Read In August 2019

Two more books read this month than last, seven versus five. But I can feel, see and hear Autumn in the wings and after that, the season of more reading - Winter.

A Justified Murder by Jude Deveraux is the first book of hers I've read in quite awhile. It is the second in her Medlar Mysteries series and while it was okay as far as the mystery part, I seem to have graduated to the more gritty genres.

Like John Sandford's Lucas Davenport series, of which Neon Prey is the latest. Once I discovered Sandford, I read my way through all his books. Now I have to wait (im)patiently for a new one to come out. I still love this author and his books.

Careful What You Wish For by Hallie Ephron is the fourth book of hers I've read. I don't know why I'm still surprised by how much I like her writing, but I am. Apparently I forget from one release to the next.

Kate Atkinson is another author whose books I have to wait for. Big Sky is the fifth in the Jackson Brodie series and the first in nine years! Believe me, I have really been waiting for this book. Love Atkinson's writing and love, love, love Jackson Brodie.

Madam Fourcade's Secret War by Lynne Olson is the non-fiction account of one woman's courage as head of a French Resistance spy network during WWII. A very interesting, well researched and written read.

Finding Dorothy by Elizabeth Letts relates the lives of L. Frank and Maud Baum from their first meeting to their marriage and life of struggles and hardship until he wrote The Wizard of Oz. The book moves back and forth from their lives together to Maud's life as a widow trying to help during the filming of the famous movie. This novel is a very interesting read for any Oz fan.

Orphan Train by Christina Baker Kline had been on my 'want to read' list so long I had forgotten to check on its availability. I'm so glad I finally read it.

The ordeals of a young Irish immigrant sent west on one of the Orphan Trains takes up most of the book, but her story, when she is in her nineties, becomes entwined with the life of a difficult 17-year-old foster child. The unlikely friendship of these two leads to acceptance and healing for both.
This was my favorite book this month. I highly recommend it, especially if you have never heard of Orphan Trains* or know little about them.

* My brother-in-law's father came to Iowa via an Orphan Train. Also, when I drove the Senior Citizens' bus in Corning, in a conversation with one of the riders, I learned she had come to Iowa on an Orphan Train. Years later, when I worked for The Adams County Free Press, I wrote an article about her experience. When I interviewed her for the story, she expressed a wish to return to Grundy Center which was the terminus of her Orphan Train ride. I took her there. We drove around the town and area, but after three-quarters of a century, there was little which looked familiar to her.

There are now more than an estimated two million descendants of those Orphan Train riders.

Dragging Summer Away

"August rushes by like desert rainfall,
A flood of frenzied upheaval,
Expected,
But still catching me unprepared.
Like a match flame 
Bursting on the scene,
Heat and haze of crimson sunsets.

Like a dream
Of moon and dark barely recalled,
A moment,
Shadows caught in a blink,
Like a quick kiss;
One wishes for more
But it suddenly turns to leave,
Dragging summer away."

August by Elizabeth Maua Taylor

Pigweed By Any Other Name

Thirty-one years ago I wrote a poem called The Gift crediting my mother for teaching me the identities of trees, flowers, plants, herbs, etc. (Blogged about on August 8, 2012.) Most of what she shared with me as a child has stuck with me throughout my life. Once in awhile I have learned there are other, more proper names for plants than what she called them. Asiatic dayflower aka dayflower weed instead of what she (and I) called/call monkey face is a good example. (Blogged about September 5, 2016.)

Yesterday I not only learned a new name for this plant, which I have called pigweed all my life because I thought that is what Mom told me it was, I figured out why I thought that's what it was.

I did some cropping and adjusting on the photo to post it on Instagram. And because I wanted to also use its real name, I did some research.

Starting with pigweed which lead me to this plant, Palmer's Pigweed aka Amaranthus palmeri, which are edible by pigs and humans - at least some of the amaranthus varieties are.

When I finally found a name for my pigweed - by googling 'weeds with small white and pink flowers' until I found a picture that looked right - the name of it was Pennsylvania Smartweed or Pink Knotweed.

