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Saturday, June 30, 2018

June Book List

Ten books read this month, I think about average for me.

Murder on Union Square by Victoria Thompson is #21 in the Gaslight Mystery Series. I always enjoy these books and was sorry when a friend told me she had heard that #20 was her last book. I looked online and found that this book was soon to be released. Both she, I and the person who had given her the wrong info, were all glad to learn it wasn't true.

Mind Prey and Sudden Prey by John Sandford are 7 & 8 in his Lucas Davenport series.

Enemy Women by Paulette Jiles was the best read this month. As noted previously, Jiles is one of my current favorite authors.  Adair Colley, her brother and two sisters were living with their father on a farm near the Missouri - Arkansas border in Southeast Missouri when the Civil War broke out. Their lives were torn apart by soldiers from both sides as well as outlaw factions.
Each chapter begins with a historic passage about the war, reported by members of the Union and Confederate forces as well as people living in SE Missouri. This is a very moving, thought provoking, realistic novel about the Civil War, especially the civilians caught up in it.

'Til Death Do Us Part by Kate White is one in her Bailey Weggins series. After three of the bridesmaids in a recent wedding have been murdered, Bailey wonders if she is next. As a mystery, this is an okay read, I just don't relate well to the lives of the rich. This was my least favorite this month.

Secret Prey and Certain Prey are #'s 8 and 9 in John Sandford's Lucas Davenport series. These books are like potato chips, you can't eat (read) just one.

The Punishment She Deserves by Elizabeth George is #20 in her Inspector Lynley/Barbara Havers series. It seems like a long wait, but well worth it, for a new novel about this team. Havers is still on thin ice, in danger of being demoted to a distant division in the hinterlands, if she doesn't follow strict police procedures. When she is paired with her 'guv', staying on track is doubly important and hard to do.

Death Of An Expert Witness by P.D. James is an older one of her Chief Inspector Adam Dalgliesh mysteries. Her books are always so good, not just for the mystery part, but also for her writing acumen. The first part of this book was the set-up for all the characters and the reasons they may have had for killing the victim(s). It was hard for me to place them all. It wasn't until Insp. Dalgliesh came on the scene that I could start to distinguish the suspects and their motives.

Easy Prey by John Sandford is #10 in his Lucas Davenport series and the 10th book I read this month. (Just finished it this a.m.) I still have seventeen more books to read before I get to his latest (#28) that just came out.

With company coming for our family Christmas in July and all the cleaning I *should* do, July's reading list may suffer in quantity; hopefully it will be compensated by quality.

Friday, June 29, 2018

More Signs of Aging?

If you plug 'dementia' into the search box at the top left side of my blog, the returns will show you all the times I've already posted something about one of my biggest worries.
This is what I shared on Facebook yesterday: "Uh-oh. I've been forgetting names for some time, but this morning I found my box of cereal in the laundry room. 😊but not, more like 😟" It's hard to believe I didn't put it in the pantry cupboard as I do each and every day.

A couple of days ago and again today, two different old sayings, ones I haven't used or even thought of for ages, have popped out of my mouth. Is this another sign of aging - remembering more from youth and less about what happened yesterday?

The first was flying off the handle, which means losing self-control; acting before thinking. It alludes to the uncontrolled way a loose axe head flies off from its handle. (I used to have an axe like that. Really. I've also been known to fly off the handle - more than a few times.)

This morning, I forget what we were talking about, I said, that'll throw a spanner in it. Bud remarked the other way of saying the same thing, throw a wrench in it. Either way, it means to do something that prevents a plan or activity from succeeding.
A spanner is the British term for a wrench. Ah, back to my English great-great-great grandparents for credit.

I don't care if remembering old sayings is a sign of old age. I am happy to be remembering some of them. My grandparents had so many sprinkled throughout their daily conversations. It is almost like hearing their voices again.

Every cloud has a silver lining. Meaning even difficulties have some hopeful aspect, even if you can't see it yet. Isn't that what my picture of the clouds (from Tuesday evening) represent? Gray for grief; pink for possibilty?

Thursday, June 28, 2018

Wowzers! 60-70 MPH Winds

Things got interesting around here just before noon. Skies darkened. Ugly looking clouds rolled rushed in.

Trees started whipping around.

Deck furniture got tossed about.


Lots of small limbs


and leaves littered the landscape.



The wind even brought a few medium-sized limbs down.

More tree thrashing...

