Grass Roots

We are visiting my cousin who lives just across the border in South Dakota.  She had phoned to warn us that things were a bit chaotic in her house with renovations, visitors, new babies and two weddings to plan.  I hardly expected her to serve a meal to no less than a dozen of the extended family, with guests' ages ranging from 7 months to 90 years. My mother and her brother, both British born, are the reason for this gathering. My cousin was brought up in Japan, me in Brazil, and yet we have both ended up settling in the Midwest and becoming a part of large connected families. She has 11 children and I don't know how many grandchildren. Only as we are leaving do I realize that one guest at the table is not a relative, but just someone who needed a home and the family have taken in.

We then move on to the second reason for our trip, a visit to my aunt who lives with Alzheimer's in a home in Pipestone, MN. She ignores us and our awkwardness as we sit round a table in the lounge.  We make small talk and try to remember the great lady we knew and loved. Then another resident rolls up, deaf as a doorknob, and starts up a conversation.  My uncle tries to introduce us and the lady replies, "No, thanks, I've already had a cupcake today." I look over at my aunt and she is smiling.  The visitor continues to ramble on, "I'm down to three sodas at a time, and I have them all in the fridge in packs of  three, but someone keeps taking them." I look at my aunt and she replies, "I didn't take them!" She is laughing now. We watch another resident scoot into a room and be chased out by the staff.  "He's always coming into my room.  I just push him out because everyone here is busy." My aunt slaps the table, "I just give him a smack!" And suddenly she was back to her old self gossiping about the other residents and laughing with us at their strange antics. She couldn't remember her own children, but she certainly knew the going's on of the home where she lived.

We couldn't leave Pipestone without a quick visit to the Pipestone National Monument.  I don't know what I expected.... towering rock, carved memorial perhaps.  Instead we found an area of grassland and a visitor center about to close. The gift shop was still open and we saw a collection of beautifully carved peace pipes out of the red clay rock. I know now that this is a sacred place reserved as a quarry for several tribes from the area. The pipes made from this stone have special significance and meaning. But there is not much to see. Maybe if I took a hike I could find more that was photo-worthy.
I left my mother resting in the shade while I took a quick outing onto the prairie. Looking down into a hole I saw a floor of exquisite mottled red rock.  All around the hole the prairie spread with grasses and wild flowers.  I identified wild sage and milkweed.  Above me the swallows flew across the expansive sky.  I felt a lightness that comes from being in wide open spaces on a beautiful day.

It was hard to turn away and get into a hot car.  My family has roots and branches in England, Japan and Brazil, yet we have come to settle on the prairie, far from the crowded cities we once lived in.  And when I spend time with my family I find we don't spend much time reminiscing about our past, but revel in the present.  We appreciate family, celebrate a new birth and follow each other's achievements. My aunt kept saying, "I'm just so thankful..."  It is one thing to be thankful of what life has been, but it is what surrounds her now that makes her smile. We are here... let's celebrate just being here and take the time to enjoy what surrounds us.

Mystery Aboard the Pelican Breeze

I have just returned from a cruise on the Pelican Breeze II.  It was touch and go whether we would go because of the rainy weather.  When we made enquiries, the organizer said the boat was full, but we should show up any way.  So we arrived on the shores of Albert Lea Lake armed with umbrellas and seat cushions for the chance of traveling the shore line with local celebrity,  Al Batt.  Now Albert Lea is not much of a tourist destination, but Al Batt was bent on helping us see how fortunate we were to have ended up here on a rainy afternoon. 
To his credit, we did see lots of pelicans, and get answers to why some seem to have knobby beaks. This "horn" is a growth that comes with

age and indicates that a bird is ready to mate.  Al Batt likened it to "pimples in teenagers who are ready for a meaningful relationship."  We also saw cormorants and herons while learning about the history of Albert Lea.  Apparently he was a confederate lieutenant who helped map the area.  Yes, Albert Lea is named after a confederate! When some questioned this there was a lame attempt made to change the name to Elyssa Lake, but not enough people were bothered.  Nether were they bothered by the meat packaging plant dumping into the lake, until a certain individual pulled a carcass from the lake and brought it to a board meeting.  After that there was an effort made to clean up the lake and Myra Big Island State  Park was created.

