sunday gardening

We have a small plot in the community garden this year. The garden had a rough start with snow until mid-April, high winds and 100 degrees in May, then weeks of torrential rain in June. Somehow we got most of it planted and we're doing a fair job of keeping down the weeds. Two or three small ones come on Sunday mornings to help with weeds and other chores, but I try not to make it torturous. I want them to remember it as fun. Today, Ella and Elliot counted the tomatoes and peppers that are developing. I'm not sure it's what a guy would call a bumper crop, but it's a crop.

In other news, Regis and I celebrated our 19th anniversary by going to Pet Expo to buy dog and cat food and cat litter, then stopping at Boulder Tap for lunch. We like their food a lot but I hate the televisions. When they ask where we would like to be seated, I always say away from the tvs. Haha. There is no such place.

My dinner plans for today included cooking on the grill. Doesn't look like that will happen as it is raining and thundering...again. Regis just told me the Rabbit Road is closed. Probably more roads to follow once the river gets so high. It's been the summer that wasn't. See paragraph #1 about our strange weather, then realize we have mosquitoes the size of small helicopters.

I think I need a short nap.

paths and bridges

For a flatlander and a non-traveler, I've had an unusual fascination with paths and bridges. I suppose a guy could attach some meaning to that, but I'm not sure what it would be.

I've often thought if it had been up to me to blaze a trail into the new world, I'd still be sitting by the farm in the sod hut in Norway.

I had my third drawing lesson yesterday. My teacher calls herself my mentor which is probably accurate because our conversations are far reaching and as much about life as art. Michelle encourages, through her home and her person, an artistic view of the world.

I printed several path and bridges photos I've taken so I can practice drawing this morning. I've found that if I sketch something then set it aside for a few days, it looks different. I take photos of sketches, too.

I see many comparisons to writing in the process of creating art. I suppose that seems obvious to some but it was a surprise to me.

We've had a string of many, many gloomy days. This is not good when we should be storing up Vitamin D for the winter. Blech.

Off to sip coffee and sit in front of the window to draw. Ah, retirement.

more thoughts on quitting stuff

For today, at least for this morning, I quit getting dressed or being mobile. I'm glad it rained this morning because it is more acceptable to be slothful on days when it pours and thunders.

I'm going to work at 3, so I will be dressed by then.

It's been very interesting to live each day through a lens of quitting. Some of the quits are good ones. I'm trying to quit worrying and I am trying to quit feeling responsible for everybody's everything.

I've explained it this way. All of this is valuable real estate...in my head and in my physical surroundings. Why do I let that stuff live here, in my head and in my physical surroundings...mostly rent free. It's a good perspective.

The other day, I told someone that I had quit holidays. She responded: How did you get by with that? Whoa. I could ask her: How did you get stuck with that?

And there is the tricky part. Much of those kinds of things are enjoyable. There was a time when I loved all my holiday bric-a-brac. I loved baking fourteen kinds of cookies and planning a menu that would feed the Russian army. So, I don't want to imply that I always disliked all of it. See?

Quitting things allows me to choose how gets space in my head.

I'm reading a book by the Dalai Lama and Archbishop Tutu. Their message is how to live a life of joy amidst sadness and death and destruction. I'm only on the first chapter but there is much to ponder here. This week has been rough so it was a good recommendation from my friend, Jane.

I have a new volunteer gig. I'm a new docent for the walking sculpture tours in Mankato. You can check it out here as the site doesn't allow me to steal pictures. Imagine that.

Well, I'm off to clean up and get dressed. Enjoy this rainy day!

sigh. i tried.

I'm taking drawing lessons from a fabulous and very encouraging teacher, Michelle. As I have accumulated drawing supplies, I have tried a couple iPad drawing...things. I don't even know what to call them. This morning, I plugged in a tablet (bamboo, I think) but only gave the youtube tutorial about five minutes. What the hell. I have reached my lifetime technological quota.

