Misty Mornings on the Meadow

Late summer mornings on the meadow have a beauty all their own. As I listen to somewhat melancholy music on a rainy Friday morning, I treasure these moments before fall arrives. The kitties are all fast asleep; Tommy and Bitty curled up on the sofa nearby; Hobo in his little house on the deck. 

This is the 14th anniversary of 9/11. Such a time to remember. Obviously contributing to my sad and remembering mood. I miss Derrick intensely on this day, remembering his reaction as a third grader. I always wonder if that somehow contributed to his decision to serve as a Marine. To make a difference in the way he thinks best. 

I was working at the college then. Somewhat early in my career there. Sitting in the office as per normal that morning. Lori, my sister called. She was living in Arizona at the time. She told me what had happened, watching the morning news as her family readied for school and work. At nearly the same time, a colleague’s husband called with the same news. The word spread quickly through the office. Some of the team decided to go to one of the classrooms they had heard were watching as the horror unfolded, as part of an unexpected change in the syllabus. 

Thinking it was my obligation to let our supervisor know where the team was, I knocked on his door and went in. He was working on a project with the door closed that morning and I knew he was busy. We had the understanding I would always inform him as I deemed necessary if something came up. Who would ever think it would be something like that? I remember telling him about it, and the look on his face. A peace maker, I wasn’t certain what his reaction would be. Shock, but also an almost disbelief in what I said. Almost a dismissal, something I never saw in him before, or since. 

There were plans for me to leave around lunch that day. I had to take Derrick to a doctor appointment. I was thankful to be able to pick him up, knowing that I would be the one to tell him about the news. In times like that, we all long to be with the ones we love most. He was full of questions. We had left his dad earlier that year and were living on our own in our little town. He was concerned, even at that young age, about where another likely target for terrorists would be. He thought about our county court house, the schools. As any mother would, I assured him I thought we were safe, tucked away in our rural Indiana community. All the while thinking about the mothers unable to assure their children the same. 

The days that week unfolded in a surreal fashion. I couldn’t bear to watch the television as most people did. Still, the visuals are etched into my memory. There was a community gathering in the high school, lead by church leaders in the community. The place was packed. As I went into the building, a formation of F-16s from the local Air National Guard flew overhead, breaking the silence of the sky without any flights allowed that week. There were several gatherings for discussions of the college community, held in various locations on campus. I went to one, lead by some of the professors and administrators, my supervisor being one. A student that worked for me in the office and babysat for Derrick nearly fainted. I helped her out into the cool air outside the meeting place. We held each other, crying. 

Each year on the anniversary, when Derrick was still at home with me, we would light candles in the evening and say a prayer of rememberance. Always, the realization of that morning returned to me as if a movie was playing in my mind, putting me right back to those moments. My heart aches with the feelings stirred by things read on Facebook, seen on the Internet wherever we turn today. 

As T and I have reconnected after all these years, we’ve talked and shared our memories of that fateful day. He says he has always remembered that it was me who told him about the news. Knowing him all the better now, I understand his reaction. Masked pain. It gives me an incredibly poignant feeling that even in all the years between that morning and our present life, our memories of that morning are intertwined. 

The misty mornings of the meadow are part of our joined lives now. Blending our souls in love and joy. The realization that it can all change in a moment. That the only moment we have is the glorious moment of now. 

The Blessing of the Oak Trees

The sky is whole and clear.

The earth is whole and firm.

The spirit is whole and full.

~ 39th Verse of The Tao

The oak towers above. It stretches into the sky; clear and sunny, dark with the moonlight dancing in its branches, or sheltering us from the storms that pass through. The branches of the tree have no control over the movement of the wind. Yet the tree teaches us that we too have a relationship of soul to spirit. We sway and lift with what sustains us within. 

The oak spreads its roots deep within the soil of the earth. Always reaching to an understanding that can only come from the depths. The tree teaches us to ground ourselves within the solid foundation of our life. The tree teaches us we are all connected on this earth.

The tree is whole and full above us. As the spirit of the wind moves through its leaves, it reminds us to listen, to feel the Spirit. We bless what these trees have given to us. We will remember the spirit of these trees, the shelter, the beauty of their gift as we go on without them overlooking the lake.

As T and I plan to expand our small cottage, it became clear we would have to lose two oaks. I mourned in anticipation of their demise. They have sheltered me through many a personal storm these past years. I have fond memories of Henri, my homing pigeon, flying through the trees. The wonder of watching an owl on early summer nights, perched on the horizontal branches overlooking the deck.

Yet the expansion of the cottage will give us more room when we want to have visitors. Not to mention the fine day we move there upon retirement. 

As the trees came down, it was obvious there were large chunks of them that had died, hollowed out. So even if we weren’t expanding, the trees could have dropped limbs during a storm that could have done substantial damage. Or worse, hurt someone. It is a bit of a relief. 

Still, I am grateful for the shade, shelter, and beautry trees have given us. We’ve had some logs set aside to use as book shelves and perhaps a coffee table to use in the cottage. The oaks will always be with us in spirit.

