October '23 Book List

Have I ever, at least since retiring, read as few as four books in a month? If so, I don't remember it.

The Traitor Among Us is Anne Perry's latest (#5) Elena Standish novel and, I presume,* her last as the author died earlier this year. I have very much enjoyed this character and this author.

The Black Widow is #16 in the Gabriel Allon series by Daniel Silva that I have been reading my way through.

The River We Remember by William Kent Krueger is a murder mystery set in a small Minnesota town during 1958. It looks back to wars fought both abroad and at home. Krueger is one of the authors I will always read.

House of Spies is #17 in Daniel Silva's Gabriel Allon series. It was somewhat disquieting to be reading this book at the time of the Hamas attacks in Israel and the subsequent ongoing battles. It looks like I have six more books to read in this series before I am entirely caught up on them.

I don't know what the number of books I read in November will be, but with the cold days and early darkness it will surely be more than four. Happy reading. And Happy Halloween. 👻🎃

(*Presume because there have been instances of another writer continuing a series when the original author dies.)

The Good Darkness

I don't have much good to say about this time of the year when darkness comes earlier every evening and the cold weather sets in. But I do still love the changing of the seasons - and poetry; always poetry.

Trying To Pray By James Wright

This time I have left my body behind me, crying

In its dark thorns.

Still,

There are good things in this world.

It is dusk.

It is the good darkness

Of women's hands that touch loaves.

The spirit of a tree begins to move.

I touch leaves.

I close my eyes and think of water.

Of All I Thought Was True

 

 

Into My Own By Robert Frost

One of my wishes is that those dark trees,
So old and firm they scarcely show the breeze,
Were not, as 'twere, the merest mask of gloom,
But stretched away unto the edge of doom.

I should not be withheld but that some day
into their vastness I should steal away,
Fearless of ever finding open land,
or highway where the slow wheel pours the sand.

I do not see why I should e'er turn back,
Or those should not set forth upon my track
To overtake me, who should miss me here
And long to know if still I held them dear.

They would not find me changed from him they knew—
Only more sure of all I thought was true.

A Marvelous Early Birthday Present

When Kari came to visit us earlier this month she brought a very special early 80th birthday gift for me. It was something I had never heard of and certainly something I did not know I would enjoy so much.

It is a Digital Photo Frame - pictured here with a picture of her and her husband, Ken - a picture within the picture frame. It came with a lot of photos already installed. 

My smart, wonderful, techno savvy, son-in-law must have spent hours going through the photos on my Facebook page and blog to find and save the photos he saved to the frame.

In addition, he set up an email account then contacted my children and grandchildren and asked them to share photos via email which then shared them to the frame. They can use that email account to share more photos at any time and I certainly hope they do!

While here Kari showed me how to set up my own account so I could also add photos to the frame, which I've been doing.

A favorite photo of Mom.

And one of my Dad and his first grandson, my son Douglas - with a cute kitten thrown in for the aw-w response. 

A favorite photo of my youngest great-grandson, Louis, and youngest great-granddaughter Brynley, shared to the frame by her mother, my oldest granddaughter, Katrina.

A hilarious photo of granddaughter Kathryn and her nephew Ayden.

One that Ken saved and shared from my photos.

Another one uploaded by Ken of me and my grandson, Ki, aka Ayden's father.

An old photo of my daughter Kari and son Preston washing my car. 

And one of me that Ken took on a trip he, Kari and I made to the Oregon coast. 

I think this was at Fort Stevens State Park.

And a really old photo I added to the frame - one of me, Dad, Ron, little sister Betty and Mom taken on a trip to Illinois in 1947.

This was at a spring on or near some land belonging to relatives.

The frame goes dark after awhile if there has been no movement near it. It also shuts off automatically at nine p.m. and turns itself on at seven a.m. It is so interesting to watch just to see what picture pops up next. It is set to change every five seconds, but can be adjusted.

Right now it is in my 'office' because this is where I spend a good share of my time. I plan to take it over to the clubhouse for my 80th birthday party next month.

It will be kind of like the slide shows they have at a funeral except that I will still be present - at least I hope so! 😉

Looking For Color In All The Wrong Places

 

It is easy for me to see fall colors. All I have to do is look out the window. And while a few of the trees are showing color, many are still green. (I especially like the red one right in the middle. It is my favorite choke cherry tree.) 

