it's that kind of sunday

Maya Angelou believed in treating everyone with dignity, viewing the world as a, "rich tapestry" where all threads are equal and where very act of kindness counts.

After my mom died and I was out and about around town, I would occasionally see her friends at the grocery store, downtown at various venues, walking at the small indoor shopping center, the library -  just wherever we randomly happened to be. The most frequent comment after their condolences was the remembrance of having afternoon visits at Mom's home, sitting at her kitchen table, visiting over a pot of tea with some cookies. Mom had a tea pot very similar to this and I, too, remember visiting at her table over a pot of tea. It was a time to slow down and talk about whatever. Kind and gentle moments - you don't forget how they make you feel.

 "I'm convinced of this: Good done anywhere is good done everywhere. For a change, start by speaking to people rather than walking by them like they're stones that don't matter." ~ another Maya Angelou quote

the crescent moon

Yesterday we met my brother and sister-in-law for an early dinner. It was a gorgeous but very windy, getting back to chilly day. We had been blessed with a couple spring teaser days with sunshine and temperatures in the 60s. But, it's still winter in Ohio and Ole Man Winter took back his duties and hit us with a doozy of a weather event. Thursday night Todd and I were watching the Olympics, waiting for Alyssa Liu's gold medal skating performance. The wind and rain had all at once become much stronger and both our phones went off with a horrendous beep. TORNADO WARNING. We flipped the TV to the local weather station with the adorable meteorologist being very serious telling the viewers to get to their tornado safe spot. The weather system passed in 15 minutes with no tornado touchdown.

Back to yesterday...after having dinner with my brother and sister-in-law (their names are Pat and Patty - isn't that fun?) we came home and the sun was starting its descent. I asked Todd if he wanted to take a walk, he said "Sure," so we took a quick sunset walk. 

We got home And there it was - the crescent moon.

Such a perfect moment: the color of the sky, the outlines of trees, the silver edge of that crescent hanging just above the sunset’s glow.

It was too light to see them in this photo but three planets, Venus, Mercury, and Saturn shone on the western horizon below the moon. 

Possible tornado one night, beautiful sunset with a crescent moon the next. Mother Nature keeps us on our toes.

the friday feed: tabbouleh

I met my friend Annette when our her middle child and my first born were in the same kindergarten class. Her family history tells quite a story. Her mom was a German Jew living in Munich during WWII.  Ruta and her family left Germany to find haven in Israel. Annette's Palestinian dad lived in Jerusalem, Ruta and Elias met, fell in love and married, had two children, and moved to the United States, where they had three more children, Annette being one of them.

Through my friendship with Annette, she introduced me to Levantine food: zeit and za'atar (an olive oil mixed with za'atar dipping sauce with pita bread, Lahma bi Ajeen (Arabic pizzas), dolmas (stuffed grape leaves) falafel, and tabbouleh. When she makes tabbouleh, she'll send a text message: "I just made way too much tabbouleh. Want some?" Of course!

A couple weeks ago Annette went to a golf tournament in Phoenix and stayed with her friend who lives there. Her friend loves to garden, has a couple lemon trees on the property, and sent a few lemons home with Annette. She called me when she got home. "I brought you something from Phoenix!" She came by the house and handed me two lemons. The little orbs of sunshine smelled so fresh and I knew right then and there what I was going to do with them. "Im going to make tabbouleh!" 

Tabbouleh is a Middle Eastern salad that originated in Lebanon. It's made primarily from finely chopped parsley, tomatoes, mint, and onion, with soaked bulgur wheat, all tossed in a dressing of olive oil and lemon juice. I had some mini cucumbers and added those, too. That lemon juice in the dressing tasted so fresh. It wasn't puckery tart. Tabbouleh is served as a side or appetizer, often scooped with lettuce or pita bread. I scooped mine with a spoon. Todd is not a big fan of tabbouleh. More for me...darn.

 

how did that get there?

 

On a sunny, cold, snowy day I was looking out my kitchen window at the snow covered patio, at the birds gathering on the feeders, and at a couple of icicles clinging to the gutter. And then I saw it. One of the icicles held an unexpected passenger: a single dandelion seed. 

How did it get there? 

