, your children will come again to their own land." Take a moment to think or pray for those ravaged by the hurricanes who feel only bleakness in their lives.

I don't begrudge those who wish to say "Happy Holidays" or any other secular greeting. Those who consider this time in December as commemoration of Jesus' birth easily greet with "Merry Christmas", leaving others to use their own means of wishing happiness. It's not the words we use but how we use them and the tone of voice. We Southerners greet strangers easily with a "Good morning" or a "Hello" at motels, restaurants, on the street and always follow with "Thank you" after a favor is done. A greeting communicates caring.

Our tiny tree now sparkles with colored lights and six white dove sit precariously on the limbs. Digging into the few small boxes of ornaments passed from year to year, I'm reminded of the many years between Thanksgiving and December 19 (usually the last day of school) our three kids would make their own ornaments for the tree: painting wooden figures and making paper chains. It was fun also making gifts for neighbors, teachers, and their closest friends. Soon the idea of pasting pictures on soap with wax or hand drawing a picture or making their own greeting cards became passe, and only bought items would do.

One season when daughter Janie was in the third grade, she had decided not to give her teacher a gift, only to change her mind on the evening of the 18th. Because she had decided late in the evening I was quite distraught, needing to prepare for my last day of classes. We traipsed to a department store looking at all the possible gifts. Of course my ideas didn't agree with hers, so I gave her a hard sell. "Look at this scarf, see the way the flowers are arranged at each end? Anyone knowing this artist will appreciate this as a gift. Vera is a well-known designer. One of her scarves is a real gift." Janie had to muse over what I said as she gazed around the ladies' department, finally settling on a Vera scarf with some reluctance. Taking the selection home she wrapped the box her way and never spoke to me again about that gift. That was in 1971.

Several years ago I was in the local library chatting with some friends when that third grade teacher of three decades ago walked in. She asked about Janie and I proudly told her Janie's accomplishments. Putting her hand on my arm, she said, "I'll never forget that Christmas when Janie walked up to my desk and presented me with her gift. As I opened it, she said, 'That's a Vera scarf; anyone is happy to wear something of hers, she's a famous designer.' You know, I've still got that scarf and I've never forgotten those words of hers!"

Ironic as it was, three summers ago at our Kudzu Food and Goods Scott had purchased some Vera collectible napkins. I was pleased to learn more of this talented woman. Then one day a visitor who became a customer mentioned that he collected scarves and hoped to write a biography of her. During that same summer I picked up a budget decorating magazine and found an article about how a young man utilized his collection of her scarves: framing and hanging on his living room wall. They were just as beautiful as when they were originally designed.

What goes around comes around--just like this season. Merry Christmas!

'Tis the Season

With a distinct chill in the air, the Christmas season has tumbled into Mississippi. My neighbors are busy decorating their yards and homes. Lights, I have to admit, at this time of the year twinkling from a tree or a porch or a door make me feel like a child of wonder again. Our tradition is to drive into other neighborhoods on Christmas Eve before dinner to see the feast of lights. We "ooh" and "ahh" like the children we are inside. There are many grown children who've never tired of twinkling lights and amazing life-like toy animal and human forms that bob and sway to canned carols and popular songs. They are the ones who continue the tradition of decorating for the delight of little ones peering through foggy automobile windows on frosty nights.

In our home there are no small children to celebrate with us, so we decorate minimally. I do enjoy having poincettias in various rooms throughout the house, shouting "Merry Christmas!" Like the two seen here. The reds are my favorites, more traditional; but this year I added the white and the pale red ones. Horticulture has changed the flower from its original form.

One season, many years ago, I arranged a trip to Mexico, for my students of Spanish. We boarded a bus Christmas Day afternoon and arrived 24 hours later in Monterrey. One of our side trips took us into a small village where to our surprise we saw a wall of an old house glistening in the morning sunlight Upon closer look we recognized the red leaves on a vine as our potted poincettias--our first to see it in its original growing form. An impressive scene.

