the daffodil debut

A drive past the "Daffodil House" shows some bright yellow buds and blooms. In a week or two the yard will be a sea of gold.

The Daffodils' Debut

On the sloping lawn where winter lingered thin,
The daffodils arrived like whispered news -
Small trumpets lifted to the wind,
Bright as a promise the cold couldn’t refuse. 

They gathered first along the hill’s soft spine,
Where thawing earth breathed out its sleepy steam,
Gold cups tipping sunlight into time,
As if the yard itself had learned to dream.

Each stem a quiet banner newly raised,
Each petal catching morning’s silver thread,
Till even the bare trees paused, amazed
At little suns where frost had lately spread.

And walking there, you’d swear the hillside knew
The art of celebration long before you -
For every step the spring breeze softly made
Was answered by the daffodils’ parade. 

the friday feed: fresh squeezed orange juice

In February, we took a weekend trip to Chicago to celebrate our grandson’s second birthday. While we were there, my sister-in-law called and asked if we had received our oranges. She didn’t know we were out of town. When I told her we weren’t home, she said, “Well, you have two boxes of oranges sitting on your front porch. Can Patrick go pick them up?”

“No,” I told her, “Patrick’s here with us. I’ll call my neighbor.”

Unfortunately, the oranges sat outside overnight - in 0° weather.

When we got home, I called my neighbor to let her know I was coming over to pick them up. She laughed and said, “You might want to bring your car. There are two big boxes.”

She wasn’t kidding. The two boxes held four dozen oranges - 48 in all! That’s a lot of oranges for two people. I did have to throw a few away because of the frigid temperatures, but we still had a mountain of citrus.

Oranges from Florida in the winter are the best. They’re at their peak for freshness, flavor, and juiciness. I started eating a couple a day, but it takes a while to make a dent in 48 oranges. Before long, a few more were starting to go bad. Time to go the fresh squeezed orange juice route.

So I bought a juicer - and that finally solved the orange surplus. As that long ago orange juice commercial said, "A day without orange juice is like a day without sunshine." We've enjoyed our liquid sunshine!

dad's shoes

Sometimes things just come together in a serendipitous moment. A few weeks ago in the The New York Times Spelling Bee the clue brought back a long ago memory of my dad. A few days later while looking through boxes of “stuff,” I came across this cloth from my dad’s career with Sears. 

What do they have in common? 

The word using all of the letters in the Spelling Bee is cordovan and the shoe shining cloth is a gift from the old Downtown Dayton Sears shoe department after a leather shoe purchase was made.

My dad had a shoe shining kit filled with many soft cotton flannel rags, brushes of different textures - stiff horsehair brushes for buffing and smaller applicator brushes - and metal tins of paste polish (Kiwi or Esquire brands), in black, tan, brown, and cordovan, a rich, dark burgundy or a reddish-brown color. I so remember his shoe shining kit - a dark wood hinged-lid box with a built-in footrest on top for stabilizing shoes as they were being polished and all the dividers inside for organizing the polish, brushes, and rags. Dad taught me how to shine his shoes, first dusting the shoes off, applying the polish rubbing it with the soft rags in circles on the flatter surfaces, wrapping the rag around my index finger to get the polish into those tough-to-get cracks and crevices. Then came the fun part - wiping the polish off and then giving the shoes the final shine with the soft brushes. Back and forth, back and forth to a high gloss finish.

Dad wore suits and ties to work every day of his job at Sears from the beginning management training classes until his retirement in 1993. Business casual dress was becoming more commonplace but dad refused to end his career in khakis, a polo shirt, and casual shoes. He believed that shiny shoes, when wearing suits to work, symbolized professionalism, attention to detail, and personal discipline. He believed a polished look conveyed respect for the workplace, helped create a positive, professional first impression, and ensured a classic image. Wow, how times have changed, not for better, not for worse. It's just change, a new attitude.

wednesday's words and wanderings and wonderings

The Cincinnati Museum Center was once home to the bustling Union Terminal train station. Currently the exhibit "Auschwitz. Not Long Ago. Not Far Away." is the featured  exhibit in this stunning structure. After WWII many Jews from all over Europe emigrated to Cincinnati and arrived at this beautiful building to rebuild their lives as Holocaust survivors. Last week, Todd and I took a trip down the construction laden I-75 to the Museum Center and spent three hours walking through one of history's darkest periods.

Upon entering the exhibit, the first thing we encountered was a red shoe in a glass case placed in front of a large mural of shoes. This red shoe was one of many shoes found in the Auschwitz warehouses after liberation. This bright colored lady's shoe placed in front of the mural that was a sea of worn and dark-colored footwear served as a poignant and deeply personal item that instantly connected visitors with the human stories behind the overwhelming statistics of 1.3 million deportees. 

