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Post Marathon Thoughts

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It has been an overwhelming, scary, intense six days here in Boston. I don’t have any overarching conclusions about terrorism hitting a community I love. I do have a few random thoughts.

1.                  I had forgotten that horrible sense of threat and fear that lived in my heart and belly during 9/11. It forcefully comes back as if it never went away, especially since one of our daughters lives in the neighborhood that was bombed. She just happened to change plans for a late lunch near the finish line Monday and headed to the South End instead. I’m still living with the “what if” scenario in my head.

2.                  We unplugged and removed the TV almost a year ago. All of our news now comes through the internet. That demands lots of reading from different sources and hearing multiple points of view about these horrid events. I do appreciate not having to hear mindless talking heads fill space on the airwaves. It is, however, difficult to knit or quilt while reading, clicking and scrolling down page after page.

3.                  It’s hard to sleep with this turbulence. Lack of sleep makes coherent thinking and any kind of peace difficult to attain. It is far too easy to slip into the general malaise of sadness and anger.

4.                  Keeping in touch with my loved ones via phone, texting, IMing and extended conversations with my hubby are crucial.

5.                  I realize that I can’t change what bad people are going to do to others, but I can take a refresher First Aid course, so I can be more useful if I’m in any one of the awful situations we’ve seen in the past week.

6.                  Giving blood is something else I can do regularly. It’s a gift that keeps on giving. It puts my focus on “life” not fear.

7.                  I have a renewed appreciation and respect for the first responders, law enforcement, and hospital staff. I need to find a way to do something to show that appreciation.

8.                  A woman in line at a store here in Falmouth said she was going to increase the number of Random Acts of Kindness she performs daily—just to try to even the scales a bit. Not a bad idea.

Now it’s time to try to learn something from all this chaos, but also time to move on and to make the most of this gorgeous Sunday. We’re going to take a walk through Spohr’s Gardens and see all of the daffodils in bloom and then hit the bike path along the water.  That’s what I need right now. Hope you and yours are safe, sound, and on the mend.

Spohr's Gardens

Spohr’s Gardens

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Better than PeptoBismol

Fiddleheads

Fiddleheads

Feeding It, Not Eating It

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My head was down, sewing like a madwoman, with threads all over and my eyes on the line my machine was supposed to follow. It was actually quite blissful. At the end of a stretch I saw a head bobbing up and down outside of my studio window. There was a beak, bead-like eyes and a skinny, feathered neck.

Curiosity

Curiosity

This bobbing creature fearlessly came to the window and looked in. We met, eye to eye, and she won the stare down. My sewing fell to the side, and I just had to check out this very confident animal.

It looked bigger than a chicken, nothing like a seagull, a different shape than a crow. I don’t know the names of birds, so I snapped a few photographs of this curious buddy and figured someone on Facebook would know. Maybe a pheasant? Maybe a rooster—no it didn’t have that wobbly gobble thing under its chin.

I wanted to yell upstairs to David to check out this cool sighting, but didn’t want to make noise and scare the poor bird. So I did what every person living in 2013 would do… I sent him an IM and a text message: “Check out the fucking huge bird outside my window”.

Never saw one of these before.

Never saw one of these before.

Big Bird moved from window to window all around the house, stopping to eat nibbles on the ground, and always looking our way to see what we were doing. Bella, our cat, followed inside from window to window; she was quite cautious. Her tail twitched, but no noises were made. This bird was at least three times her size. She knows her place in the universe, but she still had to watch. At times, she’d get overwhelmed and want to be held, with her face pushed in my arm pit (ugh!).

WatchCat

WatchCat

The bird spent most of her time under the bird feeder picking up the leftover goodies. She also ate all of the cranberries I tossed out after Christmas. Quite contented, she ate, and we gawked. David, who is far more quiet than I, slipped out the front door and got two feet away from our feathered friend. He was thinking Jurassic Park…they can’t see me if I don’t move. Snap, Snap,Snap… good pictures!!! Yes!!!!

Birdman

Birdman

Over the course of the next twenty minutes, this gorgeous bird, with all shades of rich brown feathers, explored our front yard. She walked on the stone path, across the dirt and checked out all of the transplanted bushes. Basically, she made her self at home. She even made a huge poop on the front walk…a housewarming gift?

After posting the pix on Facebook, there was feedback. My daughters both responded with awe and interest. Molly identified the guest as a wild female turkey. Both kids thought she was a beauty.

Someone else suggested that if I had a rifle, I could have a great meal, a trophy, and a really interesting blog post to write. I responded that I would be feeding this bird, not eating it. The thought of killing this animal and eating it never crossed my mind. Actually, I was quite grossed out by the comment. The suggestion seemed so wrong, so out of place for something so interesting and very much alive in my front yard. Others posted warnings that wild turkeys can be very aggressive, and I ought to be careful. Maybe they’re only aggressive to people who have rifles.

