Books I Read in January

Only six books read this first month of the new year. That was probably because I decided to read one that was 983 pages of small print.

I'll Be Seeing You: A Memoir by Elizabeth Berg about her parents relates her journey of caring for them in their final years.

Monogamy is Sue Miller's latest novel. As I told the librarian, "I don't have to know what the book is about, I'll read anything she writes. I found much to relate to in this telling of second marriages, children, stepchildren, wives-in-law (as I call them) and complex relationships - all told with insight and beautiful prose.

People Of The Canyons by Kathleen O'Neal and W. Michael Gear is their latest offering in the North America's Forgotten Past series. I've read and enjoyed their books for many years, though this is the first one I've read since 2015, so it does look like a have a few to catch up on. I always learn something about my country's Native American peoples and their past.

Jackdaws is one of Ken Follett's books about WWII. After reading one of his books last month, I knew I wanted to read more by him and WWII is one of my favorite time periods to explore. I'll be reading my way through all the Follett novels now.

The Pillars Of The Earth is Ken Follett's best selling novel according to a Jeopardy clue last week. I've had this copy forever, purchasing it at the Half Price Bookstore in West Des Moines years ago. It was always one of those books I was going to read someday. After reading its prequel last month, I knew I had to dig it out and read now. Luckily it was in the first box of books I pulled off the shelves in the garage.

Oh, my goodness, I understand its popularity now. Even though I finished it days ago, it still lingers in my mind. I find I'm still caught up in its pages of history.

Animal Dreams by Barbara Kingsolver is another of her books from my own shelves. After reading Lacuna and rereading The Bean Trees last month, I knew it was time to also reread Animal Dreams published in 1990. 

On the inside cover, in a young person's hand, is written: "To Mom, August 2, 1994, Love, Kris." I found that significant because it is my son's birthday and the handwriting is similar to what his was when he was young. 

Below that inscription I wrote: "Purchased at a garage sale in Reinbeck, IA, 1996." Reinbeck is near Waterloo. I've been trying to remember which trip to NE Iowa we would have been on then. And I have no memory of stopping at a garage sale along the way. 

Kingsolver's novels entwine our planet's huge ecological problems with the personal life stories of  people working to solve them. Her books are written in facts and gorgeous prose, like this example:

"The flowers were beaten down, their bent-over heads bejeweled with diamond droplets like earrings on sad, rich widows."

My library closed after it was learned that someone who had been there tested positive for Covid-19. Curbside service is scheduled to resume on the 2nd of February. I might take advantage of that but more likely will read a few more of the books I pulled out of that box in the garage. A couple of those were by one of my favorite authors from the last quarter of the previous century. Time to see if she still holds up to my memories of her work.

Sutton Hoo, Suffolk, England

At the end of the noon news yesterday on Channel 13 was a review of some movies suggested for weekend watching. The one that got my attention was "The Dig".

All I gathered from the brief description was that it was set in 1939 England and was about an archaeological dig on the farm of a widow.

I love period pieces. I told Bud I would like to watch it sometime.

Sometime was this afternoon.

This is a new, 2021 movie (released yesterday) based on the 2007 John Preston novel of the same name. We watched it on Netflix.

This is a photo I found online of the burial mounds at Sutton Hoo. And these are a couple of the artifacts from the dig. 

A gold belt buckle.

And a very fancy whetstone/scepter.

The recovered artifacts were donated to the British Museum.

The treasure trove is considered the greatest ever discovered in the U.K.

This movie is what I refer to as "a quiet little film, exquisitely wrought." Just perfect for a rainy winter afternoon. I adored it and recommend watching it if it crosses your path. 

Full Wolf Moon of 2021

 

I should have taken a photo of the full moon when I was outside Wednesday evening. It would have been perfect. Instead I noted the time and decided to wait until last evening. 

Mistake. It was cloudy last evening so I took this one early this morning. 

January's full moon was called the wolf moon because wolves were more often heard howling at this time. 

When I think of howling at the moon, I think of my eldest child.

