Books Read In May 2022

 Eight books read this month....

Sharpe's Assassin by Bernard Cornwell is one I chose because a) I needed a small paperback for my bedtime reading and b) I thought this was an author I had read before and liked. It turns out that I had only read one of his books and thought it was okay but this book is #21 of  'The Sharpe Series'. I wasn't overly impressed. Perhaps if I had read the previous twenty books in the series? I doubt it.

Winter Of The World is the second of Ken Follett's Century Trilogy and continues following the five interrelated families from the first book. This one covers the rise of the Third Reich, through WWII and into the beginning of the Cold War. I have vivid memories of the Cold War.

The Last Mile and The Fix are books two and three in David Baldacci's Amos Decker series. I am loving this series and look forward to reading more Baldacci books after I've read the last three novels in this series.

The Edge Of Eternity is the final book of the Century Trilogy by Ken Follett. It covers the 1960's through the 1980's - civil rights, the Cuban Missile Crisis, the fall of the Berlin Wall, Vietnam, presidential impeachment - all the headline happenings of those tumultuous years. Even though I lived through those years, I learned more about what was going on than I knew at the time. Each of the books in this trilogy are almost 1,000 pages, so it takes a commitment to read them - but it is well worth it!

The Seed Keeper by Diane Wilson follows a Dakhóta family's struggle to preserve their way of life through the continuity of seeds saved and nurtured by the women. And while the story is thoughtfully told, it is the message about seed-saving that is important. In her notes, Wilson quotes from the documentary, Seed, The Untold Story - "94 percent of our global seed varieties have already disappeared. The loss of our seed varieties is devastating for the genetic diversity of the earth, and for our survival as human beings."

I visited the Seed Savers Exchange near Decorah, Iowa several years ago. According to their website, seedsavers.org, the seed bank contains a collection of more than 20,000 rare, open-pollinated varieties. Their seed catalog is available free in the US. If you get a chance, though, I recommend visiting them in person. 

Violeta is Isabel Allende's latest book. Set in an unnamed South American country, it covers 100 years of one woman's life bookended by pandemics - the Spanish Flu and Covid-19. I liked the first two-thirds of the book, but I was tired of it before the end. It just felt like it was being continued to cover an entire century when I thought it had a more believable ending before that.

Run Rose Run is a collaboration between Dolly Parton and James Patterson. I'm a long time fan of Ms. Parton's while, to my recollection, I have never read any of Mr. Patterson's books. I became interested in reading this one after seeing a CBS Sunday Morning segment featuring the two and their working together to write the book. The TV segment was interesting, the book is not. If this is a fair example of Patterson's books, I won't bother reading any others. 

With Memorial Weekend over, summer has (un)officially begun. Time to read some beach books and relax. 😎📚

Remembering A Gracious Woman

The word gracious comes from grace for which one definition is simple elegance or refinement. There have only been a few women in my life that I would describe with the word gracious. To me, graciousness goes beyond being kind, polite and thoughtful. A gracious woman behaves in an attractively polite manner with courteous goodwill toward all.

The gracious woman I'm fondly remembering today is my granddaughter's other grandmother, Lee, pictured here on the right with me and Alyssa, our one grandchild in common. The photo was taken ten years ago at a baby shower for Lily, our first great-grandchild together.

And here is Lee with Lily and our second great-grandchild, Maverick, who is now four years old.

My daughter-in-law Shelly called me six months ago when they thought her mother's death was imminent. I told her how much I had always admired and liked her Mom then realized there might be time for me to tell Lee that myself. So I sent her a letter telling her how much I enjoyed being a co-grandmother/great-grandmother with her; how she had made me feel a part of her family and how much I did like and admire her. She really was a wonderful person.

Lee and her husband Hal had four daughters and all four were with her that last weekend before she died a week ago this morning.

Pictured here with their mom are, left to right, Shari, Susan, Sally and Shelly.

Even though Lee and Hal lived in Wisconsin, there were many birthdays and Christmases, graduations, a wedding and a christening together. Not enough for us to share a close connection, but I feel we could have.

Lee, on her 90th birthday. This and the previous two photos are from her Facebook page. I really enjoyed being FB friends and seeing all the pictures of her, her daughters and her other family members over the years. 

She was one of the most gracious women I have known. I am fortunate to have had her in my life and shared 'grandma' duties - no - pleasures, with her.