I reluctantly allowed Alexa into my life and I turn the living room light off at night by shouting at her. But that's it. When I look at spending an hour trying to learn to use a table with a stylus thing when I could just pick up a piece of paper, my head starts to make a hissing noise and I want to take a nap. Sigh.

Michelle is encouraging me to think about ways to combine photographs, drawing, and words. I sent her this from 2014.

It's one of my favorites. Too bad I don't remember how I did it.

Regis had his second sleep study done last night. The doctor was insistent that he use the bipap machine tonight. The first medical supply store we went to was ho-hum, maybe in two weeks when the guy comes from St. Paul to write the order. WTF. I am usually patient, but I said that was unacceptable and we left. I'm ready to go to the cave, my friends.

In fact, the little room where he did the sleep study was quite adequate. Wonderful sleep number bed, small private bathroom, a tiny television so we could watch MSNBC when the shit comes down as it surely must be about ready to do.

I'm thinking more about quitting stuff and valuable real estate today. It makes sense in a physical space sense and in an emotional and mental work sense. If I am repeating this from yesterday, it's because it's important.

I think I'll go take a nap in my chair until its time to go to work.

quitting stuff- first draft

This post is going to be a partial, not-fully-formed, stream of consciousness post about quitting stuff. I don't like calling it that, and have had conversations with people who don't like this title either. The connotation is bad, they say. Quitting sounds negative and implies that you were meant to do this thing and you are rebelling and not doing it anymore. That's kind of it, though.

I've been thinking about this for several weeks and probably even longer than that. I couldn't get my head around the idea fully and so kept trying to think it though before I touched the keyboard. Some ideas are not meant to appear on the page fully formed, though, so here goes.

Thinks that make it difficult or hard to define:

1. People take it personally if you don't want to do all their stuff anymore. They take it personally when you say you are quitting cooking. Or quitting holidays. They think it means I am going to hermit in the woods and never communicate again with the people I love. Not true. None of it is personal for you. It is personal for me.
2. It's a long process. I started getting rid of stuff years ago, probably when my kids left home. I realized that I didn't need to be responsible for the emotional and physical work it takes to catalog all that stuff. To clean around it. To drag it out of the basement at the right time and then to store it all again.
3. It's very rewarding. Deciding that I am quitting something always leaves room, physically and emotionally, for the things I would rather do or "store". Getting rid of stuff on a shelf also makes room in my head. Gathering up all my writing projects from the past thirty years means I don't have to feel guilty because I'm not doing what I always intended. They don't go to the recycler today, but they go to the basement for a waiting period. Then they go permanently away. It's cathartic.
4. I have strong emotional ties to some of the stuff I am quitting. I have a collection of binders for my holiday cooking. Seriously. I have one for Easter, one for St. Patrick's Day, four for Christmas, a couple for Thanksgiving. Last fall, my daughter-in-law, Emily, took over responsibility for Thanksgiving and Christmas so I didn't even look in the binders for those holidays. Not very many years ago, I wept when I thought of not having holidays at my house. It felt like I wasn't keeping Christmas and keeping Christmas was my role, my responsibility. Now, it feels liberating. The binders are going to the basement and then to the trash.
5. Some things I keep just for memories, but now I'm asking myself how much worth does it have even as a memory if it's on a shelf in the basement. 
6. Why do I have a whole room for eight big chairs and a table when it's rarely used? Valuable real estate put to poor use. What would it mean if I just got rid of it and turned that room into something else? Regis and I both have hobbies that have to be packed up and stuffed into tiny closets because our rooms are full of stuff we don't use.

No doubt, there are more questions.

I can see I need to do some thinking about what I do want in my life. What are my priorities for my physical space, my emotional work load, my mental work load?