A Cabin in the Woods

A sweet friendship refreshes the soul.

~ Proverbs 27:9

It was a spur of the moment trip. The best kind! In fact, as our friends picked us up on Friday afternoon, the most I knew was that we were going to a cabin in the woods in Southern Indiana for the weekend. That was all I needed to know!

We were to bring some snacks, liquid refreshments, and food for lunch on Saturday. Easy enough. I made a batch of oatmeal raisin cookies, T’s favorite, grabbed some fruit, and some cheese with crackers. For lunch, I was able to find some good avacados so T could make his famous guacamole and I made a batch of chicken enchiladas. A bag of chips, and we were good to go!

We ended up in Hoosier National Forest, not far from the Ohio River. We found a lovely little restaurant, nestled on the top of a hill over looking the river. The trip took several hours, stopping a time or two as one of us wanted to stretch our legs or do a bit of exploring. 

Finding the cabin was a bit of an adventure. We had scant directions. GPS wasn't particularly helpful without the exact address. "Turn right at the sawmill" was about as specific as we had in the way of directions. But find it we did!



Two luxurious nights settled deeply in the woods. We sat, the four of us, swinging, sharing, and laughing together. Friendship comfortable and strong. The ability to let all pretense go. No make-up by choice. No phone connection or internet service. Pure bliss!

We were all reminded of sitting on porches with grandparents long ago. 

Seemed one of the most important things to do was to watch the humming birds swarm  the feeders. We were happy to keep the feeders full with fresh sugar water.  

We were as carefree as the clouds floating by. What a perfect weekend!

Walking in Washington, D.C.

“Holding hands is a promise to one another that, 

for just a moment, 

the two of you don’t have to face the world alone.”

I spent the day alone, for the most part, in Washington, D.C. today. 

How can one be alone in a big city?

It was perfect to find so many people, keeping hold of one another. 

We need more of that in this world of ours.

 May you never need walk alone.

Pizzelles and Almond Crescents

Soon I will leave for a trip where I get to visit Derrick! How exciting! The last time I saw him was at Christmas when he was able to make it home for the holiday.

One of the last times we spoke on the phone, I asked him if there was any treat from home he’d like me to bring. Of course, the first thing he said he wanted was for me to bring the kitties!

It didn’t take him long to request two of his favorite treats. (After he knew it was hopeless for him to beg for the kitties.) This is what he picked: almond crescents and pizzelles.

I wasn’t surprised about the almond crescents. He always asks for those! As do my nieces and nephews. If there is a family gathering, I’m expected to make them. No question about it. 

But the pizzelles? He had to dredge that up from some old memory. I haven’t made them very many times. In fact, the last time I really remember making them was when he was in 3rd or 4th grade. Of course, there were plenty of times that my mom made them when the family would gather. Often, when we went to visit her, there would be a container sent home, especially for Derrick because she knew how much he liked them. 

Pizzelles were a mainstay in my life growing up, an Italian anise flavored cookie backed in a iron. They were made by Mom’s best friend, an Italian. So they would show up for their family festivities. Often we were included, so we were able to share in all the Italian food delights. It didn’t take long for Margaret to recruit Mom into helping make the pizzelles, along with other things. The recipe they used called for a dozen eggs! I only used three in the batch I made today.

I’m happy to continue in the tradition of making pizzelles. In fact, Mom and Lori, my sister, made the large amount for a wedding rehersal dinner Lori is hosting tomorrow night. 

These cookies will be shared from here in Indiana to North Carolina and also in Scottsdale. That is quite the cookie! y!

I hope they make Derrick happy!

A birthday present for a special little girl. 

Just a little something. Really, nothing much. But what a joy to make and give it to her! Her smile when she saw it is precious and pure.

I realized that her birthday was close when I saw her on Sunday. Little girls are good about reminding others. (When we become big girls we prefer to forget birthdays altogether!) In my little town there isn’t much in the opportunity of shopping. 

So what to do? I remember a pattern, look in the fabric stash, dig out a yarn to coordinate. Done! A small bag. 

As soon as she sees it she slips it over her shoulder and starts to think about what she could slip inside. Isn’t that what a bag is for? Little treasures that bring a smile? 

Fierce winds do not blow all morning;

A downpour of rain does not last the day.

~ Tao Te Ching, 23rd Verse

The kitties have the right idea on a rainy Wednesday. Sleep. 

What else is there to do when the meadow is quiet due to the flood? 

In the storm of the night I went out to check on Hobo in the lightening and thunder, most displeased with the conditions. He was trying to make himself comfortable by curling up on top of a towel I’d placed on the trunk. He still refuses to go into the little house, defiled as it is by racoons sniffing it. As I stepped outside, I heard the pathetic mewing of a fawn, calling to his mother in the storm.This morning I saw a deer swimming across the flooded meadow. I wonder if the fawn was rescued by his mother in the night. 

I am moving in slow gear myself today. I could take a nap except for all the tasks that call to be done.

Nature and life teach us that nothing lasts forever. Be patient and the storm will pass. The waters will recede. 

The sun will shine again soon.