Chinese Food and a Swamp

Today's plan was to work in the gardens but plans are made to be changed.

Chris called to invite me to join him, Tisha and Evan for a meal at Bao Ju, a Mandarin restaurant in Neenah. (baojuneenahcom) with excellent food and service. I never turn down an ethnic meal.

I ate cashew chicken and watched as six year old Evan wolf down almond chicken. We discussed pea pods and why they didn't allow the peas to get bigger.  We talked about his friends, Chris and Tisha's work, and my trip.  I think the real point is to let Evan have time with his Grandma before she goes off on another harebrained trip and gets eaten by bears.

I came home early with the plan to go back to work on the gardens but they were wet.  I took a nap to let them dry a bit.

When I woke up, Gary had another idea and off we went to the marsh at Van Patten Road near Shiocton.  We hadn't been there since the spring migrations of April.   We walked along the dikes that hold in the welcoming water for waterfowl. Dan Jach, Seymour handyman and birder, told us there would be pelicans there, and sure enough, we counted 65 of them.

In addition we saw the following species (in no order):
Killdeer
Black Crowned Night Herons
Redhead Duck
Black Terns
American Bittern
Yellow Headed Blackbirds
Red-winged Blackbirds
Coots
Blue Winged Teal
Marsh Wrens
Sandhill Cranes
Mallards with many ducklings
Canada Geese with many goslings
Red-Tailed Hawks
Ruddy Duck
Barn Swallows

Plus a garter snake and muskrats.

We ate sandwiches as we looked over the marsh with binoculars.  I think Gary wants to spend some quality time with me before I go off on another trip and get eaten by bears.

No one ever tries to talk me out of anything though.  I appreciate that.  

Light

For the past few days, we've had sun and warm temperatures.

Just as I get Seasonal Affective Disorder in January and February, sleeping ten hours a night and finding it difficult to accomplish anything, I get the opposite effect in June through August.  I sleep seven hours or less and can't sit still when I'm awake.  I am out gardening, walking, camping, and performing.

What is difficult for me is sitting down in front of the computer screen to get any writing done.  I haven't written a short story in at least two months.  Well, never mind.  That creative time is coming again when summer is over. These months are euphoric time, one hundred percent living.

For the past two days, I've been tearing into my garden paths, pulling out the weeds that try to grow through gravel and brick.  It's hard work but when I'm in summer mode, it is almost effortless.

Until today.  Today, the rains came.  With no sunshine, I slept until almost 8:00 this morning and took a three hour nap in the afternoon.  Tomorrow, we'll start a new cycle of summer sun for three days.  Once more, I'll be going into high gear. The paths are still there.

The trick is to adjust to what each day gives.

Next, the Car

Today's report from my doctor is that I am in excellent health, no problems at all.  

While I was going through tests on Tuesday and Wednesday, my Mercury Sable was going through its 100,000 mile checkup.  It was time to change the spark plugs, replace a vacuum hose, and take care of the rear shocks. It took some time to get the right parts, but now my excellent mechanics assure me the car can handle the trip west.

A Mercury Sable station wagon is not a glamorous car, but it has the advantage of serving as a place to sleep in the very worst weather.  Most times, I'll pitch a tent, but experience tells me there will be those downpours when I won't want to set up camp.  An air mattress and a sleeping bag fit perfectly once I've folded the rear seats down. I've slept very well in the Sable in the past, once I learned not to kick the door and set off the car alarm. 

That alarm is not a bad thing.  Even when I am in the tent, I hang on to the car key with its alarm button.  Should a bear enter my camp, I can hit the alarm and set off the lights.

That hasn't happened yet, but you never know.  

Exam Day

This was the day for tests, the physical kind. I set everything up for the same day, but that meant a couple of days devoted to my health.

Yesterday it was fasting, drinking copious amounts of liquids, and clearing my system, if you know what I mean. I stayed home all afternoon, working in this office, which is next door to the bathroom. It also mean sleeping on the sofa last night, because the living room is also adjacent to the bathroom. We were having a heat wave. I may be one of the few who thought it a blessing because I am never hungry when temperatures go over 90 degrees F. (33 C.)

This morning it was early to rise. I had absolutely nothing to drink since 10:00 pm, which in some ways was the most difficult part of the procedures. Brushing my teeth never felt so good as I let a few drops slide down my throat. By 6:30 a.m. Gary was driving me to Appleton and Encircle Health where all the tests were to be run.

First came the lab work with blood being drawn. I was being tested for glucose since diabetes runs in my family. So does high cholesterol. So far I have neither, but it pays to check it yearly. Six weeks ago, son Chris reported that his blood work showed way too much iron and suggested I have mine looked at, too, so that was another test.

