wishes

T and I have been in Cleveland this week babysitting our first little grandson while his parents take a trip to Amsterdam and Paris. We are doing the handoff with the other grandparents today for them to look after the little guy for the duration of the trip. Our next stop is Chicago. Our second little grandson was born with a VSD, Ventricular Septal Defect, which in a nutshell is a hole in his heart, and he is having his surgery on Tuesday. He is 2 1/2 months old, so sweet, but so little. The doctor has told my daughter and son-in-law that he's done this surgery on babies younger than he is, but still, this is my grandson.

When you see dandelions, do you see a wish or a weed? Me, I'm in the make a wish camp. 

Make a wish, say a prayer

As thousands of seeds fly through the air

They float to you on the winds above

From every direction, each filled with love.

I love you with all my heart, my little AJ 💜

the imagination library

Dolly Parton is a rags-to-rhinestones story. She grew up in Locust Ridge, Tennessee, a small town nestled against the Great Smoky Mountains. Music ran deep in her family. From singing barefoot on the front porch of her Tennessee mountain home to commanding the stage in six-inch heels, Dolly Parton is a larger-than-life living legend with a heart as big as her dreams. She has won many awards in the entertainment sector. In 1995 she reached outside of the music business and started her Imagination Library to benefit the children of her home county in east Tennessee. Dolly’s vision was to foster a love of reading among her county’s preschool children and their families. The new program gave each child a specially selected book each month. By mailing high quality age appropriate books directly to their homes, Dolly wanted children to be excited about books and to feel the magic that books can create. Moreover, she could ensure that every child would have books, regardless of their family’s income.

The Imagination Library’s first book order in 1995 totaled just over 1,700 books. Today, Dolly Parton’s Imagination Library sends more than one million books per month to children around the world inspiring them to Dream More, Learn More, Care More and Be More.

While babysitting my little grandson, I noticed stickers on the backs of many of his books. They are from the Imagination Library and they are all wonderful books. He has so many from one of my favorite children’s authors, Eric Carle, and it’s all thanks to Dolly Parton getting books into children’s hands starting 29 years ago. Think of how many children she has blessed!

"My dream was to make as many people happy as I could in this life." ~ Dolly Parton

arbor day 2024

Arbor Day sprouted from the mind of a zealous tree lover named Julius Sterling Morton. A popular Arbor Day tradition is to plant a tree in honor or memory of a loved one. Arbor Day is celebrated on the last Friday in April, although some states observe it on dates that better coincide with the local area’s planting times. Arbor Day, much like Earth Day, is a holiday that celebrates nature.

"Other holidays repose upon the past. Arbor Day proposes for the future." 

~ J. Sterling Morton

I remember Arbor Day when I was in school. Many times I brought home a seedling to plant and was so excited to plant it. My tree. I never got to see those trees grow either because we always had friends playing at our house and the tree would get tromped or if it did survive the neighborhood gang, we moved every 2-3 years so I didn't get to see the tree grow to maturity.

When my mom was a young girl, she memorized the poem, "Trees." She would recite it and she would also sing it to her children. Even when she was fairly far into her Alzheimer's journey, I would occasionally ask her to recite the poem but she would sing it most every time. The power of music and memory. There was a time when she could no long remember the poem and that's when i knew the Alzheimer's had pretty much taken her away from us.

Trees

By Joyce Kilmer 1886 - 1918

I think that I shall never see

A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest

Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day,

And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in summer wear

A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;

Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me,

But only God can make a tree.

it's just one of those days ~

Yep...just one of those days.
 

wednesday words, wonderings & wanderings

Last Thursday I went to the Dayton Art Institute to see the exhibit, The Artistic Life of Aka Pereyma. Aka Pereyma was a local artist of Ukrainian descent who lived in Troy, Ohio, about 20 minutes north of Dayton. She was a very prolific artist, creating in so many mediums: painting, woodworking, industrial metallurgy, pottery, textiles. It was hard not to think about politics as I drove to the DAI to see this exhibition. I knew that Pereyma had been honored by the government of Ukraine and that her work combined Ukrainian folk-art traditions with modern artistic styles. Now the country that has honored Pereyma is being attacked by Putin, while American politicians argue over whether the U.S. should support Ukraine or not.

