my people

My great, great, great, great, great, great, great grandfather is Buckingham, Hugh, Sr. of Twitchen, Devon Co., England.

And another great, great, great, great grandfather is Lock, William, Sr. of Devon Co., England.

I'm also the great, great, great, great, great, great granddaughter of William Savage: born 1730 and died in 1800.

These are cool: Great, great grandfather is Andrew Jackson Arnold. And my great, great grandfather's uncle is George Washington Harriman.

And the list goes on and on.

1st day of winter

i know it's not but it certainly felt like it. i raced home from work to put on flannels and thick socks. what a rude awakening. when on earth does the time change? i used to know when this happened: the last sunday in october and the first sunday in april. now it's a mystery to me. i need more sunlight. i can't survive another winter lacking sunlight. it looks like i'm going to need to get one of those light thingies.

so what IS up with the time? ugly angie's comment about the time being wrong made me think of the time change.

i think ugly scott should stick with the weird non-identifiable pics.

please finish the narrative.

it's 7:49 pm.

four winds and dowagiac river

last night: casino.

today: kayaking the dowagiac river. if no one hears from us tomorrow, we put in, of all places, on sink road.

the lifestyles of my plants

each year as the days become shorter and the temperatures drop, i begin to feel sorry for the plants that have to stay outside and face the consequences of being an annual. some of them have struggled all summer because it was dry: a wet may and record rainfall one weekend in september (11 inches over the weekend). i watered as much as i could but always ran out of time each night. so now, as the first frost approaches, the plants are looking better than ever. how sad. many of them look so nice i have the urge to dig them up and put them in pots to continue an inside winter show. i know, though, that they will suffer from shock. the inside plants that have been living outside look good but will not transition to living inside very well. they will hate living in the house for several months. once they get used to it, it'll be time to put them back outside. very sad.

what now

i think i managed to turn off comments. if it's not turned back on, someone will have to let me know. more inspiring/uninspiring stuff later.

transitioning from summer to fall

Yellow Warbler (below) & Goldfinch (right)

i think it's official. summer is over. it must be a psychological thing because it's a relatively hot september day, the pool is at 91 degrees, and i don't feel swimming or sunbathing. what is it about fall? it's really warm out, but doesn't feel very warm. fall brings with it an impending doom. the snow and cold are coming. there is no way to ignore it and no way to wish it away. the leaves are falling, the bugs are dying, and the birds are migrating to better climates. someone should inform the lingering mosquitoes of the end of summer. i've been bitten several times in the last hour.

i spent a great deal of time watching a large group of yellow warblers from the bathroom window this morning. at a glance they look like goldfinches. the goldfinches didn't appear to be thrilled at having company. nevertheless, it's a thrill to see the warblers in our back yard since they don't hang around for the summer.

i did see a brown and black caterpillar munching on a leaf and considered following it until it cocooned itself; however, i got too bored watching it eat so it looks like the same would prove true watching it encase itself. i suppose the mystery of how they do that will remain a mystery to me.

is it too soon to get spring fever?

molly

another year

inside the zip-lock bag
inside the gold tin
inside the brown box

nothing formal
nothing permanent
nothing quite right

not to the yard
not to a shelf
not inscribed

just beside me
just like always

another day
your day

today

bloomless hydrangea

i am totally uninspired tonight.

the dog is, as usual, anxious. he converses with her as though she understands every word. it's a good thing she doesn't understand: her feelings would be hurt.

in response to scott's cricket observation. . . one of my favorite poems (and poetry isn't my thing).

"Seen From Above"

A dead beetle lies on the path through the field.
Three pairs of legs folded neatly on its belly.
Instead of death's confusion, tidiness and order.
The horror of this sight is moderate,
its scope is strictly local, from the wheat grass to the mint.
The grief is quarantined.
The sky is blue.

To preserve our peace of mind, animals die
more shallowly: they aren't deceased, they're dead.
They leave behind, we'd like to think, less feeling and less
world,
departing, we suppose, from a stage less tragic.
Their meek souls never haunt us in the dark,
they know their place,
they show respect.

And so the dead beetle on the path
lies unmourned and shining in the sun.
One glance at it will do for meditation—
clearly nothing much has happened to it.
Important matters are reserved for us,
for our life and death, a death
that always claims the right of way.

--Wislawa Szymborska

roundup & walnuts

ugly scott used up my most interesting material for the day.

the walnut tree is dropping walnuts like crazy while the squirrels run around frantically eating and burying their precious morsels of bitter gold. but the thing i notice the most is how stained the squirrels faces and hands have become. this i notice as i inspect, daily, the progress of the unwanted grass growing in the landscaping. which leads me to wonder why grass grows were i don't want it and dies where i do want it.

Sloe Gin Fizz

1 1/2 oz. Sloe Gin

1/2 oz. Lemon Juice
Club Soda or Sparkling Water

Combine sloe gin and lemon soda or lemon juice in
a shaker filled with ice, shake, pour into a highball
glass filled with ice and fill with club soda or sparkling water.