Watching the Girls (and Boys) Walk By

As part of my work, I have the interesting assignment of distributing surveys at the school registration days in three area communities.  It's been years since I had the occasion to attend such an event and I found my first foray fascinating.  As the school doors opened, in streamed a flood of parents with children of all ages in tow.  With their heads down, concentrating on the papers in their hands, they darted back and forth in front of me, looking up to make sure that their children were still in close proximity.  As I people watched, I observed how loving and caring parents are and how different their roles are than they were so many years ago when I was a child.  For as many mothers who were hugging, coddling and entertaining their youngest children, there were fathers doing it, too.  For as many moms who were concerned that hair was combed, shirt collars weren't askew and that smiles were in place for school photos, so were the dads.  I loved watching the darling girls and boys walk by and I loved watching the active role of parents and grandparents in the big event of school registration.  While I accomplished the task of getting a large volume of surveys completed, I had the equal pleasure of seeing today's families experiencing the rite of passage into a new school year.

Chew on This

I did it again.  I somehow thought that we had a household of 50 people when I shopped at the farmer's market.  I get so enthused about the wide array of locally grown, delicious and whole food that I overbuy, thus causing us to consume pretty much only vegetables for most of our lunches and dinners throughout the week.  That's a healthy way to eat, but I really don't need to buy the volumes of food that I do.  Each time I head to the farmer's market, I recite to myself again and again that I will only buy what we can comfortably eat (with an emphasis on comfortably).  Yet, I get there and all recitations fly out of my head and I start buying in a strangely euphoric, trance-like state.  When I get back to the car and look into my bag, I wonder just how I bought so much food.  It's almost as if I have been hypnotized.  When next winter comes around, however, I will crave just one more fresh green pepper or ruby red tomato, so perhaps it's alright to buy with such vigor and extravagance during the summer, because in the winter, I'll only be chewing on the memories.

Two Shakes of a Lamb's Tail

The other day, one of my clever and kind work colleagues sent me an instant message that she would be with me in two shakes of a lamb's tail.  I hadn't heard or read that saying in a long time, but I always liked that one.  I could visualize it as a child, recognizing that my impatience would be short-lived because those little lamb tails could shake pretty quickly.  Reading my colleague's instant message got me to thinking about multi-tasking, rushing and allowing myself to feel hurried and stressed.  This summer, I have been transitioning professionally and enjoying the break from email bombardment and the feeling that I had to run faster in order to keep up with the ever-increasing to-do list.  This has been a summer when it hasn't mattered as much if the lamb's tail shakes twice, three times or more, because I've had the time to think, ponder, discover and experiment.  I'm learning about myself and my priorities, my values and my dreams. What's important to me?  How do I want to spend my time?  Another friend eloquently answered that last question for me:  By living peacefully and joyfully with a healthy life-work balance.  So, whether it's two, three, four or more shakes of a lamb's tail, I'm learning to be more patient this summer, welcoming a respite from the professional busyness of the last 30 years and welcoming a healthier way of life that is filled with peace and joy.

Marigolds and Morning Glories

From childhood, I have loved the beautiful look of morning glories and the distinct scent of marigolds.  I didn't have a particular hankering to garden as a little girl, but I did experiment with morning glory seeds one summer and was thrilled with my success.  Each morning, I would check my morning glories, watching one vibrant blue bloom after another as the vines climbed the wire fence outside our kitchen door.  These days, I don't grow morning glories, but I do grow and still enjoy the scent of marigolds.  Every time I dead-head a marigold, I automatically sniff my fingertips, taking in the heady and distinct aroma of each marigold bloom.  This year, I've commingled herbs with flowers in two pots near our front door because I love the taste and scent of parsley and especially basil.  The basil has really taken off and, for the first time in years (knock on wood), the basil leaves have been left untouched by Japanese beetles.  In previous years, the beetles would destroy them, leaving only lacy leaves in their wake.  Several years ago, I finally gave up and bought my basil at the farmer's market or gratefully accepted it as a gift from my dear friend Kitty.  This year, I've been joyfully snipping basil leaves every week from my own front-door pots, adding them to our medleys of vegetables from the farmer's market. It's the end of July and there's still a lot of summer growing season left to smell and taste.

Station Wagon Days

When I think of my late father, I think of station wagons.  Dad always drove a station wagon because his work required that he travel with a lot in his car. Those were days long before the mini-van became a phenomenon.  While driving through a residential area in our community recently, I saw a station wagon that was nearly identical to the kind that Dad used to drive.  Parallel parked on the street was a Chrysler Town & Country station wagon in olive green with faux wood paneling on the side.  I can vividly remember our many Dodge station wagons in red, in white, in aqua blue and, my favorite, in olive green with faux wood paneling on the side.  As I recognized the car, my heart skipped a beat and my mind tumbled through memory upon memory of our station wagon days.  My favorite memories were sleeping in the back of the station wagon in our backyard on hot summer nights.  Before air conditioning was commonplace, Mom, Dad and I would squeeze into the back of the car, tailgate down to take in any August night breezes that might be floating around (We later "graduated" to a backyard camping tent and then a screen porch for our summer night slumbers).  I've been thinking about Dad a lot this week, given that he passed away 29 years ago on July 30.  Seeing a car like the one he used to drive served as a reminder to me that although he has been gone for many years, he is still present in my life, even in the sight of an olive green station wagon with faux wood paneling on the side.

Sliver of Colors

The rain came down gently, then a little harder, then at a steady pace for quite some time.  So, instead of venturing out for my walk, I sat in peace in the rocker in the sun porch, and listened and watched.  As the rain quieted down a bit, I looked south and saw a sliver of bright colors, a bit of rainbow peeking out of the sky.  The colors were so vibrant that I couldn't take my eyes off of them.  My days as a Rainbow Girl (a Masonic organization for young girls) reminded me that the rainbow's colors matched the acronym ROY G BIV: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet.   Seeing a rainbow is a magical moment, for as quickly as one appears, so it disappears.  That little sliver of colors brightened the sky and my day.

Talking to the Man in the Moon

A week or so ago, there was a beautiful full moon.  It was also a night when I had difficulty sleeping because I had much on my mind and the thoughts simply wouldn't quiet down.  So, I lay awake, looking at that big, bold full moon out of our bedroom window.  I spent quite a long time staring at it, letting my thoughts "talk" to the ol' man in the moon.  He didn't answer me back, but he was certainly a good listener.  The minutes, then hours ticked by and finally sleep came.  I must have exhausted my entire conversation with the man in the moon, for I fell asleep not even realizing that I had ended my talk with him.