...furniture displacement and hanging plant and wind chimes blown down, then it was pretty much over. Five or so minutes of WIND; no hail and only a smattering of rain.

Doing some further reconnoitering a couple hours later and I noticed a good-sized limb broken and hanging down in the tree next door. That is always my biggest concern - one of these days that rotten old maple is gonna come crashing down on our house.

I know there was a lot more damage in areas around us. I'm grateful for our good luck.

Cattails and Heron


I have been taking a series of photos of the cattails.
Monday, they were dancing in the wind.




Yesterday, the heron went strolling by.

Last Saturday when I saw the heron, I thought there were two, or maybe a young one along.

Zooming in showed me something I had never seen before, the way the heron had its wings out. One site I found online calls this a sunning or wing drying posture. Another name is the flasher pose.

Half-way flashing. This is probably how it was standing when I first noticed it and thought there was more than one heron. By the time I got my camera and zoomed in, it had both wings out.
I am lucky to have so much wildlife just outside my window - and to see these, new-to-me, behaviors.

Blue-Eyed Grass
  By Mary Hunter Austin

Blue-eyed grass in the meadow
   And yarrow-blooms on the hill,
Cattails that rustle and whisper,
   And winds that are never still;

Blue-eyed grass in the meadow,
   A linnet's nest nearby,
Blackbirds caroling clearly
   Somewhere between earth and sky;

Blue-eyed grass in the meadow,
   And the laden bee's low hum,
Milkweeds all by the roadside,
   To tell us summer has come.

Wednesday, June 27, 2018

Waked An Hour Too Soon

Morning Song

A Diamond of a morning
Waked me an hour too soon;
Dawn had taken in the stars
And left the faint white moon.

Oh white moon, you are lonely,
It is the same with me,
But we have the world to roam over,
Only the lonely are free.
    (Sara Teasdale)

The 'pull of the moon' may have nothing to do with it, but I often have trouble sleeping when the moon is full, or almost full. Last night was so. Hard to go to sleep, early to waken. Although, the sad news of the death of my daughter-in-law's younger sister, probably had more to do with it than the phase of the moon. 💔😢

Tuesday, June 26, 2018

Love A Rainy Night

♪ ♪ Well I love a rainy night; I love a rainy night.
I love to hear the thunder;
watch the lightning when it lights up the sky. ♪ ♪

A week of cool, rainy weather. The official beginning of summer last Thursday felt more like May weather. May, when we had temperatures in the 90's with heat indices in the 100's, felt more like summer.

I took these two photos Sunday evening. Wind was blowing, rain was pouring and running down the street. We had 2.35 inches.

Yesterday afternoon it rained off and on. I wanted to go to the Farmers' Market at 4:00, but it was looking pretty iffy. Then it started clearing a bit so we went. There weren't as many vendors as usual because of the rain.
An hour or so later, it started raining hard. Then the tornado sirens went off. It didn't look that bad out, but we had lost TV coverage so didn't know what was going on until we went online and learned that, while no funnel clouds had been reported, the radar was showing bow echo returns southwest of us.

The rain and the danger had passed but there were still some thunder heads out there when I took this picture at 6:45.

At 8:15, the sun was shining.

Showers wash all my cares away;
I wake up to a sunny day,
'cause I love a rainy night. ♪

We did have another 80/100's in the guage this morning for a total from last Tuesday to today of 4.65 inches of rain. At least here we do not worry about flooding. Creston was so named because it is located on the crest between the Missouri and Mississippi rivers; high ground.
But we have had two tornadoes in the ten years we've lived here, so there is that.

(Lyrics from Eddie Rabbit's I Love A Rainy Night)

Tuesday, June 19, 2018

Designed By A Master Architect

Forty-four years ago, I was working in downtown Des Moines in a modernistic  building designed by master architect Ludwig Mies van der Rohe. To me it was the Home Federal Savings and Loan building. I had only been there a few months as secretary to the head of advertising and public relations when the company became American Federal Savings and Loan due to a merger with a Cedar Rapids S&L.
That merger (or was it a take-over?) changed everything for me as well as a number of other employees. My boss was replaced. The new guy was originally from Red Oak so I figured we would get along, both being reared in small town, agriculture-centered, southwest Iowa. I was quickly disabused of that notion when he brought over his team from his former company, getting rid of everyone in the department except me. I knew he wanted his former secretary in my spot and he did everything he could to make my life miserable so I would leave. His tactics worked. As soon as I could find another job, I quit. (And went on to another good job/miserable boss, but that's another story.)

