Best Romantic Adventure

Did you bite on that "The Absolute Best Romantic Adventures In Every State" bait on MSN Lifestyle yesterday? When they do those 'every state' teasers, I almost always flip through until I get to Iowa; curious to see what 'they' feature in our state. Often I stop there, sometimes I continue on until I get to Wyoming.

For Iowa, it was "Adventure in the Netherlands" in Pella, "America's Dutch Treasure". I've been to Pella several times. It is a very interesting town to visit and attracts thousands during it's annual tulip festival. I think the last time we were there was either the weekend before, or after, the festival - skipping the crowds while still enjoying all the gorgeous tulips.

My take on these Romantic Adventures getaway inducements is that you don't have to go somewhere expensive or exclusive.

When you are with the one you love, a tent in a glade, far away from everything, can be the most romantic spot on earth.

Even after being together forever, a stroll in Central Park while holding hands, can be romantic. Or walking a dirt road picking up rocks, playing a game of cribbage, or laughing together. Every day saying, I love you.
Yesterday I said to HD, "If you had to choose between me and chocolate chip cookies, you'd choose the cookies!" He assured me he would choose me. I did not, however, ask if he would choose me if it was between me and his video games! 😜

Maybe it was just luck, or maybe it was being lucky enough to find someone crazy enough to agree to being married in a blizzard, my best romantic adventure was, and continues to be, along side Hubby Dearest.

The Moment You Realize

My eldest is back on his favorite island once again, helping rebuild St. John after last year's devastating hurricanes.
I've been waiting for the right time to use this poem. -- For you, Douglas.

The Moment
  by Margaret Atwood

The moment when, after many years
of hard work and a long voyage
you stand in the centre of your room,
house, half-acre, square mile, island, country,
knowing at last how you got there,
and say, I own this,

is the same moment the trees unloose
their soft arms from around you,
the birds take back their language,
the cliffs fissure and collapse,
the air moves back from you like a wave
and you can't breathe.

No, they whisper. You own nothing.
You were a visitor time after time
climbing the hill, planting the flag, proclaiming.
We never belonged to you.
You never found us.
It was always the other way around.

(I wonder if perhaps Laurance Rockefeller understood this when, in 1956, he gave his holdings there to the US National Parks Service to protect it from further development. More than half of St. John is Virgin Islands National Park.
Picture is one Doug, or Shelly, took on one of their trips to the islands.)

Another One Of Those Old Sayings

My first conscious thought upon awakening today was no love lost. I don't know if I was dreaming about someone or what. I know two people came to mind, but I can't remember if it was me and someone else or two other people.
I do know it was something I remember my Mom saying, though who she specifically was referring to is lost in the mists of my memories.

No love lost is a very old idiom, first used in the 1500's, it meant the opposite of what it means today. By the1800's its meaning was dichotomous - it could be used to signify love or hate.

These days, and also the way my mother meant it, was that between two people or factions there was animosity, disrespect, ill will, or hate. Kind of like present day feelings between Democrats and Republicans. 😏

Hm-m, I've been thinking about who Mom might had been referring to when she said there was no love lost between them - her Dad (my Grandpa Joe) and his neighbor, also named Joe.

J.R. and Joe R. were neighbors. Their farms adjoined. For years they were the kind of neighbors who traded work, helped each other out, i.e. good neighbors. Then there was a dispute about a fence line between their fields. Joe R. thought it was J.R.'s responsibility to maintain and J.R. thought it was Joe R's.

I vividly remember when their animosities led to a physical altercation. It was summer. I was spending a week with my grandparents - probably about the age I was (12-13) when this photo of them was taken. We had gone to town to do the weekly shopping. Grandpa dropped Grandma and me off at Biggar's Department Store saying he was going out to the sale barn and would meet us at Silsby's Grocery Store at 11:30. As we checked out, we could see him waiting along the curb outside. The carry-out boy loaded our groceries, Grandma and I got into the car. That's when we noticed the blood on the right side of Grandpa's face. Grandma burst out: "Joe, what happened to you?! Are you alright?"
Grandpa sheepishly replied that he had run into Joe R. at the sale barn and they had words; then blows. Grandma was quite upset. Whether at him or for him, I couldn't tell. (I was only scaredly concerned that my beloved Grandpa Joe was hurt.)

You could say, "There was no love lost between the two neighbors named Joe."

Waiting For The All Clear

First thing Friday morning I read online that the customers of SIRWA (Southern Iowa Rural Water Association) were being advised to boil their drinking water before using because of a problem at the treatment plant. Nothing was mentioned about us (town residents) being affected. It was noon before we knew the town of Creston was included in the boil order, at which time we were also informed that the grocery stores and Walmart were out of bottled water until more was delivered. Luckily we had almost a full 24 pack of bottled water on hand.

Saturday afternoon when I went to Fareway there was a pallet of bottled water near the grocery carts and several more pallets in the aisle where the flavored and plain bottled waters are located. It was being reported that it would be the first of the week before they knew how long the boil order would last, so I bought  another 24 pack.

