“Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand, and for a talk beside the fire: it is the time for home.”
Edith Sitwell
~~~
Winter brings back the cold. Reliable get-out-the-thick-sweaters cold. Gotta put on a coat before stepping outside cold. Hats and gloves cold.
Most of the time, however, this season of cold shows off…with spectacular displays of snow. My favorite time is right after a snowfall…while it is still fresh and new.
Before the city plows started piling it up at the end of our driveway…
That’s how I remember winter days back when we owned a house with a driveway and a walkway and a deck. Where the oh-so-beautiful snow couldn’t remain where nature dropped it. When we had to shovel and snowblow and move it out of the way.
Color exploded in the sky our last Christmas at the house where we lived for over 36 years.
December 2015
Along with Christmas comes a gathering together of family. Complete with holiday lights and decorations.
Winter also brings about changes at the beach – the sand is groomed into hills to guard against storm surges. At least that’s what the hippy guy from town told me – who I crossed paths with the day I took this picture.
Hampton Beach, NH – January 2020
A January walk in the woods isn’t totally devoid of color…if you look closely…
And last…but not least…in my growing family winter always meant… …are you ready for some basketball?
Both of my children played for their high school teams and enjoyed it immensely. As did my husband and I…watching and enthusiastically cheering in the comfort of a heated gym.
Life with a 2 year old provides a perfect opportunity for Supreme Silliness. One of the many benefits of parenthood.
This image from 36 (!) years ago popped into my mind when I saw the topic for this week’s challenge. It took a while to locate…and the print quality isn’t the greatest…but it’s proof positive that Groucho nose glasses never made anybody grouchy in our house!
Except for the errant March (or April!) snow storm that rears its ugly head here in the US northeast, Spring changes my world from black and white to Color. Remember the scene in The Wizard of Oz? Almost like that.
The dull grays and browns and monochromes begin to fade. Colors start appearing in the tiniest of places. Since I’ve dived into macro photography, I am noticing these hidden gems.
March 28, 2020
May 3, 2020
Once Spring bursts onto the landscape full time, technicolor takes over…including my favorites…
And let’s not forget the gardeners among us…who look forward to the long awaited beginning of the growing season.
It’s the time of year to carefully nurture life…from seed to plant. And once the harvest arrives…a welcome addition to the dinner table.
“We often take for granted the very things that most deserve our gratitude.” – Cynthia Ozick
Up until 2020, summer was a fairly predictable time of year. I could plan trips and get togethers with friends and family…without a second thought. Including return visits to favorite summer festivals and fairs.
I painfully realize now how much I took all of that for granted…thinking oh we can come back next summer…when the 2019 schedule got crowded. This summer…it’s all cancelled.
I actually look forward to the seasonal chore of storing away sweaters, hats and mittens. And then dragging out the “summer clothes” from a high closet shelf. Pulling out shorts, T-shirts and sandals. Ready For Summer.
Well, I can still switch the clothes around…but that’s about it.
However…thinking back on life “before”…
During my earlier days of parenthood, summer always included extra family time together with my children. Camera always in hand.
Nothing fancy. Sometimes just day trips…
York Wild Animal Kingdom, Maine 1993
For over 20 years we established a family tradition. A week away…to connect and just enjoy each other. Most vacations were only a 90 minute drive to a special place on Lake Winnipesaukee in New Hampshire. The last 2 were cross country on the California coast.
San Diego, California 2000
Fast forward about 17 years…and summer included the next generation…
Hampton Beach, NH 2017
During the 36+ years we lived in a house with a yard, we delighted in beds of flowers that exploded into life every summer.
One of our favorites: black eyed susans…
We have continued one summertime activity through the years, despite moving to a condo and emptying the nest. Picking fresh blueberries! They are amazing when eaten within hours (or days) of being picked.
One of our neighbors, where we used to live, let us pick from his carefully tended bushes. Now we visit a local farm that has a “pick your own” field of blueberry bushes. Fortunately you can still do this during a pandemic by following the posted rules: Wear a Mask and Social Distance.
Wouldn’t you like to expose your newer readers to some of your earlier posts that they might never have seen? Or remind your long term followers of posts that they might not remember? Each Friday I will publish a post I wrote on this exact date in a previous year….Why don’t you reach back into your own archives and highlight a post that you wrote on this very date in a previous year?