But any thought of politics disappeared when I entered the gallery. She celebrated and loved life and it shows in her creations.

In 2012, my son was a senior at Ohio University and for his birthday his girlfriend (now his wife) bought a dog, meeting the "breeder" in a gas station parking lot outside of Athens, Ohio. The puppy was named Bernie, after Bernie Kosar, a former Cleveland Brown quarterback.

Bern lived a wonderful life. He lived with 9 dads as a college dog and lived in countless different apartments and houses as Andrew and Jen moved around. He was there for all the big events in their lives. He was the happiest, most energetic dog and would always overload with excitement and squeaks when someone would walk in the house. He loved chasing squirrels and playing fetch, snuggling his way onto the couch and into bed, and for the 22 months was the best doggie friend to their son.

After Bernie passed, Jen converted his meal area into a book nook. We are in Cleveland for a week babysitting this little guy and we've already spent time in this sweet spot of remembrance, sitting on Bernie's bed, reading whatever piles of books Little Grandson chooses. It's magic to my ears when he says, "Didi book, Didi book," and so heartwarming when we crawl into Bernie's book nook.

springtime song

Sunday morning, I had the house to myself for a couple hours. As I finished my last cup of coffee, the outdoors beckoned; a perfect time to bundle up and take a walk to the cemetery to have a visit with my parents. The church going cars were filed (sort of) into the parking lot (gotta get to that prime parking spot) but once I passed that craziness, the walk back to cemetery was so peaceful. Birds singing (Mom and Dad would love that), the sun shining, the wind blowing enough for the American flag to unfurl over the military graves, and fluffy white clouds drifting in the blue sky set a lovely scenario to have a chat. 

Springtime flowers are blooming around the graves and every once in a while my nose caught the sweet perfume of lily-of-the-valley as it wafted through the air. It's one of those delightful smells of spring.

The sight and occasional whiff of the lily-of-the-valley brought back a song my mom taught to me many, many years ago.

White coral bells upon a slender stalk

Lily-of-the-valley deck my garden walk.

Oh how I wish that I might hear them ring,

That will happen only when the fairies sing.

I sang it a few times on my way home.

 

monday's mulling: earth day

Marie Aull was considered the godmother of the environmental movement in the Miami Valley. She was a founding member of the Garden Club of Dayton in 1922 and a beloved environmentalist and naturalist. As both a conservationist and gardener, Aull loved Dayton and its natural beauty, and devoted her life to preserving it. Marie’s vision for preserving green space and educating the public about the conservation movement also extended to playing key roles in the founding of Cox Arboretum, the Beaver Creek Wetlands Association and the Park District of Dayton and Montgomery County.

Married to Dayton box manufacturer John Aull, Marie’s real journey began after her husband died in 1955. Two years later, she donated 70 acres of their idyllic property to Miami Valley residents—a swath of land that has since expanded and is now known as Aullwood Audubon Center and Farm. Not only is Aullwood the Midwest’s first Audubon nature center, it is one of the nation’s finest.

Having no children her passion for conservation and horticulture, which they both shared, intensified. She was driven to educate all around her to safeguard the planet, to avoid the abundance of waste all around us. She wanted to protect the environment when it was not really on any contemporaries’ radars.

Marie Aull was ahead of her time. In 1957, when she first approached former National Audubon Society President John H. Baker about creating Aullwood, it would be another 12 years before the Cuyahoga River Fire—Cleveland’s pollutive disaster—helped fuel the modern day environmental movement. Conservation was a nascent concept, and Aull was a visionary.

Five years later, when proposed development threatened the springs and creeks surrounding Aullwood, her reputation was sealed. Aull purchased the 120-acre Antrim Farm adjacent to the nature center, donated a portion to the National Audubon Society, and augmented her natural sanctuary with a family farm—complete with livestock, crops and reverence for agrarian life.

In 1977, Marie donated her home, its private garden, and a $300,000 endowment were given to the park district. She continued living in her home, which overlooks the Stillwater River, while keeping her garden open to the public. In 2000 a new education wing was named for her; and in 2002 Aull died at age 105. Her ashes spread at Aullwood, alongside her husband, beneath a 500-year-old sycamore tree.