"Elegancy is the only beauty that never fades." (Audrey Hepburn)

 

What I Have To Bring Today

 

It's all I have to bring today--

This, and my heart beside--

This, and my heart, and all the fields--

And all the meadows wide--

 

Be sure you count--should I forget

Some one the sum could tell--

This, and my heart, and all the Bees

Which in the Clover dwell.

( Emily Dickinson's poem "It's All I Have To Bring Today".)

The Certainty of the Returning Seasons

"The undying beauty of the land, the certainty of the returning seasons, heals much." (Anne Perry in A Darker Reality.)

Spring has been so late this year I haven't done many walks outside, but yesterday, yesterday morning was perfectly gorgeous. I told HD I was going out to Green Valley and asked if he'd like to go along. 

The first half mile I walked. I glanced around hoping to see wildflowers, but walked steadily until we got to the boardwalk.

There weren't the flowers I was hoping for, but I did note some photo ops, so the walking back took longer.

Catkins are a favorite spring sighting for me so these long corkscrew shaped ones really caught my eye.

I'm not even certain what kind of tree this is. Maybe Walnut? There are a lot of walnut trees at Green Valley State Park.

Ahh, some wildflowers, but just a few Violets

And some patches of yellow - possibly Golden Alexander?

As far from wildflowers as you can get?

We noticed something on a dock so on the way back, Bud went over to see what it was.

From the looks of what's left, that must have been a big ole fish!

It has been awhile since I've seen Russian Olive bushes.

These were once used as windbreaks but are now considered invasive.

A neighbor had a row on the north side of their farmstead.

There are many Honeysuckle bushes at Green Valley Lake.

They are not quite in full bloom yet. 

Another of my favorites. I have so-o many!

While I love looking for rocks along an old dirt road, Bud will hunt fossils in limestone.

He found this in the tons of rock used to build a causeway.

A closeup showing all the tiny shelled creatures once alive eons ago.

My big hunt other than wildflowers was birds.

This photo isn't clear enough to identify these two. I think the top one is a tree swallow but I have no clue what the lower one is.

It was hard to get a good picture of this little olive and yellow bird. I knew it wasn't a Goldfinch by the black mask, but what was it?

What it is was a new addition to my bird life list - a Common Yellowthroat. It is one of the New World warblers and is also known in the Midwest as 'The Yellow Bandit'. A alias I assume is due to its mask.

I am always so thrilled to see new, to me, birds.

I'm already looking foward to more time spent on the trails at Green Valley as the season(s) progress. 💙🌞

Back to the Five and Dime

Three of my favorite things to spend my allowance on at the dime store back in the early 50's were paper umbrellas, paper fans and those simple plastic pinwheels. A pinwheel was a good choice in the summertime. On the way home from town, with the windows rolled down, I could hold my pinwheel and let the air whirl it madly around. I have never lost my affection for a pretty pinwheel.

A Pinwheel Of Emotions (Author Unknown)

I was forced to grow,

But I am still a child.

I believe in magic,

I believe in hope.

I hold the pinwheel in the wind,

And simply watch it spin,

I see colors whirling with it,

A kaleidoscope of twirling emotions,

All blown away with the wind.

This pinwheel does hold some magic,

Believe me....

I am a child again.

                   (Great-grandchildren Sawyer and Lily playing with pinwheels July, 2015)

I still buy a pinwheel once in awhile. I have taken one on Memorial Day and put it on my Mother's grave. I think I'll do that again this year in remembrance of the person who knew me best my whole life, not only as a child. 

Of Ponds and Poets

There were two ponds on the farm where I grew up. First was the one in the pasture over west - the one where Mom would take us to try to teach us to fish. I could dig up the earthworms we used for bait, but I could not sacrifice them to the fishhooks. Mom had to do that for me. My sister was not so squeamish.

This was also the pond Betty and I once went skinny-dipping in when we were old enough to "pike-off" - Mom's term for when we roamed around the farm without telling her where we were going.

The second, new, pond was the one a short distance up the road at the other place. That was the one Dad threw my sister and me into thinking we would have to learn to swim. It was also where brother Ron and his friend Norman built and launched their leaky raft. 

The pond pictured above was the hidden pond I didn't discover for months after we had moved to the 'Little House' in Taylor County. It was a quiet, serene spot, perfect for our geese, Mac and Molly. I liked that pond a lot. 

The kids and I swam there a few times, but the instance I, and he, remember the most was when I thought I could teach Bud how to swim. It was a short lesson - he swore I was trying to drown him. (This was when we had just started dating so there may have been some trust issues involved.) 

