The Never-ending Song

Another angleworm wriggled in under my storm door today.  This one can barely be called a worm, for he is 1" long--oh wait, he is 2 inches long and thin as a thread.  Then I touched him with the tip of my finger and he became a more significant one inch again.  It is not raining today.  In fact it was 75 degrees with very little breeze , bright sun.  So what sent this tiny slip of a creature out onto the walkway and under my door?   I decided I would put this one into my large Geranium pot.  Gently I lifted him as he squirmed and curled into a mini ball of cool brown skin.  He dropped from my palm into the damp soil in the large pot.  I watched as he dug into the earth.  I hope he will find enough food for sustenance in there.  It should not take much.  His tunneling about in there ought to make the soil aerated and healthy for my plant.  I wonder if he will grow---and how rapidly.  I wonder if I will ever see him again.  If I do, I hope it will not be somewhere on the carpet as h

Nature is continually sending gifts our way.  We hear that all the time.  Yet lately there is so much sad news, gloom and doom, even far too much rain--wet basements, missing shingles and leaking roof, washed out roads.  And of course-here we are so close to Thanksgiving, the traditional family get-together time with so many not having seen family members for close to a year now, whom they won't be seeing this year either.   My sister wrote yesterday that her grown son's birthday is coming up.  He lives in the next state, not terribly far to drive, but they cannot leave their state to visit with him.  My son, also one state (and 3 hours drive time) from me has not been able to come in almost a year.  My daughter who lives only 45 mins. drive away and in the same state is not coming tonight as she usually does on Saturdays for dinner and a movie.  She is a health worker, working daily with the elderly and COVID 19 is  leaping through our county.  The ambulance just left Joseph&#

Women today are claiming more attention in the world of men and not in the sexist way.  They are now challenging men for position and power.  I hope in doing this they do not lose the nurturing, feminine side of being female.  In my lengthy lifetime I have known some very strong women who were also very much female.  An example: When I was in 7th grade, my home room teacher was also the math teacher.  Tall, white-haired, neat in dress, firm yet sympathetic in manner, she was on occasion, the brunt of our youthful, critical comments and snickering.  For one thing, her white hair was not always pure white, for it had a natural yellowish tinge.  So she did what was done at that time to alleviate the yellow.  She rinsed her hair with bluing.  Bluing is/was a dye used to whiten clothing which had developed that aged yellow hue.  Every now and then she overdid it, appearing in class with actual blue hair.  To our early teen minds that was hilarious.  We were brutal.  She never changed her ca

  I have spent more time watching TV the past 5 days than ever in my life.  I did not sit and stare at the screen, but had it chatting away in the background as I puttered about my small apartment. Today I guess it came to an end--well a few loose ends to tie up, but pretty much over either way.  I am aware of a lot of unhappy people.  People who did not like Pres. Trump as a person.  That could be extremely difficult.  I don't think he likes himself much.  However, there were many who did like the good things he accomplished.  They are concerned that the very likable gentle Joe Biden  will not be able to hold his own with the heads of China and North Korea, never mind Putin.  Anyway, it appears Biden will have his chance now.  So we will wait and see. I wish him well for the sake of the country and for his own sake.  I would not want anyone in my family to be in his shoes right now. I have not wanted to "talk" politics in public.  I have enjoyed the debates and discussio

Those of us who have raised or taught young children are very aware of the power of word or action association.  How quickly a baby learns the sound of the word "Mama"-his arms reach up and a smile lights his wee face.  The toddler knows when Mama goes to the jar which holds cookies. Just as a child learns, so do our pets.  The cat hears the can-opener and comes running , "OH BOy--tuna!"  The dog hears "walk" and wags his tail, looking expectantly as his person puts on a jacket. Even large animals--the cows, lazing about on the hillside, used to rise and head for the barn when my Dad stood atop the hill calling "Co Boss".  They knew it meant food.  My horses would bang their stall doors and whinny when they saw me approach the grain barrel. "It's about time you showed up!"   Food treats are used in training dogs and they quickly associate performing a certain move earns a taste of something good. I have seen, more and more, as peopl

