Today is the last day of BeckyB’s October squares challenge. In the spirit of the theme – all things kind – I wanted to end on a kind…soothing…musical…note. Songs like There’s A Kind of Hush, One Of A Kind (Love Affair), A Sunday Kind of Love went through my mind.
I started looking through our vast LP collection in search of just the right kind of song. As I got closer to the K section searching in vain for the apparently donated Herman’s Hermits album (they are alphabetized courtesy of my musician husband), I heard a familiar voice in my head…🎶…some kind of wonderful....🎶
That’s it! It was very surreal. But I suppose not too surprising…since I only listened to this album thousands of times “back in the day.”
If, in this stressful day and age I am now hearing voices, this is a most wonderful kind.
Some Kind Of Wonderful is on Carole King’s album Music, the LP that followed her signature release of Tapestry.
The booklet inside the album listed the lyrics to every song.
I was pleasantly surprised to discover a pair of daisies still blooming…despite recent cool temperatures. An older daisy intertwined with its younger counterpart…kindly sharing the sunshine on a beautiful fall day.
I really love this photo of (as my Grammy from Tennessee would say) my kinfolk. I discovered it in a musty box full of envelopes and files labeled “old family photos” – which might as well say Treasure Chest! I was kinda excited, to say the least.
The photo was taken when my grandfather Opa was about 8 years old. There he stands front and center, squinting and smiling at the camera. His grandparents stand behind him. The others most likely include his parents (in the back), uncles and aunts, but I am not entirely sure.
I was thinking of Opa and my other grandparents when I was writing yesterday’s post about life during the COVID-19 pandemic (and wondering how they would have dealt with the same crazy issues I was). I realized that he and Oma were 12 years old when the 1918 pandemic hit. My other grandparents were 26 and 32 years old. None of them ever mentioned it, even though I imagine it must have been a traumatic time. When I was growing up, Opa was full of stories about the “old days” but surprisingly (I think now) what happened during the 1918 pandemic was not among them. I wonder why.
I recently asked my cousin if our grandmother Grammy had ever mentioned the 1918 flu epidemic. She said no, Grammy never talked about it…except for one fact…my aunt (my cousin’s mom) was born in 1918 and was infected by the virus as a baby. As a result my aunt (Grammy’s firstborn) developed lifelong cardiac problems.
My cousin also told me she has read that once the 1918 epidemic was over, nobody ever talked about it. Nobody wanted to. Perhaps it was easier that way.
We were blessed here in the northeast a few days ago, as Mother Nature was kind enough to shower us with a bit of rain. I do prefer sunny days, but the current drought now takes a higher priority over bright blue skies.
Yesterday I ventured out to see what was going on in my small patch of woods.
The path, now almost spongy, was disappearing under fallen leaves, twigs and pine needles. Puddles were still visible and I stepped carefully to avoid soaking my shoes.
However, as I glanced down (and I try to remember to do just that)…I noticed a few of the fallen leaves looked kinda strange. Time for closer inspection!