Years later I bravely took another group during the season to Mexico City and to their delight the students celebrated the season twice. Most celebrations in Mexico and Latin America begin religiously in early December, attending church at midnight of the 25th. Then the real time for children begins. Anticipation rises over the approaching visit by the Three Wise Men. In the park our students saw three men dressed in long garments meandering from one child to another. They, as our Santa Claus, were listening to the children's wishes for giftsto be delivered on January 6. The park was decorated with play houses painted in bright colors depicting those in fairy tales. Commercial and retail establishments displayed in their storefronts the traditional layout of the town of Bethlehem with minature houses, animals, trees, roadways. At the top of a hill was the manger scene. Homes also decorate in this theme, adding to the town each year. Sometimes these layouts extend into many rooms .

I'm reminded by former student, Stella, who went on this trip, that at reunions of her high school class everyone says the Mexico trip was their most memorable.

Madison, My Madison

Despite the low wages Mississippians earn, there are perks in our state that many others don't have. One is lower property taxes for senior citizens. Those over 65 pay approximately one-half of the taxes levied. We have medical clinics, good public schools, a growing library. Our town is a designated retirement site. It also is an architecturally planned "city" and the efforts of our female mayor is paying off as the city progresses. We don't have a main street leading into downtown that is lined with fast food structures or used auto dealerships. Located a few miles north of the capital city, Madison is THE place for families. No apartment buildings strewn in the once cotton fields, no low-cost housing , no abominable condos reaching to the clouds, and right now a low-to-nothing crime rate .

Madison is developing into a lovely area, if you like progress that brings in traffic, an overload of businesses in form of upscale restaurants, movie theaters, dozens of fast food eateries (conveniently place in proper locations), strip malls--all designed with architectural guidelines set many years ago. We were the first city to force Wal Mart to conform to the guidelines (took them over 4 years to agree to build to the city's standards). The exit off I55 into Madison is the only one in the state that is beautifully laid in brick instead of just concrete walls(and you can believe many folks griped to the newspapers about the Highway Department affording this move). New homes are sprouting on either side of I55 and State Highway 51.

I'm proud of the progress of this place, which 40 years ago when we moved here was a tiny spot on the state map. It's the hurly-burly of this place (or any place that has progressed in size) that makes me enjoy Sullivan County, NY in the summer months.

In the News

Mississippi has made the front pages in many newspapers in the last few months. The New York Times compared the state with Louisiana to energize Katrina rescue efforts. Big layout then. However, the latest articles concerned a good and a bad compliment: Mississippi is the highest in charitable giving and the lowest in household income. My, oh, my. We've suffered from an inferiority complex too many years.

We are charitable. I'm proud to say that schools and organizations in various directions of the state have continued to help Katrina victims. The local colleges and universities have each adopted a city along the Gulf Coast and the efforts of their students will have a tremendous impact. Local residents have formed their own helping hands groups and administer directly with families, churches, libraries, rather than push contributions to larger organizations like Salvation Army or Red Cross. Local restaurants are holding special entertainment with specific groups in mind. One this Saturday night will help the Walter Anderson Family in their restoration of valuable art work that was supposedly safe in another part of the Coast, but suffered water damage.

When on Peaks Island, Maine we attended a Katrina Fund Raiser and this tiny island of 1,000 year 'round residents raised $15,000 in one day. They didn't spend a lot of up front money to have this, most everything was donated. Through the efforts of my daughter she was able to convince the Fund Raiser Committee to send $1,000 to a library in Long Beach, MS that had lost everything. She remains in contact with the librarian who appreciates her efforts to have a book drive to help stock the make-shift library. So much to be done. This doesn't begin to relate the needs there.

As to having the lowest median income in the nation (Connecticut has the highest), we still manage to produce greats in art, music, literature, and sports. Someone recently reminded me that we have produced more sports greats than any other state.

Now a local advertising agency has taken on the responsibility of opening a website to "inform and educate the citizens of Mississippi, as well as interested parties across the U.S., about the wonderful people, aspects and facts associated with the state..." There will be public service announcements for print publications and posters sent to all schools, public and private.
Their campaign is "Mississippi, Believe It!" (see About Mississippi in the link). Everyone recognizes that Oprah, Willie Morris, Brett Farve, B.B. King, and Faith Hill are among recognizable people originally from Mississippi. And don't forget ME-- your humble scribe.

