For Rose...

2009-12-25T09:25:00.000-08:00

At noon, December 25, 2009, a lone piper played "Amazing Grace" on the front porch of 7 Echo Point Circle in Wheeling. For Posy who grew up and played under the giant Sycamore trees near the house, for Judy, who reared five children in a house long gone, and for all those who lived in and loved Echo Point... Robert, Anne, Susan, Robert, James, Rose, James, Catharine, Edward and Jane... rest in peace on this glorious Christmas Day. (thank you, thank you, Patrick)

2009-12-08T15:23:00.000-08:00

On Posy's Christmas Card several years ago...(the card was hand made)

"And at night we win to the ancient inn

Where the child in the frost is furled,

We follow the feet where all souls meet

At the inn at the end of the world.

The gods lie dead where the leaves lie red,

For the flame of the sun is flown.

The gods lie cold where the leaves lie gold

And a Child comes forth alone."

...G.K. Chesterton~ " A Child of the Snows"

Displaced Worlds

2009-10-20T16:30:00.001-07:00

It all started when I was painting the garage. When my paint brush went through the wall, I decided to stop and reconsider the project. I put the lid on the can, cleaned my brush, put the ladder away and made a call.

The contractor and I decided the rotten wood was due to the dampness from the hemlock trees nearby plus really clogged gutters. A six hour job at the most.

He had worked only ten minutes, taking off the bad wood that we both thought was the extent of the damage. The knock came at the back door, and when he said "You need to see this"...my stomach turned over. When I saw the carnage, my knees got weak. There under the wood that had looked perfectly normal until the paint brush incident, was a network of tunnels and brittle crumbling sawdust that was supposedly holding up the garage roof.

Numbly, I made my way into the house, deafened by the ca-ching, ca-ching sound in my head as the tab for this small job got bigger with each piece of wood pried away. Another call, this time to my exterminator. Some women my age "have" an accountant, a decorator, a manicurist. I "have" an exterminator. We go back a long way, my exterminator and I. He saved us from a false alarm at our previous home over termites that a big company who shall remain nameless said we had. He rescued us the week after we moved into this home when we discovered four legged critters had taken up residence under the subfloor months before. He has ben a periodic hero at other times over the last 30 years when the critters threaten to return. The year we had spiders EVERYWHERE- that was when he really reached godlike status. The hornet's nest dispatched under cover of darkness- that too. And the bats- those, too have been eliminated by this old friend.

Euphemistically labeled "Pest Control Specialists" in the yellow pages, they control by terminating. I don't really want to know how they work. I just want the job done. I have a deep respect for life- all life, and have been known to escort lightening bugs and moths out a window in order to save them. Never mind that falling two stories as I tossed them out the window might have been fatal for them, at least I did not squish them into eternity. I might add that spiders are given no quarter here. They are different.

The exterminator, the contractor and I surveyed the damage (by this time, all the bad wood was exposed- including support beams). When he said that by now, the colony of termites was in chaos and sending out alarms underground, I felt a momentary sadness. Then I looked back at the magnificent old house that could have been next- the "moment" was brief. The termites were soon to be history. Their time was measured. In a few days, they would be "eliminated" and the fresh wood going up would not be invaded.

The house, mercifully, miraculously, has been spared. It, too will be "treated" as a precaution. It's the newest thing, very green, this smiter of termites, I am assured. The same poison has been used at the Statue of Liberty and the Alamo. It must be good. This stately 100 year old house deserves the best. It's central hallway, ionic columns in the parlor and egg and dart molding (even on the second floor- a rarity I am told) enhance her dignity. Designed by one of the finest architects in the area a century ago, the house with it's colanaded porch and late Victorian trim, is a small mansion with touches not found in most of the neighborhood homes.

