April 23 was a good day in my corner of the world. Nothing earth shattering happened. The day was a slow laid back, just this side of awesome, kind of day. It was time to finally enjoy a little sunshine, fresh air and get our yard mowed for the second time this year. Of course, two days of forecasted rain begins tonight. I can almost hear the grass laugh as it plots to grow as fast as the dandelions.
Tommy and I drove to town early, to once again stock up on groceries. While we were there, Tommy bought me a bouquet of flowers...multicolor daisies. I placed them in a vase in front of the living room window. My favorite gifts are things I do not ask for.
Once the groceries were put away we decided to mow. We have a huge yard and finished in record time. The trim work isn't finished and probably won't be today. Both of us are a little on the tired side. Neither one of us like to use the weed eater. I usually pretend I can't get it started. Sometimes that excuse works, sometimes it doesn't.
This is just a portion of the backyard leading out to the pond. I would like to have the pond drained and doubled in size. We have had this plan for thirty years . . . not sure this will ever happen.
After mowing, we sat in the backyard trying to decide what to do about dinner. Since neither of us wanted to cook, we decided to go to a little bar and restaurant at Portland to dine on fish sandwiches, onion rings and beer. The bar is usually dark and fairly quiet. The food is good and the beer is better. It is within walking distance of the Missouri River. ..another plus.
While we were making plans, I sat down in the yard to play with our dogs. I wanted a good picture of Sandy, our yellow lab, and me. She is getting so old, it hurts me to watch her walk at times. She will be fourteen years old in June. I hate the thought of losing her.
This photo didn't get it. Neither did the one taken when both dogs knocked me flat on my back...and then tried to roll me in the damp grass. In the photo below. . . we all walked away laughing. No family shots taken today!
After Tommy and I cleaned up we drove to Portland. We both wanted to see the river as much as we wanted to eat.
As always, everything was delicious. . . messy but delicious. After eating we drove down to the river and I took a few photos. Springtime was captured in the midst of an evening show. The water was pretty, fairly clear and almost quiet. Not one tree silently sailed underneath the river water, racing by at forty miles an hour, to erupt in front of unsuspecting fishermen, or me. The river has been known to rip a hidden tree out of the water... hurl it into the air, and suck it back down with an appetite from Hell. It startles me, scares me and always fascinates me with the force it shows.
The dogwood trees are hidden in the woods along the banks of the river. Their bright white colors shocking amid the dark overgrown forest.
We drove home satisfied and content. The rolling hills looked as lovely returning home; as they did on our trip down to the river. It would be a fairly early evening for us. . . between the mowing, the fish platter, the beer and the river, we were more than relaxed. We arrived home about thirty minutes later. I walked to the back yard to admire our hard work once more and this is what I saw . . . missed dandelions. I will worry about that tomorrow. Mother Nature usually gets the last laugh making her presence known to us in various ways. She knows we can rearrange her appearance for a time. She also knows she will be back with a stubborn vengeance. Mother Nature was here first.
I love to read. It is by far my favorite hobby. Writing has become my favorite passion. My imagination has free reign when I write. I often tread on unholy ground. I am surprised when something startling and dark happens. It surprises me that I enjoy writing that flow of thought. It is far from my normal life. The short story I am currently working on is not even remotely normal or true; for that I am thankful. It is an awkward story to write and at times borders on emotional stress. It is dark, a little freaky and far from normal. I can live with that.
At the beginning of the week I read, "Four Days with Hemingway's Ghost" written my Tom Winton. From the first page I was hooked on the book. I did not want to put it down until I was finished. Life doesn't play fair and I had to interact with humans and play nice, until I was able to get back to reading the book. All too soon the book was finished. I sat there in my favorite blue recliner, sipping coffee and in complete silence thinking about the book I had just read. I revisited my favorite lines. Conjured up imagines of scenes as I remembered them. When Ernest Hemingway spoke it was Sean Connery's voice I heard. I knew it wasn't true. Hemingway was American however the voice fit in my imagination.
I ordered several books written by Tom Winton and one by Tim Winton. Needless to say Tim's book was a mistake. Amazon was kind enough to let me delete the book before they had finished processing my order.
It will probably be another week before I begin reading a new book. The one I have picked out is entitled "The Last American Martyr" by you guessed it Tom Winton.
When an exceptionally good book grabs hold of my imagination, it takes awhile before I am ready to replace the memories with another story. I want to ruminate on the story line. Ponder the plot and simmer in all the emotions the book caused me to experience.
Eventually, I move on to another book. I never forget how the author trapped my imagination for an extended period of time.
I will forever be on the lookout for books written by Tom Winton. The same way I buy every Pat Conroy, Margaret Atwood, Jodi Picoult, Amy Tan ( I do wish she wrote faster), Wally Lamb, Anita Shreve, Stephen King and Gillian Flynn. They are staples in my home. I know when those authors write a book...it is a keeper.
It is the same way with all the new authors T.K. Carter, Misty Watts, and Jefferson Banks. I follow their careers and enjoy their books. Just waiting for the day when I can say...'I knew them when...'.
The photo to the left was taken last year. Tommy fed the hummingbirds while I was in Florida. As a rule, I have eight full feeders out by the middle of May. The male scouts arrive by the 10th of April. Followed closely by the females a few weeks later. They mate, sit on their nests and have a whole new crop of babies in about three weeks.
