Skookum

Years ago, while waiting for my daughter and son to have their swimming lesson at the YMCA, I flipped through the pages of a local free newspaper. There I found a column entitled Free Will Astrology by Rob Brezney. Among his pearls I recognized some truths, some posibilities and questions. For example, this week the horoscope  for Aquarians reads:" Your new vocabulary word for the week if 'skookum,' a term from the Chinook Indians that is still used in some parts of British Columbia and the Pacific Northwest." Skookum means "in cahoots with good spirits" and, after what I experienced today, I would say that must be true. But Rob knew something big metaphysically was about to happen to me. A month or so ago he wrote that in the near future I would have an experience that would put me in touch with "otherness." And over the weeks that prediction has crossed my mind.  I wondered, where is it? I found out on my way to work this morning.

I, along with thousands of fellow New Englanders, travel a road know as the Merritt Parkway, aka Route 15, to get to work. This road was constructed in the 1930's and its claim to fame is that all if its bridges are different and lovely.  It is a National Historic treasure.

Well, today, as I was about to drive under one of these bridges, a steel girder fell onto the pavement. I swerved into the right lane immediately and was grateful that there was no one there to hit.  I was confused as to whether I should pull over, or call someone (whom?) or what.  I kept on driving when I saw a van and a sports car slow to stop.  I put the thought of the near disaster for me out of my mind, as I was driving to test a student at a school dedicated to students with learning disabilities.  I could not be upset for him.  The experience hit me, however, when I returned to my office building and I could not help but to share the story with friends and co-workers.  Returning to my office, I went to place my car keys into the pocket of a raincoat that I have had for many seasons.  For the first time I noticed a label that had been sewn into the pocket.  It read: Life is a journey.  Stay warm.  Keep dry.  If there was an iota of doubt about the fact that I was being protected by "otherness" and today was not my day to die, it evaporated upon reading the message in the pocket. 

Life is a journey.  Stay warm.  Keep dry.

The Garden

I am particularly fond of a pink, blue, and purple palette, accented with yellow and white. The thing is, I love flowers, so that makes me susceptible to any pretty little thing in bloom. I have Bee Balm that is a glorious red and a Lupine that is terracotta. These iris are ones my mother bought from a man who was selling them road side. Irises are funny, because they bloom for such a short period and melt in the sun or rain. I had some pink ones with brown centers planted by a wall, but they would bend over the wall and look terrible in no time flat. I hoiked them out last weekend. I usually transplant, however when plants fail to please me year after year, out they go to the compost pile. My yard seems big to me, but it is only about an acre. Still, that is way too much to keep neat and tidy. Our borders are laced with bushes and trees, and on one side is a steep drop to a white pine stand. There are various spots where my husband has created paths that lead deeper into the woods. They always look a little mysterious to me, even though I know where they lead. I once read an article that showed what happened to a well maintained and manicured garden that was left unattended for just three years. Nature had taken over and it was hardly identifiable. I wish nature would slow down a bit so that we could catch up. This morning my husband reported that there was feasting in the back 40 last night. We have been successful in keeping the nibblers at bay, but the garden obviously needs another spray with deer repellent. A fantastic one, Deer Stopper, smells lovely, works well and only needs to be applied monthly. That is the one I use in the front of the house. My husband uses Deer Solution in the back. We have been running our own trials, to see which works better. I am in the lead, because I have a system. I apply it at the beginning of the month, so I don't forget. It is the same system I use for remembering to give Lacey her Heartguard. Looks like I better give my better half a hand, if I want to enjoy my garden this summer.

Spring

Peonies, irises, foxglove, poppies and primrose. All lovely lookers of my spring garden. The lady across my side yard, I wish to call it my meadow, stands in her yard and sips her coffee while gazing on these beauties. I am creating an enclave of magic with each selection planted. I am lucky to have a wonderful, handsome husband to tuck each in for me. As soon as the pollen passes I will be able to spend more time out there. It has been a dreadful spring allergy-wise. We have planted 10 boxwood, a dozen or so hydragena, 3 holly (one prince to pollinate 2 maids), 8 heather, with many lupine, dahlia, pinks, English daisies, Solomon's Seal, Cosmos, Cleome, fragrant Heliotrope, astilbe, hosta, and many others, including an Indigo bush! I replaced the English lavender that disappeared a few years ago and snuck in a French lavender, one with much longer stems. If it survives it will be choice to weave lavender sticks with ribbons as sachets for my closets.
The poppies remind me of a friend I had who lived in Darien. His mother had a huge bed of poppies and when they were in bloom he would invite me for a picnic in the backyard by the poppies. He was a talented actor, singer, composer who died of AIDS early in his life. I continue to be reminded of his at this time of year.

He and I were in community theatre together. One show, The Fantastics, I played the Indian Who Died and he played the male lead, The Boy. A few years later my husband and I had the thrill to sit in the small Sullivan St. Threatre and watch him recreate that same role. He was like the brother I never had. I think of him frequently and still miss him always.

Adieu, Adieu

My darling little Dell laptop that has been my soul and my highest inspiration...okay maybe not all that, but I did think I would shed a tear or two when it bit the dust, has died. I think I actually lost part of my life with that death. But then I thought of my friend Dolores, whose house burned down last summer, and the loss of the contents of my computer paled in comparison. Get a grip girl!

I recently heard about a study done that evaluated the happiness of people around the world. Guess who won? The Danes! The reason? Not the crappy climate and lack of sunshine, but their happiness was closely correlated with health levels, followed by wealth, followed by the provision of education. So people with really good health care, a higher GDP per captita, and access to education were much more likely to report being happy. FYI, the USA is #23 on the list. The nations of my forefathers and foremothers (Sweden and Ireland respectively) were ranked 7 (Sweden) and 11 (Ireland). That explains the longing for the homeland....

In that vein I was recently gifted with a Great Wheel by my lovely daughter for Mother's Day. It is currently in my office, which I may be turning into a library. It is beautiful and came from a lovely little antique shop in Brattleboro, VT. It was not complete and needed a spindle assembly that I luckly got on Ebay. For a wheel this old they are rare! I was given a Schacht Matchless Spinning Wheel as a Christmas from my husband. I love it but have been unable to produce anything worth keeping. My plan this summer is to take some spinning classes, so that I will be prepared for the longing that overtakes me in the Fall and Winter. If I could learn to spin on the Great Wheel it would be a double bonus. It is also called a Walking Wheel, because one must draft the roving out, then stop the wheel, hold it up and walk toward the wheel to begin again. It is said that one walks 20 miles by the time a skein of wool has been spun. Two wheels. Does this mean that I am going to begin collecting spinning wheels? Where would I put them? That is my friend Madeline's essential question. I always think that If I love something that I can fit it in. I imagine myself in a large barn-like room, with a pile of golden straw, spinning and spinning....

Zombies

I was greeted this morning by my husband with the following.
Husband: "I am watching the funniest movie with Woody Harrelson about zombies. You wouldn't like it, because of the blood and gore, but if you could watch it with your eyes closed...."
Me: Why is there so much blood and gore?
Husband: Because they are zombies.
Me: That doesn't answer the question.
Husband: They are zombies Sharon.
Me: I know nothing about zombies. Why is there so much blood and gore?

Husband: Zombies eat people.

Me: Why?

Husband: Because they are zombies!

Me: Looks like I am going to have to Google zombie. Think Wickipedia has a zombie entry?

I found this on Don't Eat My Brain, an archive for zombie types.

That seems a little vague. There are many people I know that would fit this description. I could even fit that description on certain days.... Yikes!

Gots to order a 6 pack.