Tuesday, April 11, 2017

Tomorrow about 5 AM I'll turn 72


It is big into spring here. Baldwin tilled in my garden and I planted potatoes - pouring some water with silica onto each potato, hoping to combat the potato fungus which has devastated my crop for the last several years. Need to research some other possible remedies. Garden is coming along, the weather unusually warm so soon in April. I have beets sprouting up and needing thinning along with greens.
Somehow 72 doesn't seem as old as 70, 6 x 12, year of the Rooster returns.

Saturday, April 1, 2017

I think of my mother all day

My mother's cotton ball canap├ęs, delightful served with cocktails on April Fool's day, haunted me. I wanted to think of a good joke to play on my kids.  I first contemplated bringing a hen inside and taking pictures which I would post with the caption: "my new pet." But although I spent time in the coop changing the water, I had no chance to capture a bird. I chuckled at morning edition's rock soup, dirty rock dishes, for healthy dining - it was almost believable until they interviewed a Parisian about saving their precious dog's poop for ingredient.  I failed to come up with a plan or photo or story to post and the day was colder than anticipated. 
I did take mr.lee on a run to the recycling center in Mr.T (the truck). I accidentally dropped the entire plastic bag into the container with the recyclables - fortunately the man using the bin had a hook in his truck and managed to hoist my bag out. Then mr. lee and I drove to Childress Garden Center for seed potatoes and cabbage seedlings (and some flowers for my homecoming family). Mr. Puckett has a female dog like mr.lee - from the pound, who has had to have all of her teeth pulled. I teased mr.lee that he had a girl friend. 


Friday, March 31, 2017

The signs of spring accumulate

I found violets to eat yesterday by the river. The spring beauties are profuse underneath the spice bushes thin branches dotted with their tiny neon yellow flowers. Red buds by the house are on the verge of flower.

Thursday, March 30, 2017

Counting the Days

Ever since I was a child I deliberated over counting the days until whatever event; whether to count today or not, whether to count the day of the celebration if it didn't begin until late, and so on. Baldwin and family return Tuesday, the 4th at 11PM. Today is Thursday; five more days if I don't count today. But in anticipation of Tuesday, I know it will be a long day to wait and I will leave early for the airport...
Mr. Lee and I are waiting for rooster to go into the coop so that we can close the small door and be done with the chore for this day. It is a chilly gray day after a glorious yesterday, a prelude to good rain which we need. I plan to buy some seed potatoes this weekend and flowers in celebration of April. And pansies for Mindy!


Saturday, March 25, 2017

Visit from grad school buddy!

What fun, what easy slip into talk, talk that poured from me as from the mouth of those who live alone - and I kept thinking I was talking too much and too loud, but it seemed ok. Old friends, Neal certainly is familiar with my passionate tirades. Talking of times at UVA, poetry evenings at Alan's house when a visiting poet was in town, Neal remembering times I have forgot. It was a wonderful not even 24 hours and I will send him some of my work. I miss that time in my life when friends would drop by for dinner or I might go for coffee with Kearney. 
I worked in the garden after Neal left, planting more peas - throwing weeds to the chickens. It is a warm delightful day; mr lee and I went all the way to the swim hole, flushing two pairs of ducks too fair away to recognize. I should say I walked slowly, my plantar faciitis acting up again. I can't seem to take it easier! 


Wednesday, March 22, 2017

cold than warm, than cold - so on...

Picking up the detritus of the dead

Bending to a thin lock of hair, inhaling the musty
laundry of the home bound, an open
book there by the chair. I could never
retrieve the stories my mother left on her
computer, the house and its contents left to my brother -
i abandoned it all after the months of care.
returned to my mountain fastness, sealing

the doors.


Thinking of a friend who died while retrieving a lock of my dog's hair on the rug. Odd how the memories sprout in the head. Working on a long poem i wrote several years ago and urged by friend, Susan, to assemble for a video. Mercilessly cut and at half the length it reads much smoother - fun to look for photos which we may use. A project to take the news of the day off the neocortex. 






Friday, March 17, 2017

Post Cards plus - St Paddy's Day

Still nursing right foot with a case of plantar fasciitis which persists in spite of visits to chiropractor. Enjoyed making 3 post cards to mail on Ides of Trump to the White House, even though I seriously doubt DJT looks at the huge pile of mail. To bare being citizen under Trump, I have upped attendance at meetings besides the local democrats, joining Indivisible and Dialogue on Race. I think it helps to be with other resisters and activists, not unlike AA meetings to keep one on track. 
Before this recent bout of very cold weather with false alarm of possible snow, I took this picture down by the river. We are just coming out a frigid wind, difficult days for maintaining warmth - New England is digging out! The series of 20 degree mornings killed my day lilies. Hopefully not to the point to prevent blooms. Baldwin and Mindy's Japanese magnolia which was about to bloom, has sad brown flags where there were purple buds. I walked up to it with some homeopathic rescue remedy and agaracus (good for frost bite) in water to pour on the roots of the magnolia. Hopefully there are many more blooms that were not burned. 
I still make calls to congress folks, not as many since the Virginia General Assembly has gone home. Fortunate that both Senators are Democrats, I mostly call Missing Morgan. Listing reasons why the NEA is important. Ah. Now I can add more items such as the need for Meals on Wheels, jeez, really! Maddening that the US must pay roughly 183 million a year for secret service on Melania and son in NYC - this is more that the budget for most programs that Trump's budget seeks to cut. All to raise the budget for the military: bully President; bully Nation. Tweedledum (Twitterly dumb Trump).