Solutions to Affordable Homes

We've been home nearly a month and acclimating to the traffic-choked streets and highways that I traverse is difficult. Why should I complain about the easy access to fine restaurants, excellent grocery stores, shopping spots within five miles either way? Why should I resist the material acoutrements in my kitchen , the space afforded in our home, use of two automobiles instead of one?

Living simply half the year in NY helps me appreciate what I've worked for ( accumulation of material things in a home paid for) and knowing that I can in an emergency or at my pleasure do without these acoutrements. I'm a bit upset over some of the hurricane "refugees" who complain of learning to live in less space or the lack of television in a hotel room--they've not tried mentally to decrease their "wants." Yes, they're stressed from the loss, but at the same time they should reaccess their lives and understand their present living is temporary and make the best of their time.

With the desperate need for housing, this is a good time for architects to design homes that utilize discarded materials. When in Taos, NM a few years ago, I had wanted to learn about building a house made from old tires and discarded soda cans. A company has built a community of homes set in the earth outside the town and all are solar powered and beautiful. Learn about Earthships in Taos, NM and around the globe at http://www.greenhomebuilding.com. Granted, many homes built this way are expensive, but the theory of solar power and using alternative building products are applicable. Why aren't local architects and builders using this same principle? Those displaced already have mortgages and now must face a second one! Who wants to be beholden to two mortgages for the remainder of their lives?

Our daughter recently visited the small Alabama community that contains housing for lower economic families. These houses are designed and built by architectural students enrolled in the Rural Studio of University of Alabama. Amazing what beautiful structures have been conceived with easy-to-find materials. Why isn't this idea being utilized? We don't have many contractors with creative minds. I'm proud to say one architect, Sam Mockbee,(who lived just up the road in Canton) saw that need and started the Rural Studio many years ago. Look at the website http://www.ruralstudio.com for an interesting read.

We need to push the government to strive for economical ways to rebuild homes.

Finding Me Online

Listening to my favorite radio program (Kim Komando, the computer diva) Saturday, a gentleman called to ask if there was any way to get his name off public records, or at least get some profile info erased that is online. Sadly to say Kim offered no reprieve, only to state that the information highway will widen. So today, I plugged in my name with Google...Yikes! There I was, my profiles (with my password stated) with genealogy and camping message boards, my public radio essays...thank goodness I've not made any more ripples!
And then what to my wandering eye should appear---
a couple of other women who share my first and last name!
I have twins in Indiana and Florida! Should I connect? Are we alike?

Curiosity may get me, but for now, I'll leave them alone.

Scrambling to Unscramble

Recovering from several months in the East isn't an easy task. My brain refuses to unscramble the confusion that arises from shifting from one set of directions, friends, and general area knowledge to another. I thought ghinko biloba would help, especially in liquid form, but so far it is as slow as a computer without DSL. I dislike returning to a busy, traffic-choked situation, and I'm unable to function well without being in my woodland retreat. Even Richard has admitted living the way we did for nearly 3 months was far better than he would have expected. He worked on projects around the cabin so well that in coming home he's had a let down. He doesn't want to get involved with anything for awhile. Is that because the weather has turned colder? Is it because we've not unpacked all our belongings we brought home because they were unneeded there? Or is he also having a letdown from an exciting time?

Our only regret is that we didn't have time to socialize with many, many friends we've made over the last three summers. I managed to get in a few lunches with women whom I want to get better acquainted. One is hoping to move to Santa Fe, a loss to me because I've just begun to know her. However, what's to say I won't make a trip to New Mexico?

Two seasons are upon us and there are no children around to motivate us to decorate. What are you doing this year to celebrate Christ's birth and to give thanks for all the blessings you've received?

Leaving Simple Life for Conveniences

Fall colors on the Poconos along the Delaware River as seen from
our Barryville apartment.


If you’ve packed and moved at least once in your lifetime, you promise yourself not to repeat the process often. Before you know it, someone has to move to a new location, another is flooded out and has to rip home down to the studs, requiring extensive packing by many friends, then someone else has to get out of Dodge and you're the only one to help--it doesn’t matter for whom or what, packing is kin to having a bad case of influenza. You're left with no energy and little enthusiasm for EVER packing again.

