Summer Sounds

I really don't like turning on the air conditioning.  I take any opportunity to open the windows and welcome in the fresh breezes and summer sounds.  After a short stretch of running the air conditioning, I was grateful for the weather to shift, allowing me to open the windows once again.  Just having them closed for a few days was a few days too many for me.  I have a friend who lives in the south who said that she goes from one air-conditioned environment into another, for the summer is too hot there to open windows for any reason.  I couldn't live there.  I crave the sounds of summer -- the cicadas, the birdsong, the crickets.  Lately, the night sounds have been particularly enjoyable.  It gets dark earlier these days, so I find myself sitting on our sun porch at around 8:30 p.m., rocking in the chair, listening to the evening chatter.  Summer may be winding down as we move closer to the autumnal equinox, but the sounds of summer are still speaking to me.

Pink Bathrobe

My mom, Barb Naidl, had a pale pink bathrobe -- floor-length, lightweight velour with three-quarter length raglan sleeves and a hidden zipper down the front.  The color complemented her pink complexion and her snow-white hair.  Mom passed away two years ago today.  After she died, I kept that pink bathrobe of hers.  It quickly became my bathrobe of choice. Every time I wear it, I feel close to Mom, as if she's giving me a hug.  I count my blessings every day, but especially today, that I was so very lucky to have had such a lovely and loving mom.

Stars in the Sky

Summer night skies are magical.  Larry and I walked along Devil's Lake's south shore one recent evening and then sat on a bench on the north shore, listening to big band music wafting from the Chateau.  Couples were dancing elegantly to the music, swirling, turning and deftly avoiding stepping on toes or backing into other dancers.  Larry munched on popcorn he bought at the nearby stand.  We cuddled on the bench, Larry, his popcorn and me, swaying to the music and casting our eyes upward at the stars in the sky.  It was all so magical, so lovely that a brief wave of grief washed over me as I realized that this was the last Saturday night big band concert for the summer and there would be no more of watching the graceful dancers until next June.  But, then, I thought of the starry skies yet to come this fall, the crisp air, the scent of drying vegetation, the taste of apples, and the autumn color that leaves one speechless.  Each season has its wonder and beauty.  However, I'll hang onto summer as long as it is here for me to do so.  That evening, I was glad to have experienced one more magical summer night sky.

Apple Season Has Arrived

Larry and I started driving by Ski Hi Fruit Farm about three weeks ago.  I was getting antsy for apple season to begin.  The sign said that the first crop would be ready Labor Day, so on the Saturday of Labor Day weekend, my friend Kitty and I ventured onto Ski Hi Road.  It was still quiet at the orchard store, with Paula Reds and Ginger Golds for sale.  I heard a clerk tell a customer that if she called the orchard's number, she'd hear a message telling which varieties of apples were available each week of the season.  I happen to like Macoun and McIntosh apples best, but will buy just about any variety, for they all have their virtues.  Biting into a Paula Red grown right at Ski Hi was a treat beyond measure.  I grew up near Ski Hi, so anytime I head there, I feel as if I've gone home.  And every time I bite into one of their delicious apples, I recall a lifetime of memories of juicy, sweet and tart goodness.  Ah!  Apple Season has arrived!

Where God Wants Me Right Now

I was recently offered a new job.  I tend to weigh these types of invitations, checking in with my intuition to get an opinion before making my decision.  Sometimes, my intuition shouts "No!" At other times, it whispers, sometimes even cheers "Yes!"  Such was the case recently when I was asked to become the interim director of the Aging & Disability Resource Center of Eagle Country/Baraboo office.  My intuition immediately provided me with a resounding "Yes!"  A few days later at church, our deacon read words that included the statement, "Right now, I am where God wants me."  Indeed, I feel that I am where God wants me to be right now.  When I allow the flow of life to take me along with it, good things happen.  As a wise friend says, "If it's not meant to be, you can't force it.  If it's meant to be, you can't stop it."  I'm joyfully ready to take on this new chapter with great people who do wonderful, worthy work at the ADRC. I feel that it is meant to be and that I am where God wants me right now.

Finding Grandma and Grandpa

Although yesterday was National Grandparents Day, I've been thinking about my grandparents a lot lately.  When my maternal Aunt Ellie asked me what I'd like to do while visiting her and my Uncle Bob in Manitowoc, Wisconsin last week, I had only two wishes, one of which was to find the graves of my paternal grandparents, Frank and Josephine Naidl.  Our journey took us to the nearby community of Two Rivers to Holy Cross Cemetery, a huge, verdant and serene place with towering trees. It seemed at first as if we would be searching for hours, yet we found their shared headstone within a few minutes near a large white cross.   I'm not sure why I was so driven to find the graves of my paternal grandparents, but it meant so much to know and to see where they had been laid to rest.  And with National Grandparents Day right around the corner, the timing couldn't have been better.

Time to Be...Published

My late mother, Barb Naidl, and I were so close that people always expected to see us together. When they didn’t, they inquired about the well-being of the one not present. Mom and I were so close that I used to describe us as taking the same breath.  So when Mom was diagnosed with end-stage cancer a couple of years ago, my world reeled.  During the final months of her life, in an effort to temper my grief, I began to write in a small journal.  I set a goal of writing one short essay about joy each day.  My goal of one daily essay was quickly realized and turned into multiple short essays about finding joy in everyday experiences.  Each essay forced me to live in the moment.  After Mom passed away, I started writing my daily essays in this blog that I call Time to Be, a phrase taken from a quote by the late Gladys Taber, my mom’s favorite author.  I have now published an electronic book based on my blog.  Time to Be:  A Seasonal Almanac of Short Essays About the Extraordinary Joy of Ordinary Moments is a collective of selected blog posts, presented as a series of essays divided almanac-style by the seasons.  The e-book of approximately 150 pages is available on Amazon for $2.99.  Thank you for reading my writings and for your support of the notion of living in the moment and embracing the blessing of time to simply be.