In the Woods

a secret garden

Yesterday Janet and I took a three-hour stroll through the Connecticut College Arboretum, and I came home with 147 pictures! First we made our way through the native plant collection…

5.22.10 ~ New London, Connecticut — tulip tree ~ 5.22.10
Connecticut College Arboretum
New London, Connecticut

… and then hiked through the woods, noticing the abundance of mountain laurel and flowering dogwood under the dying hemlocks, which used to rule the forest. Finally we made our way to a secret garden hidden in a corner of the arboretum, the Edgerton & Stengel Memorial Wildflower Garden.

We opened the gate and were soon greeted by a Cheshire cat, who let us know that it ‘didn’t matter which way we went’ in his lush and untamed neck of the woods. He appeared and disappeared as we explored the maze of paths, drawing our attention to various wildflowers and settings.

Janet will have to identify some of these flowers…

We were surprised to discover that maidenhair ferns have black stems – the black and green contrast was striking!

See the cinnamon sticks in the cinnamon fern?

To see the world in a grain of sand,
And a heaven in a wild flower;
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
And eternity in an hour.
~ William Blake
(Auguries of Innocence)

There are a couple of Jacks-in-the-Pulpit (aka Indian Turnips) in this picture if you look carefully – they’re not fully in bloom yet.

Sadly, all the hemlocks are slowly dying… new life is taking hold under bare branches…

The Cheshire cat disappeared before we could say good-bye.

After this delightful sojourn we sat and rested for a bit and studied our map. We still haven’t seen the whole arboretum, even after three hours! So we’re planning another visit in a month, when different things will be in bloom, and of course, we hope to come and see Shakespeare-in-the-Arboretum in July, too. Plans made, we then headed for Ruby Tuesday and quenched our thirsts with two strawberry lemonades each!

changing perceptions

Have you ever watched a movie or read a book when you were young and felt one way about it, and then watched or read it again 20-30 years later and felt a much different way about it?

Henry Fonda & Katharine Hepburn ~ On Golden Pond

One particularly striking time I noticed this it had to do with the movie, On Golden Pond. I must have been about 24 the first time I saw it and I identified completely with the daughter, Chelsea, and her many complaints about her difficult childhood. But when I saw it again, in my 50s now, it amazed me how petty she seemed to me now, and how much empathy I now had for her aging parents, Norman and Ethel.

This came to mind earlier this week when we went without power for 24 hours due to an electrical updating project at our home. I remember loving the tetralogy by Sigrid Undset, The Master of Hestviken, a story about the lives of Ingunn and Olav, set in medieval Norway. Again, I identified with Ingunn and her chronic health problems and the descriptions of her inner world. So I decided to start reading it again during those 24 hours off the computer.

I’m three-quarters of the way through the first book, The Axe. What surprises me is that I do not remember all the trouble this orphaned couple had coming together or how long it was taking for their marriage to come about. There was a lot of legal uncertainty, a clash between the age-old laws of the land and the new laws the new church was trying to set up. A lot of waiting. The author is skillful drawing the reader into the agony of the waiting. I had forgotten how tangled and frustrating the situation was!

The other surprise is that there are so many characters in the story that I’ve got an almost unbearable urge to write a genealogical outline for the main families, just to keep the relationships straight in my mind! No doubt these details didn’t interest me in the past… But I have discovered that I am not the only one interested in the cast of characters, there is a list of the characters and their relationships at Wikipedia! I’m amazed…

It feels wonderful to be immersed in a very good book again.

goose family walk

Reading Terrill’s blog post, Canada Geese on family swim day, reminded me of a blog post I wrote last year, so I decided to post it on this blog today. The following blog was originally posted on Gaia Community on 25 May 2009:

Yesterday we were about to start our morning walk in the mist when we heard a clap of not-too-distant thunder. So we got back in the car and decided to watch two Canada geese families weather the storm. One family had four little ones and an unattached aunt or uncle spending time with them. The other family only had two goslings, and they were smaller than the four the other family had. Not sure if they were younger or just smaller for some reason. Dad had an awfully ugly and uncomfortable looking tag around his neck. They were all strolling along at leisurely pace, grazing on the grass…

When the rain started the smaller goslings made a mad dash for their mom, who indulged them for a bit by letting them huddle underneath her. The larger ones looked curious and flapped their wings a few times, imitating their parents. Then they all stood quite still for several minutes, facing into the wind and thrusting their chests out in front of them. After that they decided to ignore the rain and continued walking and feeding. When one of the small goslings got to a small puddle that had formed in the grass, he walked in, but when it got deeper he was surprised and suddenly started swimming, almost tipping over! He looked just as surprised when he had to start walking again!