Tomorrow I will sign the contract that will save the homestead- with of course, a yearly return to inspect the bait in the stations inserted in the ground. They won't win, these termites. I looked out my window this morning and snapped the photo you see here. Not only are millions of termites displaced, but a whole village of sparrows who had set up housekeeping in the spaces that the termites had hollowed out will have to find a new place to stay over. A half bushel worth of nesting material and feathers was pulled out of the beam. Their consternation was audible as well. The sparrows flitted around, perched on the roof, chirped and dive bombed one another in what appeared to be an effort to understand their plight. A world turned upside in the tiny eco system called my back yard.

notes on a passing...

2009-08-20T07:55:00.000-07:00

RIP 1994-2009

"Bertha" was with us for 15 years. Like anything that sticks around that long, a beloved dog, comfortable butt- sprung chair or the family car- it becomes part of you. Bertha lived up to her name, strong, stubborn, BIG. "Belching"became a prefix in later years when age took it's toll on the steel princess. Her gold color and faux wood trim were unique in this area- there are (were) other Roadmasters on the road locally, but she became my trade mark, sort of. Everyone knew the car and knew it was mine. It became a beacon when parked anywhere- it seemed to announce- Anne is here!!!

The Buick Roadmaster Estate Wagon was the largest station wagon ever produced by GM. Predating the monster SUV's by a couple of years, the Roadmaster was dubbed by Consumer Report Magazine as the extravagant gas guzzler of its day. The Corvette engine necessary to carry its bulk was standard for this model... a fact we tried to hide from the new drivers in the family for obvious reasons. That power saved one son from a potential disaster on a run from Pittsburgh to Columbus. Faced with a tight spot on Interstate 70, the engine got him out of it. Thank you, Bertha.

The car was huge, long and wide. I was pretty good at parking it, and one day, while pulling into a parallel space in front of a building, I did a particularly good job- classic two movements - and it was snuggly in place. I was going to a meeting, and several men who were also attending the board meeting witnessed this feat. While not complimenting me -a woman driver- on my good job.. one of them did manage a comment- he said "You dock that thing, you don't park it".

Bertha hauled lots of things in her time. Everything from bags of play sand to swing sets in boxes graced the back deck. In later years, baskets of stuff destined for dorm rooms in Morgantown filled that space. "Eau de Arnold Hall" was a scent that lingered long after it should have... as did Rosie's smell. Our old Newfoundland dog, Rosie easily glided into the big car without really having to climb at all, it was so low slung. Our vet dubbed it "Rosie's Car"- its windows were chronically blurred with tell tale Newfie slobber.

It was like a living room on wheels. There was enough room in the front seat for me, my purse, a couple of shopping bags and a passenger. I had to lean to put my arm on the arm rest.

I couldn't complain even when the shocks were completely gone, the ride was smooth. The 1/2 mile drive from my house to Kroger gave the sensation of being in a canoe and riding the wake of a power boat...not unpleasant at all.

We kind of replaced Bertha (without trading her in) last spring with another gas guzzler, a Toyota 4-runner- sport model, used...good deal, all of that. It sat in the garage while the dependable Buick continued to carry things I didn't want to dirty up the new car with...mulch, plants, potting soil. When the helper at the nursery asked if I wanted plastic to protect the car...I just smiled and said, "not necessary".

The trusty Buick even passed inspection in June! Shortly after that, we knew the time had come. Things started to go wrong, air conditioning quit, funny noises under the front of the car, then a flapping sound under the hood. We even entertained the thought of having the faithful servant checked out just in case we could keep it going....a little longer...

Reality and the "cash for clunkers" offer- soon to run out- made us face cold hard facts and we made a decision...

As I sat in the Honda dealership, after signing a paper swearing that I was indeed who I said I was, that the old car being turned in was indeed mine, documented by two trips to the DMV no less, I almost had a "moment". The faithful Buick, which had carried so many of us safely throughout the last decade- and- a -half was placed in the back lot with all the other rejects. They will paint "clunker" across her windshield and pour a cement like substance into the engine...all required, the nice young man said. I asked him to please not put paint on the old girl and he just smiled.

