Change Is Hard

…but change is certain.

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Not much going on here

Katie 1886

Katie’s wound up like a spring.  Still.  We’ve been busy, a family wedding, me working many of the last few days.  No walks in the park for her and she’s telling us that she DOESN’T LIKE IT!  So this evening we headed back to the park.  My intention was to work on heeling and sit/stays.  But as soon as she was out of the car she was OFF exploring and I didn’t have the heart to make her practice.  Which turned out to be a good decision because she wasn’t interested in the treats I brought anyway.

I call this one; a girl and her dog:

Katie 1897

The mosquitos were out in force, so we tried to move along.  My entire job on this walk was to manage the long leash, so that it didn’t wind itself around her feet.  I wasn’t totally successful with that, as evidenced below:

Katie 1898

We did a little bit of recalling, which she loves to do.  At least the first time she loved it.  Then she found out I didn’t have her special treats, and all bets were off.

Katie 1883

We had a lot of fun, even with all the mosquitos.  She wouldn’t go back to the car, so we sat and watched the pond for awhile. Funny thing, my whole family is happiest when we can see water.  She must be related.

Katie 1904

Silly girl.

Dawn 134


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A walk is not a run

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Many nights as I’m driving home from work I imagine myself going for a run in the morning.  I am thoroughly convinced that I will don my running garb and head out the next day.  I’m even excited about it.  But morning comes and the bed is comfortable and the dog needs walking and I wonder about my foot, and think (again) about purchasing new shoes “just to be safe,” so as not risk reinjury and it doesn’t happen.  Last night I didn’t fall asleep until 5 in the morning, thinking about why I wasn’t running anymore, and how this morning would be different.

So when the cute Sheltie woke me at the usual 7 a.m. to go out and investigate the yard I put on the running duds first.  No excuses.  We wandered the yard, came back inside and I went back to bed.  When we awoke at 9 I put the running stuff back on, ate breakfast and kept talking myself into the run.  OK.  The walk.  I decided to walk my favorite 4 mile route.

I hadn’t walked this route since last spring, when the leaves were just peaking and the herons were building nests, the horses were restless and the swamp frogs were peeping.  To do it now at the beginning of fall felt different.  The insects were buzzing, the jays were calling, the horses wore blankets, but the sun was shining and the sky was blue.  It was a good day.

Dawn 125The first mile I spent thinking about why I felt that walking somehow wasn’t as good as running.  How I seemed to think that if I couldn’t run then I wouldn’t do anything.  Seemed to me to be a silly attitude, but there it was.  I did notice that I saw a lot more beautiful things along the way when I walked than I did when I ran, but  I have to say I  liked being able to say that I was a runner.  I liked the way I could pretty much eat whatever I wanted when I was a runner.  I liked to watch people’s faces when they found out I had completed marathons.  But I didn’t really like to run.  I was always talking myself into getting out there, and I was always glad when I was finished.  So maybe walking would be a good compromise.  Maybe.

Trees 1150 Mile one I noticed some beautiful gray blue berries near the edge of a swamp and some stunning red Virginia creeper.  I’ve been reading a book about painting intimate water colors and these two would make a nice little painting.  Along my dirt road leaves, fallen from the trees overhead, had become embedded in the dirt.  I thought how these leaves, giving the last of their life were still making imprints in my life.  A lot like some people I’ve known.

Mile two I crunched along on the fallen acorns which were plopping down around me under the big old oak trees, and squished on the choke cherries strewn along the road.  I ran a bit here and there; anywhere the road was sloping downhill, was even and had shade.

Trees 1143 Mile three is my favorite mile of the route, mostly downhill, a tunnel through the woods.  As I was running under the trees, a squirrel leaped out of the woods and ran toward me.  Suddenly realizing I wasn’t another squirrel come to play, he turned and ran ahead of me for awhile, then leaped back into the woods.  Two chickadees cheered me on and I smiled at the last little bit of the squirrel’s red tail gleaming in the morning sun as it scrambled up a tree.

Mile four, my least favorite mile, travels through our one block town on the main road, back toward home.  It’s mostly uphill, traffic is nonstop, it’s noisy and dusty and hot.  I pass a Bulldog sleeping in a bay window.  Guarding the homestead so to speak.  He doesn’t hear or smell me (though by now I am pretty stinky) and slumbers on as I pass.  Three houses down I hear him barking.  Too little too late.  I climb the last hill, a half mile from home and see two little Bichons standing on the back of a sofa, watching their road.  One is in charge and is the barker;  he yaps frantically at me as I walk by.  The other one glances at me and yawns.  I smile back.