From the lab, I was whipped over to mammography to be pinched and squeezed. My sister died from breast cancer, so that's another necessary test.

Finally, a colonoscopy, something I've never had before. My brother-in-law is now struggling with colon cancer. Nothing genetic there, but let's be thorough, I thought. I had interesting chats with the nurses and the English doctor, but I can't remember much about that now, because I quickly was sedated. When I woke up, there was Gary listening to the initial report, which, I found out, is very good. I even have photos to prove it, which I have offered to share with friends. So far, no takers.

With a clean bill of health, I won't worry about various illnesses...until Seasonal Affective Disorder kicks in the middle of January and I won't think I'll live until March.

Lemon Meringue Pie

The deed has been done and this is what is left of two decades of terrace strip gardening.

One might expect that I would be terribly upset about the City of Seymour wanting the flowers removed, but here's the thing about me:  some make lemonade when they are given lemons.  Me, I make lemon meringue pie.

The five days between my receiving the official notice and the final rototilling of the plot turned out to be great fun.  It began with my telling my friend Susan about it and asking her if she would like some perennials.  She was digging in half an hour. She went home with her car's trunk and back seat full.

I put the news out on Facebook, on my blog, and by e-mail to everyone I knew in Seymour.  On Sunday, it was announced in services in the United Methodist Church.  I put a sign up at my house as well.  

People kept coming. I had to stay on site to tell people about the flowers, the sunshine and water requirements and how to treat them.  I also had to tell them the history of each bloom, because almost everything had been donated.  The lilies-of-the-valley and day lilies came from my mother's garden.  Many of the irises came from librarians Kim and Lois. Lois has since gone to her garden in the sky, so each of those flowers carry memories.

Sometimes, I found myself perplexed when I couldn't remember the colors of various irises yet to bloom.  I thought one of them in particular was multi-color, but I couldn't be sure.  In the end, some of that particular iris was left behind.

My flowers are going to places as far away as Port Washington, near Milwaukee and to Lakewood in the northern woods.  Young families new to gardening took their share.

With each plant, I gave these instructions:  the perennials are free but when it comes time to divide them, you must give some away to another gardener. 

Some folks didn't come for flowers, just to commiserate.  Teachers and students, joggers and walkers came to tell me how much they've appreciated the garden over the years.  I never knew how much it meant to people.

By Tuesday night over a dozen carloads of flowers were gone.  Only a few plants were left.

Gary started a new strip on the other side of the sidewalk and put hostas, irises, and day lilies there.  The city has no jurisdiction past the sidewalk. Then he rototilled the remaining vegetation in.  It's likely flowers will be coming up all summer anyhow, but he'll keep them trimmed to the required six inches.

This morning, the transplanted iris bloomed.  I was right.

There's no stopping someone like me.   Like I said, lemon meringue pie.

A Candle in the Window

A few years ago I decided to concentrate on fiction instead of journalistic non-fiction I made a living at. I've written a few short stories and as of this month, the first has been published in Mobius, an on line poetry and fiction magazine.

Before this, I self-published an e-book, wrote countless magazine and newspaper articles and even had a children's book in print, but I feel that short stories may well prove to be the most rewarding work I do.

When I return from the West Coast in August, I will be back at the computer writing. Summers for storytelling, winters for literature.  It's a satisfactory living.

"A Candle in the Window" can be read at http://mobiusmagazine.com/fiction/candleat.html

Thoughts on Lawns

Seymour people love their lawns.  They take care of them with tenderness they don't always show their children.  They seed them, water them, mow them, water them, fertilize them, mow them, re-seed them, attack weeds, attack bugs, mow them, water them, and so it goes all summer.

When the lawn is pristine, they tell their children not to walk on it.  When they want to spend time outside, they set their lawn chairs firmly on the driveway, avoiding putting a foot imprint on the grass. If the driveway has been newly surfaced, the chairs go just inside the garage.  Why they go outside at all is a mystery.

Sitting outside has nothing to do with nature, as far as I can figure.  A few years ago, we had a spectacular sunset, a real Gone With the Wind, Scarlett O'Hara, I'll Never Be Hungry Again extravaganza. It was probably related to a volcanic eruptions somewhere.  I went as fast as I could to the Rock Ledge Park hill to watch it in all its glory.  I passed a woman sitting on her lawn chair on her driveway, facing away from the sunset.

"Look at that sunset," I called out to her.

She looked over her shoulder and turned back.  "Oh, that means bad weather, doesn't it."  (It doesn't.)

Tonight, as I walked toward the park, I passed a couple sitting on chairs on a lawn, with no mind of the imprint they might leave on the grass, watching the setting sun. I stopped in astonishment.

"You aren't from Seymour," I said.

They weren't.