She doesn't deserve that humiliation.

As I drove the mostly plastic little Civic off the lot, I felt a nagging sense of betrayal. Silly me...it was only a car.

safe haven

2009-06-09T03:37:00.000-07:00

Grizzly has had it. He had adjusted to life just fine, thank you...

why this creature? He has played second fiddle to a huge, cranky old Newfoundland, put up with a boat load of canine relatives who come and go at will and eat his food and drink his water- and take his bed. He has been terrorized by the resident terrier mix who decides when he can enter the family room, when he can eat, when he can sleep -and where... (she plays dirty, too).

Tank, the four pound pug put him over the edge. Grizzly never

sits between the chairs near the windows. Never. but it was safer there than out in the room where who knows what might pounce on an unsuspecting giant?

Peace

2009-05-31T07:37:00.000-07:00

Whatever you may consider to be "perfect contentment"-

This has to be near the top of the list.

reflection

2009-05-10T06:43:00.001-07:00

How many deaths must we endure before our sins of commission and omission cease to haunt us? We have lost two women in the last two weeks whose lives wrapped around so many hearts that it is impossible to comprehend the depth of the collective grieving.

There are no guarantees in this fragile life. We don't have assurance that tomorrow or even the next moment will be ours. We all have reason to regret the unsaid kind word, the phone call not made or the hug not given. I told my mother that I hated her when I was old enough to know better and my thoughtlessness has haunted me for decades. She has been gone 42 years. I can only hope the kindnesses I did have time to do for her cancelled out those angry, childish words.

For Judy...

2009-04-30T18:33:00.000-07:00

For Judy...

I lost a friend, sister and sort- of- mother this week. I had known her for 45 years or so.

She taught me how to hold, feed and bathe a baby. She helped me let go of my first child when I needed to let him explore the world...she never complained, criticized or found fault with anyone.

I felt better about myself and the world every time I was around her- a hallmark of a true friend. When my brother died, she came and sat with me.

We didn't see each other often in later years but when we did, we took up where the last conversation left off, without missing a beat.

The last time I saw her was when she came to my house a couple of weeks ago to have lunch with two ladies who knew Jeanette well- and one of them a nurse! She made friends with them instantly and poured over old photos and talked and talked and talked. We looked at her yearbooks from high school. And for a few hours, she was young, beautiful and healthy.

She was home again.

She never lost the beauty- it revealed itself in everything she did and said.

Her spirit lives on in the wonderful family she had and nurtured and was so very, very proud of.

Please... someone feeds her birds for awhile?

squatter's rights

2009-04-23T15:59:00.001-07:00

This may be difficult to make out at first. If you see a large black form plunked into the middle of a newly prepared garden bed- you are correct...it's Grizzly.

Sometimes a body needs to assert itself. Claiming a tiny portion of one's surroundings becomes all important. Was it the smell of the freshly turned earth...the cool dirt on a hot tummy...or was it a statement? Here, in the space of a few square feet of dirt, Grizzly reigns supreme. He chews his feet in peace. He has boundaries. He is safe.

terrier terror

2009-04-22T02:46:00.000-07:00

"OK...here's the plan"

bad fit

2009-04-20T06:09:00.001-07:00

There are just some days that don't "fit"-

you are out of sorts for some reason, maybe

you don't even know why. Your jeans are too

tight, you are moodier than usual...you are

at loose ends. and then, finally, at the end

of the day, when it's time to relax- the chair is

too tight.

"am not"

2009-04-18T05:55:00.001-07:00

She insists she is not a home wrecker...

just the mother in law.

...whatever

gone home

2009-04-17T03:43:00.001-07:00

Whenever Corey's mom goes back home, there is a period

of time in which Corey mourns her departure. The body

language is evident here. Nothing helps...not even the toy

beside her. The only comfort is one of Anne's sox...which

she carries with her for a day or so.