I can also drive up to Lake McKinley and spot a bit of color across the water. But Wednesday we were going to the funeral home in the old home town to pay our respects to a former neighbor. She and her husband were wonderful neighbors when I was growing up and remained so to everyone in our old neighborhood for the rest of their lives.

I had hoped to see alot of fall color on the way down and back, but saw very little. I opined that maybe it was because of the drought. The next morning I read: "Experts say drought hasn't had much impact on fall foliage show in Iowa." So much for that idea. I also read that this weekend was the prime time to see fall colors in SW Iowa. 

When I expressed my regret over not seeing a lot of pretty trees going to and from Corning - not even around Mt. Etna - Bud said, "You can always drive around Creston and see lots of pretty trees." So this morning that is what I did.

Beginning with some shots at McKinley Park and Lake.

I'd like to be lucky enough to happen by when the migration of Cedar Waxwings comes through and strips this Crab Apple tree of its fruit. 

I've only been fortunate to see them there once in all the years we've lived here.

Two more trees at the park. McKinley has lost so many trees in the recent years - both Ash and Pines.

They have been planting new trees to fill in the bare areas like this little one in the foreground.

Eventually it will grow and be just as stately as the one behind it.

This one is more orange than red and is in the area of  'the bear' - near where the Farmers Markets are held.

This beautiful speciman is south of the Historical Village located within McKinley Park.

And this venerable old Cottonwood is on the southside of the gravel road that goes toward the campgrounds on the SE side of the lake at McKinley.

I was afraid they were going to cut it down when they cleared the sides of the road a few years ago. I'm so glad they left it.

This morning's blue sky couldn't have been any more perfect. "Suns and skies and clouds of June and flowers of June together cannot rival for one hour October's bright blue weather."

I still had some time to kill after my grocery run and the time the library opened.

This tree was near the library. I couldn't decide if it was a Maple or an Oak. And I still can't tell. Maybe it's neither one.

This one was on the way home from the library.

Another bright and colorful speciman.

In addition to trees there were bushes. I drove through an alley to get this picture of a burning bush. There was a whole row of them between the house and alley. Beautiful!

Also along a property line on the way home was this sumac.

Grasses caught my camera eye, too.

They are very ornamental. I'm not even going to try to name these two.

Virginia Creeper on a tree just north of the RR underpass.

And more Virginia Creeper near the new dog park in McKinley Park.

So, yes, there is plenty of fall color around town and it is gorgeous.

But it just doesn't quite take the place of a drive in the countryside and seeing a whole timber full of reds and oranges and yellows.

        A plus to driving around looking at fall color - seeing the fun Halloween decorations.

Quintessence: Word of the Day

Definition: "Quintessence is a formal word that can refer to the most typical or perfect example of something, or the most important part of something."

And here is the "Did you Know?" explaining the origin of the word: "Long ago, when people believed that everything was made up of four elements—earth, air, fire, and water—they thought the stars and planets were made up of yet another element. In the Middle Ages, people called this element by its Medieval Latin name, quinta essentia, literally, "fifth essence." They believed the quinta essentia was essential to all kinds of matter, and if they could somehow isolate it, it would cure all disease. People have since given up on that idea, but English users have kept quintessence, the offspring of quinta essentia, as a word for the purest essence of a thing."

Quintessential is derived from the same source as quintessence and was, as I remember it, the form that I first learned. Quintessential means "perfectly typical or representative of a particular kind of person or thing. 

My introduction to the word was in a story I read in the Sunday Des Moines Register in the 1970's. It was used to describe a man who had taken an old corn crib, similar to the one pictured here, and made it into a home for himself. I believe he was described as "the quintessential homesteader" or some such. This was during the "back-to-the-land" movement and occured up around Yale as I recall.

I just remember admiring the man so much and wishing I could do something like that. 

My time came in 1978 when, with my children, I moved to a small acreage in Taylor County. Mom gave me my start with some gilts, Hope, Faith, Charity and Grace, which gave me four litters of piglets.