We've been packing second son’s storage items and moving them to his property and preparing to leave our Sheds. Our packing is putting clothing in a safe box and covering furniture with sheets to keep out dust. We've learned quickly that living simply equates possessing fewer of everything. Our Blazer will be loaded with excess of everything we thought we'd need in the woods, but don't.

Leaving one place for another brings some kind of renewed spirit. Like my cousin’s move from his home of over 20 years to a rental near his son. He hated leaving his cozy home for a trip across town to a new residence. However, he felt a spark of interest in having this new home despite no longer sharing with his wonderful wife, now deceased. We’ll find that spark of interest when we arrive home to greet our cat Bobbisox, admire the autumn lawn, check out our maple trees, walk through the house to remind ourselves that nothing has changed, and finally settle down in our comfortable living room to check the fall schedule of television programs. (After all, we've seen little of the tv set in the last three months.)How quickly will we slip into old habits, renew friendships in the neighborhood, and day by day scrounge through three months’ mail, discarding the gillions of accumulated catalogs. Our NY friends will communicate via email, reminding us how fortunate we are not to be spending the winter in the East.

We have the best of both worlds and we appreciate that fact.

The City

When we first arrived on the NY scene, summer folks we met said they lived in "the City". Well, there are lots of cities that stretch from here, but I quickly learned that Manhattan was THE CITY.

It is difficult to think about leaving this quiet for the traffic sounds that permeate the City. However, we went in for an overnight visit and ended up wishing we had planned more days. There's something that tugs my psyche when I'm in New York City. I love to walk the streets viewing the upscale and odd retail stores, the delicatessens on every corner, the knock-off goods displayed on rickety tables along the sidewalks. I love to watch the people from every walk of life traipse on the sidewalks, hear languages I can't distinguish, smile at the outlandish styles of clothing. There's no way one can dress incorrectly in NYC. I can wear jeans, shirt, and throw a scarf around my neck and not worry if I'm dressed "correctly or not." Of course, if I attend a concert at Lincoln Center, I'd be more cautious about how I look. And, naturally, I have to return home with something I bought there so I can say to one who compliments my never-before-seen-in-Madison purchase, "This came from NYC." We women do love to say that! You can be sure it's NOT a tee shirt.

This City always has an array of great movies. We try to see at least on.This time we saw "Capote." At the end we left the theatre overcome with profound emotion. Be sure to see it.

Also, we treat ourselves to dinner at some new place. Chelsea is becoming the new Soho and many new shops, galleries, and restaurants are locating there. This time we sampled Korean dishes at D'or Ahn on 10th Ave: mushroom "bibimbob" with egg, black sesame dressing, chili; Beef which was sweet rice flour dusted sliced eye round, pine nuts, spicy mustard sauce; Black Cod, spicy poached with mustard bread pudding and braised daikon; and a side dish of sauteed rice, with crispy tiny shrimp. Ummm.....I'll not forget that meal for awhile.

Wintry Weather Arriving

First Katrina now Wilma promises to send more rain our way. We are holed up in our small apartment, feeling like we’re playing a role in an old b/w movie where we're stuck in a small motel in a deserted town and rain is falling endlessly. How much we miss the cabin,! But the heating has to be upgraded to withstand the night lows of 40's and 30's.

The colors aren’t as vivid this year as last; yet, the muted colors evoke a quiet mood. I still snap photos as each scene unfolds, only to erase them when the camera fails to capture the colors.

A local friend Carolyn has seen the brighter side of all this rain and shared with me, and now with you, this beautiful portrait of the season:

Autumn has arrived! The Oaks, Maples, Cherries, Beach, Birch, Witch Hazel, Dogwood, sumac, Virginia creeper and other deciduous trees and vines are showing brilliant color. What a delight to look out the window and have such a view The ferns are a mix of green, gold, coral, and wine. Winter birds have arrived at the feeders. the most frequent visitors are the chickadees, goldfinches, titmice and nuthatches, pine siskins, juncos and robins. Cardinals and rose-breasted grosbeaks come daily. Temperatures are lovely, we don't need either heat or air conditioning. It has rained off and on sometimes as much as six inches in twenty-four hours. We are high on the hillside so although the water soaks the ground it runs off down the hill to the river. Flowers continue to bloom, chrysanthemums and nasturtiums bring color to the deck and joy to my soul. Lots of yellow composites, goldenrod, white and purple asters, some blue veronica, deep rose pink spirea, white butterfly bush and some late blooming blue iris. The seedlings we planted are loving the rain, foxgloves and lupine are getting larger every day. I continue to enjoy going out on the deck to gather my own herbs for dinner. Put together a vegetable soup this afternoon that used basil, parsley, thyme, oregano, and a pinch of rosemary.