Recently found under one of the big four poster beds

upstairs where Corey sleeps were four such sox

(so- I don't run the sweeper that often any more). She

had probably collected them, one by one and lovingly

placed them beside her as she slept.

question...

2009-04-14T13:45:00.001-07:00

... "Do we really want to know what they are thinking?"

Home Wrecker

2009-04-13T04:45:00.001-07:00

Mourning Doves mate for life.

Note the body language.

Do the math.

new definition

2009-04-09T03:48:00.000-07:00

Corey gives new meaning to the phrase

"Cheek by jowl"

Formania Picture Album

2008-10-26T10:53:00.000-07:00

Will's reaction.

Needs Vitamin "P"

2008-08-04T03:59:00.000-07:00

Corey- ever present, ever faithful, ever watchful, ever protective,

is depressed.

The weight of her world has crushed her broad shoulders. This is not a pose we associate with our girl.

She'll forgive us for taking her for granted, or not. It is entirely up to her, as usual.

shirt inspired room

2008-08-03T17:59:00.000-07:00

When a color combination works- go with it, shirt, paint color, curtains, etc.....

I saw a shirt for Jim and bought it for him...blue and yellow. I liked the combination so much that I decided to paint the back hall. It was a blue/green that I was getting tired of anyway.

Then I went to J.C. Penney and found a curtain topper in yellow and blue, took the curtain to the paint store and got the yellow for the walls. The back hall is now yellow and blue. I guess, thanks to Jim.

To The Rescue

2008-07-24T13:48:00.000-07:00

When every egg in the new package ended up on the hard tile floor...

our always faithful and diligent Corey was there.

She never rests-ever.

These Shoes Are Made For Walking

2008-07-24T13:30:00.000-07:00

...and a whole lot more-

Marketed as "Princess Reeboks", these shoes are not being worn by one.

2008-07-03T11:34:00.000-07:00

Trooper

While ironing in my kitchen, I noticed one of our resident Mourning Doves on the power line in the alley. He/she likes to sit there during the afternoons. The rains came down, down, down...hard at times.

The bird sat, slightly hunched over but resolute and patient, or maybe just hot enough to get a cooling shower. It's still out there, thirty minutes into the rain.

2008-07-02T06:24:00.000-07:00

Circle of Life

I knew Grizzly "had" something in the yard when I tried to call him in. All I could see of him was his tail, wagging tentatively and very slowly. I noticed a small fuzzy thing in his mouth when he eventually sauntered, proudly, towards the house. He dropped whatever it was as soon as I started screaming at him to do so. (not cool on my part- I am sure the neighbors wonder)

I watched in sadness as the baby bird struggled to right itself and then eventually ceased to move. Before I could get outside to move it to a spot under a large and sheltering rose bush to either recover or quietly die, a blue jay swooped down onto the patio, picked it up in his powerful beak and flew with it into the Sequoia tree.

I haven't gone out to the yard yet, but a cursory glance revealed a few feathers scattered about on the ground under the tree. That brings the dead baby bird count up to six this spring. My little back yard eco system has all the drama of the bigger one we live in!

Corey, again

2008-06-29T06:11:00.000-07:00

Corey, never relaxing, checking out the kitchen skills of Anne and Ben.

...which are awesome.

2008-06-22T06:13:00.000-07:00

This is Grizzly, 8:01 a.m., June 22- securing some rays.

2008-06-22T05:48:00.000-07:00

Corey, 8 a.m., Sunday 22nd of June, securing yet another perimeter.

The potential "incoming" is Diamond, neighboring feline (seen just to the right of bird house at top of surveillance photo). this stand-off occurs

more or less on a daily basis and lasts until Diamond decides it's over.

Corey never flinches.

2008-06-18T14:04:00.000-07:00

Corey, still on duty.