This is my first draft.

seeing with new eyes

signs of spring in February

• I'm feeling some renewal of my urge to purge. The pile of empty boxes and the stuff on the shelves in the basement are calling to me. I run out of gas in the winter...probably starts about November but I don't really feel it until January. I always blame it on the lack of sunshine and maybe that's it. Or maybe I'm just lazy.
• I can hear birds singing outside the window. Cardinals have been calling since January but this is a new sound. Lots of birds at the feeder and the squirrels are ravenous. And mangy looking.
• You're either walking on dry pavement or ice. Nothing in between. It's ten degrees over night then rapidly goes up to forty. That makes for lots of meltage and lots of slippery. Walk like a penguin.
• I get a few ideas about home improvements, DIY stuff, you know. I usually loathe that stuff but if I can figure out a was to make life easier, well...I'm all about that as the kids say. My current idea is to have a row of hooks installed on the south wall in my living room so we can hang our bags and purses there instead of piling them on the floor and the bench which is what we do now and which looks like hell. Like this. Only lower and without the shelf.

• I'm thinking about the gardens and our plot in the community garden. I'm curious to see if all my new hostas and ferns made it through the winter. We have a twenty-square foot plot at the community garden and I have been researching what to plant. Planning is not my forte so I need advice. I always over-buy...dirt, then pots, then plants. Elliot wants to grow peanuts but peppers, beans, and peas are my priorities. 
• Winter clothes are starting to feel itchy and uncomfortable. Mittens are easily lost because I need them in the morning and by afternoon, I don't. My heavy wool coat is too heavy and too warm. Yesterday I pushed the stroller to the community center in my heavy coat and almost had to strip once I got there. Wool socks are too warm. Yay t-shirts! Yay sneakers!
• Thoughts of winter foods are disappearing over the horizon. Chili and meatloaf and heavy soup doesn't sound a bit good. We're yearning for burgers on the grill, smoked ribs, and fresh strawberries.
• Woodrow is feeling the call of the wild. He spends a lot of time perched on the table behind the couch, eyeing the birds and squirrels. Every time a door opens, even if he is sound asleep with his paw over his eyes, he bolts for the door.
• Our neighbors are seen outside without a snow shovel in hand! Sometimes an ice buster but it doesn't happen overnight, you know.
• You need to warm your car up in the morning but by afternoon, you can turn it off and open the window if you aren't going too fast.

There you go. I could probably think of a few more, but I have to go to work. Go out in the sunshine today, my friends!

is it the memory that fails?

We braved the icy roads this morning to take Gus for his grooming. (I had to point out that we go to a lot more money and expense to have our dog groomed than we do ourselves.) Then, because the cupboards are bare we headed to Mankato to buy groceries.

My list making habits are constantly changing based on HyVee marketing. Currently, I browse the print ads and make a list on a notebook, but I also use my phone to make a list and download coupons. The problem with that is my phone has to be out and visible.

This morning we finished our shopping, loaded the groceries in the trunk, I put the cart away, and down the road we went. I was digging in my purse for my phone. Calmly, then frantically. There were only two places it could be...on the checkout counter or in the cart. We find the cart corral and I find my cart...and there's my phone sitting in the freezing rain and snow. Good thing I didn't wait until I got home to look for it. Sigh.

I have kind of a day off today (after the morning fiasco) and there are many things rolling around my head that I could do. The problem is that when I have time to do them I don't feel like doing them. But here goes. To the kitchen I go.

Sunday psychosis

I'm sure I've written about this before...Sunday psychosis. When we were fresh out of college and the working life stretched out endlessly into the future, my good friend Mike talked about the dread of Monday as Sunday psychosis. He said it was so bad he would see amoebas. I'm not sure exactly what he meant but we thought it was hilarious. Still do.

I dislike writing more than two sentences on an electronic device. I see kids type with two thumbs and they seem to be pretty fast, but I'm a one-finger typist on a device, something my typing teachers railed against.

My computer gave me a couple signs that something was amiss. Black screen? Unrecognizable language? So...I'm lounging in the tub, late on a Sunday morning, typing my blog post on my iPad. Sigh.