I don't remember how old Douglas was when he first began his howling habit, but it was at a young age and went on from there - whenever and wherever he felt like it - not just at the full moon.

 

(Four generations: Doug with his Grandpa Louis and Great-grandma Bessie; me in back.)

He may not howl as often as he used to, but I'd bet he still does once in awhile. I can see Doug trying to get his grandchildren to howl along with him.

I don't know why he developed this trait; I'm not sure I ever asked him. It's just something he did, something uniquely Douglas.

(One of my favorite photos of my son, taken on his 56th birthday.) 

Ruth of the Marceled Waves

I don't believe this photo of Mom has been shown before. I found it a few days ago. Today seemed a good day to share it - her birthdate, 102 years ago today. 

I don't know the age she was in this photo, I would guess around 20, but we do know the picture was taken on July 4th in Corning.

At first I wondered why she posed as she did, then I wondered if it was to show off her Marceled hair.

Marcelling became popular in the 1920's when women began bobbing their hair. The technique was named for Marcel Grateau (aka Francois Marcel) who invented the curling iron used to make the curly waves.

Mother called it finger waving when she did her hair this way because she used her fingers, not a curling iron. It was a style that lasted into the 30's before losing popularity though Mom continued finger waving  her hair most of her life. I remember a few times when she used a comb and her fingers to press some waves in my hair when it was short. She also tied rags in my hair to make it curly, but that's a subject for another day.

Happy Birthday, Mom. 

💕💞

Forever In Blue Jeans

 "Money talks, but it can't sing and dance and it can't walk. And as long as I can have you here with me, I'd much rather be, forever in blue jeans."

I'm doing laundry this morning. As I was hanging up my jeans, Neil Diamond's song came to mind.I really liked him back in the 60's and 70's - still do. 

I also thought that whoever is tasked with clearing out my closet when I'm gone is going to think that jeans are all I ever wore - which is pretty close to the truth. There are pairs in all shades of blue, brown, taupe, gray, black, and, in two different sizes. 😄

Once Mom decided it was okay for me wear jeans to school (without wearing a dress over them), they have been my my favorite, and most practical, article of clothing. In my opinion nothing looks better than a pair of blue jeans with a white shirt. It's also what I feel most natural wearing. 

I also thought of Mom in blue jeans. She always wore dresses, even to chore, until slacks became widely acceptable for women. But she was in her late 70's before she ever had a pair of Levis. They weren't new. Either someone gave them to her or she bought them at the Neighborhood Center, but she looked so darn cute in them. I just wish I had taken a picture of her wearing them.

"And if you'd pardon me, I'd like to say we'd do okay forever in blue jeans."

The Ephemerality of Nature

 

Two days ago we were enjoying unseasonably warm weather; today we're in a blizzard. Anyone who observes sunrises, sunsets, the movement of clouds, the actions of animals, etc., knows how quickly a scene can change.

The sunset photo at the end of my last post was taken at 5:08.

This one, four minutes later. It was nice to be away from home where I had a less obstructive view for some different sky photos.

I've labeled this one Sentinel. And find myself wondering how Grant Wood might have painted the scene.

Field of dreams?

It is getting increasingly difficult to find a pastoral scene sans wind turbines. 

But it is possible to crop them out. I took this final Tuesday sunset photo at 5:28. Only twenty minutes from my first shot to the last. 

At this point, coming back from our swan adventure, we were about a half hour from home. It was that time of evening. I had no sooner said to Bud, "We're going to have to watch out for deer", than the first of four instances of one or more deer crossing the road ahead of us occurred. Fortunately we didn't collide with any of them.

Almost safely home and we could see all the red blinking lights of the new turbines that have gone up west and north of us this year. I couldn't help but think of the red gleam of demons' eyes. They are an arresting sight, but I will always favor the glow of a sunset.

Ten Days Later -- Swans!