Can you see the colors in her description?

Pitter Pat? More Like Bam-Pow!

You hear folks say that rain on a metal roof is soothing. Well, rain recently isn’t the only patter that drummed on our metal roof! For 15 days of unrelenting downpours, we lay awake off and on during the night listening to pings and bams and plops of acorns, small branches, along with humongas spears of rain falling above our heads. Acorns and branch bits were the loudest, often waking us up wondering, “Is that a deer or a bear outside?” That’s how crashingly loud the sounds were.

Up here the soil is similar to loess, very fine. It takes a lot of rain to create mud, so walking isn’t a problem. Usually the soil soaks up the moisture, seeps into the streams, brooks, and finally the Delaware River. The soil becomes so saturated that the heavy trees can’t stay upright as the soil leeches away from its roots. “Don’t park under trees, as danger lies in trees toppling over from soaked soil.” This we hear on our weather radio. And topple they do. A tree expert told us recently that the hemlocks have shallow roots and fall more easily than pines. But not even the pines can escape such an end. If the loose soil doesn’t cause their downfall, the 45 mile gusts of wind we have this time of the year surely finish the job.

Sometimes waking up to a foggy morning we can't discern how the day will be. But in an hour the fog disappears and replaced with the blue skies. By noon we've quit shivvering in 5o degree weather to a warmth inching to 65. Each day a new experience.

Already I'm feeling sad about leaving this oasis (well, the other half doesn't see it quite the same). We were too involved this trip in projects and not enough in enjoying the surrounding towns and villages and our newer friends. We've continue to meet folks who are one generation from European parents who came here for a better enjoyment of life. Of one only natives seem to lose perspective.

High Waters Changed Our Schedule

The excess water from the heavy rains that fall here causes small brooks to rage like the Mighty Mississippi as they flow into the Delaware ,which rushes down from upper New York into Pennsylvania and along New Jersey. Last year the Delaware flooded this area twice.

We arrived here from Maine last September 2004 and found ourselves trapped at every bridge leading to Barryville. All bridges were closed preparing to be flooded. We were stopped at one point about 7 pm and instructed to go to the nearest elementary school where a shelter had been set up. That evening’s experience in the make-shift shelter was not unpleasant. The local Red Cross volunteers and the school cafeteria manager were well prepared: food already in the refrigerators, cookies baking, drinks in the coolers, games and books in the common room; and finally in the gymnasium army cots and shells that looked like one half of a mummy coffin with no padding were set up. For four hours we sat around getting acquainted with the folks who’d had to leave their homes located too near the rivers and streams. Finally, too tired to small-talk anymore, we chose a shell, put an army blanket under and one over us and tried to nap. The dank odor of the blankets let us know we were the first to use them in a loooong time! Not an hour passed before we were awaken to say we could return home.

However, we were the only ones who had to cross the Delaware. The only solution to our getting to Barryville was to go north on Hwy 84 from Port Jervis, NY to Middletown, then west on 74 B and south to south on 55 to Barryville. This included no bridges. After four hours of driving unfamiliar roads in the rain, we dropped into our beds after 3:30 am . I have to say all the people staying in the shelter were quiet and courteous to each other and to the volunteers.
We were grateful for the orderliness of the Red Cross, the preparedness of the cafeteria manager and their interest in our comfort. From that experience I've learned to carry a paperback book everywhere so boredom doesn't set in wherever we may land.

The Ferns Are Dying. . .

Recent cold snaps have taken a toll on the ferns. Some still wear their summer green, while others are turning yellow to tan to cinnamon brown. One is more aware of the slow dying of these fronds, as they’re spread over vast areas. Tree leaves change colors and drop. Their bodies remain throughout the winter. Wild ferns are reduced to dried mulch.

