Father's Day - It's Complicated

This is the photo I usually change my Facebook profile pic to around Father's Day every year. It is my favorite photo of me and my Dad, Louis, when I was *almost* an adult - taken the autumn of my senior year in high school, 1960. I was 17, Dad was 43.
My family got its first television in 1954, the same year Father Knows Best premiered. (The final episode was 1960 - the same year this photo was taken.) I wanted the kind of Dad the TV Betty had. Instead, I got a 'Father Knows Best' who thought telling me how I should behave, think, act, was how my life was to be lived.
I had 34 Father's Days with my Dad. He died in the month before the 35th. My last day with him was one of contention with him still telling me all the things I was doing wrong and how I should be conducting my life.
So, I started writing this with the idea of revisiting the hows and whys of this post title, Father's Day - It's Complicated. Yes, I love/loved my Dad, but my memories of him tend to be more about what was wrong with our relationship than what was right. Do I tend to dwell more on the negatives than the positives, probably.

Then I started going through my previous blogs about my childhood, looking for photos with my Dad I have posted before, reading words I have written over the past nine years. And I find a trove of good memories.

So, instead of remembering the times with Dad that were less than what I needed or wanted them to be, I should concentrate more on the good times. Perhaps I will realize, after forty years without him, that Father's Day isn't so complicated after all.
As my wise and wonderful husband just said: "You're a writer, you need to re-write your story."

So, Happy Father's Day, Dad. I love and miss you, and Mom, both.

From Greek To Roman

I have tried different types of plants in my woman's head planter, always wanting something that would resemble 'hair'. When I used some of Mom's sedum I had moved from the farm, it was perfect. Not only did it grow robustly, it did not have to be replanted every year.
Her 'hair' grew so wildly, I began referring to her as Medusa, the Greek mythological goddess with snakes in lieu of hair.

This year the sedum had all died. I had some lamb's ear that needed replanting, so I stuck it in the woman's head planter. It was okay until it started growing upward. She needed 'hair' so I started some more sedum. Now she looks like she is wearing a 'fascinator', don't you think?
Unconsciously, I began referring to her as Minerva instead of Medusa. Minerva, the Roman Goddess of Wisdom, often depicted with an owl.

If I had only put two and two together three years ago when this young owl landed on the deck so close to the woman's head planter, I might have begun calling her Minerva a lot sooner.

These early morning clouds made me think of some pink-winged creatures flying home to roost. It was already 73° at 5:45 a.m., heading toward another hot, 'heat-advisory' day. Is there a goddess of air-conditioning?

Where The Time Goes

I think he wanted me to count the ways when HD asked why I love him. I said, "There is only one answer." To his quizical look, I replied, "Because I do." Then I told him I would do a blog post for him.

"Across the evening sky, all the birds are leaving
But how can they know it's time for them to go?
Before the winter fire, I will still be dreaming
I have no thought of time
For who knows where the time goes?
Who knows where the time goes?

Sad deserted shore, your fickle friends are leaving
Ah, but then you know it's time for them to go
But I will still be here, I have no thought of leaving
I do not count the time
For who knows where the time goes?
Who knows where the time goes?

And I am not alone while my love is near me
I know it will be so until it's time to go
So come the storms of winter and then
The birds in spring again
I have no fear of time
For who knows where the time goes?
And who knows where the time goes?

(Who Knows Where The Time Goes, written by Sandy Denny, British Folk Rock Singer-Songwriter. 1947-1978)

That Time of Year Again

All I have to do is think, "It is time for Lily's lilies to bloom," and there they are.

Just as they have for six years, the plants we all received for Alyssa's baby shower, bloom in time for Lily's birthday.

It really doesn't seem possible that Miss Lily will be six years old Sunday.
She was born on Father's Day and will have to share the day with her Daddy again this year. A camp out is planned.

The day lilies are also blooming.

And the Dutch Iris which was so tightly furled yesterday.....

.....is in full bloom today.

It seems that no matter what else is going on in the world, the flowers know when it is time to bloom.