A few years later I tried my hand at raising sheep. I had never been around sheep so that was a sharp learning curve - especially the lambing part. It was a profound experience and one I have never regretted. 

I doubt anyone would ever describe me as quintessential anything, but I love the word and am always happy to be reminded of it and its meaning.

(Little boy in the photo is my first grandchild, Brock.)

The Leaf Has A Song In It

 What Can I Say By Mary Oliver

What can I say that I have not said before?

So I’ll say it again.
The leaf has a song in it.
Stone is the face of patience.

 

Inside the river there is an unfinishable story
and you are somewhere in it
and it will never end until all ends. 

  

Take your busy heart to the art museum and the
chamber of commerce
but take it also to the forest.
The song you heard singing in the leaf when you
were a child
is singing still.
I am of years lived, so far, seventy-four,
and the leaf is singing still. 

Life Ain't Been No Crystal Stair

Today is National Black Poetry Day. The day not only honors all past and present black poets, it also commemorates the birth of the first published black poet in the United States. Jupiter Hammon was born in Long Island, New York October 17, 1711.

Langston Hughes (1901-1967) was a leader of the Harlem Renaissance. Since first reading this poem, I've always been a little partial to it, though their are many by him and others that I like. 

Mother to Son

BY LANGSTON HUGHES

Well, son, I’ll tell you:

Life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.

It’s had tacks in it,

And splinters,

And boards torn up,

And places with no carpet on the floor—

Bare.

But all the time

I’se been a-climbin’ on,

And reachin’ landin’s,

And turnin’ corners,

And sometimes goin’ in the dark

Where there ain’t been no light.

So boy, don’t you turn back.

Don’t you set down on the steps

’Cause you finds it’s kinder hard.

Don’t you fall now—

For I’se still goin’, honey,

I’se still climbin’,

And life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.

How To Cram Nine People Into One Week

When my daughter emailed me July 13 that she had booked her tickets to come see us in October I was so happy. The last time we were together was in July, 2019. Covid and then her new job were responsible for the long absence. She would only be here for a week but a week was better than nothing. I knew the time would go by fast and it did. But we tried to fit in as much as we could.

On Saturday Kari's younger brother Preston and his wife Shalea came for lunch and spend some time with her/us.

The next day was older brother Douglas and wife Shelly's turn. We had so much fun with both brothers and spouses. (Doug and Shelly did get lunch also. We just cleared the table before the pics. 😄

The week went as fast as I knew it would. Monday we went to lunch at our new favorite sports bar and grill, Mario's. The rest of the week we spent around the house. Kari really enjoys artwork and tried to get me interested. Let's just say I am no artist!

Thursday morning it was time to drive south and hour and a half to meet up with her friends from Overland Park, KS where she would spend a few days visiting with them.

First a photo of me with my daughter.

And then one of her and Bud.

Then Bud took some photos of friends Carter, Kari, me and Shin where we met up in King City, MO.

Meeting about halfway for them and us worked out great. (We had also met there to get her on the previous Thursday as flying in and out of KC was better for Kari coming from Portland.

Shin shared some photos of their time together in the Kansas City area.

Carter and Kari have been friends since their West Des Moines days.

 

And Shin knows no strangers. He and Carter have been together several years.

We have been friends from the first time we met.

I think they are comparing their beautiful gray hair in this photo. 💕

And this may be my new favorite photo of my daughter. So pretty.

Shin had it labeled "Penny for your thoughts?"

As I write this Kari is about an hour and a half into her trip back to Portland. She'll have tomorrow at home before going back to work on Wednesday. 

I hope her desk isn't piled too high when she gets there. And I hope it isn't as long between visits next time. But we still have facetime and that helps alot.

The Green and Growing Musical Tree

 

THE WORK OF HAPPINESS
by May Sarton

I thought of happiness, how it is woven
Out of the silence in the empty house each day
And how it is not sudden and it is not given
But is creation itself like the growth of a tree.
No one has seen it happen, but inside the bark
Another circle is growing in the expanding ring.
No one has heard the root go deeper in the dark,
But the tree is lifted by this inward work
And its plumes shine, and its leaves are glittering.