I've done a couple of the necessary things today like scoop the cat liter and get dressed but now I'm kind of done. Regis got my computer back on the rails. He says we should plan ahead for it going kerplooey, as it surely will one of these days. I love a desktop computer and could easily do without an iPad. I don't read on it anymore so it's really just a fancy way to play Scrabble.

It's gray and sloppy outside. Regis washed my car for me in the middle of the night but I went through one puddle and woosh...the end of that.

I had a drawing lesson this afternoon but that didn't inspire me much either.

I wish someone would invite us to dinner.

time passing

Many things have been conspiring lately to force me to recognize just how fast time goes. Other people's children who I thought were still small enough to ride in strollers are off to high school, or college. I see high school friends of mine have children in their forties and some of them are great grandparents. And then there is Ella.

Ella was my first granddaughter and I was waiting in the hall the day she was born. I heard her first cries and I wept. She had food allergies as a tiny baby that caused her much misery. We would stare at her little sleeping face and talk about how sweet she was, but when she woke up and started to howl, our eyes bugged out and we froze.

Then she was a little girl who liked to play with makeup, dress up fancy in long dresses, hats, and jewelry. She loved the camera. She loved to bake and cook. She loved to read books in bed.

Suddenly (to me) she is 12 and she wears heels when we go out for dinner. I'm shuffling along in flat, fur-lined boots and she comes down the snowy sidewalk in 4-inch heels. She's almost as tall as I am and she's pretty self-sufficient.

The past two days she came to the Arts Center with me and learned the docent duties...how to open the doors and turn the lights on, how to check the mail box in the alley, how to empty trash and recycling, how to keep track of guests in the gallery and in the clay studio. The Square POS, which has caused no end of consternation among our older staff was a snap for her. Less than five minutes and no instruction and she had it down. She was amazed that I was amazed.

Alex and Elliot turn ten this month. Easton is almost walking. Zoey has dance recitals and walks to school by herself. The two babies, Sully and Natalie, are doing something new every time we see them.

It's wonderful and it's scary.

I talk to my friends and to Regis about how we don't feel old, but I guess we kind of are. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Goodbye to George

For the first time in 14 and a 1/2 years I woke up and it was so quiet. An unnatural quiet. I was used to having George greet me with a wag of his tail and a check of his food dish. Yesterday was a very sad day for me as I had to have George put to sleep. He had been having some kidney problems and each day was a challenge to know what to feed him. I managed for 3 1/2 months to keep him fairly healthy and happy.


My friend Judy and I went to pick up George on a rainy night in Sacred Heart, Minnesota in 2003. My husband thought we should have a dog and he had fallen in love with Deb's little Yorkie. He enjoyed George very much during the time he was so ill; George was a wonderful diversion for him. Estle passed away in 2004, but did love his little pet and George was a great companion for him. George was a darling puppy, he weighed only 21/2 pounds, but quickly grew into a ferocious little guard dog of 7 pounds. Beware if you rang the doorbell or walked past our house with another dog who easily outweighed George by 90 pounds. He would bound out the door or off the patio and nip at the big dog's heels. He was protecting his family and their property from any and all invaders.


He was a typical terrier. He did not like a to wear a collar or be restrained in any way. What he did he did on his terms. He liked to jump up and sit on my lap while I read or watched television. I f he did not think I was petting him enough he would reach out a little paw and pat my hand so I would continue petting him.


As I said before , getting him to east something was a challenge. The past months he had Spagetti O's, tuna fish, cat food, dog food, soup. cottage cheese, donut holes and anything I was having for dinner.


One week he slept for two days and did not eat anything, so I thought this is it. I called the Vet and made and appointment to have him put down. On the third day he got up, proceeded to eat and seemed to do well.I cancelled the Vet call and she told me, " I didn't feel like getting up those gloomy days either", and remember George is in his 90's.