This woman exhibited a love of nature and of mankind because she sported the theory that our lands were in need of better care so it could be preserved for other to enjoy in the years to come. She is a testimony to what one person can do to make things better for "aull."

Sources: Dayton Magazine and Five Rivers MetroParks website.

stop and smell the tulips, or at least take pictures of them

The host of golden daffodils are no longer at the house on Ridgeway Road but now the fire engine red tulips line the driveway to greet visitors and passers by. Such a beautiful gift to so many to welcome spring.

 

pothole art

4/20 - a date that both marijuana smokers and non-smokers recognize as a national holiday for cannabis culture. 

But let's talk about another everyday kind of pot - those aggravating potholes. Despite just being annoying, potholes can cause damage to your vehicle. On the minor end, hitting a pothole can knock your car out of alignment, puncture one or multiple tires and possibly damage your wheels.

Chicago mosaic artist Jim Bachor is known for filling potholes with small, colorful mosaics. His mosaics bring something pretty to a place that otherwise could be considered ugly. 

During 2020, the "Pothole Picasso" created a series dubbed the "Holy Trinity," filling potholes with "worshipped" COVID-19 essentials: hand sanitizer, toilet paper, and a can of Chicago Old Style beer. The toilet paper has been covered with blacktop and the Old Style beer is chipping away. The only essential remaining is the Purell hand sanitizer, a gentle reminder for people to continue to wash their hands. While taking pictures of the hand sanitizer, a man who lived in the neighborhood was getting into his car. His comment, "I've lived here for seven years and have never noticed these."

Bachor has been filling Chicago's potholes since 2013. I have used a map of his installations to go on scavenger hunts during my visits. It's a fun way to explore the city.

 

the friday feed: fresh tomatoes

Now that the weather is getting warmer, thoughts turn to fresh produce from the farmers' markets and fresh tomatoes top the list. I refuse to buy tomatoes during the winter. They're shipped in from wherever, they're tasteless, they're hard as rocks...no thank you. Still a couple months until fresh Ohio tomatoes will be available. 

My brother and sister-in-law who live in Tennessee were in town a few weeks ago. They live in Granger County which is known for its tomatoes. Some of the grocery stores around here sell Granger County tomatoes, just not yet. My brother called and asked me if I would like some fresh tomatoes. "Ohnygosh, ohmygosh...of course, of course!" He went on to qualify that they weren't Tennessee tomatoes but Florida tomatoes and they were good.

Sunday night's dinner centered around...(you guessed it)...tomatoes!

I saved a couple to slice for bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwiches and with the rest roasted them and made tomato soup. My son joined us for dinner, he doesn't like BLTs, so instead he got a bacon grilled cheese sandwich to dip in his tomato soup. Everyone was happy.

🍅 🍅 🍅 🍅 🍅 🍅 🍅 🍅 🍅 🍅 🍅 🍅 🍅 🍅 🍅 🍅

"It's difficult to think anything but pleasant thoughts while eating a homegrown tomato."  ~ Louis Grizzard

paul revere's ride...the eighteenth of april in seventy-five

Another nod to National Poetry Month and now 249 years later...

Listen, my children, and you shall hear
Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,
On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-Five:
Hardly a man is now alive
Who remembers that famous day and year.

He said to his friend, “If the British march

By land or sea from the town to-night,

Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry-arch

Of the North-Church-tower, as a signal-light,—

One if by land, and two if by sea;

And I on the opposite shore will be,

Ready to ride and spread the alarm

Through every Middlesex village and farm,

For the country-folk to be up and to arm....”

Paul Revere's ride occurred on the night of April 18, 1775, immediately before the first engagements of the American Revolutionary War. It has been commemorated in a range of cultural depictions, most notably Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's 1861 poem, “Paul Revere’s Ride", which has shaped popular memory of the event, despite its factual inaccuracies.