Wish the pictures had come out better, but I did learn a few more things about my camera. Fiddled with settings and kept wiping rain drops off, and got petty soaked in the process. I know Canada Geese are pretty commonplace, but they were still a wonder to observe more closely than we usually bother, to take the time to enjoy them.

by the sea

It’s been another rough week – will things ever settle down? Dad is not doing well at all and seeing him in so much pain, or else so drugged up that he’s incoherent, leaves me with a pit in my stomach as I stay helpless to relieve his misery. It’s at times like this that it seems like being there couldn’t possibly be enough, although everyone tells me that it does make a difference.

It’s way past my bedtime and I’ve been sitting here at the computer emailing family… And fiddling with a different theme and name for this blog. As if that would change anything. Edge of the Sea suddenly sounded so sharp to me, like the edge of a razor, or the edge of doom, or the edge of night. By the Sea sounds so much softer and comforting. I simply couldn’t rest until I changed it.

None of life’s strings can last
So, I must be on my way
And face another day

Now the darkness only stays the night-time
In the morning it will fade away
Daylight is good at arriving at the right time
It’s not always going to be this grey

All things must pass
All things must pass away

~ George Harrison
♫ (All Things Must Pass) ♫

Larisa: Master of Social Work

Storrs, Connecticut, May 8, 2010
University of Connecticut School of Social Work
Master of Social Work in Case Work
Mental Health & Substance Abuse in Social Work Practice

The sad thing was that Larisa’s most ardent supporter, her Grandpa, was not able to attend, and neither were her Aunt Beverly and Uncle John there, because they remained home to care for Grandpa. But Auntie Lil braved the pouring rain and was pleased as punch to witness the grand event. We all went over to the house afterward and had a little party inside to celebrate and tell Grandpa all about the ceremony.

My parents met at UConn, when my mother was an undergraduate and my father was a graduate student. Dad got his PhD there, too, when Beverly and I were little girls. My sister attended UConn, too, where she met her husband, John, another UConn grad. Beverly went away and got her PhD at the New Mexico Institute of Mining & Technology. I have a feeling Larisa might follow Beverly’s path and go for a PhD at some other university. It will be fun seeing where her next adventure will be!

energy and the sea

I don’t often get into controversial issues online, but I feel compelled to say how I feel about America’s first offshore wind farm. I welcome it with open arms!

I just don’t understand why the late Sen. Kennedy and others were and are so opposed to it. Because it would supposedly spoil the scenery of our beloved Cape Cod? (No one loves Cape Cod more than I do!) Every day our views are marred all over this country by telephone wires and power lines, yet we’re willing to put up with them so we can have all the conveniences electricity brings into our lives. Certainly a wind turbine looks better than a telephone pole!

And what about these off-shore oil rigs which are so dangerous and cost so much to use even when all goes well? I feel anger and horror when I see pictures of the catastrophic mess in the Gulf of Mexico. What have we done? What were we thinking? I cannot imagine a wind farm doing anywhere near as much damage to our little spaceship Earth, even if it failed to be used correctly. And I cannot imagine that in the long run the energy harnessed from the wind would cost any more than the energy we get from oil.

Looking out to sea I would rather see a wind farm than an oil rig. Aren’t theses turbines beautiful?

Cape Wind

gardens and yards

Tim & I bought our little condo in 1993. We loved the wooden blue-grey board siding, the landscaping, the light, and most of all, the two birch trees in front of and on the side of our unit. Our little garden in front was just the right size for me to keep up and I loved taking care of it, and basked in the frequent compliments I received from the neighbors. But it was not to last. Sadly around the year 2003 the condo association decided the complex needed improvements. It was a very drastic renovation and we are far from pleased with the result.

First, they removed most of the trees, bushes and flowers in the gardens to make room for scaffolding. I can’t begin to describe the anguish I felt when the two lovely birch trees disappeared… After we got new roofs and new windows they covered the exterior with some ugly peachy tan stuff that looks like stucco or adobe. Here it is, seven or so years later and I still haven’t fully recovered from the trauma. Not that I haven’t tried. I’ve planted all kinds of things in the garden and made valiant attempts to keep weeds at bay. Occasionally it looks presentable, but most of the time by August (when my allergies kick in) I’ve had it and have given up.

My sister lived in New Mexico for many years and told me the siding looks like it would be appropriate there. But I am a New Englander and I’m still at a loss trying to figure out what would make me feel at home with the outside of my dwelling.

Tim was home sick with bronchitis most of this past week. So yesterday we went out for a drive to see the trees starting to get some green on them. We wound up in Mystic for a brunch at a little restaurant we love, and then decided to head up to the nursery in Ledyard following the back roads. We took pictures of a rusty tow truck that looked in worse shape than the last truck it ever towed! We wondered how many “Yankee points” this farm would score. (Not sure where I learned about Yankee points – many New Englanders, who can’t seem to throw anything away, keep all kinds of potentially useful stuff in their yards. The more stuff, the more points. You know the old saying, “use it up, wear it out, make it do, or do without.”)

