Summer Dreams

                A quarter century ago, (I’m feeling rather old this weekend after viewing our new family pictures for the church directory—where did the time go?) late January and early February were devoted to previewing seed catalogs and gardening books.  It was a deeply satisfying way to con myself into thinking spring was just around the corner.  Since then, the trees have grown twenty feet, making my backyard too shady for a big garden.  Then there are the cats--they sabotage every attempt I make to start cuttings and seedlings in the house, viewing them as their own personal kitty salads and sandboxes.   Nowadays, my gardening is confined to containers filled with nursery plants and the existing beds of perennials.

                 

             Instead of gardening, my winter focus has shifted to travel plans.  Thanks to the internet, ordering travel brochures is just a click away.  My mailbox is filled with glossy pages of exotic destinations (maybe exotic isn’t the right word since I’m considering visiting Mississippi River towns in the heat of summer).  Picking attractions, reading on-line reviews, plotting out routes—every day spent planning is another day of joyful expectation.  It’s a lot like waiting for Christmas—the anticipation is as good or better than the day itself.

               If I took a quiz rating my favorite activities, travel would rank right at the top.  In fact, rather than splurge on new clothes or things for the house, the bulk of my savings goes toward the next big trip.  Travel provides two things I can not get at home:  escape (mostly from the weight of housework, meal planning, cat care, and answering the telephone) and invisibility (if no one knows me, there’s no point being a perfectly behaved grown-up 24 hours a day).  When I travel I feel free to splash in fountains, load up on fudge from candy shops, and ask stupid tourist questions.  I love every bit of the adventure, from riding big city buses to eating new kinds of food and connecting with people that I’ll never meet again.

                So instead of planning my garden this winter, I’m dreaming of landscapes in far off places with green grass and warm gentle breezes (and no cats).

New Material

             It finally happened...I ran out of cat stories.  It's not that the clowder is finally behaving well and has become boring.  Rather, they just haven't offered any new material in time for today's blog.  I guess that means I get the day  (or maybe week) off!  I'll be back when they start acting up again.  Thanks for checking in!

Toby asleep (not dead)

Hope

 

                The calendar puts us halfway through January.  For those of us with cabin fever, cold toes, and winter blues, this weekend promises a reprieve from winter’s nastiest attributes.  Take a moment today to stand outside and feel the warmth of the sun on your face.  Breathe in some fresh air—the temperatures have softened its razor sharp edge.  Listen to the melting snow drip off the rooftops, and the songs of the birds celebrating a beautiful day.
                Spring will come….Spring will come….Spring will come!

Surprises

                Yesterday as I was walking along the river, a bald eagle flew overhead.  It happened so quickly I only had time to note its white tail and impressive wingspan before it disappeared from sight.  Even so, it took my breath away. 

                The eagle reminded me of when my daughter was little and we would take our dog, Radar, out hiking every day.  One of the things we did to make it more of an adventure and to help her see God’s hand in creation, was to look for the “surprises” He left for us.   One morning we’d watch a deer walk along the opposite shore, another day a blue heron would take flight right above us, or we’d find the tree shavings left by a beaver.  Fungi in a rainbow of colors would appear after rainstorms.  A patch of clover would have an abundance of 4-leaf specimens.  The dew would trace the intricate pattern of a spider web.  Every day something new and amazing would catch our eyes, but only if we were looking for it.

             I need moments like the eagle’s flight to remind me to be watching for the wonders surrounding me.  They are so easy to overlook, but true treasures if caught.

There to Help

Finnegan  helps with a sewing project

                One of the “benefits” of having cats is all the extra help you get around the house.  Not only are they willing to help stir the cake batter with their paws, bat floor trash into the dustbin, and redirect plant water with their noses, they also enjoy sitting on pattern pieces being fed through the sewing machine and grabbing papers as they shoot out of the printer.

                Who could turn away such valuable assistance?  If I’m in a hurry the last thing I need is this bunch of clowns creating more mess and chaos. If I do have time for the distraction, it can be highly entertaining.  They turn bed sheet changing into a whack-a-mole game,  dish washing into splash time, and sweeping into a round of floor hockey.
             I don't suppose they'll ever be able to work off their room and board (except maybe Toby, whose ragmop coat is good for dusting whatever surface he lies on) but I think we'll keep them around for amusement.

Small Town Cure

                I’m not a city girl.  In fact, every time I come close to a large population an anti-social monster takes over my mind.   My patient, calm demeanor morphs into a defensive, road-raged attitude that I carry with me into stores.  I find myself pushing carts aggressively, annoyed at anyone in my way and not making eye contact with others as I hurry to finish my task.

                Shopping in my small town is a completely different experience.  There’s no quick in and out…it’s meant to be savored and enjoyed…a social event that can take up an entire afternoon if enough people are out and about.

                Chances are good that I will run into someone I know.  Even if it’s a casual acquaintance, we smile like old friends and catch up on the highlights of each other’s year.  This can even develop into plans to do lunch or stop in for a cup of tea.

                If there’s a big news story going around, that will be the topic of choice, with details accumulating with each new conversation.  Of course I never take anything said as gospel truth.  Having been involved first hand in some of these stories, I have witnessed how much they get modified with retelling. In fact, if all the stories were accurate I’d have three more children than I do, I’d have moved to another town, and my husband would have been in several nasty car accidents that didn’t really happen.  Small town gossip is very similar to the childhood game we played called “telephone.”  To play, we’d sit in a circle and the first person would whisper something in the next person’s ear.  The message continued all the way around the circle and then we’d see how closely what the final person heard matched what was originally said.  Usually, the answer was “not at all.”

                One place especially fun to stop is the church thrift store.  The older volunteers who staff it have long family histories in our town.  As a 20-year community member I am still a newcomer.  These women can tell me all the interesting connections I don’t know exist between the locals.  I’ve come to realize that nearly everyone from here is distantly related through marriage or ancestors.  In a small town, the paths between people can be drawn to look like a tree with new people grafted on to branches of old families.  In a city I sense that most people aren’t linked to a main trunk at all but remain scattered and unattached. 

                At the thrift store, there are also wonderful stories of “what happened in that house” or “one night when we were in high school” or “back when the dance hall was there.”  It will be such a loss when those stories fade with that generation.   A sense of nostalgia seems to be lost on younger folks…maybe it’s just something  that is bestowed on us with age and will come to us eventually.  I hope so because looking back is the only way to look forward with wisdom.

                If I want conversation that revolves around fixing world and local problems, then the best place to look has tables and morning coffee—the convenience store, the bowling alley, the café—all these places have regulars who stop in for a quick discussion over their morning brew.  It’s a great way to start the day for the retired folks who never relinquished their early morning hours.

                Some days it happens that the only people I run into are not familiar.  In a small town that doesn’t mean ignoring one another.  The weather in South Dakota is variant and extreme enough to be an open topic to everyone, including strangers.

                The point of all this has nothing to do with topics of discussion.  It has everything to do with human contact.  We hear so much talk about how technology has left us disconnected from others.   These small town interactions are the antithesis of that.  A friendly smile and greeting, a brief exchange of small talk--nothing earth shattering or world changing—are actions that fill us with the feeling of belonging to the human family.  It is an opportunity to really SEE another person and BE SEEN…no disconnect…no invisibility…just pure connection.