Halloween--a special event night this year with a full moon and an extra hour.  Sadly there probably won't be many trick-or-treaters out to enjoy the moon slipping through the black clouds, the dry leaves skating along the sidewalk, the eerie sounds of a loose shutter somewhere banging against the wall of an empty house.  Covid is here--the eeriest fear of all this year.  My jack-o-lantern will grin his candle-lit smile through my front window.  My cat will sit behind it on her window seat, tail lashing, jaws chattering, as she watches those tantalizing crisp, dry leaves flash by.    But I do not expect any giggling little ghosts to appear at the door, alarming my watchful dog. I have some fruit bars just in case.  I did not buy any candy this year.  Afraid no kids would come to the door and then I would have to eat it all myself! I had a wonderful birthday yesterday.  My older daughter came and made my favorite meal of sea scallops, mac & cheese & broccoli. And my favorite

Today is my birthday.  The grand old age of 86.  I don't feel 86, or even 68.  When I went to wash my face this morning I looked in the mirror-something I seldom do.  In fact it is a standing joke with my friends when I tell them "let me know if my hair is a mess".  But this morning I thought I would sneak a peek.  Hmm- does that face looking back at me really look like it is 86 years old?  I do see  traces of the pretty girl I once was so very many years ago.  I have out-lived three husbands.  Don't suppose that is anything to brag about.  And NO, I had nothing to do with any of their demises. What do I have to show for my 86 years?  Four terrific kids, grown to wonderful, responsible, caring adults.  Four grown grandchildren- one missing from the family right now, but loved as much anyway.  And two handsome great grandsons.   I have one published book to my credit, small, but a token to leave behind to the children. As I lay in bed last night I recalled how very muc

  My daughter Terry is an avid gardener.  She is also very observant, seeing so many wee creatures many of us often miss.  Recently she sent me pictures of a newcomer to her Gladiola.  He/she is a caterpillar and not a familiar one.  I have always picked up caterpillars-usually those fuzzy black and brown ones called Wooly Bears who are purported to be able to predict the upcoming winter.  They are soft with black faces and shiny bright eyes.  One that used to be a very familiar sight was the green hairless Monarch butterfly caterpillar. There used to be many of them nibbling away on Milkweed.  Now we seldom see those tall, pink, flowering stalks along the roadside or in the meadows.  I loved the fragrance.  As children my sister and I spent hours removing the drying pods in the Fall, opening them to release the silky parachutes, each  with it's small brown seedman dangling beneath.  These are the mainstay of the Monarch butterfly larva.  No Milkweed--no Monarchs-no caterpillars to

  The tiny tomato plant never grew to be more than 8 inches tall.  Rather amusing that it would be considered "legal" here under the 10 inch plant regulation except for one thing--it is edible.  Well not the plant itself, but rather the fruit it produced.  I had rescued it, fed and watered it through the summer.  It was hidden between a large Geranium and the overgrown Lavender.  It never got much sun and being beneath the porch overhang, would not have received much rain either.  So I carried out jugs of water daily to keep it moist.  It began to produce wee red tomatoes, 2 at first, then miniature yellow blooms which became green, then orange, then red cherry tomatoes.  They were sweet and juicy. Perhaps I enjoyed them even more as they arrived in pairs spaced days apart. Now as Autumn approaches, the leaves of the tiny tomato plant are turning yellow.  The spindly branches bend low bearing the last of it's luscious treats---5 more wee red globes.  Who would believe it

  For some time now I have been debating whether or not to write about these strange events which are connected to recently departed people. Today it is rainy, humid, a gloomy day, so what better time to put on paper my recollections of two similar and unexplainable  happenings?  Make of them what you will. Recently my close friend Sylvia passed away from a stroke.  She lived in the apartment next to mine.  She did not die there--made it to the hospital; however, she did not make it back home.  Her apartment is still vacant.  The maintenance man has replaced the carpet, painted the walls, and done minor repairs.  Two people had signed up to rent it.  Apartments here never stay vacant more than the few days it takes to make them ready.  The first one, a man, came to check it out before moving in.  After being inside briefly he told the manager he changed his mind.  No reason given that I am aware of.  I don't know what happened with the woman who was next in line to move in.  She ha