Longfellow was inspired to write the poem after visiting the Old North Church and climbing its tower on April 5, 1860. "Paul Revere's Ride" was published in the January 1861 issue of “The Atlantic” magazine. Just before its publication, on December 20, 1860, South Carolina became the first state to secede from the United States and the American Civil War began on April 12, 1861. America’s Revolutionary war ended in 1783. Just 78 years had passed from the war that created the United States to the war that divided the United States. 

wednesdays word, wandering and wondering

 The word of the day is paradox.

Yesterday I wandered down to UD for my Zentangle class and this is one of the patterns we made. It's name is "Paradox." Why paradox, you wonder? Even though you see curves, the pattern is created with all straight lines. And therein lies the paradox. 

rock of ages

During the cold Illinois winters, my grandparents traveled in the Southwest and Mexico. My grandpa was a rock hound so instead of bringing back tchotchkes, he brought back rocks and grandma would take care of the souvenirs for the grandkids. When we went for our summer visits, my mom would bring some rocks home and put them in her gardens as embellishments. We moved every 2-3 years for my dad's job and every time the moving truck showed up for packing my dad would fuss, "Joan, do you think Sears wants to pay to move all these rocks?" She would smile and the rocks made it to our next home. 

A year after Mom moved into assisted living/memory care, it was time to sell her house. As my siblings and I cleaned out the house, my brother said, "We can't leave the rocks here.  They've been in the family a long time." The four of us divided up the rocks and now they adorn our gardens. Rocks of ages for three generations.

Yesterday was a beautiful spring day bordering on hot so of course it was time to have the windows down in the car and the radio playing loud. What song came on? "Rock of Ages" by Def Leppard. Ohhhh, rockin' down the highway...oops, wrong group!

That song took me back to the time we attended a funeral and "Rock of Ages" (the church version) was one of the songs the family chose for the service. The man behind me had a beautiful bass voice and was singing what would have been his part in a choir. It was a soul touching moment to send this rockstar of a lady to her final rest.

"There will always be rocks in the road ahead of us. They will be stumbling blocks or stepping stones; it all depends how you use them." ~ Friedrich Nietzsche

Just keep rockin' on.

monday's mulling: national poetry month

It's mid-April and I just remembered that it's National Poetry Month. 

Back in my teaching days, April was nearing the end of the school year and the students' minds were looking forward to their carefree summer rather than classroom instruction. To keep our 8th graders focused on curriculum, my co-Language Arts partner and I put together a poetry unit that focused on the next phase of their academic journey - high school. Poetry is a great way to promote creative thinking. It's subjective, unique to that person, and it gives students the opportunity to think outside the box. It's beneficial to reluctant readers and writers as the shorter form of writing may be more accessible to them. Poetry also allows students to see language in a new way. So many of their poems were about the uncertainty of going to high school. They were the "big kids" of middle school and in September they were starting their school year as the newbies in a new school of 2600 students.

The solar eclipse was one week ago today and if I were still teaching, it would be a safe bet that there would be a poetry unit on this celestial event. I came across this poem while reading about the eclipse in other states. Coincidentally, as in the poem, the eclipse in Ohio started about noon, too. 

🌙 

🌙 🌙 🌙 🌙 🌙 🌙 🌙 🌙 🌙 🌙 🌙 🌙 🌙 🌙 🌙

Seeing the Eclipse in Maine

BY ROBERT BLY (1997)

It started about noon.  On top of Mount Batte,   

We were all exclaiming.  Someone had a cardboard   

And a pin, and we all cried out when the sun   

Appeared in tiny form on the notebook cover.   

It was hard to believe.  The high school teacher   

We’d met called it a pinhole camera,   

People in the Renaissance loved to do that.   

And when the moon had passed partly through   

We saw on a rock underneath a fir tree,   

Dozens of crescents—made the same way—   

Thousands!  Even our straw hats produced   

A few as we moved them over the bare granite.   

We shared chocolate, and one man from Maine   

Told a joke.  Suns were everywhere—at our feet.

confetti!

Winter is over. The spring party has begun and Mother Nature's confetti lines the curbs and settles into the cracks, providing specks of color along the roads and sidewalks. Confetti! It's an Italian word meaning "small sweet" and it is a small sweet celebration to see the petals float off the trees, adding a bit of color to the grass and pavement, acting as a prelude to the coming blossoms.