~~~
I wonder about young children today. What will they remember in the years to come? Just staying distant and wearing masks?
Apparently bicycle riding has become more popular since the pandemic began – among those with access – so perhaps kids forced to stay “distant” will be more apt to gravitate toward solitary outdoor play such as this. I hope so.
“Zooming,” however, takes on a whole new meaning.
The following post was originally published on July 3, 2018
******
Bicycles: Times Past
Irene Waters’ “Times Past” prompt challenge topic for this month is: Bicycles.
I am a baby boomer and grew up in the suburbs of New York and New Jersey, USA
I remember always having some type of 2 or 3 wheeled transportation to call my own when I was a kid.
1956
I started off on a tricycle and stepped up to a “big girl” bike around the age of 5 or 6. Pink, with coaster brakes and a loud horn, this bike was my ticket to freedom – once I fully learned how to stop…. My most vivid bicycle memory is the day my father removed my training wheels. I started pedaling in front of our house – at first wobbly – but with my father’s hand steadying the back I managed to remain upright. I picked up speed as I – by myself!- headed toward the end of the street. After flying by 2 or 3 houses I realized I had absolutely no idea how to slow down and stop. Either nobody told me it was the same as with the training wheels or I simply forgot. Brain cramp. So what did I do? I clearly remember the heart thudding moment-of-panic as I made a split second decision (perhaps my first and that’s why I remember it so well). I steered into the curb and fell over onto the asphalt. Nothing broken. Just a few bumps, scrapes and bruises. Lesson learned.
circa 1959 – my new bike (sister not impressed…)
Despite my early braking mishap, I absolutely loved riding a bike and rode with no fear. When I outgrew (or wore out) the pink one, I got a bigger white bike in the 5th grade. Coaster brakes again. In those days, still no helmet. Despite the fact that my father kept accidentally bumping his car into my “new white bike” (as noted in my diary) it lasted quite a few years. The garage was small for a car plus multiple bikes. There were 4 kids by then.
When I was 10 and 11, I often rode to the small grocery store/strip mall that was 6+ blocks away. Errands for my mother or to get bubble gum and comics for myself. Or sometimes to sample all the perfume spray testers at the drug store with my girlfriend Kathleen. It was mostly downhill from my house. I’d start at our backyard (which bordered another backyard) and take off bumping over grass, tree roots, gravel and into the neighbor’s yard in back. I’d jump the bike over their curb and into the street, turning right. Zooming past about 4 houses, I turned left and then…the best part – a hill straight down bisecting at least 4 streets on the way to the main road and my destination…the Acme! The drug store! My hands flung out to the side. Feet off the pedals. The wind. Nothing like it before or since. Sometimes I’d shut my eyes for a second or two. Riding back home…uphill…was another story altogether; but totally worth it.
Bike riding was crucial to my quest for exploring the vast suburban wilderness. The many blocks to the candy store, the woods at the end of the street, my friend Kathleen’s house two blocks away. My parents didn’t and couldn’t track me. “Be home by….” was all the direction I got. Priceless freedom.
When I neared the end of high school, I saved up and bought a “folding” bike which I brought to my summer job at a camp in NH. It saved space during travel and was fairly simple to store. I also brought it with me to college where I rode it from one end of campus to the other. Since my first car took center stage after college graduation, I sold my folding bike and moved on.
As an adult – in my late 30’s or early 40’s – I owned a bike again. I wore a helmet. I rode it around the rural neighborhood street where we were raising our kids. Around and around. Kind of boring. I was no longer as fearless. And what’s with the hand brakes??
Wouldn’t you like to expose your newer readers to some of your earlier posts that they might never have seen? Or remind your long term followers of posts that they might not remember? Each Friday I will publish a post I wrote on this exact date in a previous year….Why don’t you reach back into your own archives and highlight a post that you wrote on this very date in a previous year?
~~~
This post was originally published on June 26, 2018. I am thrilled that this week’s flashback challenge coincides with the post I wrote in memory of my maternal grandfather.
Opa was a constant loving presence in my life…especially during childhood…and, as I remember it, always my biggest fan.
******
Happy Birthday Opa
Beefeater’s martini straight up. No ice. Lemon peel on the side – if I wanted lemonade I would have ordered it.