Wild Turkey Mama Meets Stone Mama

Wild Turkey Mama Meets Stone Mama

The best news was that my friend Katy suggested that this mama turkey might have babies nearby… a whole new generation of these beauties. I will look in earnest, but disturb nothing. Seeing the mama and the babies would be quite a gift. In the meantime, I’ll toss out birdseed and hope everyone else enjoys her as much as I do, poop and all.

Reboot

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Snowdrops, no snow.

One of the joys of living in New England is that we really have seasons—and there are discernible changes that I look forward to every three months. Spring is starting to happen here at the Cape. At first, it’s the small, quiet changes; sunlight enters our bedroom at a different angle and follows us on our daily walk to the beach.

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Bikepath/Surf Drive

The wind blows hard all winter and now it’s lessening, giving the birds a chance to hang on to the limbs and sing a bit. There is a morning chorus starting, and we’re hearing familiar voices. I’ve put out a stash of short scraps of leftover yarn for their nest building. It’s a kick to look up in the trees and see yarn from the sweater I just finished knitting.  Bella, the cat, has renewed interest in standing guard on the window ledge with eyes glued to the bird feeder. “They’re back”, she hollers. Lucky for the birds, she’s an indoor only cat.

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Little Bobo and Butterball

Kittens are starting to arrive at the shelter, just a few; the season is only beginning. They’re so tiny, with little meows and awkward, wobbly movements… and soft, baby fur. There are unbelievably fun to watch and even better to hold and cuddle.

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White Birch- wish there were more.

Trees are still quite grey, but the green bushes are full of plump buds just waiting to show some color. I’m always tempted to clip a few branches and “force” them to bloom inside, but never do because I don’t want to rob the outdoors.

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Rhodos had a hard winter.

The best part for me is seeing some action from the bulbs planted the previous fall. At first, it’s just green nubs barely pushing their way through the dirt. A few days later, it’s more rubbery green leaves, and I hold my breath that we don’t have snow or frost.  Just today the first daffodil bud is standing strong and waiting to open.

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This seasonal stuff gives me the incentive to reboot myself. I get motivation that is often reserved for New Years or back to school. I love the smell of the air, the new night sky, and the excitement that Spring brings. It doesn’t last long, but just enough to savor it and enjoy all the optimism. For me, it will also mean taking my first yoga class, planting lettuce and morning glories in peat pots, rediscovering an old favorite cookbook and starting to knit a new, lighter weight sweater. All good stuff.

Just a hint of color

Just a hint of color.

2/26/13 Morning Walk to the Beach

Stone Folk

Stone Folk

Today’s morning walk is distinctively different.  New birds are singing new tunes. Change is in the air. There’s still some leftover snow around the yard, but not much elsewhere.

Sippewissett Marsh

Sippewissett Marsh

The marsh is no longer frozen, and the tall grasses are cut down by the blizzard’s wind.

 

Blue Heaven

Blue Heaven

The creek is more blue than ever. Before long there will be beach chairs, towels, and little ones looking for hermit crabs.

Forsythia Buds

Forsythia Buds

And as my wonderful Dad would say, “The forsythias are forsythiating.” Spring is starting to unwind at the Cape.

 

Off Season, Still Prime

Board Stiff, P'town

Board Stiff, P’town

A day trip to the Outer Cape this week is significantly differently than one in prime tourist season. No, there were no half-naked people shopping or musicians in nooks and crannies…but it was, nonetheless, a satisfying jaunt.

Town Hall Front Door

Town Hall Front Door

The drive from Falmouth to P’town took only 80 minutes—no traffic. We got a parking space easily, just off Commercial Street. Needless to say, there were no crowds.

Commercial Street

Commercial Street

Most stores were closed for the season, so instead of looking for merchandise, I scoped out the architecture, the sky and the sea. What went unnoticed amongst the throngs had a chance to be in the February spotlight.

P'town East Side

P’town East Side

The beaches were empty, quiet and peaceful. The reflecting light was addictive. It’s time like this I wish I could paint. While hunting for an open restaurant, we stumbled upon two fabulous garage door paintings… too bad we don’t have a garage at the Cape! IMG_2065

Who cares about finding a restaurant when you find these two beauties?

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The homes of all year residents stood out with winter window boxes, icy wreaths and recycling/trash tied in neat bundles, almost like presents. Tradesmen trucks were abundant as off-season renovations were underway. It was very, very quiet.

Marconi Cold

Marconi Cold

Our next stop was Marconi Station and the Great Atlantic Cedar Swamp in Wellfleet. This is one of our all time favorites during the warmer months, and we had never been there in winter. It was sound asleep, and trees sounded like old bones creaking.