In my 'Cabin Fever' post of January 2nd, I mentioned I had been wanting to see the swans near Atlantic since November, but they hadn't shown up yet. The December 31st post by Cass County Conservation set the date for their annual 'Soirée With The Swans' as January 16 - cancelled if the swans hadn't shown up by then.

I kept checking their Facebook page, as well as KJAN Radio website, for updates. Then last week I noticed they had changed the date for the soirée from the 16th to the 9th. The swans were back! No way would we go on the 9th when so many other people might be there. Monday Bud talked to a woman at the Conservation office to find out the best time(s) for viewing. She advised early morning or late afternoon and said she had counted 102 swans on the pond that morning. We looked at the weather forecast and decided to go today. But yesterday afternoon Bud said, "We're not doing anything, why don't we just go now?" 

After checking out the other three ponds, which are technically old rock quarries, we found a spot to park at lake #4 and did some reconnoitering of the area. There were many, many Canada geese in the water and on the ice, but no swans. Then the geese began leaving. The ones that stayed left the water and stood around on the ice. I asked Bud what time it was - "4:18". "They'll surely be showing up soon." At 4:28 I heard some trumpeting bugle calls. They were flying right over the car - too fast to get out and take a photo.

But there they are - seven swans a swimming - the first to land.

I remember when seeing a few Canada geese in SW Iowa was a big deal. Now they are almost a nuisance. 

I have become very blasé about them - except for the resident pair and their babies on our pond, of course.

The sun was right in my face so I walked around trying to get it more to my right. That's when I saw this big surprise.

I've never seen evidence of beaver working on a tree this large. What were they going to do with it if they did get it gnawed off? Build a lodge in the quarry?

The East Nishnabotna River does flow not far beyond those mounds in the background, but???

Interestingly, there was a trail camera strapped to the tree.

A close up of their hard work.

Those mares' tails clouds foretell more than swans coming in.

Every few minutes, another group of swans would land.

The fewest I counted, two; the most, thirteen.

Splashdown!

Regardless of the direction they came from, they always moved around so they landed into the sun.

Much ado about something? 

The swans seem as territorial as the geese on our little home pond.

I thought it was interesting that while the Canada geese seemed to know they had to vacate the area, the ducks did not have to.

They swam right along with the swans.

Nine more coming in from the west.

And circling to land.

 A baker's dozen - the largest number I saw in one group.

So graceful, so beautiful in the sun's rays.

4:50 p.m. and the last photo I took of any formation.

Which reminded me of when my children were young and I would take them to the "blue lights" parking area at the end of one of the runways at the Des Moines Airport to watch the planes land.

I think they would also have loved watching the swans land.

Even though we had to wait longer than expected, I am so glad we got to go and see the swans. It was a nice afternoon for a little road trip. I had mentioned while there that it looked like there was going to be a good chance for some beautiful sunset photos and Bud asked if I wanted to stay. But I said "no". It would be dark before we got home anyway. I didn't want to wait any later to leave. Besides, I could still take sunset pictures on the way home.

And I did. (With more to come.....)

The Art of Being

I've loved poetry from when I was a small child and Mom read Mother Goose Nursery Rhymes to us. There was just something about their cadence - the rhythmic sequence of sounds. Later, in school, a teacher showed us how to read a poem and look for the meaning behind the words. 

I always wished I could be a poet, but my efforts of rhyming words and understanding meter fell far short. Then, in my late twenties, I learned about free verse. Yesterday I found some of my poems in an old journal. This one I wrote almost exactly forty-seven years ago, January 16, 1973.

               The Art of Being

Be still. 

Quiet. Stop the racing mind and

Pacing feet.

Don't think for moments.

Give yourself back to YOU.

Troubling it out

Won't help,

Just confuse.

Let peace and quiet

Creep back in.

Then, THEN, you will 

Be able to understand

What it is. What to do.

Quiet, peace, 

Being,

Transcend.

I find, now, that most days,  I can do that - let peace and quiet creep in. But for those days it doesn't work, I return to what always has - I read poetry.