That’s how Opa ordered his drink – the first order in the first round of drinks – when he took our family out to dinner when I was growing up. It sounds kind of rude, but I would imagine if time after time he got the lemon peel in the drink…well, he ran out of patience. I would wait with great curiosity to see what the waiter or waitress would bring. The fancy stemmed glass filled with a clear liquid served on a small plate…where a few slices of lemon peel hopefully (!) would rest. I don’t remember where the olive was supposed to go. Worst case scenario: a glass filled with ice AND lemon peel AND the gin. High drama for us kids.
Next up was ordering off the menu. We could all order what we wanted. No children’s menu. I always felt so grown up learning the fine art of “find out what goes with the dinner.”
Split and toasted!
When the inevitable basket of dinner rolls arrived to keep us fed while waiting for the meals to arrive, Opa would send it back to the kitchen. Please have these rolls split and toasted! And they did and they were amazing and warm and crunchy with butter melting all over.
The bunny!
While we crunched on warm, toasty rolls, Opa made magic happen with his white cloth napkin. He turned, napkin hidden, to the side – carefully rolled, then twisted the cloth and…turned back to face us. And there in the crook of his left arm was a napkin “bunny” – that kept “hopping” up his arm as he patted it with his right hand. All the while he would be talking to it and to us. We’d stare and stare. Wow. That’s entertainment.
The bra!
As we got a bit older, the bunny didn’t capture our attention like Opa’s napkin bra could. He’d quick fold up his napkin, pull the corners and briefly hold it up in front of his tie and pressed suit jacket. Ta Da! Opa had a bra! Hysterical and ridiculous every time. This napkin trick embarrassed my mother immensely but thoroughly entertained his grandchildren. How did he do this? Simple (but I didn’t figure it out for a long time):
Fold napkin so that the 2 sides meet in the middle.
Fold the opposite way so the open edges are on the outside.
Grab left corners with left hand and right corners with right hand and pull.
Sparklers!
When it was someone’s birthday, there was a cake brought out to the birthday girl or boy. A cake with a lit sparkler! The cake could be seen from across the dining room shooting sparks into the air. As it was set before you everybody sang Happy Birthday to You, You Belong in a Zoo….
***
I am honoring my Opa’s memory on June 26th – what would have been his 112th birthday – by sharing his restaurant tricks & talents. Valuable hints for grandparents everywhere. How to continue embarrassing your children and endearing you to your grandchildren forever.
This week, we are challenging you to capture “A Quiet Moment.” Maybe it’s a walk early in the morning or the time you sit down with a book and a cup of coffee. Include shots captured at home or in your neighborhood, or from a trip to a faraway place months or years ago. It’s totally up to you.
~~~
There have been many quiet moments in the last 3 months. More than usual.
Much of the time those moments were also peaceful, particularly during solitary walks around the neighborhood next to mine. The winding street was usually empty. Cars remained parked in garages or driveways. People staying-at-home indoors, except for a few dog walkers.
There is a pond tucked in a bend in the road – which (I assume) holds water for irrigation and firefighting purposes. I usually pause for a moment when I pass by and captured this moment a few weeks ago.
June 2020
However…6 months ago…quiet moments were few and far between at my daughter’s house during the hectic holiday season. What with a talkative 3 year old whirlwind, parents and grandparents everywhere you’d turn, it was a home filled with happy noise. Music! Making cookies! Telling stories! Playing games! Time to eat! Grandma come!
There were also two sweet family dogs trying to adapt to all this fun craziness. At least that’s what I sensed. One was a friendly brown and white rescue named Taco, who was visiting for several weeks. He actually belongs to my son and his girlfriend, who traveled to Europe for the holidays. And there was Lutra (the resident pet!), a friendly black rescue dog, who belongs to my daughter and her family.
December 2019
I was fascinated by the dynamic between the two pups. Taco made himself at home immediately. Lying on the couch. Napping in Lutra’s bed. Chewing on her toys. Lutra would immediately leave the area when Taco entered…and then stare at him from under the kitchen table in the next room.
However, something was apparently resolved during a loud barking session between the two in the backyard shortly after my husband and I arrived for our visit. Lutra was (I assume) communicating an important dog message. Perhaps establishing something along the lines of packs and boundaries and this is my house. I’m obviously just guessing here. But after their noisy discussion they came back into the house…entered the living room and chose seats. And that was that.
Thankfully, the Singing Santa had mercifully stopped its journey across the rug.
Neither one of them moved during the many shots I took.