This postcard of the building (found online) shows how it looked when I worked there. The lobby area was for customers, the top floor was for the executives, the advertising/public relations office was on the second floor, right side in this photo. The church behind is St. Ambrose Cathedral.
What I remember about my time there - the people were congenial, I liked and got along with the women in my office. It was the era of gift-giving to entice customers to open a savings account or add to their accounts. Part of my department's job was making a display of those gifts in the lobby area and fetching premiums from the stash in the basement for the tellers to hand out.
In addition to our locked room of bounty down there, I also remember the huge computer which somehow involved punch cards. I didn't understand how it worked then and I still don't. (As an aside, remember when punched cards bore the warning: "Do not fold, spindle or mutilate"? How carefully we rules followers obeyed! Who today even knows what a spindle is?)
It was during the Home Federal/American Federal transition that our department was given the job of inventorying all the customer premiums we had on hand. The majority of those were dishes being stored upstairs in a warehouse on Court Avenue. It was a hot, dirty and, seemingly, never-ending task. Boxes of place settings were open, broken dishes were strewn about. We had to have as accurate a count as possible.  (I think I had some of that brown stonewear, but I know I had a partial set of the 'gold' flatware and a large apple-shaped salad bowl with small serving-sized dishes; one of the benefits of working in the advertising department.)

Another thing I remember about working there was the quiet court yard of nearby St. John's Lutheran Church. On the days I wasn't shopping or running erands, it was a peaceful oasis where I could eat my lunch and read a book.

I don't know what happened to American Federal Savings and Loan after I left there, and, eventually, Des Moines, but the building is now the Catholic Pastoral Center. It was a story about the completion of a ten-million dollar restoration of the 'hidden-gem' of a building that triggered the memories of my time there.

Monday, June 18, 2018

Whether Skies Are Gray Or Blue

It was while transferring the photos I took yesterday from my camera to my computer .....

.....the morning sunrise.....

.....the evening sunset, which is usually my favorite because of the pinks and purples.....

.....until this one. I like it the best, which was strange because I don't usually go for the blues. Then I decided the tones were more gray than blue. I like gray.
And that is when, in my head I heard: ♪Whether skies are gray or blue♪ Followed a second later by My Happiness. Was that the name of the song? I had to Google it to find out, yes, it was. And it was one of the hits for a singer I had not thought about in years - Connie Francis. Oh, my gosh, how could I forget about her?

Who's Sorry Now? was her first big hit in 1957 followed by Heartaches, Stupid Cupid and My Happiness in 1958. In 1959, there was If I Didn't Care, Lipstick On Your Collar and Among My Souvenirs. Her Billboard #1 hits were Everybody's Somebody's Fool and My Heart Has A Mind Of Its Own, both in 1960, and Don't Break The Heart That Loves You in '62. Her songs were a part of the background of my high school years.

My Happiness 
(Music and Lyrics by Borney Bergantine and Betty Peterson Blasco)

Evening shadows make me blue
When each weary day is through
How I long to be with you, my happiness

Every day I reminsce
Dreaming of your tender kiss
Always thinking how I miss my happiness

A million years it seems
Have gone by since we shared our dreams
But I'll hold you again
There'll be no blue memories then

Whether skies are gray or blue
Any place on earth will do 
Just as long as I'm with you, my happiness


This morning the skies are blue; by evening they may again be gray, but, no matter.....
.....whether skies are gray or blue.....

Sunday, June 17, 2018

Father's Day - It's Complicated

This is the photo I usually change my Facebook profile pic to around Father's Day every year. It is my favorite photo of me and my Dad, Louis, when I was *almost* an adult - taken the autumn of my senior year in high school, 1960. I was 17, Dad was 43.
My family got its first television in 1954, the same year Father Knows Best premiered. (The final episode was 1960 - the same year this photo was taken.) I wanted the kind of Dad the TV Betty had. Instead, I got a 'Father Knows Best' who thought telling me how I should behave, think, act, was how my life was to be lived.
I had 34 Father's Days with my Dad. He died in the month before the 35th. My last day with him was one of contention with him still telling me all the things I was doing wrong and how I should be conducting my life.
So, I started writing this with the idea of revisiting the hows and whys of this post title, Father's Day - It's Complicated. Yes, I love/loved my Dad, but my memories of him tend to be more about what was wrong with our relationship than what was right. Do I tend to dwell more on the negatives than the positives, probably.