Saturday night he paced in circles and would tip over and I knew it was time to let go. I called the Vet on Sunday morning and she told me if I could get him there in a half hour she would take care of him. She had her bags packed and was ready to go to Sioux Falls for a few days. Luckily my daughter was with me this weekend , so she drove and also took George into the clinic where the Vet gave him a shot. Teresa held him and she said he just went to sleep very peacefully. We took him home to Canby and my friend Gerry Gingles dug a grave for George in my flower bed. He placed a piece of concrete garden art on top of the grave and very gently wound vines around the statue. Judy Larson brought a rose and placed it on his grave. Such good friends


I miss my little George, but know it was kinder to let him go than to keep alive and suffer. Goodbye little Georgie. I love you and miss you.


A short epilogue:
Sunday morning when I got up, my house was a mess. Things tipped over and pee pads scattered. George was sleeping peacefully, but had evidently had somehow turned the Roomba on by accident. So George had the last laugh; he was innocent. It was that darn Roomba that made the mess.

Shirley Saum

fat cat

Fat Cat. I took Woodrow to the vet at 11:00 yesterday. He had a rabies shot but the focus of the visit was on his weight. The vet suggested a reduced calorie food as we’ve already cut back on treats, follow feeding guidelines, and he no longer gets tuna at noon. In spite of all this, he gained two pounds. I brought him home and left the low cal food on the counter. Regis came home a couple hours later to find a bag of caramels ripped open and strewn around the living room. What the.

Woody is a fussy eater. I doubt he ate any caramels. It was definitely an act of rebellion.

And it wasn't Gus because Gus never gets into things. If there is food on a table right in front of him, he might rest his nose within inches, but he won’t touch it.

They have been known to work together. We came home once to find an Egg McMuffin wrapper on the floor. Gus wouldn't take something off the counter and Woody wouldn't eat it so it was a mystery. We finally figured out that Woody knocked it to the floor and Gus ate it. Devious little pals.

upside down at the park

Upside down

Easton likes to look at things upside down. Here he is demonstrating by hanging over my lap at the Rock Bend Folk Festival, just getting a new perspective on the huge crowd of funky people. It's a really good idea, the upside down version of the world. When you start to get a little glum or grumpy, tip your head and look at things in a new way.

The park was filled to the brim yesterday. Many vendors (which I will look at more closely today), wonderful music, good friends and family, food and drink. A bee took a bath in Regis's beer and fast little bugger that he was, managed to bite him on the end of his tongue before being spat out upon the grass. Other than that, a good time was had by all.

We're going back today because there's more music that we love: The Frye, City Mouse, Everett Smithson, Erik Koskinen. It must be what heaven is like...good music in the sunshine surrounded by all this hippiness. Peace and love, man.

morning

Ever since the election, I have felt compelled to check the news first thing every morning just to make sure the person occupying the White House hasn't done anything crazy. Most days he has which only serves to reinforce this bad habit.

This morning, there was political news but also forest fires, the aftermath of Harvey, the impending doom of Hurricane Irma, and two more hurricanes forming and lining up to pummel the already battle-weary islands in the Caribbean. Did I hear something about earthquakes, too? It's all exhausting but for some reason, this round, I am able to watch it and let it go. It doesn't weigh on me all day like it sometimes does.

Yesterday I spent a couple hours with Easton who is almost 8 months old. He loves to watch the cars and trucks roll by on Broadway, he loves his toys, and he loves to play pat-a-cake. He grins at me now when I go in to pick him up after his nap. It's fun to watch him move...for a baby who doesn't crawl yet, he's pretty quick!

Yesterday, the sedum in the garden was covered with painted ladies. A sweet calming for the spirit.

Today, I'll go to yoga. And I've been spending time outside every day. Every single day.

Funny how we mark time with firsts and lasts and every years. So many first day of school photos are being posted on Facebook. I love them all. For most of my life, I went back to school in September, either as a student or as a teacher. One of my friends who is considering retirement is going through all the last of the firsts. Bittersweet in many ways.