With just the two of us, the boil order hasn't been too much of a big deal. The hardest part is just remembering not to drink a glass of water out of the tap or use ice from the ice maker. (Which, note to self: Don't forget to empty when the all clear is announced.) But I feel sorry for families with little kids or people who are caretakers for someone. And the care centers and hospital; how do they prepare meals for everyone?

According to officials, the water could contain bacteria, viruses and parasites which could cause nausea, vomiting, cramps and diarrhea. Sometime in the night I awoke with a kinda' crampy feeling in my tummy. My first thought, "Oh no! Did I forget and ingest some bad water?" But I woke up this morning feeling fine.

I also think about the people in the world who do not have easy access to potable water. And how much water we Americans waste every single day. Having to stop and think about boiling our water for a few days seems trivial.

I did mention to Bud that we could always drive down to Carbon to the Elm Spring if need be. People have been using it as their drinking water source for more than a hundred years. I bet there were a number of SIRWA customers filling their water jugs there this weekend.

I fully expect we will be told today or tomorrow that we can go back to using our tap water. If not, well, I have a backup plan.

Yet The Books

And Yet The Books
 (By Czeslaw Milosz)

And yet the books will be there on the shelves, separate beings,
That appeared once, still wet
As shining chestnuts under a tree in autumn,
And, touched, coddled, began to live
In spite of fires on the horizon, castles blown up,
Tribes on the march, planets in motion.
"We are," they said, even as their pages
Were being torn out, or a buzzing flame
Licked away their letters. So much more durable
Than we are, whose frail warmth
Cools down with memory, disperses, perishes.
I imagine the earth when I am no more:
Nothing happens, no loss, it's still a strange pageant,
Women's dresses, dewy lilacs, a song in the valley.
Yet the books will be there on the shelves, well born,
Derived from people, but also from radiance, heights.

Hello, June

"And what is so rare as a day in June? Then, if ever, come perfect days." James Russell Lowell

Those ditch daisies I dug last year thrived and spread. I like these happy little weeds flowers.

More happy faces. The violas are doing well, even with all the heat we've had.

I'll be walking in a forest of sunflowers if I let all these volunteers mature!

Ruthie's penstemon is looking good. I have a piece of lattice for the cardinal climber to begin its clamber up to (I hope) an impressive display.


The Isabel Bloom hanging sculpture is titled Celebrate Heart. I think it is saying, School's Out For Summer!

"Mine is the month of roses; yes, and mine
The month of marriages! All pleasant sights
And scents, the fragrance of the blossoming vine,
The foliage of the valleys and the heights.
Mine are the longest days, the lovliest nights;
The mower's scythe makes music to my ear;
I am the mother of all dear delights;
I am the fairest daughter of the year."
(June by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow)

May Book List

Nicer weather plus outdoor work = only six seven books read this month. That may be a new record for fewest books read in one month!

The Gate Keeper by Charles Todd, my favorite mother/son writing team. This is their 20th Inspector Ian Rutledge Mystery. I especially like these books because they are set in England in the teens and twenties of the last century. Rutledge has to deal with his own mental problems relating to his war time service while still solving murders the old fashioned way.

So Long At The Fair by Christina Schwarz is about the ways actions of the parents can have consequences for their children many years later. (I liked Schwarz's Drowning Ruth better than this book.)

Winter Prey and Night Prey are numbers five and six in John Sandford's Lucas Davenport series. In #5 Lucas works with a doctor who is also the county coroner. Weather (her unusual name) may be the right woman for him because in #6 they are living together and he is back on the force in Minneapolis.

The Good Pilot Peter Woodhouse is one of Alexander McCall Smith's stand alone novels. Set during and after WWII, an American Pilot stationed in England falls in love with a local woman. He is shot down over Holland, saved by the resistance and then saved again by a German soldier when he is discovered hiding and the German doesn't turn him in. The American and German meet again during the American airlift of Berlin. A thoughtful tale of love and friendship.

To Die But Once by Jacqueline Winspear continues the story of Maisie Dobbs, now at the beginning of WWII. This is one of my favorite series.

Stormy Weather (#7 this month, I just finished it this morning) is by Paulette Jiles, a new favorite author. Set in Central Texas during the depression and dust bowl, it centers around a young woman, her widowed mother and two sisters, trying to make a go of the family farm after the death of  their father/husband. Jiles has a way of putting the reader right into the lives of her characters. Of course, it doesn't hurt that I love reading about this era.

Jiles, you may remember, I discovered when a Facebook friend reviewed one of her books. Joan is a friend of my daughter's. I sent her a friend request because I enjoyed her posts and loved seeing the daily photos of her cats. I may never meet Joan in person, but I think having her as a FB friend is an example of how Facebook did/does/should work.

Oh, and speaking of my daughter.....

.....today is the Princess' birthday. Happy Birthday, Kari. 💕