Then I started going through my previous blogs about my childhood, looking for photos with my Dad I have posted before, reading words I have written over the past nine years. And I find a trove of good memories.

So, instead of remembering the times with Dad that were less than what I needed or wanted them to be, I should concentrate more on the good times. Perhaps I will realize, after forty years without him, that Father's Day isn't so complicated after all.
As my wise and wonderful husband just said: "You're a writer, you need to re-write your story."

So, Happy Father's Day, Dad. I love and miss you, and Mom, both.

Saturday, June 16, 2018

From Greek To Roman

I have tried different types of plants in my woman's head planter, always wanting something that would resemble 'hair'. When I used some of Mom's sedum I had moved from the farm, it was perfect. Not only did it grow robustly, it did not have to be replanted every year.
Her 'hair' grew so wildly, I began referring to her as Medusa, the Greek mythological goddess with snakes in lieu of hair.

This year the sedum had all died. I had some lamb's ear that needed replanting, so I stuck it in the woman's head planter. It was okay until it started growing upward. She needed 'hair' so I started some more sedum. Now she looks like she is wearing a 'fascinator', don't you think?
Unconsciously, I began referring to her as Minerva instead of Medusa. Minerva, the Roman Goddess of Wisdom, often depicted with an owl.

If I had only put two and two together three years ago when this young owl landed on the deck so close to the woman's head planter, I might have begun calling her Minerva a lot sooner.

These early morning clouds made me think of some pink-winged creatures flying home to roost. It was already 73° at 5:45 a.m., heading toward another hot, 'heat-advisory' day. Is there a goddess of air-conditioning?

Thursday, June 14, 2018

Where The Time Goes

I think he wanted me to count the ways when HD asked why I love him. I said, "There is only one answer." To his quizical look, I replied, "Because I do." Then I told him I would do a blog post for him.

"Across the evening sky, all the birds are leaving
But how can they know it's time for them to go?
Before the winter fire, I will still be dreaming
I have no thought of time
For who knows where the time goes?
Who knows where the time goes?

Sad deserted shore, your fickle friends are leaving
Ah, but then you know it's time for them to go
But I will still be here, I have no thought of leaving
I do not count the time
For who knows where the time goes?
Who knows where the time goes?

And I am not alone while my love is near me
I know it will be so until it's time to go
So come the storms of winter and then
The birds in spring again
I have no fear of time
For who knows where the time goes?
And who knows where the time goes?

(Who Knows Where The Time Goes, written by Sandy Denny, British Folk Rock Singer-Songwriter. 1947-1978)

Wednesday, June 13, 2018

That Time of Year Again

All I have to do is think, "It is time for Lily's lilies to bloom," and there they are.
Just as they have for six years, the plants we all received for Alyssa's baby shower, bloom in time for Lily's birthday.

It really doesn't seem possible that Miss Lily will be six years old Sunday.
She was born on Father's Day and will have to share the day with her Daddy again this year. A camp out is planned.



The day lilies are also blooming.





And the Dutch Iris which was so tightly furled yesterday.....





.....is in full bloom today.

It seems that no matter what else is going on in the world, the flowers know when it is time to bloom.

Monday, June 11, 2018

Turning The Water Back On

Late last evening we got the notice that it was, finally, okay to use the water out of the faucet. After more than a week of  boiling the water or drinking bottled water, it seemed strange stop doing so. Just as not using tap water took a while to adjust to, so did using it once again. Does adjusting to a new routine happen that quickly? I would not have thought so, but apparently it does.
I did not keep track of how much boiled water we used, but I know we went through 50+ bottles of water. I'm uncertain whether or not I understood/followed the safety guidelines correctly, but neither of us suffered any consequences if not.

Mother Nature must have also received the notice to turn the water back on. The weather report last night had us with a bit of a chance for some rain. Every time I awoke in the night I could hear it raining steadily, sometimes hard.

When I checked our rain guage a little after 7:00 a.m., we had received almost two and one half inches. The sky was still clouded, with thunderheads in the distance.

A little later we did have another heavy, but brief, shower. More rain and chances of severe weather are in the forecast for late afternoon and evening.

There were so many birds singing, apparently they liked the rain, too. Or else it was just their usual morning chorus. The only one who came looking for the breakfast buffet was the Mourning Dove. She was able to easily have a drink of water, but she had to peck some for the few remaining seeds.

June 11 never comes around without me remembering my beloved Grandpa Joe who was born on this date in 1896.

Appreciate your loved ones as well as clean water at the turn of a tap, you never know when they might be gone.