This week’s focus is inspired by the events unfolding in the news, but is not limited in its scope. There is much in life that leaves us speechless – both tragic and awe-inspiring. This week, think about the moments that leave you searching for words. Responses can be written, photographic, artistic, or musical.
~~~
The evening national news had just concluded. The entire broadcast consisted of live coverage of the Black Lives Matter protests happening around the country. Reporters conducted interviews with protestors, political figures and children struggling to understand what was happening.
The interviews that stood out for me the most were with African American mothers and fathers. I saw such profound fear in their eyes. Longstanding fear for their children’s safety – especially their sons – both young and grown. They voiced long held terrors…Will their sons return home for supper unharmed? Will they return after a run? Will they return at all? Or will they be targeted by a white member of the community or by the police just because they are black. Look what happened to George Floyd. And so many others – both male and female – like him.
Goodbye and be careful son…takes on a whole new urgency.
I turned off the TV and asked my husband:
What would it have been like if we had needed to worry about our son’s safety every time he left the house…because of the color of his skin? When he left to ride his bike. When we left him off to play basketball. Or baseball. When he drove the car to his friend’s house. Or to the mall to go shopping at Christmas. What if he got stopped in the car…or out in public…for any reason at all? What if?…
Because we did worry about his safety. About what we thought were the “usual” parental concerns. Accidents. Behavior. Illness. Choices.
But due to our privilege as white Americans, we didn’t – and we don’t – experience the searing ongoing daily unimaginable life and death worry about safety that African American parents have always lived with.
What would it have been like?
What would it still be like…?
My mind screeches to a halt. My eyes fill with tears.
This week, let’s tune into the wisdom of children, or look inside to reconnect with our inner child and innate wisdom.
~~~
If you own a home…with a yard…you often end up with a lawn that gets a bit finicky every now and then, especially in the summer.
In other words it gets crunchy in places.
Back in the days of such situations…when rain became elusive, we dragged out the green 25 foot garden hose and attached our sturdy “oscillating” lawn sprinkler. It needed to be positioned just right – in order to direct the much needed drink of water to the thirsty spots on our lawn. This took patience.
You also had to calculate exactly when to dash out of the way to re-position the sprinkler when necessary.
No sense in soaking yourself, the driveway or creating a river into the street.
Just the grass needed to get…All Wet…
With special attention paid to the Brown Spots.
Children meet up with a lawn sprinkler…and it’s a whole different story.
Never mind the grass. Or crunchiness. Who cares about brown spots? They sure don’t.
Water shooting high into the air out of a rotating metal bar with holes in it…is not about soaking the grass. Not at all.
It is really just a mechanism designed to get them all wet and cooled off in the hot summer sun.
Remembering past times, especially joys, is a good way to ease tension. This week, I invite you to remember and share.
~~~
I remember…
…when spring signaled it was time to start planning our family vacation. One week away for just my husband and me…then for 3 of us…then 4.
One thing I knew when I became a parent…we would make sure to set aside a family-only “getaway” every year. A time of just plain fun and connection. None of the usual distractions. Or “things to do.”
It did not have to be far or fancy. And it wasn’t…
For 20 years we packed up the car and drove 70 miles to Lake Winnipesaukee in NH. We stayed at a conference center that also catered to families. Where I had worked for two glorious summers as a teenager.
What do I remember about that one family week every summer?…
The days slowed down and opened up with time for everything and anything. I didn’t have to cook. Or clean. Or wash dishes. We all ate from a basic all-you-can-eat buffet at the dining hall.
We didn’t have to go anywhere.
There were no televisions. No phones except a payphone (remember those?).
What we had was a beautiful lake. Canoes. Kayaks. Sand. Baseball field. An “old-time” ice cream store selling locally made ice cream scooped into crunchy cones.
Acres of woods surrounded us…to hike and collect “natures” – as my kids would call the pine cones, acorns, leaves and assorted scraps of treasures they found. Filling a sand pail…
Then sorted and counted and carefully lined up…for display on the deck railing of our building.
There was, of course, the small beach where we plunked down our sand chairs, towels, plastic pails and shovels. Dug holes to China and constructed sand castles with moats. Read a paperback book or two. Splashed, jumped and played catch in the water.
One of my favorite activities for evenings or rainy days…playing lots of cards…
Dad barely makes it down a flight of stairs before the self timer takes the shot (1995)
one letter UP ~ diary 2.0 