The Weight of the Unknown

When the news is already bad and then gets even worse, as it did Wednesday and when it is still the main topic in the headlines two days later, I turn to one of my most comforting solaces - poetry - and one of my favorite poets - Ted Kooser.

                                Telescope

This is the pipe that pierces the dam                                                                                        that holds back the universe,

that takes off some of the pressure                                                                                            keeping the weight of the unknown

 from breaking through                                                                                                               and washing us all down the valley.

Because of this small tube,                                                                                                        through which cold light rushes

from the bottom of time,                                                                                                            the depth of the stars stays always constant

and we are able to sleep, at least for now,                                                                               beneath the straining wall of darkness.

This poem happened to fortuitously be where my bookmark was in Kooser's book Delights & Shadows. 

I did happen upon one news story this morning that gives me some hope for our political future. It is about a congressman from New Jersey - Andy Kim. If interested you can read it here:

https://apnews.com/article/andy-kim-cleans-capitol-siege-c5a303337cd63e4312ef7e1a17509371

The Months of 2020 in Pictures

I've been going through all the photos I took last year, approximately 4,160,  trying to choose just 12, one from each month, that I think is my best shot or is in some other way significant. A quick look at my Instagram account shows me that many of the ones I was considering for this blog post have already been shared there. Oh well, I might use them again anyway. 

January 5, early evening icy glow on the pond.

February 22, pretty in pink.

A wonderful impromptu lunch visit from granddaughters Katrina and Alyssa, Alyssa's husband Evan and great-grands Rodney and Brynley (youngest two of Katrina and Brad's) and Lily and Maverick (Alyssa and Evan's two).

Significant because it was the last time I would see any of them for the rest of 2020. We didn't go to Brynley's 3rd birthday party in March due to Covid-19 restrictions. 

I have the beautiful water color Brynley painted for me and pictures on Facebook to hold me until I can hug them again.

March 21 - Spring Begins, Grackles return. 

 

"Spread your wings and fly away.....

He sings the song he always sings and speaks to me of flowers that will bloom again in Spring."

(Paraphrasing lines from Anne Murray's Snowbird.)

So many pictures of spring flowers in bloom, green grass, ducks and geese and even a surprise visit from a white heron, to choose from.

But it was a snow squall on April 15 that bowed the heads of the daffodils and dusted the spiderwebs that caught my attention. 

With all of May's lush fullness and 485 photos to choose from, it was hard to decide on just one. 

I realized it had to be from our May 6th outing to Red Haw State Park to see the Redbuds in all their glory. I had wanted to go there for a long time and decided this was the year - needing an outing as we were. Then I feared we had missed the prime dates to experience them. 

So one of my Redbud pictures had to be the May photo. (But which one!?) There were others with bluer skies and more trees showing, but I like the simplicity of this one Redbud branch reflected in the lake.

A month later, June 6, with a reason to be in my home county of Adams, I left early and took my camera.

I have always liked photos of streams, rivers. I had three locations on this trip, the West Branch of the 102, Walters Creek and the East Nodaway River.

For sentimental reasons, I almost chose the pic of the 102, taken, as it was, from the bridge just south of where we once lived.

But this one of Walters Creek, east of Quincy, was the better picture, with the added bonus of an unknown bird caught in flight.

July 20 - An early morning picture of my Ditch Daisies.

I call them that because I dug a few out of a roadside ditch and transplanted them. They have not only survived, they have thrived.

And these migrated twenty feet away from the original patch.

I love them so much. Just to look at them makes me happy.

August 16, close to home, down at the pond for another favorite theme - sunlight and shadows.

September 20 - Autumn begins with a morning walk on the trails at Green Valley State Park/Lake.

And a close up of dew on a meadow mushroom.

"Listen the wind is rising and the air is wild with leaves...."

October 9 along the Ringgold Trailway near Poe Hollow with the last quarter of the Harvest Moon hanging in October's bright, blue sky.

November 18 - My 77th birthday was literally 'a walk in the park'. 

With temps in the 60's, I enjoyed a solitary hike on one of Green Valley's grass trails along the northwest shore of the lake.