The local folk festival, Rock Bend, started in 1991. I'm pretty sure I have been there for at least a part of it every year for 27 years. The weather should be perfect for it this weekend and if want to experience some pure soul cleansing, this is it. Sitting in the September sunshine, listening to music while the smell of BBQ drifts across the park talking to friends and maybe holding a baby. Bliss.

I'm working at the Arts Center this afternoon. Ah, life.

ah, september

The shorter days in September serve to remind me of the things I usually do in the summer that I didn't do this year. Woody and I like to start the morning on the back porch, he in the window and me in the hammock chair with a cup of coffee. Not this summer.

We went to a furniture store yesterday and bought me a recliner. I have always loathed recliners because they are gigantic and ugly. I found one that is less gigantic and therefore not as ugly as some so it should be satisfactory. I may be able to rid myself of the low back and shoulder pain that has come from sitting awkwardly in a chair that allows me to slouch. I could have picked out a custom fabric but that seemed like too much trouble. The fabric on the chair I bought is called Brass and I like that. I always bought wine by the label and I guess I do the same with chairs.

Since last week, I have been true to my word and I'm spending at least an hour outside every day. Some days I do something productive like work in the yard and some days I just sit and watch the sun go down. I'm storing up Vitamin D for the long days of darkness.

We have a new tiny girl grand-daughter since I wrote last. She was under 6 pounds last time I held her. Her bitty legs didn't go to the bottom of her newborn sleeper. Such a miracle. We're still waiting on the other baby...the boy named Sullivan. I wish he would make his appearance because, well, because I worry. The doctor is hoping for one more week in the womb and I guess he knows best.

A not so busy day today. House picking up this morning and Arts Center this afternoon. Music in the park to look forward to this weekend.

there was that

Yeah, that thing about too many things on the list. That was Sunday.

So, I let go a little and today I can barely walk through the kitchen.

I was gone a lot yesterday and only stopped at home after buying groceries long enough to unload the bags and put the cold things away. The kitchen floor is littered with full and empty grocery bags because by the time I got home at the end of the day I didn't feel like doing one more thing except eat and nap. Sigh.

I promised Gus a walk today and I promised myself an hour in the sunshine. Maybe we'll walk over to see the little kids at the park. Gus loves kids.

There is fall in the air. A few yellowed leaves are falling, the air is chilly in the morning, and the light has a different cast, a warmer color. I'm thinking meatloaf, baked potatoes, chili, cornbread. A small fire on the patio, a visit to the pumpkin patch soon, and back to school.

Getting up and starting my day's mission.

P.S. We added another baby to our brood yesterday. Natalie Nicole was born to Amber and Reg at 5:27 in the morning. She's bitty...only 5 pounds and 15 ounces. That's number #6.

too many things on the list

I like to think of myself as a person who can say no but I'm starting to get the notion that's a fallacy. I think I'm quite good at feeling irritated when I am doing something I don't really want to do but the inkling says that I am not so good at predicting that and saying no at the start.

Most often it's things I put on myself.

Since I retired, I've been telling myself that I should get my addresses organized. I have a big pouch full of envelopes, a notebook filled with scribbled addresses, lists of addresses organized by such titles as Small Saums or Friends in Iowa, and sticky notes with phone numbers and no names. I have to try and remember from the color and condition of the sticky note where I might have been and whose number I might have written down. Right.

This summer I decided that the mess is just fine. I know where to find an address when I need it.

Same thing with recipes. I keep trying to organize them and keep them organized but it's a waste of time and energy. I will always have a stash on the shelf of recipes I have printed and made and want to make again. I will always have binders full of favorites in plastic sleeves which I usually can't find when I need. I will probably always hoard recipes electronically...unopened saves on Facebook, recipes on Plan to Eat, Folders full of recipes on every computer. Don't talk to me about the cloud. I know, I know.

So, that's my battle plan for today, folks. My cognitive work. Just give up on some of that crap. I think I'll be happier for it.

Mom's reunion story

As we get out of the car after a four hour drive we are welcomed by the smell of pine trees, hugs, and " we are so glad you are here".