But wasn't 'smartweed' the one that stung if touched and could cause a rash? No. That's stinging nettle.

I wandered from one google result to another until I found that another name for Pennsylvania Smartweed and/or Pink Knotweed is Pinkweed.  PINKWEED not PIGWEED as I had obviously misheard it!

All these years of calling it pigweed. Will I be able to retrain myself? Probably not. After all I still call these little blue flowers.....
 

.............monkey face. 

The Billows of August

11:50 a.m. August 3

From the Sustaining Air
   (By Larry Eigner)

 from the sustaining air

fresh air

There is the clarity of a shore
and shadow,   mostly,   brilliance

summer
         the billows of August

When, wandering, I look from my page

I say nothing 

         when asked

I am, finally, an incompetent, after all

8:30 p.m. August 15

Before Christmas In July

This year was our fifth annual Christmas in July. The whole concept of getting the family together and celebrating in July rather than December had been a big success. Yet this year I was concerned that maybe it had run its course. One whole branch of the family was not going to be present. The party was going to be hosted by a son and daughter-in-law, but held at a granddaughter's home. She had already hosted once and I was afraid having us all there would be an imposition. It was going to be a pool party. How would that work?
And why do I go borrowing trouble as my Mom used to say? I needn't have worried. It was a huge success; lots of fun and I even enjoyed the pool though I didn't think I would.
Here's a selection of pictures from this year's Christmas in July ----

Great-grandsons Ridge and Jack playing one of many games in the basement Rec Room. (Do they still call them that?)

Grandson Zach trying to beat the machine.

Granddaughter Katrina with her jukebox, her favorite of the entertainment playthings and mine. I spent many enjoyable minutes going through all the songs and punching in some old favorites.

Meanwhile some gathered around the bar outside - Evan, Brock, Jen, Doug and Bud. There was an ebb and flow in the congregates, but Doug and Bud were pretty consistent. Doug was manning the smoker and Bud was taking pictures.

Shadow had already been in the pool once and was wanting back inside for another dip.

Great-granddaughter Brynley had a special gift for Great-grandma Ramona from her and Rodney. No picture of it, but another instance of making me feel loved was when I got out of the pool and Katrina was waiting for me with a particular bath towel - even though I had brought my own; even though there was a rack full of pool towels - she wanted to spoil her grandma.

Great-grandson Maverick just up from his nap and still not quite awake. Those swim goggles look too big for him; must belong to his daddy, Evan.

Granddaughter Alyssa and great-granddaughter Lily had spent the morning shopping and were ready to eat when they got back.

Brynley, Rodney, Katrina, me, Shelly and Kari (back to camera). We all enjoyed the goodies on the snack table.

Just one of the many pool pictures. This one with team Alyssa and Maverick challenging team Katrina and Brynley to a baby race.

My biggest complaint at any family gathering is not being able to hear all the many different conversations going on. How I wish I knew what all were talking about. But I did have several really good individual convos with various family members one of which was with great-grandson Rodney. We talked about how fast summer was going and soon school would start. He told me how his new school was already overcrowded and that the arts were suffering because the art and music rooms, had to be turned into classrooms. Rodney seems so grown-up for his age. But then I can remember being ten and some of the thoughts I harbored.

Brynley is just so darned cute. Bud took this picture of her. Katrina was showing me the proofs from their recent family photo shoot and I remarked how cute she was in all of them and "How will you ever choose which ones to keep?" "I know, right?" she replied. I told her again how very, very happy I am that she has a daughter. I recited that old quote: "A son is a son 'til he takes a wife; a daughter's a daughter all her life." She said she had never heard that before.

We were packing up getting ready to leave. Brock offered to help carry stuff to the car. I don't know where the hat came from, but I called him Van Gogh - as in Vincent Van Gogh's "Self Portrait With Straw Hat". If their offer goes through, he and Jen will be hosting next year's Christmas in July at their new home. Keeping my fingers crossed for them and looking forward to next year's annual family get-together.