The wind was blowing the water so hard it not only crashed against the rocks, it created swales along the shoreline.

It seems fitting to end the year with a sunset photo. We do get some very beautiful Winter sunsets like this one taken on the 26th.

2020 was a difficult and challenging year for everyone because of the coronavirus pandemic which affected the whole world. But we were more fortunate than most because we are retired. We could chose to stay isolated at home.

Naturally there were times I got a little stir crazy, but I was still able to go for walks, enjoy the changing of the seasons, use my camera to document all that colors and creatures and plants that caught my eye. 

I could Facetime with family members which actually brought me closer to my 8-year-old great-granddaughter, Lily. What a joy and delight she is.

The year may have been harder than most; bleaker than any I can think of, but I am still grateful for having been there.

"That which does not kill us, makes us stronger." (Friedrich Nietzsche)

Cabin Fever

 

I used to get cabin fever every winter, usually in late February or early March and brought on more by the desire to be planting a garden than from being shut in. I had a full time job and children still at home so I was out and about and busy.

Now I'm old and retired and stuck inside because of the weather and dodging the spread of Covid-19. To illustrate just how stir happy I am, we have watched not one but two rom coms this week - the first during the big snow storm Tuesday and the second on New Year's Eve. We seldom watch movies and usually not romance comedies if we do. 

So instead of perusing seed catalogs and plotting the planting of a garden, I'm planning some short trips away from home. My first choice would be to visit family members, but that won't happen until we get our vaccine shots. 

The first of our little excursions should be happening soon, I hope. As soon as we know the swans have arrived at Schildberg Recreation Area in Cass County. Over the past twenty years they have shown up as early as October 30 and as late as March 20. With the exception of those two dates and three times in December, all the other arrival dates were in November. I hope they'll show up soon.

The other outing I'm plotting is a day trip to Council Bluffs which will include going back to Bayliss Park and Fairview Cemetery, two places I once visited as a teen; seeing the Black Angel of Council Bluffs and another trip to the Squirrel Cage Jail. I was there years ago with Kari and Preston, but Bud hasn't seen it. This outing won't occur until late spring or early summer. And by then, hopefully, we'll be able to safely go many more places.

Until then, just daydreaming and planning helps curb my cabin fever somewhat. I wouldn't mind going over to Chariton and going through the Historical Complex there when it opens again. That is where the cabin pictured above is located. I took the photo in June 2019 on our way home from Kathryn and Travis' wedding. The complex wasn't open that day, but we could walk around the grounds.

And there are many other possibilities.....I'm not ready to be only an armchair traveler quite yet.

A Walk On New Year's Day

 

I had high hopes of taking a New Year's Day walk, but it was too cold for me, but not HD. He tries to take a "first day of the month" walk and photo regardless of the weather.

When he said he was going up to and around Lake McKinley I offered drive up and take his picture.

This one I took from across the lake. Note the background bower - how different it looks in winter. (Note to self: Check to see what plants climb there next summer.)

I took a few more photos while there.

And added some effects for fun. The new Adams Street bridge is photo worthy any time of the year.

The temperature was 21°, but that wind from the N, NE was COLD. Windchill was 7°. Br-r-r - now you understand why this wimp wasn't out walking. 😏

This bright mural looks kinda out of place in the gray day, doesn't it?

But not these frost-covered pines. 

And while the roadways were still snow-covered, the park trails had all been nicely cleared.

Back home and looking out my magic window I was happy to see my first Cardinal of the year.

Those little black dots are acorn caps left on the tree when the nuts dropped.

The female Cardinal was easy to identify but this little beauty has me stumped.

Sparrow? Finch? ??? I'll have to keep searching and come back with an I.D. later.

"One for sorrow, two for joy,........

.......five for silver, six for gold....."

Today - "Seven for a secret, never to be told."

"If you reveal your secrets to the wind, you should not blame the wind for revealing them to the trees." (Khalil Gibran)

(Look for the seventh bird hidden low to the left.)