It was not long after starting the cruise that we noticed a large number of floating blobs in the water. We were curious as to what they were and speculated them to be some sort of snail.  By far the main attraction became another party aboard the boat.  They consisted of several young couples, very young children and grandparents. My first assumption was that they were European because they were drinking wine and the children were dressed in button down shirts and socks and sandals.  They certainly didn't fit in with the rest of the crowd of 60+ couples with binoculars.  The grandfather started pacing the boat with a cherub of a baby girl.  Various parents walked their toddlers down to view the

paddles and engine room.  They were eating Oreos and talking loudly.  As the cruise continued their faces got rosier and their children louder. Al Batt, being the professional that he is, didn't miss a beat, continued with his commentary and answered questions from the rest of us who were trying our best to show that we were listening even if the family in the bow was not.
We asked about the snails to which he responded that they were Japanese Mystery Snails, dumped into the lake by aquarium lovers and whose population is growing rapidly.  The name "Mystery Snail" intrigued me as much as the possible reason why a tourist family might have found themselves aboard a Midwest cruise for golden oldies. Both are a mystery.  No one knows how this snail came to inhabit and abound in the lake waters of Albert Lea, MN, just as I will never know why a wine-drinking, smart-dressing, young stylish family found themselves aboard the Pelican Breeze II in Albert Lea, Minnesota.

Turtle Wine

If the idea of turtle wine is not appealing... bear with me.  It all started with the need to do some drastic yard work.  An old tree house and apple tree needed removing. Even though these were part of my sons' early childhood, I had no sentimental attachment.  However, Jon's idea of reusing the wood to make a grape vine trellis and choosing a new tree together appealed to me. We are, after all, becoming our parents.... or starting to think like them.  Instead of hiring out the job and having a tree delivered, Jon decided he could do the job himself.  And I had visions of landscaping the back yard to accommodate a European courtyard and herb garden. At our age we like to think we can still make a difference, and as I write this Jon is outside tackling the problematic trellis.

With Father's Day approaching I purchased a river birch and made arrangements for it to be picked up by my son as a present for Jon.  Meanwhile Jon struck a rock while digging a post hole for the trellis. There was no budging the rock, so the whole operation was stalled. There is little that stalls the Jahnke family, and they are always on the lookout for a new project.  That showed up in the form of a huge snapping turtle killed (?) while crossing the road in Alden.  It met its demise while being flattened on the highway (who runs over a huge turtle and doesn't stop??) and was splayed across the road surround by what my son described as 'eye balls'.  They turned out to be its eggs.  Someone needed to clear it up and give it a decent burial, and, you guessed it, that someone was Jon Jahnke.  With the unwilling help of Ben, it was scooped into a garbage bag and brought home in a garbage bag... still twitching. I suggested the trash can, but Jon had other plans for the beast.

While waiting for the tree to arrive, the extended family wandered over to our house on bikes, golf carts and truck.  The party consisted of grandfather, great aunts, sister and brother-in-law, cousins and brothers, all looking for something to do.  We inspected the rock in the hole and discussion began on how to move it.  We found shovels and excavated the spot, finding old milk bottles and a huge rock.  This necessitated a tractor, chains and a whole host of family yelling.  The rock came out leaving a huge hole.  The original plan for the turtle was to be buried beneath the new birch tree, following the age old tradition of using dead fish as fertilization.  But since the the tree hadn't arrive, the turtle was ceremoniously  dumped into to the hole left by the rock under the trellis for the vine.  It was buried with its shell and eggs, with the hope that the grapes would benefit from the decomposing body.  If the vine does yield enough grapes to make wine, it will be due to the turtle and therefore will be known as Turtle Wine.
As to the birch, it did arrive and was planted by three generations of fathers and sons, and will hopefully be around to bring joy to grandsons.

Savoring Summer

Even for those of you who are not teachers, you will know that feeling of the first day of summer.  School's out, the garden planted, final parties attended.... so I have nothing I must do.  As if to stress my point, the temperature has gone from 40 to 80 overnight. Everyone is wearing shorts, even those who shouldn't. 
Today I awake without the usual alarm and take my time making coffee.  It takes me a while to find some shorts that fit, but then I go out into the garden.  I call it weeding, but I am really just putzing around and taking note of what is growing. I relocate some sunflowers, cut back some lilies that are crowding the sedum, marvel at the peonies just coming to bloom, and take mental notes on what could be done to improve an ugly corner of the yard.  There really isn't anything to do but watch my garden grow, and I take long breaks with a cool drink on the patio. 