Teddy Bear's Picnic

♫ If you go out in the woods today, you're sure of a big surprise.
 If you go out in the woods today,  you'd better go in disguise.
Today's the day the teddy bears have their picnic. 
 If you go out in the woods today, you'd better not go alone. ♫

Before my daughter came for this year's Christmas in July, I told her I had been keeping a list of things I wanted to do while she was here. One of those items was "have a picnic, just the two of us -some quiet spot by a pond." I had the pond near where we had lived in 'The Little House' in mind, but knew I wasn't up for the trek across the field to get there.

Then I remembered the small county park not far from our house. I had been there several times and never once had there been anyone else around. It was possible there might be some disc golf players there though because a course had been built since last time I was there.

But we had it all to ourselves. We crossed the little foot bridge, looking for a site to picnic. It was too shady and muddy on that side.

Back across the bridge we went, led by this pretty little blue damselfly.

The picnic tables were all in the sun, so we ended up spreading a blanket under a tree.

Our picnic was more "A jug of wine, a loaf of bread and thou"  (The Rubaiyat by Omar Khayyám) than the Teddy Bear's picnic. Kari brought a bottle of her favorite champagne to celebrate, belatedly, my 75th and her 50th birthdays. She had mentioned Veuve Clicquot several times over the years but I doubted I would ever taste it because it is rather pricey. It was very nice, special because we enjoyed it together. Did I know "Veuve Clicquot means The Widow Clicquot?" No I did not. (Madame Clicquot's history is an interesting read.)

This little toad hopped away, disturbed by our presence when Kari shook out the blanket.

A bread, wine and cheese picnic has always been my favorite kind. With the addition of grapes and olives, this one with my daughter was perfect*. We reminisced about the past, talked about the present and future, laughed and shared the love of our special mother/daughter bond.

* Everything I'd hoped for.  💞💕

Le Chandail Rouge

When Kari came for a week's visit and our annual family Christmas get together the end of July, she came out of the guest bedroom saying, "I brought you something, Mommy".  I looked up to see this:

It took me a moment to recognize the red sweater from my high school days! I didn't even remember that she had worn it during her high school and college days nor knew that she had kept it all these years.

My freshman year of high school I wanted a fancy dress for the Homecoming Dance. I picked out some purple taffeta and a pattern and Mom made me a lovely gown. I went to the first big dance of the year hoping to have a good time. Unfortunately, a pretty dress did not make me any less of a wall flower. It also was not a dress that I had many occasions to wear.

My sophomore year I decided to be practical. I ordered a red, black and yellow plaid skirt and a red sweater from a catalog. They arrived in the mail October 11, 1958, making this sweater almost 61 years old. I wore it to the homecoming dance October 17 and many times more. It was practical and pretty and I felt much more like myself than I had in taffeta.

Kari and I wore one another's clothes during her years at Valley High School. When she went away to Macalester College in St. Paul, she took Le Chandail Rouge with her. Here she is wearing it one weekend when she brought her roommate, Carla, home for a visit.

When I saw my sweater again after about 30 years, I said, "You know what we should do? Take it with us to Katrina's for Christmas in July and get her to wear it."

Which we did - three generations wearing that old red sweater. If I had been thinking, I would have asked Lily to put it on too and we'd have had four generations.

Maybe next year. And then we could see how many generation this could carry on. Wouldn't that be fun?

And The Tiger Lilies

        Boundaries

There is a place where the town ends,
          And the fields begin.
     It's not marked but the feet know it,
Also the heart that is longing for refreshment
          And, equally, for repose.

     Someday we'll live in the sky.
Meanwhile, the house of our lives is this green world.
          The fields, the ponds, the birds.
     The thick black oaks-surely they are
     The invention of something wonderful.

          And the tiger lilies
And the runaway honeysuckle that no one
          Will ever trim again.
     Where is it? I ask, and then
           My feet know it.

     One jump, and I'm home.

          (By Mary Oliver)