Home again, walking up the driveway I see my own little yapper waiting.  She is sitting in the sun, watching for me out the storm door.  She is pouting because she didn’t get to go, but can’t maintain the attitude as I walk through the door.  She’s all happy dances and licky-licks.  A fitting welcome to a former runner turned walker extordinare.

Trees 1157


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Newberry Medal winners…a comparison

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I was working in a children’s library the other day and happened to notice a list of books that had received the Newberry Medal.  At the top of the list was this description:  “The Newberry is awarded each year to the author whose new book makes the most distinguished contribution to American literature for children.”  The list went way back to the early 1900’s.  I decided I’d read the book that won the award the year I was born and the most recent award winner to see what kinds of differences had occurred during my lifetime.  And no, I wasn’t born in the early 1900’s; I’m more a mid-century kind of girl.

I kind of expected the older book to read older, maybe more stuffy, less fun, less adventurous.  But no!  I really enjoyed “Carry On, Mr. Bowditch” which was written by Jean Lee Latham in 1955 and won the award in 1956.  It’s the story of a young boy who arrived in Salem MA in 1779 with his family to begin a new life after his father, a ship’s captain, lost his ship at sea.  The book tells his story right through adulthood, when he goes to sea himself.  It’s an intriguing tale and one I couldn’t put down.

The book that won the 2008 award is “Good Masters!  Sweet Ladies!  Voices from a Medieval Village” written in 2007 by Laura Amy Schlitz.  It’s a series of poems written about individuals that live within a medieval village.  There are little snippets of information about  farming  and town life, but the majority is poems that tell stories told by individuals; the shepherd, the knight’s son, the glassblower’s daughter etc.  I have to admit, I found this format less compelling, but I think that has more to do with my reading style and that I’m less of a poetry fan than a narrative reader.

Both books add a huge amount of knowledge about another place in time for any young (or old) reader and I’m glad I spent a bit of time reading outside my box.

What’s Katie got to do with this story?  Well, as soon as I put the books on the floor to photograph them she plopped down too and looked at me expectantly.  She’s a photo-hog.

Katie 1800


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Visiting Curwood

Curwood Castle - Owosso MI September 2009 009

Yesterday my husband and I went on a one day excursion to visit Curwood Castle.  Haven’t heard of it you say?  Not surprised – either had we and we’ve lived in Michigan all our lives!  About an hour away sits a beautiful little castle on the banks of the Shiawasee river.  It was the writing studio of James Oliver Curwood who wrote many wildlife adventure stories in the 1920’s.  Several of his books were made into movies including Kazan,  The Grizzly King, and Nomads of the North.

As soon as I entered the castle I thought it would make a wonderful home, with views along the river and big high ceilings with dark wood beams, and a stone fireplace at one end.  Up in the turret, the clean white walls and windows over the river made me want to stay and…well…write!  What a wonderful place it must have been for him.  Curwood Castle - Owosso MI September 2009 013

Sadly, Curwood died young at 49 from a blood disease brought on by a spider bite incurred during a fishing trip in Florida.  I’m going to check whether or not our library has any of his books.  After being in his space it would be interesting to read one or two.

Hope you are all having a lovely Labor Day weekend..without working too hard!

Curwood Castle - Owosso MI September 2009 006


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It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood.

Katie 1839We’ve had the best weather for the past couple of days, highs in the mid 70’s, sunshine, no rain, blue skies, puffy white clouds and occasional gentle breezes.  And even better I’ve been working most days shifts from 5 to 9 p.m. so Katie and I have the whole day together.    I can’t think of a better way to end the summer.

Of course we’ve  worked on our obedience skills…and I’m getting better! No, really, we’re working on heeling and sit and stay and recall.  Plus we’ve done a fair amount of playing too; her favorite at the moment being Frisbee out in the yard.  And we’ve gone on a walk through the neighborhood each afternoon.  She’s having fun with all the activity.

Have to say my favorite thing is sitting on the deck with a good book.  While I’m reading, she’s on deck alert, watching out for those rascally rabbits or chipmunks or squirrels.  Kind of wears her out.  She’s asleep, upside down on the sofa now, getting prepared for another big day tomorrow.

Well, sort of asleep.  Katie 1844


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Experiencing the rural library

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Sometimes I work at urban libraries and sometimes I work at libraries in rural communities; that diversity is one of the good things about my job.  Driving home from work the other day though, I realized for sure that at heart I’m a rural librarian.  There’s such a sense of community in small towns, and the library is such a big part of that community.  Plus I get to enjoy great commutes, far away from freeways and traffic jams!