It was hot---very, very hot and muggy.  So humid that when you stepped from your air-conditioned apartment you thought "Who the heck just threw that soggy blanket over me?" At noon on the dot, eight residents , sweltering behind their masks, clustered on the small porch of the community room.   Two cars had arrived earlier, one bearing a lady with some bags who went right into the community room, and the other with two men in shirt, tie & jackets (UGH)  carrying clipboards and pamphlets.   Small foam bowls with a dab of vanilla ice cream (no toppings) were handed from the community room door  to the waiting eight, who pulled their masks down to beneath their chins.  (how else could they eat?)  Now there were no masks and no social distancing.  A   car pulled up.  A very obese young man oozed out and going to the back of his vehicle he withdrew a guitar and lawn chair.  He set the chair back from the group,onto the parking area where he was directly in the blazing sun. 

Last night Hannah and I went out later than usual -around 10:30. The moon was very bright, even though only about half it's potential size. Someone was at the dumpster making a lot of noise.  Hannah peed first, then noticing the racket, she began sniffing the air.  We have a lot of  street lights out now including those on the office building.  Dark by the mail boxes and the dumpster.  I thought it was strange that Hannah was not barking as she always does at people she doesn't know (or recognize) and dogs.  So I rolled the wheelchair down the sidewalk a way to see who was making the noises.  A really big black bear was shaking the dumpster., his gleaming white claws hooked into the door frame,  Standing taller than any man here, he opened the door , which is high up on the side of the large dumpster,  and hauled out bulging white plastic bags. He batted them around like a kitten playing with a ball of yarn,  until they tore open, the contents tumbling forth. Ging

I have been watching and very much enjoying a video series on  Amazon Prime entitled Pioneer Quest.  It is a taped reality show about two couples, one in their 50s and one a young couple-20s? who are selected to attempt to live on a prairie site in Canada for a year.  They arrive in a wagon drawn by a team of horses with basic supplies such as their ancestors  would have had, a milk cow, a pregnant sow and some hens  and roosters.  They have to plow  with an old single bottom plow, heavy sod that had not been farmed in many years.  They had to build their barn and homes from trees they cut on the property.  They dug a well through packed clay soil. They lived for 6 weeks in a tent--two couples who had been strangers--learning to get along, to work together in rough conditions.  It rained for days, flooded, the seeds they planted rotted before they could sprout.  Mosquitoes and ticks attacked en force .  No repellents in the 1850s.   If you think you might have been born in th

For a large part of the Covid 19 attack on the humans, and a few reported animals, the county of Bedford, Va. kept the numbers low. I guess we should have expected we would not escape entirely.  With August, the numbers began to jump.  I check with the Va. dept. of health posting every day.  This past week we went from 418 documented cases to 485, with 1 more hospitalized.  There have been 8 deaths in this county.  Viewing the countrywide numbers this may not seem to be many.  But it is the sudden increase that is alarming for 184 of those cases have occurred in the 3 weeks of August. Everyone is bored.  Churches are opening and in some the participants are not wearing masks and certainly not observing the 6 foot social distance.  People are going to the beach.  Having parties.  Understandable, but responsible?   Here at Joseph's Dream most people are being careful.  We also have a new manager.  The Support Services Coordinator says she has received many complaints about him.  O

Remember the tiny tomato plant I have hidden behind the lavender?  It had three cherry tomatoes which ripened to deliciousness.  Now it has 12 wee tomatoes forming, 3 of which are beginning to turn red.  This is the unknown plant that I discovered on my porch in rather sad condition.  I planted it in my flower bed, hidden behind the tall lush lavender as I had a feeling it was a tomato plant--which is illegal at Joseph's Dream.  I fed it and watered it.  Now it is repaying me with these yummy treats.