This is the third year year my nephews and nieces have had a first cousin reunion.   I am privileged  to be invited as I am the only auntie in Minnesota.  This year however my 94 year old sister is coming from Seattle, Washington. Does this mean I have to give up my throne?  Everyone treats me like a queen and I have grown accustomed  to being the queen.

I am staying with Greg and Becky on Lake Tulaby. They have a wonderful home; you can tell Greg is an avid hunter as he has deer head mounts and also a huge elk rack.  Their home is delightful  and  they are a great host and hostess.  I have a wonderful bed and a bathroom just a few steps away.

Ah ha , the big moment has arrived.   My sister and Punk are here. Jean has not been here for many years and Punk  has not been here since she was a kid.   Great to see both of them.  Pat, Helen, and I flew out to Ephrata, Washington  for Jean's 90th birthday and have not seen them since.   We visited for awhile  and then had a delicious meal and spent time getting to know everyone.

Becky made us wonderful omelets for breakfast  and then started planning for the next meal. Again, great food.

In the afternoon we sat around and I guess Jean and I entertained a few people.  They thought we were funny , so acted up a little more. Did not even have a lot of wine.

Supper at Bud and Chris's cabin.  Lots of kids and again a great meal.  Rodney made a prime rib and it was delicious.  Mitch and Jolene were hosts,  Dee Ann had a video and it brought back lots of memories. Thanks Dee Ann. Fun to see all the great nieces and nephews. There were five generations. Jean and I were the matriarchs, the next generation were the nephews and nieces.  Next were their children, then their kids had kids,and last but not least was little Ryan.  I had a grand time.

 

Went back to Greg's home and  Jean showed off her famous kick!!!. We should have a video of that, Punk. In the morning we went to Deb and Rodney;s home.  Another beautiful home!  Rod made his famous heart shaped waffles. Karen made her wonderful biscotti and Janice and Karen made the super egg bakes. I am drooling thinking about all the good food we had.  I hope I am not leaving anyone out as all the food was fantastic.  It is so much fun to see what wonderful people my relatives are.  As Garrison Keeler says, " All the men are handsome, the women are beautiful and the kids are all darling" ...or something like that

Thanks again, proud to call you my relatives. You are the greatest and I love you all. 

Great Auntie and Auntie Shirley.

patterns

My garden has been neglected lately. On the days when I have time to spend trimming or gathering, the weather or my schedule have not cooperated. It's a beautiful day today and I have the afternoon free so maybe this is the day. I'm starting to think about fall.

I feel pretty lethargic all summer. Toward the end of August, my ambition picks up and I think it's an ancient impulse, the reptile brain that makes it so. Days are getting shorter, nights are cool, and I am thinking of getting ready for winter.

A priority this year is protecting myself from the dark days. My goal is to be outside for an hour a day to soak up the sunshine. I can always walk to the coop or the library...it's rarely so cold that it's impossible to be outside. If I don't want to linger in the cold, I can sit by the sunny windows.

There are things to do in the garden before we get too deep into fall. I'm moving the Joe Pye weed and the veronica. Both need more sun than I can give them in that spot. If you have a sunny spot, I'd be happy to share. They are two of my favorites because of the butterflies and bees they attract. I have a couple of bigger hostas that I'll move in when they vacate.

Regis took this beautiful photo of a spicebush swallowtail on the Joe Pye weed.

There are household things to do before winter, too. Cupboards to clean, spices to organize, and clothes to sort. We have two babies coming soon and that will mean lots of visits and maybe some newborn holding time.

I started to think about patterns because when I look back at my blog, or when my Facebook memories come up, my thoughts are always the same in the fall. I get burst of ambition like I did the other day when I made a list of ten things to do and did them all. I baked bread and a pot roast with potatoes and carrots.