Since our home is surrounded by a thick woods and plenty of watering holes, it is a perfect place for hummingbirds to congregate. Until this past fall, a huge maple tree lived about twenty feet from our house. The hummingbirds loved our set up. They could sit in the tree while guarding their feeders. That tree supplied them with shade and a vantage point the little antisocial birds needed. If too many hummingbirds were enjoying their feeder, they would leave the tree to wage war on the unsuspecting visitors. They fought all day long...I loved it. The only time of day when these little emotionally unstable birds were compliant with each other, happened about an hour before dark. Instinctively the hummingbirds knew they had to share their food source then. Each bird would drink enough to last until morning, when the war began again.
However, their maple tree had to be cut down last fall. When the scouts arrived this year...their tree was gone. The birds were not happy at all. Very few scouts have stuck around my front windows like they have in the past. I have one bird that graces my living room window feeders daily. He isn't very eager to be here...it is mostly a hit or miss drive by. He rarely visits any length of time in the evening.
There are still a few weeks for them to arrive in force. A few birds will drop by but I am not so sure about the rest. They are creatures of habit who rely on their instincts and past experiences. For the past twenty years, they have counted on Tom and Vicky's Place to spend the summer. This year it is not as accommodating as it has been in the past. Their habitat has been disturbed and frankly they do not like what they are seeing right now.
Time will tell the outcome. Today I am in a 'half empty mindset', and I really have my doubts...but I am wrong a lot. Hope this is another occasion when I am indeed wrong. Geez, never thought I would write those words!
Percy Sledge died yesterday. With his death another piece of the puzzle called our life took its final place.
It was 1966, Tommy and I were beginning to fall in love with each other. It was a long, slow process; filled with all sorts of obstacles. Neither of us were ready, by any means, to fall in love. That fact did not stop one thing. Like most head on collisions it was unavoidable, so was our fate. Sooner or later, we were meant to be together.
As teenagers Tommy and I danced many times to Percy Sledge's song, "When a Man Loves a Woman". It was really 'our song', however in hindsight, the song was about a woman who broke her man's heart when she left him for someone else...like that would ever happen. At the time it was the words 'when a man loves a woman' that had us from the first time we heard it. Even today when we hear it on the radio, we look at each other and smile. One of us will say, "Do you remember that?" and the other one will grin and say "Of course I do". On more than one occasion we have stopped what we were doing and danced to the old memories. I wish we did this more often.
We went to prom together that year. I was 17 and he was 18. I wore the prettiest white gown. When Tommy walked me out to his car he said, "You look beautiful...like a bride". I smiled thinking, 'keep that thought'...and he did. Things went along good until it was time for school to start in the fall. We were going into our senior year. My life at home was rocky at best. My father made it impossible for me to even want to date. I would be ready to puke before Tommy came to pick me up. It was easier to break up and hope things would work out for us later, than it was to walk out my front door and spend an evening with Tommy...then come back home.
We needed to be apart. We both needed to grow up. He wanted to join the Marines and I wanted to go to college. We both got what we wanted. It would be two years before we saw or spoke to each other. When we did we were 20 and 21 and no one could stop us then. Tommy called me one evening when he was in on leave from the Marine Corps. We went out that night. I think it was July, we went to the fair in Union City and never went inside the gates. We talked for hours. We were married six months later on December 26,1969. We lived a good love story.
Early this morning I listened to Percy Sledge, once again, sing some of my favorite memories. "Warm and Tender Love" and "When a Man Loves a Woman". Percy Sledge pretty much sang our unwritten lives at that time. In fact, I could write our life together in song titles. There was always at least one song that nailed what was going on in our lives.
Music can be a universal lover, filling in the blanks of an ordinary life, soothing an aching heart, mending a troubled mind, or acknowledging a hidden need. Music is ointment for the soul; heard through our mind's eye and nestled in the heart.
Thank you Percy Sledge for singing the songs of our youth. Rest in peace...you made one couple very happy and we will never forget you or your love songs.
All rights to the photograph belong to the photographer.
Today is Tommy's 67th birthday. He is in a great mood for someone who really does not feel all that great. He has had a chest cold for two weeks. Some days he feels better than others. I hope today remains a good day.
He is delighted with all the phone calls he has received. He gets a kick when I read him all his birthday messages on Facebook. When people from other countries wish him 'Happy Birthday', he thinks it is awesome. Of course I tell him all about my friends...again. Neither one of us ever met a stranger.
A few minutes ago Tommy left to visit Ben. I had every intention of going back to bed. The first time I woke up this morning was around 4 a.m. when a round of thunderstorms descended on our six acres and had a party in the tree lines. It hailed and rained and then rained some more. I went back to bed. Around 5 a.m. Sabella, our fearless German shepherd woke me up scratching at our bedroom door. She is terrified of storms and wanted me up for company. Begrudgingly, I made coffee while I consoled Sabella. Tommy wakes up around 6 and our day officially begins. We are laughing and talking about how 'old' we are, while telling stories about past birthdays. We have been blessed with a very unusual kind of life. We enjoy our memories.
As soon as Tommy left, I trotted back to our bedroom to try and find some lost sleep. I was about to jump in bed when I heard something flutter in Tommy's hunting room. Then I heard a thump followed by another flutter. Sure enough there was a blackbird in his room. The bird was terrified, as he tried to find a way out of the room; hitting each wall at least twice, before he found the door. I thought he would kill himself in the process of trying to escape. He didn't have much luck in my room either. I was trying to shoo him out our bedroom door and down the hall. The bird ignored my help. Finally after thirty minutes and several lost feathers he finds the open back door and out he goes. By then I was wide awake. Sleep seemed like a wonderful memory that would not happened today.
According to old myths and superstition's it is bad luck to have a bird fly into a person's home. It means death. Personally, I disagree with this idea. To me it means a bird made the wrong turn and got lost in a very lovely home.