Walking along the pathway with the ferns in their final colors is a constant reminder of three loved ones facing their own demise. One is tan to cinnamon brown as he survives each day wondering how much longer; another has some green edges with a body of yellow edging into tan, suffering one malady after another as his body weakens; and the third turned brown Saturday the 8th.

Driving from our cabin to the main road, I'm constantly reminded of these three men who enriched our lives and those of others.

Summer's Gone

Woowee! 40 deg nights are reminding us that the leaves will turn a bit earlier than last year. Our non-winterized cabins are good about holding in the cold air. Turkeys by the dozen walk prissily across the road and into the woods. Although we’ve not seen them, neighbors tell us there are several bears, coyotes and bobcats roaming. We did hear the chorus of coyotes singing one evening as we returned to the cabin by flashlight, making them seem closer. A black squirrel, thought at first to be a mink, dashed along the roadside one afternoon as we lumbered up the hill in our old Blazer to our cabin. The main grocery store has dried stalks of corn slumping like tired soldiers against the outside walls. All this reminds us sharply that fall is settling here in this part of New York.

Our trip last week to the closest launderette gave us a breathtaking view of both the Poconos and lower Catskills wearing early colors of yellow and red. Maples are usually the first to announce their new clothes. And the biggest and prettiest tree to watch is adjacent to the launderette.

The bath house has taken on a new coat of floor paint, the compost toilet is out of its packing box and sitting ready to be connected to all the myriad of piping that will wend its way through the roof. Richard is building steps up the bank to the nice path Joe made for us through the now-dying ferns to our parking spaces behind the cabin. We completed dressing up our patio. We hauled in white gravel that had been at the store the last two years to make a cushion over the stony ground on the southeast side of the cabin.

We now see that half or more of our clothing will have to move back to the South. We don’t need half of what is hanging in our loft. We could do with three changes of clothes for each season. Dressing up around here is wearing clean clothes. Easy to do.

"Water, Water Everywhere. . ."

We measure our water by the number of gallon bottles we fill. We use one and one half gallons per day depending on how much time we spend in the area. Our errands may take up most of the day, thereby reducing the drain on our captured water. No rain has fallen in a weeks, so filling the drip-drip from the mountains is unthinkable to capture it into several one-gallon containers. Thinking how much water we use needlessly back home, we hope to be more aware how precious this commodity is and alter our habits.

Campers staying in campgrounds in the East have to pay a quarter to shower for one minute. It doesn’t take long for one to learn to use that time wisely to avoid reaching out with a soapy hand to locate that elusive quarter on the outside shelf. Our first experience came in Massachusetts in a wooded location. We arrived late and with the camp store closed, we had to rummage through our RV to find enough quarters. I figured if it took me more than a minute to shower, I’d certainly learn quickly how to reduce the time before we got to the next state. Most of the owners of big rigs tell us the bathroom was their consideration in buying up from a smaller rig. That way no one had to worry about the water nor waiting in line for a shower. The presence of so many big rigs has given us exclusive rights to the camp restrooms, a real treat.

When Disaster Strikes

Since we've learned how little most citizens take preparedness seriously, I'm heartened by the photo in last week's New York Times of the young woman in New Orleans who had a year's store of water, gasoline, and food. She didn't want to leave her apartment; she was prepared to live there indefinitely. What caused her to prepare for a disaster? There's a story there.

In readying for our living in the woods, I did find one website from which I bought items for experimentation. You may wish to see it and others like it. This is www.nitropak.com. I ordered some of the dehydrated food and must say I don't want too many packages a week to eat. However, other sites I roamed through let me know all kinds of equipment and supplies are out there for purchase. Another is www.emprep.com which sells kits.

Our home in Mississippi is in tornado alley and despite my crowding our hall closet with 2 gals of water, a couple of cans of food, our meds, important papers, and purse, I'm still way behind being ready for emerging from that closet after a disaster. However, our simple living here is giving me ideas for what I need to stock upon our return home.One thing we do know, if we have to go to a central safety place, we will be carrying our "luggable loo."

We are pleased that most of our extended family has a place to go despite losing their homes or their suffering damage. Let's hope the outreach of money generated by relief programs will help everyone we know. Perhaps, too, more awareness of proverty in our own country will be addressed by states and the federal government. No more grants to those counting extinct flowers in Arizona or taking census of domestic animals or some such inane project.