2008-06-18T13:58:00.000-07:00

Corey...Ever watchful, told you.

2008-06-18T13:46:00.000-07:00

After a long day of watching over us-guarding gates, doors, marking territory, keeping Grizzly in line and in general, just being a Terrier type canine, Corey relaxes in a way that is typical Corey...unique.

2008-06-14T10:15:00.000-07:00

Egypt's sacred tombs with buried treasure have nothing on this beetle I saw in my garden yesterday. I thought a gold earring had fallen on a leaf. When the earring started eating the sweet potato leaf, I guessed it was alive.

Upon closer inspection, I realized it was a lady bug size GOLD bug...not yellow, gold.

When I have time, I'll look it up.

2008-06-13T10:03:00.000-07:00

Grizzly loves people but not all people love big black scary creatures like him. In deference to a young guest who doesn't know dogs well, we put him in Anne's room during her family's visit last night. (Corey had already been sent to Dr. Pam's jail for the night because she barks when she is put into a space away from us -unlike the Griz who is happy in almost any situation).

The family visit took place on the back court yard- the evening was wonderfully pleasant and a good time was had by all...sans

dogs.

Grizzly was let out to join the two of us when company left. The next morning, when I went into Anne's room to dust it in preparation for a house guest coming in today, I noticed that the bedspread had indentations and telltale Newfie fur on it. Grizzly never gets on beds, but it was definitely his signature. I laughed out loud when I realized that he had been on the bed in order to watch the goings on outside. The window facing the back yard is right next to the bed.

Grizzly loves people.

2008-06-11T04:34:00.000-07:00

This angel is drawing- how appropriate for my garden.

Hope the dogs don't knock him down during a chase...

he needs to be there.

2008-06-08T06:07:00.000-07:00

Don't you feel like this sometimes? You can do anything. The morning is fresh, you are rested and the world is yours. This unknown-to-me action figure was left behind in clothing after the last grandson visit. I will return him the next time I see the boys (soon, I hope) and I will probably miss him. He is perched above the dryer-watching over daily laundry rituals.

He soars with daring, confidence and impunity to fight or defend... never looking back or down.

I hope he is not evil.

The day is just begun- fly into it, one and all.

2008-06-07T04:18:00.000-07:00

Today is Saturday and a let down day after having some of the family home. Anne and Ben (and Leigh), Jim and Lindsay and Will and Toby were all here for the opening of my art show "Marking Time" at Oglebay Institute's Stifel Fine Arts Center. It was the biggest crowd they had ever had for an opening, I hear from the staff. By day two, I had sold nine works, also a record for them (and for me). Reenactors in dress and Gallowglass playing in the dining room enhanced the mood and people stayed and stayed. My family's presence made the evening for me! some stragglers from the event came home and had a light supper on the courtyard surrounded by roses blooming and scenting the humid night air. Phyllis and Bruce from next door joined us also and Phyllis and Lindsay realized they had met each other six years ago right next door at 34 Poplar Ave.! Today clean up and changing beds and missing those who could come and those who couldn't.

Meet Rose

2008-06-06T11:11:00.000-07:00

My first blog! This site is dedicated to several Roses.

This is my mother, Rose, at about three years of age. She stayed with us for only a short time- 53 years of sweetness, guidance and uncomplicated love and not a day goes by that I do not miss her. Forty years of not having her ...

This passage written by Pat B. Allen in her book Art Is A Spiritual Path is a treasure.

"When you do not have a mother there are certain things you do not know. Like what is enough? Or when to rest; when to be quiet. Then again there are other things that come to you as gifts through that space, that emptiness left by her absence. You will always carry the imprint of her fears, her unrealized dreams the unfinished and half begun possibilities. Remember that her spirit is always near with wise guidance ask! Ask! Then be very still out of the void will come what seem to be demons stay. .. Stay...allow your eyes to soften to soften, soften see that they are angels and that everything is revealed."