  Tonight I have two very unhappy housemates.  Both Susie and Hannah are overweight.  I do not feed many treats and never give either of them "people" food.  The main problem is lack of exercise.  That problem pertains to me also.  I have been adding the pounds, apparent in the fit (or rather non-fit) of my clothes.  Hannah's arthritis and her old leg injury bother her during the humid weather and the rainy cooler weather which we are presently experiencing.  So we have not been going for our "walks".  (She walks, I ride).   Susie is just plain lazy.  Once in a while she goes on a wheeze, tearing around through the tiny apartment, up and over chairs and the bed.  Good kitty--she never gets on the table or counter tops or dresser.  Those wheezes are too far apart to be in any way considered exercise. When I try to play with her, swinging a toy mouse or feather on a string, she lies on her back, one paw taking a listless swipe at the dangler as it passes over her

A few days ago I heard many ladies complaining about having to lug water in gallon jugs to the flowers, wishing, so wishing for rain.  It has been so hot, in the 90's every day in July, that sun scorching.  I stayed out for 45 minutes two days ago.  Had intended to just make a quick trip to the dumpster and mailbox but got caught by a neighbor and the  visit lasted until I told her I thought my arms were becoming crispy.  She was in the shade of a very small tree.  I , on my scooter and minding social distance, was in full sun.  One thing you can be certain of these days is that if you happen to be out of your apartment at the same time as a neighbor, you better not have left something on the stove.  People are suffering from COVID 19 isolation.  Anyway I was caught without my mask so I had to stay the six foot distance---in full sun.  I honestly felt as though I might have a touch of sunstroke when I came inside--dizzy, a bit nauseous and COLD!  I drank a lot of water and felt muc

No, I have not been sick.  Not really busy either.  Perhaps a bit despondent, what with the daily news et al.  People my age, who were children of the WWII era, are having a hard time watching the U.S. destroy itself.  We remember the "rally round the flag, boys" and Uncle Sam, a country united in loyalty to our nation.  We were brought up to respect, whether you agreed or not, the opinion and/or position of others.  There is so much to be gained by listening to the viewpoint of another person.  You may not be persuaded to move to that person's position; however, giving their theory some actual thought can broaden one's own outlook and exercise your mind while forming rebuttals to put forth your case.   But the world is different now, at least the parts of it I am witnessing.  Little respect for property, opposing ideas, even life. No one likes wearing a mask, especially in the heat and humidity.  Are we not willing to sacrifice a bit of discomfort to protect

This is my daughter's story to tell. Maybe someone reading it knows what was happening?   From: Terry Leahy Tue, Jun 30 at 10:09 AM I  just witnessed the most amazing, bizarre scenario! My little pond has 4 resident frogs who like to take up stations on the rock ring around the pond in the 12, 3, 6, 9 o'clock positions. I have wondered at this - is it maximizing space between them, thus decreasing competition for flies in the area, or...?   This AM, three of the frogs were in their places and the 4th was still in the water. Anyway, one of the lovey doves (a pair of sweetly peach-toned mourning doves who live here) attempted to lean in to drink when a splash from the water startled it into the air a bit and it attempted to light a small distance away when the frog LEAPED OUT OF THE POND ATTEMPTING TO GRAB THE DOVE!!   The frog being half the size of the dove - what could be behind that

There are many animal behaviorists who will tell you that animals do not grieve for the lost master or an animal companion.  Perhaps some may not.  Circumstances,  such as what happens to them immediately following the loss, can create differing senarios.   For example, the dog, immediately introduced to a new home, may not have time to wonder where the previous owner has gone or why he was removed from his familiar surroundings. Instead he adjusts to the new environment.  That is his means of survival. Human grieving is for the most part  the sense of loneliness, missing the voice, the presence, the warmth, the loss of the familiar and dear. Why couldn't it be the same for the dog or cat who waits at the door for their person to come in?  Are they simply put out because the person is late-forgotten to fill the bowl?  They do not understand death  as humans do.  As far as we know, they do not hope for eternal life.   Whatever our religious leaning, we humans all have some e

Sylvia's family has been emptying the apartment.  They gave away the porch lounge chair that has been Ginger's choice of a place to rest since the hot weather arrived and the little winter cabin became too warm for her comfort.  For several nights Ginger sat beneath the remaining porch chair, not in it, (it is hard plastic where the lounge was soft and padded.) Last evening she went to Sylvia's door and howled like a tom cat.  I have never heard Ginger make sounds like that.  Then she finally went into the bushes between our apartments and settled herself in a bed there.  During the night she got up on my bedroom windowsill.  The sill is quite wide, made of brick.  My window is open a few inches so she can sniff noses with Susie through the screen. Then the rain began.  So I let her come inside my apartment. She curled up on a chair and slept.  After eating breakfast, though it was still raining quite steadily, she wanted out. Back to Sylvia's door--more meowing