Months earlier it had been a bright yellow bloom in someone's backyard. No one noticed it and it turned into a delicate silver globe waiting for the wind or perhaps a child to blow its seeds into the air. How far had it drifted?

Snow began to fall as the seed was still aloft. It could have landed anywhere - on the bare bushes that lined the patio, on the snow piled on the grill, but instead it brushed against an icicle as the meltwater dripped and refroze.

And there it was. How it caught my eye, I'll never know. 

A summer memory caught on winter's ice.

The icicle has melted and the seed has disappeared. Maybe it will show up in my yard and a yellow bloom will stare back at me.

wednesday's words and wanderings and wonderings

The snow storm that dropped 15 inches (38 cm) of snow on January 25 has finally melted. While it blanketed the earth, some early spring flowers pushed through the dirt on their way to blooming into hyacinths in the next few weeks. Such a welcome sight! Spring countdown: 32 days.

A couple times a week I volunteer at Miami Valley Meals, a volunteer initiative that began during the pandemic and quickly evolved into a full-time operation serving thousands of meals per month. A team of chefs transforms recovered foods from various partner organizations into nutritious meals and then distributes the meals to groups that serve people facing food insecurity. Last week I put together 45 egg bake casseroles and just yesterday I chopped okra for two hours. This team of chefs is quite remarkable to put together the meals that they do. Each week unknown food arrives and they turn it into tasty meals to serve a community in need.

Last week my daughter-in-law sent some distressing news on the family text chain. Her mom was diagnosed with Stage 2 breast cancer. Monday afternoon Jennifer left to visit her mom, take her out to dinner, and spend the night at her parents' house. Mom's first chemotherapy treatment was Tuesday morning. I asked my son if he wanted me to come to Cleveland to help him with his little ones - the bath and bedtime routines are a little hectic with a soon-to-be 1-year old, a busy 3 1/2 year old, and just one parent. He said I didn't have to but if I wanted to, but...enough said. I would be there around the time he got home from work with a pot of beef stew. 

The morning routine of getting the littles ready for daycare wasn't quite as crazy as the nightime routine, except the power went out. We warmed the Hallie's bottle in a pan of warm water, put Owen's frozen muffin in a plastic bag and thawed it in another pan of warm water, thank heavens for flashlights to get the kids dressed. 

Before leaving, Andrew asked me to take a photo of him and his sweet kids to send to Jen's mom. They all wore pink to show support to Nana as she starts her chemo to beat this ugly cancer.

monday's mulling: morning fog

Yesterday the weather apps and the television weather people alerted the people of the Miami Valley that we would wake up to a dense fog. All the appropriate warnings that the pea soup visibility might slow down morning commutes to work were given. Today is also Presidents' Day, a federal holiday, and some businesses and schools will be closed in observance of the fete. The 7:15 school bus will return for its student pick up at the corner tomorrow morning.

I peeked out my window to look at the fog and then went outside to just stand in the mist. So peaceful, so quiet.

It’s like the world hit pause overnight.

Waking up and going outside to stand in a chilly, densely foggy morning makes everything feels softer. The light is diffused, the edges of buildings and trees blur into the mist, and sound seems wrapped in cotton. The familiar streets look mysterious.

Going outside in that moment woke me out of my Monday morning fog. The cool air woke me up better than that first cup of coffee. The usual noise from passing cars was muted. Peaceful, but not empty — more like the world quietly breathing.

My mind in the morning's peace and quiet took in the moment and went to Carl Sandburg's poem, "Fog," that captured a quiet and mysterious moment over a city and harbor. My quiet and mysterious moment was from my driveway.

Fog

The fog comes
on little cat feet.

It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.

~ Carl Sandburg

it's that kind of sunday

Besides the kindness connection, these two photos have another commonality: they're in two separate framing shops where both the businesses are located in historic buildings. 

These stickers were on two different vehicles, same parking lot. Looks like a couple car owners are on the same kindness wavelength. Isn't that bumper on the right fun? Just a bunch of horizontal stripes to brighten an old white van.

I pass this shop on my way to the yoga studio. It's located by the University of Dayton campus and this boutique provides a space for both emerging and established artists to showcase their works. UD's art building is just down the street from this frame store and the owners exhibit some of the students' artwork, too.

There are so many negative things that happen in this world and you can create positivity by showing some kindness.