I found a 7th great-grandmother and grand-father on ancestry.com. Here's the lineage:

1. James Reeves (1684-)
   7th great-grandfather and
   father of ...
2. Mary Reeve (1712-1782)
   mother of ...
3. Bathsheba Clark (1744-1809)
   mother of ...
4. John Soper (1764-1847)
   father of ...
5. Samuel Soper (1797-1877)
   father of ...
6. Mary Jane Soper (1832-1893)
   mother of ...
7. Martha Ellen Chambers (1870-1946)
   mother of ...
8. Elsie M Saum (1912-1987)
   mother of ...
9. Estle Wesley Saum (1931-2004)
   father of ...
10. Teresa Saum (1952-)
    You

James Reeves' wife, Deborah Slatterly, was born in New York in 1684. Boggles the mind that a pregnant woman would get on a ship in the mid-1600s and float across the ocean. I should go back and read some history, I think. Imagine the size of that ship. Imagine the weather. What the hell would compel a person to do that?

Moving on into the day. Be gentle with yourself today, my friends.

trees and brambles

I went to a reunion of the Round Barn Syversons on Tulaby Lake a few weeks ago. There were five generations there, my mom (87) and Aunt Jean (94) being the oldest. Ryan was the youngest at 4 months.

Shirley Saum and Jean Rhinehart

The Queens

I've been mulling over my thoughts and feelings since I got home. I might have to write this in short observations at this point, before I lose the ideas.

This is a picture of my maternal grandmother, Josephine Matson Syverson, in front of their homesteading cabin in Joplin, Montana in 1914. I can't even think of what to say about the hardships they must have endured. It looks about the size of a small fish house. Imagine the summer heat and the cold winds of winter. Not a tree in sight. 

My grandmother and grandfather, Bennie Syverson, a few offspring later. I don't think that homesteading thing worked out so well because here they are in improved digs. If I study the children's faces, I can see cousins of mine. And children and grandchildren of my cousins.

My cousin, Kelly, on the left, unknown baby on the right. And below, the group photo that only contains about half of the family.

This is Ryan with Helen, also shown in the front row.

The same faces keep showing up. We watched a slide show on the lawn, thanks to DeeAnn, on Saturday night. Looking at pictures that went back a hundred years, people all descended from Ben and Josie, five generations, and the same faces keep showing up.

Regis and I did DNA tests this past year so we are perusing family trees addictively. I've found 5th great-grandfathers on my dad's side, going back to the 1700s. At some point I'll invest in the world membership for a month to track down more folks in Europe.

I'm not as interested in the accurate documentation of births and deaths, but I am fascinated by the stories. I found some relatives who fought in the War of 1812, father and son, side by side. I found several people who were married for more than 50 years and lived into their 80s and 90s back in the 1800s. That's some longevity for those times.

I started trying to find the Irish relatives that were indicated by the 25% Irish in my DNA. Then I read more about it and discovered that my Irish DNA could go back a thousand years. On my dad's side there are lots of English relatives, a few Scots, but only one birth in Ireland...my great-grandfather born in Ireland to an unmarried English mother. But you can't argue with DNA.

So, this line of thinking would often loop back to my daughter, Tiffany, who is adopted and born in Korea. I wondered if talk of family trees made her uncomfortable or sad. I didn't want to write this post until I had talked with her about that.

I asked her if she felt she was truly a part of my family, genetics aside, and she said of course. Then I rambled a bit in my thinking and speaking. If her known family starts with her and her two boys, that's really no different than anybody else. In my family tree, there are unknowns (father of my grandfather is unnamed) and there are gaps. She is starting her tree right now.

I've done some research and there are organizations that promote DNA testing for Korean adoptees. Sometimes it can lead to biological relatives...sometimes not.

So maybe family trees are more like family brambles than neat, symmetrical trees with two parents on each branch. Maybe none of us, contrary to what many like to think, are 100% anything. Maybe all of our family trees are filled with unknowns and gaps and stunted branches.  

It doesn't change a thing, does it? We love who we love, we love who loves us back, we spend time with the people who are important to us. Sometimes family become like strangers and sometimes friends become like family.

It's a big, old messy mystery.