When we got to the nursery I was immediately going off on a tangent wanting every other bush I saw. Tim helped me to recover my focus and stick with my new plan. A cranberry cotoneaster. I loved the one I had before it was taken away and this one promises to be 5 feet in diameter. It will eventually choke out some of the weeds. Maybe this will be the year I regain my footing out there. Maybe this fall or next spring I will dare to buy a birch tree. One step at a time… I dug a hole this morning and planted the source of my renewed hopes. It’s supposed to be drizzling for the next three days so it won’t need too much watering. We still love the light here… Will try yet again to make the best of it.

volcanic ash clouds

photo by David Karnå — Eyjafjallajökull – Image: David Karnå

Watching the news last night, about all the flights grounded because it is too dangerous to fly through volcanic ash clouds, got me thinking… Years ago people used to respect the power of Mother Nature and they did their best to live in harmony with it. It seems like today we are determined to carry on with our plans with no regard whatsoever for the weather, the seasons, the climate, or natural disasters.

One of the things I loved about reading Kristin Lavransdatter and The Master of Hestviken was how Sigrid Undset portrayed the characters waking up in the middle of the night and knowing what time of night it was by the subtle sounds they heard outside and the feeling they got from the depth of darkness around them. Imagine being that in tune with the earth!

In Jane Smiley’s book, The Greenlanders, a mother poignantly explains to her son why his grandfather doesn’t have to do any chores:

After a long day, folk rest at night. After a long summer, folk play games and sit about in the winter. After a long life folk sit about the fire and stay warm, for the chill of death is upon them, and even the thickest bearskin can’t keep off the shivering.
~ Jane Smiley
(The Greenlanders)

Life is a mixture of positive and negative things, a delicate balance. On a walk in the woods we see the process of death and decay right along new growth and mature life. It’s more natural than a garden, where unwelcome plants are weeded out, and dead ones discarded as soon as possible. Once we went to a butterfly conservatory where my young friend asked a curator how long the butterflies lived. Usually a day or so was the answer. What happens to the ones that die? They’re swept up every morning. So all we see is the beauty, the dying part is hidden from our awareness.

I’ve been hesitant to blog the past couple of weeks because so many “negative” things are disrupting the rhythm of my life, and it seems a shame to whine about it. But perhaps negative things can be discussed without whining? More as part of the ebb and flow of life? Sometimes I think we pay a price for trying to carry on as if nothing has happened. Maybe we need to go to bed when it gets dark early, maybe we were meant to sleep more in the winter. Maybe we need to accept the universe and stay home when Mother Earth says we should not be flying…

Our little spaceship creates some very big dark clouds sometimes. So why should we expect to sail through our lives without limits on our plans and our share of disappointments and grief to endure? Yes, it would seem I’ve got a rather large dark cloud following me lately, but in the words of my favorite songwriter…

Isn’t it strange how we move our lives for another day
Like skipping a beat
What if a great wave should wash us all away?
Just thinking out loud
Don’t mean to dwell on this dying thing, but looking at blood –
it’s alive right now, deep and sweet within, pouring through our veins
Don’t beat your head, dry your eyes
Let the love in there
There are bad times, but that’s okay
Just look for love in it
~ Dave Matthews
♫ (Pig) ♫

it might get loud

Storytellers… I love listening to musicians and writers talk about their lives and the creative process. Last night we watched It Might Get Loud, a documentary about electric guitarists Jimmy Page, The Edge and Jack White, representing three generations of great music. All different in their approaches yet appreciative of each other’s experiences.

Some of the clips featuring songs from Jimmy Page’s Led Zeppelin brought back memories of listening to the radio as a teen in the 1970s. The Edge’s stories about the strife in Northern Ireland tugged at the heart. And Jack White, the youngest of ten children, is such a quirky, inspiring and intense personality. (Yes, I’m a fan!) I used to read the lyrics from White Stripes album notes to my elderly father, who loves music but vehemently objects to electric guitars. Dad loved the lyrics and said they sounded like they would be great for the messages on the inside of greeting cards.

My patience was rewarded at the end of the movie, when they collaborated to play and sing The Weight by Robbie Robertson.

Take a load off Fanny, take a load for free
Take a load off Fanny,
And… and… and… you can put the load right on me.

Watching, I could not help making comparisons to a writer’s forum we went to a few years ago (February 2006) when Kurt Vonnegut was still alive. He was on stage with Joyce Carol Oates and Jennifer Weiner, again three generations, discussing how they go about writing. Following are Tim’s thoughts about that night:

It was interesting that the older the author the less they used technology. Kurt Vonnegut bemoaned not being able to find a typewriter and more, and on the other end of the spectrum Jennifer Weiner has a blog and uses her computer exclusively It was fascinating also the differences in how they viewed the creative process. Kurt said he just did it for the money and that delivering a manuscript to the publisher was like getting rid of a large tumor. Conversely, Joyce said that she feels the words flow out of her and that she has to stop now and then and remind herself that there were other things in life besides writing. Jennifer seemed to have fallen into writing, but was neither pained by it nor obsessed by it.