But it is the pond I have seen every day for almost fourteen years that means the most to me now. Bud has fished there many times and taught a few of the grands and great-grands, even three grand-nephews about fishing. (But no swimming.)

It is the pond I see every day out my magic window. I have seen so much wild life and so many sun and moon sets over it. I have taken beaucoup photos of it in all kinds of weather and every season. Twice I have stood on the deck and taken pictures of  funnel clouds over it as well as many times watched hot air balloons drifting across above it. 

So it isn't surprising that it is the pond I think of when I read a new, to me, poem by one of my favorite poets, Mary Oliver.

Walking To Oak-Head Pond 

And Thinking Of 

The Ponds I Will Visit 

In The Next Days And Weeks

What is so utterly invisible

as tomorrow?

Not love,

not the wind, 

not the inside of a stone.

Not anything.

And yet, how often I'm fooled --

I'm wading along

in the sunlight --

and I'm sure I can see the fields and the ponds shining

days ahead --

I can see the light spilling

like a shower of meteors

into next week's trees,

and I plan to be there soon --

and, so far, I am

just that lucky,

my legs splashing

over the edge of darkness,

my heart on fire.

I don't know where

such certainty comes from --

the brave flesh

or the theater of the mind --

but if I had to guess

I would say that only

what the soul is supposed to be 

could send us forth

with such cheer

as even the leaf must wear 

as it unfurls

its fragrant body, and shines

against the hard possibility of stoppage --

which, day after day,

before such brisk, corpuscular belief, 

shudders, and gives way.

First Outdoor Walk Since New Year's Day

Our long cold wet spring has kept me inside using the treadmill. I haven't walked outside since my New Year's Day walk. But these humid ninety degree days have gotten me back outside. Yesterday it was in the flower beds, today it was back to my favorite trail at McKinley Park/Lake. 

There are all kinds of wonderful paved trails at McKinley, but my favorite is still the hidden gravel path on the other side of the lake dam. It is the closest thing to walking in the woods without going very far from the house. 

One step on the path and there was a bush I remember from my youth when we used to go to the woods mushrooming.

Does anyone still go the timber to pick gooseberries then bring them home and make gooseberry pie? Or jelly?

Would any of my children or grandchildren even know what this bush was?

A few steps away was this honeysuckle bush, the first of many in the area.

I love the pink and white flowers when they first begin to open. They are so dainty. They make me think of little dancers.

Another reason I like this path is for all the birdsong.

Usually I hear them and catch glimpses but don't get a picture before they dart away. I was in luck today and got a photo of this little wren.

But the big one for me was this member of the flycatchers family - a Western Kingbird - a first for my lifetime list.

My plan was to walk over to the spillway to see how much water was going over it. 

There was just a little coming out of the lake but it was enough to gush out of the opening under the roadway.

And there were still some blossoms on the wild plum bush nearby.

I have been hoping to find some lilacs for a bouquet and there was a bush near the spillway!

A few sprigs came home with me. I love lilacs.

I also love the wilderness feeling of this area.

This photo is of the woods across the little creek flowing out of Lake McKinley.

I mentioned the wild honeysuckle. Almost all these bushes across from where I was standing are honeysuckle bushes. 

Another good thing about following this path at this time of year -- the mosquitoes aren't out yet!

P.S. No little stones came home with me this time.

But HD did bring me a little fossil from his morning walk around the neighborhood.  💕

The Little Stones

 

How Happy Is The Little Stone (Emily Dickinson)

How happy is the little Stone

That rambles in the Road alone,

And doesn't care about Careers

And Exigencies never fears --

Whose Coat of elemental Brown

A passing Universe put on,

And independent as the Sun

Associates or glows alone,

Fulfilling absolute Decree

In casual simplicity --

I have read many Emily Dickinson poems over the years but this is the first time I've seen this one. 

I've gathered many little stones in my life - those pictured above are only a few - and have wondered such things as: "How far did this rock travel before ending up here for me to find?" "How large was it before time and travel eroded its edges and smoothed it to the shape it is now?" But I have never wondered if little stones are happy. Are they happy that I treasured them enough to bring home with me and display around my house? Or would they be happier if I had left them as I found them? Do they think anything at all or am I just personifying?

One thing for certain is that my children will not be surprised to find little rocks everywhere when I am gone - they know all about my love for rocks. 💛