Crisp Ruffled Edge

Crisp Ruffled Edge

The wind had a sharp, cold edge, and the crashing waves left a white ruffle as far as the eye could see down the shoreline. A brisk walk ended up being very brisk and very short. My face hurt from the cold.

Outdoors and Indoors

Outdoors and Indoors

The scenic route home found us meandering on Route 6A instead of the more trafficked highway. There was time to scout out the geography as well as local commerce.  One previously overlooked gem in Yarmouth Port is Parnassus Book Service, a large, used bookstore, staffed by very smart, well-read folks. More than sixty years ago, the building had been a general store; now, it’s stacked from floor to decorative ceiling with the most eclectic selection of titles.

Words Floor to Ceiling

Words Floor to Ceiling

Neither my husband nor myself could figure out how these books were organized, but that really didn’t matter. To be in the presence of all these pages was a gift. We bought two books: Louise Hall Tharp’s Mrs. Jack (a biography of Isabella Stewart Gardner) and  The Great Rehearsal by Carl Van Doren(The story of the making and ratifying of the Constitution of the United States). When I’m in a unique store that’s new to me, I always ask, “What should I not leave without buying here today?” I do this in cheese shops, wine and yarns stores and am seldom disappointed. These were the two books I was told I had to get— I’ll start them next week. I’ll go back to Parnassus again and again and again.  What a find!

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Hunger finally set in as it neared 2 pm. We passed restaurant called “The Optimist Café”—my kind of place—but with no cars in the parking lot, I turned pessimist.

Then we found two cafes open in Barnstable. One was a fancier restaurant with more than its share of upscale cars in the lot. The other was The Blue Plate Diner. The diner was friendly, the menu was tempting, service was terrific, and I just wish I had room for the homemade blueberry pie. I’m so glad that we stopped there.

Yummy find

Yummy find

I guess this trip taught me that slowing down and having less to distract me has its advantages. This same route in July would have yielded a very different experience. Both have merit and both are needed. It’s sort of a ying/yang rhythm that keeps one in balance.  I can’t wait to see it all again in the Spring.

WoodNeck Beach 1/2013

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Anticipation

It was a day at WoodNeck Beach almost thirty years ago that caused us to buy our home here. The beach has a great children’s area with a creek that feeds into a lush marsh. Our girls grew up learning about horseshoe and hermit crabs first hand. The rest of the shore is rocky enough to keep throngs of tourists away, and sandy enough to go swimming and bask in the sun. It has always been a place that I’m drawn to… all seasons, all weather, all the time.

Last week we took some photos that capture WoodNeck’s essence on a January day. It never disappoints me. Click on the photos to zoom in.

Sippewissett

Little Sippewissett Marsh

Just a splash of red...

Just a splash of red…

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Wampum

Tide lines and footprints

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Underwater discoveries

Sandbar

Centered and rejuvenated…again.

Falmouth Winter Farmer’s Market

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Falmouth holds an indoor Winter Farmer’s Market at the Mahoney Garden Center. It’s such a smart idea. There are several tables filled with an assortment of home grown or hand made goodies: everything from jams, chutney, baked goods, truffles, fruits, local veggies, wine, glass blowing, honey. I didn’t photograph that stuff.

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A huge bonus is that it’s held in a gorgeous garden center, complete with exquisite flowers in bloom, all types of greenery and that wonderful earthy smell. It was intoxicating!

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I did purchase organic, homemade dog biscuits for a friend’s pooches– bacon and liver, no preservatives. They look like Italian biscotti… and I’m soooo tempted to take a bite, but I won’t. The cranberry chutney also spoke to me and came home with us. The woman who made it had an entire table of preserves and pickled goodness…. and strawberry truffles. Ah!!!!IMG_1302

The Farmer’s Market was worth the visit, but the gorgeous cyclamen and orchids on display made my day. It’s a blast of sensuous color much needed on a gray, somewhat rainy Saturday.

Even the kale was pretty!

Even the kale was pretty!

Surf Stroll January 5, 2013

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Today’s walk was delightfully springlike, and I didn’t complain a bit…

Bird, foot, and snow prints

Bird, foot, and snow prints

A little foam and stone

A little foam and stone

Some crashing and splashing

Some crashing and splashing

Treasure hunt interrupts aerobic exercise

Treasure hunt interrupts aerobic exercise

I love being a beach bum.

I love being a beach bum.

2013: Chunk it

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Surf Drive New Year's Eve

Surf Drive New Year’s Eve

Sorry to disappoint you, but there won’t be a long list of witty New Year’s resolutions for 2013. The big Catholic school master list with master rules just isn’t my style; it never really worked for me.

