A full week has passed and I felt like I'd never left; fun with my homies, walks in the Glen and Clifton Gorge, drumming w/the YS gals, and many home-made meals and meals out, by and with my Ohio girls.
I've been trying to post pics of the gorge today and can't seem to make them stick. If you see any it's because I was successful.
Some wildflowers lined the gorge path and spring water dripped off the million-year-old cliffs along the gorge. Below me and looking down at them as they flew to join their mates in the cool and misty morning, Canada geese looked like arrows with wide feathered tails. Cedar limbs of lace shifted from green-blue to yellow from the sun's rays. My dog and I were the only ones on the trails and after the steep climb back up the steps from the South Rim, we sat on a bench next to a sagittal cut of an ancient White Oak the park had erected to show what was going on in the world during the time of its birth. I thought about the harsh, harsh winter we had endured this year and welcomed the rites of Spring in the Springs.
Tomorrow I'll walk these forests again with my friend, Tishia, whom I taught to hug the Glen Helen trees when she was a toddler. We will hug them again, Her Fran and My Tishia and give thanks for our lives that crossed, then separated, and met again.
Saturday, April 12, 2014
Tuesday, April 8, 2014
Spring in Yellow Springs
My friend, Pam's, sump pump buzzes like mine does back home in Maine. Many downpours yesterday to the extend that her backyard looks like a pond. Tucker had to wear his raincoat, as did I, on our walks. This morning, though, shows sunshine lighting up Pam's Hemlock that that buffer her home from the road and protect my ears from loud mufflers on the cars that zip by on Dayton-Yellow Springs road. In late day, Tuck and I walked the bike path that runs from Ellis Pond, across Polecat Road and beside a farm field, over a brook. The brook was full and freely flowing. I could smell the earthworms, those that survived the flooding rains. Across the farmland stand families of trees the color of Paine's Grey on my art palette and accented by light sienna formed by budding trees. This Ohio landscape has the appearance of Asian art, the colors muted and delicate.
It's a good day for a walk along the top rim of Glen Helen, which sits above the gorge. I hear the Dutchman's Britches are blooming. I may be too early for Trillium.
I have a wonderful and giant photograph of a buck Whitetail Deer bathing in the rushing waters of the Gorge. The photographer happened upon him in the early morning; a gift from nature.
Ancient fossils of fern and shells can be found in stones that lie along the brooks that flow through Glen Helen. Vibrant Cardinal, red birds, send their sentimental tones through the woods. It is a magical place that draws folks to it in hopes of reconnecting to their biological roots, out of the prehistoric goo. Over 100 years ago there was a health spa where people could go to soak in the minerals of the Yellow Springs; iron most likely.
So, I'm off to the Glen, a place I've walked many times to soothe my soul during rough times and also to share sensual lunches with my love of the times. I'll think of the latter while I'm there and give thanks for my Ohio gals and the forces that joined them to me two decades ago.
Tonight I will drum with the drumming circle I helped start nearly 20 years ago, beating the sound of many heartbeats.
When I'm here, I wonder why I left 14 years ago. I've not encountered any other village in this nation that is as bucolic as Yellow Springs.
It's a good day for a walk along the top rim of Glen Helen, which sits above the gorge. I hear the Dutchman's Britches are blooming. I may be too early for Trillium.
I have a wonderful and giant photograph of a buck Whitetail Deer bathing in the rushing waters of the Gorge. The photographer happened upon him in the early morning; a gift from nature.
Ancient fossils of fern and shells can be found in stones that lie along the brooks that flow through Glen Helen. Vibrant Cardinal, red birds, send their sentimental tones through the woods. It is a magical place that draws folks to it in hopes of reconnecting to their biological roots, out of the prehistoric goo. Over 100 years ago there was a health spa where people could go to soak in the minerals of the Yellow Springs; iron most likely.
So, I'm off to the Glen, a place I've walked many times to soothe my soul during rough times and also to share sensual lunches with my love of the times. I'll think of the latter while I'm there and give thanks for my Ohio gals and the forces that joined them to me two decades ago.
Tonight I will drum with the drumming circle I helped start nearly 20 years ago, beating the sound of many heartbeats.
When I'm here, I wonder why I left 14 years ago. I've not encountered any other village in this nation that is as bucolic as Yellow Springs.
Thursday, April 3, 2014
Oh Ohio.
Great to be in the company of my Ohio friends once again:
To breakfast with Carol, then number tiles (don't know the real name of the game) with her 90-some year-old mother Ruth; not I'm addicted to the nameless game. The grand-daughter of Carol and Jan, Rachel Claire, helped me beat the britches off Ruth. That child's mind is faster than the internet.
There's a small community park near my friends' homes and Tuck and I have walked it several times; in-between me eating Skyline Chilli and UDF (United Dairy Farmer) Cherry Cordial ice cream (oy vey!). Yesterday we had the park to ourselves except for one woman. On her second turn around the track I asked her how many miles she walks. "Oh, sometimes I just have to get away and I come here and pray, enjoy the sun and the air." We shared some of our own joys then I said goodbye with "Peace to you Sister." "The same to you, my Sister," she replied. This lovely interaction was brighter than the sunny day for me.