I watch the hawks, and the wrens nesting in the bird house, and discover some poppies have decided to bloom in a wild patch of my neighbors lawn.  I walk over to take a picture and decide that there is so much more to document on this first day of summer.  The chives and thyme are flowering along side the irises.  The daisies have multiplied since I planted them last year and the Purple Dragon lamium is threatening to take over the bed. Many a proper gardener would tell me to rip it all out and start again, but I enjoy the riotous intertwining of color and shape. 
Jon took his motor cycle to work today, explaining that he would leave me the car so I could do some need grocery shopping.  So I reluctantly changed out of my shorts, but didn't bother to clean the garden soil from my feet.  I dug around to find my sunglasses and drove into town. 

The fields are just about to turn green and the water has finally receded.  I find myself behind a man towing a fishing boat and don't try to overtake.  At one house I pass there is a woman lying in the grass playing with her dog, enjoying the sunshine.  There are several garage sales; one seems to be selling nothing but mounted moose and deer antlers. 
I pick up ingredients for grilling out and munchies to go with a cool glass of wine on the patio. At the last minute I throw in marshmallows and chocolate for 'smores', remembering that I had just thrown out a year old bag of last years marshmallows.  On the way home I had to stop for pizza that was being advertised by a slightly overweight and uncomfortable girl holding a sign.  I figured that if someone was unlucky enough to have this job, then the least I could do was by a large NY style for $8.  Pulling away I was distracted by the boat full of swimmers on the lake and nearly backing into a grandmother biking in to have coffee.  Everyone is out today.

Arriving home I found it uncomfortably hot.  I pulled rhubarb from the garden then shut myself in to a cooling house.  I made myself a fresh cup of coffee while chopping the rhubarb to mix with strawberries for a crumbly cobbler.  The coffee slows down the process but makes it more enjoyable.  I am learning to slow down in summer to make the season more enjoyable.  There was a time when I felt the precious days of summer had to be taken by storm, seized and squeezed to provide the most  of unusual experiences.  The days would soon fill up with traveling, visiting, learning, building and exercising.  Then when someone said, "What did you do this summer?" I could bring out the photos and wow them with all the different events and places.  Now I look forward to a stay-cation where I can smell the flowers and use the herbs from my garden in my cooking.

I find a note taped to my back door:

"Ann and John, we will be gone from late today until Mon early afternoon.  

If you want it, please pick the asparagus from our garden. Thanx".

I am pleased that my neighbors think of me when they take off.  I will enjoy the asparagus on the grill and a summer at home.

Disappointment and Hawk Watching

Last weekend I was in the MN Arboretum Japanese garden watching people take selfies, this weekend I am in my garden hawk watching. Our bird feeders are full, and all winter we have had cardinals and blue jays competing with the squirrels for a meal.  The spring brought robins, gold finches, orioles and a pair of indigo bunting... and the hawks. They nested in the highest tree and made our backyard their hunting ground, swooping down on the birds at the feeder.  The wary birds started to go elsewhere.  Once bitten, twice shy.
Spring isn't all new found joy and long-expected pleasure.  There are those disappointments as well, that, like the hawks threaten to take away my new found joy. 

The grapes we planted last summer didn't look like they had survived the winter.  I was surprised to see new shoots and leaves and started to dream of lush bunches of grapes.  This morning I noticed the new shoots of one vine stripped bare.  The rabbits have attacked without mercy. 
I couldn't get my irises to bloom last year.  I weeded around them, giving them more sunlight.  After days of careful inspection I finally noticed some buds.  The next day I found one broken off, lying on the ground.  I now have it blooming in a jar on my window ledge, so all is not lost. 
My crab apple trees bloomed just in time for a spring storm to strip its blossoms. The coleus I planted too early in my pots has died.  And although I'm nursing my last year's lavender, I don't see much new growth.  There are other plants that have not come back and seeds that didn't sprout.
Disappointments, like trials, are said to make us stronger.  I disagree.  They make me sad, hopeless and less likely to try again.  With each disappointment I sink lower, become introverted, more blind to all the good out there.  I mourn one grape vine, and ignore the other six that are flourishing despite the rabbits.  I water the broken iris

stem and stop visiting the plant outdoors to find blooms there.  I give up on trying to grow morning glory from seed and miss all the sunflowers that took its place. 
Now, when out of the blue, I come across the extraordinary, which takes my breath away, I take a step back.  It is temporary, and will be taken away with the first wind of disappointment, like a house intricately woven of sticks blown down by the big bad wolf of life.  The trick is knowing how to dream up a stick structure with its inevitable collapse just around the corner. How to handle the offer of a new and golden opportunity knowing that it will likely come to nothing?  How do we live in the moment and enjoy the expectation of a gift that we know will be taken away? How do you get past a death, a loss, or an unfulfilled dream?  I don't know, I'm working on it right now.  Writing....