I’m a firm believer in “chunking” a huge task into bite size pieces, so that’s what I’m going to do with my resolutions. Instead of making a yearlong commitment to be perfect, I’m going to look at what I really want and possibly might really be able to accomplish just in the month of January. At the end of the month I’ll reevaluate and take it from there. I’m capable, right???

So, here’s the game plan for January:

  1. Exercise every single day; our 45 minute brisk walk has been an antidote to a host of problems. If the weather is truly (note the word  “true” is in truly) inclement, the elliptical and several interesting podcasts are waiting for me.
  2. Buy nothing except essentials food, medical stuff, utilities. Less is more, and abide by the “Need it, Use it, Love it” rule. Minimalism rocks.
  3. Do something creative every single day.
  4. Do some random act of kindness every single day.
  5. Read a book a week:  on the schedule are

The Art of Hearing Heartbeats (Jan-Phillip Sendker),

Satan in Goray (Singer),

Candy Freak (Almond),

In Sunlight and In Shadow (Helprin)

  1. Knit one fabulous warm sweater for me
  2. Knit one pair of mittens and socks for me
  3. Knit one heavy weight shawl for me. (Notice a trend here…)
  4. Don’t take anything personally—behave like Teflon, nothing sticks.
  5. De-clutter my studio (Ok, at least begin the process).
  6. Reevaluate this process in late January and make a plan for February.
  7. Is this a short list? (Yes, last year’s was 174. Really, no kidding, sick))

Wish me luck, and I wish you the best year ever!  Happy 2013.

 

 

 

Christmas Memories

I love Christmas. Making the presents, wrapping them, putting them under the tree that is loaded with ornaments that track our family’s history—it makes me obnoxiously happy. We’re together to relax, celebrate, retell stories, and laugh.

Each year we try not to overdo the excessive buying aspect of the celebration. We don’t always succeed, but this year we’re behaving well. Each present is something we thought about before slapping down the credit card or clicking the “submit” button online. There’s hand knitted socks, hats, blanket, shawls and mittens; the folks who wanted hats, got hats—I didn’t mess around. Each knitted project also served a purpose for me; I made it a point to learn something from each present. Perhaps it was a new technique, a new yarn, a new design… each one kept me engaged and taught me something in addition to the joy of giving.

If the presents under the tree aren’t made of fiber, they’re probably books. Throughout the year, I keep my eyes open for titles that I think my loved ones might enjoy. Could be a book of walking tours through their new neighborhood or cookbooks that are unusual or something they might have mentioned, but haven’t bought for themselves. I like how this practice keeps Christmas alive throughout the year.

One of the most fun parts of the celebration is stuffing everybody’s stocking with little goodies: a favorite candy (not a whole bag!), some cool spices from Trader Joe’s, a handmade bar of soap or moisturizer and something funny that they’re not expecting (no clues given here now!) We’ve got the same stockings that the kids had growing up—and David’s stocking from when he was a young boy—ironically it’s knitted and has his name knitted around the cuff.

The tree is up, fully lighted, but won’t be fully decorated until our daughters arrive. That’s just something we do together. We all gloat over our favorite ornaments, and you can hear “I remember this one”… over and over again. There’s Christmas music in the background, but not the regular stuff. David has collected CD’s that really mark our season: Charlie Brown, the Canadian Brass albums, Dave Bruebeck’s Christmas album and many more.

This year all three women will be cooking together in the kitchen; it will be a menu that satisfies all of us, regardless of allergies, gluten intolerances, vegan regs, paleo regs, and Mom trying to lose weight. Per Tim Gunn, “We make it work” and it’s joyful. Every once in a while we find a recipe that all of us can eat, like zucchini noodles, and then we get really happy.

Lots of good, old memories get stirred up this time of year. I appreciate remembering them and having them come alive once more. When I was a kid, my dad was Santa at the church fair. He rode around town on the fire truck and then sat for hours in a throne like chair in the school auditorium while long lines of nervous children waited to sit on his lap and tell him their wishes. He was the absolute best Santa in the world: he listened, smiled, laughed, and looked soooo real. I have a photo of me sitting on his lap completely unaware that it was my dad. It’s one of my favorites. He made my childhood Christmas full of wonder and love.

Another standout memory is how every Christmas Eve, I’d hear sleigh bells and thumping on the roof. My heart would beat a million miles an hour, and I’d pretend to be sound asleep, just like Santa expected. Years later, I learned that it was Papa Louie Andiorio who did the honors every year. That was one of the many memories I have of that special man.

This Christmas, there mostly likely won’t be snow here at the Cape, and I probably won’t see Santa at the mall, but I will look for him in the sky and listen for reindeer hooves on the roof knowing that David’s probably throwing the pebbles. Merry Christmas to all.