Sylvia and I had talked many times about dying, making plans to leave instructions and things in order for our children.  These were not morbid conversations.   They were just us, sharing our thoughts on how to make our leaving when the time was up, easier for those left behind. Sylvia flew way on angel's wings yesterday about noon.  It went exactly as she had planned.  Her daughter, Shari, the closest to her of the six children, visited for an hour that morning.  Then as Shari was driving home, only a few minutes after leaving Sylvia's bedside, her cell phone rang.  The nurse told Shari that her mother had just died.  Just exactly as Sylvia wished--to say goodbye and die quietly alone.  Neither of us wanted our family to see the end.  We hoped for the chance to tell them we love them--to say "goodbye for now."  Seems it has all worked out for Sylvia just as she planned.  The tears that trickle down my cheeks are not for Sylvia, they are for myself.  For how

When I was growing up it seemed every time I did something a bit different, be it good or bad, I was told it was just a stage. As a teenage girl, changing boyfriends often, I was again told it was a stage.  Going to college, I wanted to be a Veterinarian, (girls did not choose that field back then) so it was just another stage.  "You like medicine?  Be a nurse like your Mother.", Dad said.  And I am quite certain he figured i would soon give up the desire to be a Vet since it was just a stage I was going through.  Married and expecting my first baby, my mood swings were pretty extreme, hopping from anger to tears in a second.  Once again --the dreaded "stage".  Stages have followed me all my life, through decision making , career choice, empty nesting, ,  menopause and now apparently, old age.  I was thinking I was simply an older woman with normal desires and opinions.  However, it seems that once again, I am going through a stage. I am living in a place I would

It was still stormy and very dark when I took Hannah out last night at 10pm, so I did not check on the tomato plant. This morning, though still very overcast and gloomy, it is not raining.  After putting Hannah back into the apartment, I wheeled over to the spot where I had planted the tomato.  There it stood-- brave as a sentinel, with that very small green tomato clinging to it's wispy stem.  It might develop and ripen, turning red, yet. After it's tenuous beginning, valiant struggle to survive, I might not want to eat it!  

The wonderful, generous gal who brought and planted flowers in my little patch last year, came again this Spring and set out many pretty, flowers -a rainbow of colors.  They are all looking very healthy and attracting lots of bees and a few butterflies. Among the fiber pots there was  one tall rather spindly plant, which for unknown reason, she left sitting on the porch. There was no little "signpost" set into the soil in the pot introducing the plant and explaining it's care.  It's leaves were sparse, and the lower three were a bit yellow.  The plant seemed too spindly to withstand the weather we have been enduring, so I have kept it on an end table beneath my "sunlight" lamp.  Although it has increased in height and has added a bit more green color to it's leaves, the stem is still very skinny.  A few days ago a group of wee yellow flowers appeared on a branch near the top.   So I decided, now that the days are warmer and there seems to be no more

Rained all night and still coming down steadily.   This is day ?  Some guy out here with a load of lumber looking for a chap named Noah. A resident  was reported to be spending time on line trying to locate someone who wanted to swap a small cabin cruiser  (boat) for his 10 year old SUV. We are up on a hillside with a good drainage system, so even though the parking lot fills up like a small shallow lake, it runs down the storm drains and  dries up rapidly. The lawn area; however, tends to hold the water.  My little patch of grass is full of puddles.  Poor Hannah.  Squatting to go pee is like peeing in a bath tub.  Her dense coat, despite clipping, has not been really dry for a week.  Even brushing her is impossible as the brush, one made of fine metal teeth, tends to yank out clumps   of damp fur rather than comb through it.  Hannah puts up with a lot, but after a while she looks at me with a stern expression   saying, "Look--enough is enough, okay?"  So Susie and I ar