Fear of Falling

Back when I was very young and my grandmother was very old (a reasonably vigorous seventy-something,) it seemed that her friends were all too often falling and breaking a hip. And all too often the outcome was not good. Later I remember my grandmother fussing when the cat would get underfoot (as cats will do) and try to trip her.

And now here I am. But it's not so much the hip breaking that scares me--hip replacements seem to be pretty routine these days. No, after hearing that a friend fell, hit her head, suffered a brain bleed, ended up in the ICU, and is now in rehab (aka a nursing home,) I'm extra cautious. And then there's the FB friend slowly recovering from a brain injury caused by a fall. 

Dang! Both of these folks are considerably younger than I. 

When I had a bout of vertigo a year ago, I made the decision to use a walking stick anytime I was outside on uneven or slippery surfaces. I had already had several falls, due to my wonky knee and crummy balance so it seemed like a reasonable precaution. It felt weird at first but it's become second nature. 

And I yell at Jenny and Otter when they rough house around me.

Yes, I've become my grandmother. She died at 92 after a stroke but she never broke her hip.

 

Here and There

 

Another Spring Cleaning

 

Almost Spring and predictably my thoughts turn to Spring cleaning, organizing, and de-accessioning. Back in the fall I took many books to the library book sale but I still have two large bookshelves to go through. 

                                                     My workroom is my focus at the moment. It's become the repository for all kinds of detritus--like all the gift bags, and ribbons of the ages--really nice ribbons, some of which have gone through various seasonal cycles already. And the Amazon gift bags--of which there are an embarrassing many--good sturdy bags that ought to be useful for something other than gifts. I have a BIG bag of them and am going to see if our local thrift store could use them.   

On to the bookshelves. Now that I'm no longer teaching, I'm sending many books on writing to the library. And putting years of class handouts into the recycling bin. I had what I believe were some excellent lessons (and they are still on my computer,) but as I tossed them into our paper recycling bag, I felt a bit like Prospero, destroying his books of magic.

But, I've got to say, it felt good. That part of my life is done, and I have the freedom to piddle about with watercolors or read or sit outside in the sun and watch the wind stirring the daffodils.

                         

                                                                                    

                                                                                     

Morning Glory

 

Don't Mention DeSantis

   

photo Orlando Sentinel

I loved Florida when I was growing up there—back before The Mouse and an influx of new residents had changed the state forever. Moss-hung live oaks, lazy tannin-stained rivers, palmetto thickets—a quietly rural way of life just beyond the city limits. Mild winters, hot, barefoot summers—but not so hot that a big attic fan couldn’t provide relief.

It was idyllic—if you were white and straight. I remember the separate and unequal facilities, the back of the bus, the segregation. And today it seems as if elements in Florida are working hard to re-disenfranchise great swaths of the population.

I hardly recognize today’s Florida. Unchecked growth and a political mindset that I find abhorrent. Now Gov. DeSantis is pushing for a bill that would require all bloggers writing about him to register with the state.

What?

So, although I’m not the sort of big-name political blogger he’s targeting, I feel compelled to get ahead of this proposed legislation and write about DeSantis.

He's not as tacky or crude as The Former Guy but I find his actions and priorities alarming: banning diversity programs at public universities; allowing the carrying concealed weapons without training or permit; expanding school vouchers, to the certain detriment of public education; adding more restrictions on abortion; redrawing congressional districts to favor Republicans—the list goes on . . .

Get government off our back—isn’t this one of the GOP’s watchwords? With DeSantis, government is in the bedroom, the classroom, and the media. Yes, you’re free to carry a gun—just don’t say gay-- or suggest that white people have always enjoyed unfair advantages--or write about DeSantis.

                       

Too Beautiful, Too Early

Idyllic days...

Of course, enjoyment of those days is tempered by thoughts of climate change, as well as the memory of a March blizzard and April snows of the past.

But who can argue with the impatience of the weeping cherry

                                Or the insistent daffodils?