Turning The Water Back On

Late last evening we got the notice that it was, finally, okay to use the water out of the faucet. After more than a week of  boiling the water or drinking bottled water, it seemed strange stop doing so. Just as not using tap water took a while to adjust to, so did using it once again. Does adjusting to a new routine happen that quickly? I would not have thought so, but apparently it does.
I did not keep track of how much boiled water we used, but I know we went through 50+ bottles of water. I'm uncertain whether or not I understood/followed the safety guidelines correctly, but neither of us suffered any consequences if not.

Mother Nature must have also received the notice to turn the water back on. The weather report last night had us with a bit of a chance for some rain. Every time I awoke in the night I could hear it raining steadily, sometimes hard.

When I checked our rain guage a little after 7:00 a.m., we had received almost two and one half inches. The sky was still clouded, with thunderheads in the distance.

A little later we did have another heavy, but brief, shower. More rain and chances of severe weather are in the forecast for late afternoon and evening.

There were so many birds singing, apparently they liked the rain, too. Or else it was just their usual morning chorus. The only one who came looking for the breakfast buffet was the Mourning Dove. She was able to easily have a drink of water, but she had to peck some for the few remaining seeds.

June 11 never comes around without me remembering my beloved Grandpa Joe who was born on this date in 1896.

Appreciate your loved ones as well as clean water at the turn of a tap, you never know when they might be gone.

Miles Added To A Short Road Trip

When we learned last week that our friend Becky was going to be in Greenfield this afternoon for a book signing event, I thought we should go. I've only known her since last fall, but Bud has known her many years; her husband was Bud's best friend. She had already given us a copy of her book, which I wrote about in the October Book Report post last fall.
We went a little early in order to visit with her. Her back was to us. She turned and glanced at Bud and started to turn back before looking back at him with a look on her face that was priceless. I really wish I had a picture. I had my camera with me. I had every intention of taking some photos, but we started talking and I totally forgot. It was very good to see her again.

We had not yet seen this year's Freedom Rock, so we planned to go there first then have lunch before going to the book signing. Bubba Sorensen has been painting the large boulder along Highway 25 north of Greenfield since 1999. This year's rendition is his 20th. If you go to the Freedom Rock .com you can see all 20 of his rock paintings honoring Veterans.

There was just one small hiccup in our plans; Highway 25 North of Greenfield was closed for bridge work. Signs were up, "Open to Local Traffic Only", but you could drive around them, which we did and got within a few miles of the rock. No problem, Iowa is mostly laid out in a grid pattern of country square miles. All we had to do was go a mile east, a mile north*, then a mile west. Voila, around the bridge work and back on the highway. The problem was there was more than one bridge being worked on. So we ended up going around another country mile square before getting back to pavement and eventually to the Freedom Rock.

It was worth the drive; it always is. This year's painting is much different than anything he as done before. It features pictures of Veterans from the American Revolution through the present War in Afghanistan, all painted in grayscale. The only color is from the flag on front....

....and the helicopter on back which is the only section of the rock that is never changed. It has the ashes of veterans mixed in with the paint.

And I can never resist taking pictures of the gravel pits near the Freedom Rock. It isn't evident in the photo, but the little 'berries' on the juniper tree are just as blue as the water and the sky.

Even with the detours and extra miles, it was a very satisfying road trip on a beautiful June day in Iowa.

(*The mile north was a lovely dirt road. Too bad, so sad, we didn't have time to stop and hunt rocks.) 😢

Two Fly Guys

I associate fly fishing with Wyoming and Montana, probably because of the book, and movie, A River Runs Through It.

So I'm always fascinated when I see this guy down at the pond casting. Maybe he is practicing for when he goes to NE Iowa which is where all nine of Iowa's trout streams are located.
My son's sister-in-law and her partner are both fly-fishing aficionados and are involved with Hope on the Rise, a non-profit which offers free retreats for women who have survived cancer.

My second 'fly guy' is most likely a fly gal* - fishing for flies rather than 'flying' for fish.☺ She was working away on her web at dawn. It is most likely complete by now.

"The light strengthened, the mornings came sooner." (E.B. White, Charlotte's Web)

( *I dislike this term for a woman and only use it now because it 'goes with' guy.)