Benches - either to rest one's feet, to process what one just seen, to watch a video, or to reflect on the atrocities - were supplied with tissue boxes. 

This was the very last message before exiting "Auschwitz." Visitors had participated in an ongoing remembrance and left with a responsibility to combat hate and violence.

Back to dreary Dayton...last week it rained hard almost every day and we were taking care of our son's dog. All the rain brought out lots of worms that needed to escape the water-saturated soil. The dog was curious and while he'll eat most anything, he stayed away from a worm snack.

After the rain comes the most welcome blue sky. These are the Carillon Bells, which if you remember from some December posts, this is the bell tower that is turned into the giant Tree of Lights. A few puddles lined the road and as I drove past my brain went into whatever gear: puddles, bell tower, reflections, so I stopped and took a few "Reflections on a Late Winter's Day" photos.

 

monday's mulling: up on the roof

News, news, news. I know what's going on but the information overload is just too much at times. 

Yesterday, when driving home from the grocery store, the the most perfect song came on the radio. Such an unexpected moment brought a little calm to the media storm. At that moment my "roof" was in my car with James Taylor's soothing voice singing one of my favorite songs.

Up on the Roof by James Taylor

When this old world starts a getting me down

And people are just too much for me to face

I'll climb way up to the top of the stairs

And all my cares just drift right into space

On the roof, it's peaceful as can be

And there the world below don't bother me

No, no

So when I come home feeling tired and beat

I go up where the air is fresh and sweet

I get far away from the hustling crowd

And all that rat race noise down in the street

On the roof, that's the only place I know

Look at the city, baby

Where you just have to wish to make it so

Let's go up on the roof

And at night the stars, they put on a show for free

And darling, you can share it all with me

That's what I say, keep on telling you

That right smack dab in the middle of town

I've found a paradise that's trouble proof

And if this old world starts a getting you down

There's room enough for two

Up on the roof, up on the roof, up on the roof oh now

Everything is all right, everything is all right

Come on

Put down what you're doing tonight and climb up the stairs with me and see

We got the stars up above us and the city lights below, oh

Up on my roof now

it's that time of year

Like most of the 50 states, we did the spring forward thing to welcome Daylight Saving Time for the next eight months. My son's dog is staying with us for a few days so this morning when the pooch woke up for his morning walk, it was 7:30 instead of 6:30. Last night I was really tired and fell asleep early. Losing an hour of sleep was no big deal when the dog came to the side of the bed and nudged me to go outside.

Taking these early morning dog walks has been a gentle way to begin the days. I let the dog sniff as much as he wants. It amazes me how long he can stay in one spot to smell all that there is to offer. Then we stroll, he stops to pee, stroll a little more, another sniffing moment, stroll, pee again...you get the routine. He's enjoying his dog world while I listen to the birds' songs and the woodpeckers tap-tap-tapping on the trees. A couple of early morning walkers were out and about. Good for them to start their day with a stroll around the neighborhood. I do want to get into a morning walking routine. After walking the dog, I feel refreshed and energetic. A few studies have found that among older adults, those who start their days with a morning walk improved their cognitive function compared to those who remained sedentary. I will do what I can to keep that Alzheimer's gene that has cursed my mom's side of the family at bay.

And now, as I write this quick Sunday post, the dog lays on the rug by the patio door in his totally content dog life, snoozing and snoring and farting. Time to move elsewhere 🤢

hallie louise

The princess and her cake!

One year ago today, Todd and I were at the hospital to meet our third grandchild and our first granddaughter. Andrew took her out of her little hospital bed and handed her to me, "I want to introduce you to Hallie Louise." My heart melted, it burst with joy, love made it grow ten thousand times bigger. Little people sure can make you feel big things. 

During the earlier stages of pregnancy the doctors had some concern about Hallie's development, which if the barrage of tests Jennifer had to go through showed certain readings, a tough decision would have to be made. The whole family went through an extremely stressful few weeks but now, look where we are - celebrating this beautiful little girl's first birthday! 

HALLIE - LOU - YEAH! It's time to celebrate "one-derful" you!

My grandpa, who would be Hallie's great-great-grandpa, was also born on this day, but in 1898. Three different centuries separate Grandpa (March 7, 1898) and Hallie (March 7, 2025). Just thinking of the history and all of the developments that have happened in 127 years is mind-boggling. I hope I'll be around long enough to tell Hallie stories of "When Didi was a little girl..."