 

In the Greenhouse, the Fig Tree Reaches for the Light

 

The Detectorists--Oh, Yes!

The most charming, delightful, good-hearted comedy series I've ever seen. And we've watched all three seasons now and are bereft because there don't seem to be more on the way.

The show is very low-key and laid back--but slyly funny in a way that reminds me of some of the Coen brothers' work--realistic people being themselves and treated with obvious love.  The synergy amongst the cast (one of whom is also the writer and director) is delightful--even the bad guys are likeable.

There's a good article HERE that will tell you more.

 Thanks to my English friends who alerted me to this excellent bit of television. Feel-good, funny, and fabulous--I recommend it highly. Let yourself succumb to the quiet pleasure of The Detectorists.

 

Josie--Author/Illustrator

There are a lot of cardinals at Meema and Grumpy's house so I painted a picture of one. First I drew an outline then I painted. It is not quite finished.

The last time I made a book, Meema wrote the words. This time I did all the writing. Meema told me how to spell the hard words. I thought MIYE was right but she said it should be MY. So I did it right on the other pages.

I love making books.

ME AND MY DAD ARE IN THE HOUSE. (I spelled MY right.)

ME AND MY MOM ARE ON A WALK.

ME AND MY DAD ARE OUTSIDE.

This is a book my friend Liz made. It is about a butterfly.

So I made a picture of a butterfly for Liz, to thank her for the book.

Also, while I was painting, I put a vest on my picture of Meema because she always wears a vest and a million sweaters because she thinks it is cold. I did not paint the sweaters.

                                                                                     

Nature's Disposal

Let's hear for these majestic birds. Beautiful in flight, impressive up close, part of the natural balance.

I have watched (through binoculars) them soar, following as long as I could, till I almost felt I was flying too. Mesmerizing!

 

RabbitRabbit

 

I've Always Wondered...

                                                       

These tousle-headed daffodils are the ones I see most often around old homesteads here. I have quite a few myself--descendants of some bulbs given me by a neighbor when we first moved here. I've always wondered what their name is but never found them in catalogues.                                                        

And now I know. They are Van Sion daffodils--at least 400 years old, and their extreme hardiness has contributed to their proliferation. And that proliferation probably explains why they're not in catalogues--everyone who grows daffs already has them or can get bulbs from a neighbor.

                                                     

More info about Van Sion HERE 

                                                  

What Do You Read? Why Do You Read?

                                                                         

 After my post last week about the book Read Dangerously--an invitation to read subject matter that may make you uncomfortable, even as it expands your awareness of society-- I kept thinking about this topic. 

Reading dangerously is certainly a good thing--but it's not the only thing. There's comfort reading--books that will make you feel good. In my case it's pretty much always a book I've read before and can trust not to give me any unpleasant surprises. In fact, the day after I finished Read Dangerously, I took Josie to the library and while we were perusing the books, I found myself taking down Little Women and diving into that sweet, moral world. It doesn't hurt that this is a book my grandmother read to me when I had measles and wasn't allowed to read. I've read and re-read till my copy (previously my grandmother's) has fallen apart. So (spoiler alert) Beth's death won't be an unpleasant surprise.

Other of my favorite comfort reads include P.G. Wodehouse, C.S. Lewis, Agatha Christie's Miss Marple, Madeline L'Engle, Elizabeth Goudge, and Rosamund Pilcher. When I'm feeling fragile and reluctant to immerse myself in reality, these do the trick.

I like to read to learn, as well--good historical fiction such a Mary Renault or James Michener or Edward Rutherfurd has taught me a lot. Sarah Vowell's non-fiction is equally enjoyable and instructive.                                                        

And there's reading for escape--for a cracking good story you can get lost in for a while. Thinking of John Grisham, Neil Gaiman, Tony Hillerman, Laurie R. King . . . just the tip of the iceberg. Those are some I re-read, but there are many, many others.

What's your reading fancy? And what categories have I missed?