I have always found the people of Ohio to be friendly and open; giving direct eye-contact on the street, in stores; accompanied with a smile and hello. Ohio remains a home to me.
Tuck and I also spent some time at one of my favorite places this week, Miami Whitewater Park. We walked the paths and watched a father pick a turtle out of the river and take pictures of it for his children. I was afraid he might try to keep it, so I hung around and requested he put it back in the river while I was there. I think he really didn't want to but I wasn't going to leave until he returned that beautiful turtle to its home.
Thunder storms rolled in two days ago. This morning I had to dodge lightening and downpours to take the dog out. Don't you know he refused to do his duty on such a day, so I was soaked through my raincoat.
I haven't taken pictures of the area because there are some earlier on my BlogSpot from a previous year and the trees are not yet budding.
I'm also sucking up the cable TV programs on these rainy days.
To breakfast with Carol, then number tiles (don't know the real name of the game) with her 90-some year-old mother Ruth; not I'm addicted to the nameless game. The grand-daughter of Carol and Jan, Rachel Claire, helped me beat the britches off Ruth. That child's mind is faster than the internet.
There's a small community park near my friends' homes and Tuck and I have walked it several times; in-between me eating Skyline Chilli and UDF (United Dairy Farmer) Cherry Cordial ice cream (oy vey!). Yesterday we had the park to ourselves except for one woman. On her second turn around the track I asked her how many miles she walks. "Oh, sometimes I just have to get away and I come here and pray, enjoy the sun and the air." We shared some of our own joys then I said goodbye with "Peace to you Sister." "The same to you, my Sister," she replied. This lovely interaction was brighter than the sunny day for me.
I have always found the people of Ohio to be friendly and open; giving direct eye-contact on the street, in stores; accompanied with a smile and hello. Ohio remains a home to me.
Tuck and I also spent some time at one of my favorite places this week, Miami Whitewater Park. We walked the paths and watched a father pick a turtle out of the river and take pictures of it for his children. I was afraid he might try to keep it, so I hung around and requested he put it back in the river while I was there. I think he really didn't want to but I wasn't going to leave until he returned that beautiful turtle to its home.
Thunder storms rolled in two days ago. This morning I had to dodge lightening and downpours to take the dog out. Don't you know he refused to do his duty on such a day, so I was soaked through my raincoat.
I haven't taken pictures of the area because there are some earlier on my BlogSpot from a previous year and the trees are not yet budding.
I'm also sucking up the cable TV programs on these rainy days.
Monday, March 31, 2014
Sweet Home Alabama: Camping at Home Depot and friend and family reunio...
Sweet Home Alabama: Camping at Home Depot and friend and family reunio...: Left Maine at noon March 18th and drove until 10 p.m. I stopped at a Motel 6 outside Waterbury, Conn, being wary of that franchise from...
Sweet Home Alabama
A gal from my High School years, Elin Shallcross and her wife, Trudy (they were recently married legally in Iowa, but have shared a spousal relationship for 30 years.) were the best of hosts during my visit to Fairhope, Alabama. They have two little dogs; Tess and Tucker. My Tucker often got confused when "little Tucker" was reprimanded for barking. Tess and Little Tucker sure set their limits with my Tucker-boy but by our third day there, he was allowed to play with their toys and Little Tucker sat on my lap.
I played, sang, and ate my way through the farmland and seashore.
Trudy is a very accomplished musician and included me in her weekly events of the Fairhope Pickers, singers, and Saltry Harp players. The day I attended, there were 20 pickers; picked were mountain dulcimers, guitars, saltry harps, harp, auto harps, cello, and fiddles. Was a fun time. I wished my Blueberry Jammers in Southwest Harbor, Maine sharing the moment with us. We jammed for the first hour, took a coffee/snack break, then participated in an open mike hour. I performed my original song, Walking The Hedgerow, about my experience of walking the plowed farm fields of Ohio hunting for arrowheads. Another woman played her autoharp and sang hymns that were dear to her soul that resides in her 91-year-old vigorous body.
Our first full day there I wanted to walk the beach. Unfortunately, no dogs were allowed on the beaches, not even in the State Park. Not to be daunted, I drove on the road leading to Ft. Morgan. On the way I stopped to ask a woman who was walking her dog for directions to the Gulf Shores Dog Park. I was successful in finding it and Tuck had a short sniffing visit with another boy Shih Tzu. A man there told me how to get to the dog friendly beach and I took Tuck there. It was chilly and cloudy on that day but we walked, shell hunting, and returned Saturday. When I let him off leash, Tuck immediately found a blanket-full of college girls. He also
loved digging holes in the sand. This day was warm and sunny. I alternated between sitting in the sun, dipping in the ocean, and walking. I found a beautiful starfish but discovered it was still alive. As much as I wanted to take it home, I couldn't bear to let it die. I tossed it into the surf and later saw it still lingering. It was red and white and had six curved arms and was magical to gaze upon.