So happiness is woven out of the peace of hours
And strikes its roots deep in the house alone:
The old chest in the corner, cool waxed floors,
White curtains softly and continually blown
As the free air moves quietly about the room;
A shelf of books, a table, and the white-washed wall —
These are the dear familiar gods of home,
And here the work of faith can best be done,
The growing tree is green and musical.

For what is happiness but growth in peace,
The timeless sense of time when furniture
Has stood a life’s span in a single place,
And as the air moves, so the old dreams stir
The shining leaves of present happiness?
No one has heard thought or listened to a mind,
But where people have lived in inwardness
The air is charged with blessing and does bless;
Windows look out on mountains and the walls are kind.

(Although I have admired her works for a long time, I see this is the first time I've shared one of May Sarton's poems.)

A Lifetime Ago

Fiftieth anniversary, five decades, half a century, fifty years ago - there are many ways to describe a 50-year mark. For my younger, and only, sister it was a lifetime ago. She died fifty years ago today - three weeks after her 28th birthday; two days after her little girl's fifth birthday. 

I have been mindful of this date for some time; trying to come up with some way to meaningfully remember it and her.

My very earliest memory of her was one of jealousy. I distinctly remember being relegated to the back seat with my big brother in our family sedan - a 1936 Dodge.

I had been displaced in the front seat by that little sister. I was very jealous. It was a feeling that remained for many years.

Not long ago I asked my older brother Ron, who was 3-1/2 when I was born, if he was jealous of me replacing him as the new little one. He said he did not remember any such feelings toward me.

Of course we learned to play together as we got older. We spent hours and hours together roaming around the farm, having adventures, making up stories about what/where we were exploring.

I don't remember this dog, nor its name. Betty was much more a dog person than I was. 

I preferred the kittens.

We played 'school', where I was almost always the teacher, and 'house', where I was the mom. 

And dress-up for sure - pictured here with our Roberts cousins. What fun that was!

Mom often dressed us alike. We were one year, eleven months, three weeks and five days apart in age. i.e. - Betty was almost two years younger than me. 

And I always thought I was the boss until she got old enough and close enough in size to show me I was the boss no longer. 

Not only did Mom dress us alike she also had at least one outfit that matched our dresses.

These sundresses with the bolero jackets were pink and turquoise. The dresses were pink, the jackets tuquoise with pink trim if I remember correctly. 

I can remember one time, while crossing a street in town, Mom had ahold of our hands and I wished it was just me and Mom and that I didn't have to share her with my sister.

Then when I was ten and Betty eight, our little brother came along. We had been asking Mom for a baby brother for a long time so when we got him we thought Mom had granted our wish!

Someone new to spoil and make over. I think Betty saw him more as a sibling whereas I wanted to be, and acted like, a little mother to him.

But, boy the fun when he was old enough for us to 'direct' in our pretend games and plays.

Our mutual adoration for him lessened our jealousy of one another. Yes, Betty admitted to being jealous of me just as I was of her.

Once we both married and had children of our own, things got better between us.

We were closer - more like sisters ought to be.

(Betty, her husband Gene, and baby Michael)

We each had a son first. Me, Douglas and she, Mike.

Then we had daughters; Betty, Kristine, and me, Kari.

The boys were 18 months apart, the girls only seven.

Betty was my matron of honor when I got married but I didn't get to be her's when she married because they eloped.

Our family picture from the 1957 cousins reunion at our farm.

Ron and Dad in back; Betty, me and Mom with Leslie in front.

I must have grown a couple inches after this photo because I was about two inches taller than Betty. Les and Ron were both tall like our Dad. We all outgrew Mom.

This was one of the last photos of the two of us together before my sister died of a cerebral hemorrhage. I would say this was the fall of 1966. The following year I left my husband and moved to Eastern Iowa. Betty took his side in the subsequent divorce which led to hard feelings on both our parts. We never fully reconciled after that.

When she died I realized how foolish we had both been - me more than she, I'm sure. I suffered tremendous survivor's guilt after her death. And though it lessened over the years I always wondered "Why her? Why not me?" And why, oh why, couldn't we have been close and loving the way so many sisters are?

I have heard/read that even if sisters did not get along when they were younger that as they aged they became best friends. Oh, how I wish I had had the chance to know if that was true.