Hungry for home-made southern grits, Trudy and Elin took me to Biscuit King, the only one of its kind. You haven't seen or eaten biscuits until you've been to Biscuit King. These biscuits were the size of a frisbee and stuffed with all sorts of yummies if you wanted. Grits were good too. One half of the ownership, the husband end, is a senior long distance marathon runner. He is also the cook at Biscuit King and a devout Christian and during the slow down periods, he walks among the customers singing old hymns. Ironically though, on Friday nights when he hires bands to play, he performs in drag. I wondered if he wore his dresses at home for his wife as well. Interesting! That night they took me to Big Daddy's, a popular restaurant that sat in the lowlands, kinda swampy-like. I could hear cajun music in my head even though there "weren't any playin." Fried Oysters and soft-shell crab were my fare that night. The next night I sucked up six raw oysters garnished with my self-made cocktail sauce, topped off by a platter of broiled flounder and shrimp scampi packed down with Key Lime pie which I refused to share with anyone.
Southern Alabama is lovely and I can see me spending future winters there as a Snowbird. The air is sweet with the scent of flowers, Camelia and wild honeysuckle. After the sun softly drops below the trees, the Mocking birds coo-coo and the tree frogs trill to find love.
I played, sang, and ate my way through the farmland and seashore.
Trudy is a very accomplished musician and included me in her weekly events of the Fairhope Pickers, singers, and Saltry Harp players. The day I attended, there were 20 pickers; picked were mountain dulcimers, guitars, saltry harps, harp, auto harps, cello, and fiddles. Was a fun time. I wished my Blueberry Jammers in Southwest Harbor, Maine sharing the moment with us. We jammed for the first hour, took a coffee/snack break, then participated in an open mike hour. I performed my original song, Walking The Hedgerow, about my experience of walking the plowed farm fields of Ohio hunting for arrowheads. Another woman played her autoharp and sang hymns that were dear to her soul that resides in her 91-year-old vigorous body.
Our first full day there I wanted to walk the beach. Unfortunately, no dogs were allowed on the beaches, not even in the State Park. Not to be daunted, I drove on the road leading to Ft. Morgan. On the way I stopped to ask a woman who was walking her dog for directions to the Gulf Shores Dog Park. I was successful in finding it and Tuck had a short sniffing visit with another boy Shih Tzu. A man there told me how to get to the dog friendly beach and I took Tuck there. It was chilly and cloudy on that day but we walked, shell hunting, and returned Saturday. When I let him off leash, Tuck immediately found a blanket-full of college girls. He also
Hungry for home-made southern grits, Trudy and Elin took me to Biscuit King, the only one of its kind. You haven't seen or eaten biscuits until you've been to Biscuit King. These biscuits were the size of a frisbee and stuffed with all sorts of yummies if you wanted. Grits were good too. One half of the ownership, the husband end, is a senior long distance marathon runner. He is also the cook at Biscuit King and a devout Christian and during the slow down periods, he walks among the customers singing old hymns. Ironically though, on Friday nights when he hires bands to play, he performs in drag. I wondered if he wore his dresses at home for his wife as well. Interesting! That night they took me to Big Daddy's, a popular restaurant that sat in the lowlands, kinda swampy-like. I could hear cajun music in my head even though there "weren't any playin." Fried Oysters and soft-shell crab were my fare that night. The next night I sucked up six raw oysters garnished with my self-made cocktail sauce, topped off by a platter of broiled flounder and shrimp scampi packed down with Key Lime pie which I refused to share with anyone.
Southern Alabama is lovely and I can see me spending future winters there as a Snowbird. The air is sweet with the scent of flowers, Camelia and wild honeysuckle. After the sun softly drops below the trees, the Mocking birds coo-coo and the tree frogs trill to find love.
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Friday, March 28, 2014
Stella's 1st Birthday, Great Niece Laura,
To Pennsylvania to visit my birth family. My Great-niece, Stella (named after my mother Estella Fitzgerald Frank-she would be so happy) had her 1st Birthday party. Stella's Grandma Cheryl was gracious enough to have me as a house guest and to hold the party at her house. Stella's
cousin Sammy brought his mother to the party. Sam and Stella both liked to touch Tucker's fluffy tail. We all had a fun time.
Another Great-niece, whom I hadn't yet met, was on my visit agenda; Laura Emma Swiegart. Laura warmed up to her Great-Aunt Fran quickly after the initial introduction. She has the face of a finely painted China Doll and loves to bounce in her bounce-chair. Her sister Courtney is a fine big sister. Laura and Courtney's mom presented Laura's dad with a huge labor of love when she carried Laura for the long nine months it takes a baby to grow in her mother's womb and endure the labor of birth. Laura is the only child born to her daddy, who was 45 when Laura was born. He is a very happy and precious father.
Another Great-niece, whom I hadn't yet met, was on my visit agenda; Laura Emma Swiegart. Laura warmed up to her Great-Aunt Fran quickly after the initial introduction. She has the face of a finely painted China Doll and loves to bounce in her bounce-chair. Her sister Courtney is a fine big sister. Laura and Courtney's mom presented Laura's dad with a huge labor of love when she carried Laura for the long nine months it takes a baby to grow in her mother's womb and endure the labor of birth. Laura is the only child born to her daddy, who was 45 when Laura was born. He is a very happy and precious father.
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