Here’s a few snippets of conversation and questions from a day at a rural library:

A father and son  stop in, they are regulars each week – sometimes several times a week.  Usually they pick up a few books and a couple movies;  the books  for the son, the movies for Dad.  This morning a book the Dad had ordered was ready for pickup.  As I scanned his library card to check out his movies the message popped up that he had a book on the reserve shelf.  I reached around for it, and Dad’s eyes lit up.  Then he whooped for joy, which caused his son to jump in surprise.  Seems he had forgotten about the book, and now he was excited to see that it had finally arrived.  The bookworm son looked at his Dad in a new light.   They were both talking excitedly about books as they left.

Someone else came in looking for a book they’d heard about on public radio.  Didn’t know the author, or the title, just had a few hints of what it might be.  “But it sounded really interesting!”

A wife came in to find World War II movies “or anything with Nicole Kidman in it” for a husband who was ill at home.  Usually he came to the library and picked up her reserved books, now it was her turn to find things he might enjoy.  We searched all the available movies and found several for her, some classics, some more recent.  The husband is looking at a long convalescence so she’ll be back.

A youngster came by and asked me “Does your chair have shock absorbers?”  I thought a moment and then said that I thought it probably did.  He proceeded to explain to me just how shock absorbers worked and I thanked him for the information.  Librarians can never have too much information.

A patron, new to the community, ventured into the library.  After receiving her card she wandered off exclaiming that it had been a long time since she’d had the chance to explore a new library.  She was so excited, it was fun to watch her discover the fiction and become instantly absorbed.

Someone wanted information on fibromyalgia, another needed a mapquest directions to a wedding way down in a big city far far away, a third was looking for a childhood friend and wanted help with the internet.  You just never know what people are going to ask of you.

At the end of the day one of the last patrons picked up a brightly colored flier that advertised the local farmer’s market.  It was bright yellow, and in John Deer green declared across the top:  “FARMER’S MARKET on THURSDAYS.”  She turned and asked me–“What day is the Farmer’s Market?”  Sigh.  Sometimes you don’t really need an advanced degree for the job.  Sometimes you just need to be able to smile.  And read.

Trees 1110


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A weird walk in the park

Katie 1833 Katie’s as wound up as a spring lately.  Too many rainy days, or days when I’ve got to work, or both.  We haven’t been to the park in a long time, no doggy school, no long walks anywhere.  She’s out of control with energy.  So today, given I’m not working and it’s not raining, we went to a park.

She was off and running as soon as her little feet hit the ground.  We were in a park that has softball fields, soccer fields, a water playground and picnic areas.  Of course we had to explore all of it, which was easy as there had been a cross country race earlier, and the white line on the ground used by the cross country team went by all the interesting places.  I’d just say; KATIE!  Walk the line and she’d run down the white line.  Well.  Sometimes.  Once she chased the shadow of a hawk that was soaring overhead.  Silly girl.

We were exploring all the nooks and crannies of the park when she came across this big piece of ash.  Katie 1834 I read in the paper yesterday that there was a big house fire nearby, and this ash was from that fire.  Once I noticed the first piece I noticed a lot of other pieces of ash on the pristine ball fields.  It made me sad, as it represented the loss of someone’s home and probably all their belongings as well.

Along the way we came to a big sledding hill.  Hmm…I thought, being my father’s daughter, I wonder what you can see from up there?  Well, Katie wasn’t interested in the least to climb up that hill after walking all over the park!  She looked at me as if to say:   That hill?  Not going up there Mom.  Katie 1835

And then she laid down to make her point.   I guess I’ll have to climb the hill another time, probably by myself.

Katie 1836

I loaded her up in the car and we went exploring, to see if we could find the house that had burned down.  It wasn’t far away, and this is what is left.

funky art 008funky art 009

I bought the paper, and found a picture of it taken while it was burning.  It looked like a nice house.  I’m feeling so sorry for the family that lived there.  Lukily no one was home when it burned.  Still…

Trees 1102 Pulling into our subdivision after our adventures we saw a whole big flock of young turkeys along the side of the road.  There were 8 or 9 of them.  Can you see them in this picture?

Katie and I are thanking our lucky stars this afternoon after our weird walk…she’s off to take a nap and I think I’ll mow the grass and think some more about how lucky I am to have her and a house and a family.  All safe and sound.

Dawn 094


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Back to the future

Earlier this week I had a day off and I didn’t have any other appointments or commitments.  A whole day to myself!  It was rainy and cold, but still, a whole day off to myself.  I have a number of “things to do” on a list I keep in the back of my mind for just such a day.  Most of them would be more fun on a sunny warm day, but you take what you can get.  So I headed off to Hidden Lake Gardens, about two hours south of me and just north of a town I lived in when I was a little girl.  My folks used to take all four of us there on occasion; I can remember a narrow road and big willow trees near a pond which held the best thing of all:  swans.

Back then there was no such thing as the internet, heck we still had rotary phones, but today I can share the gardens with you by providing this link:

http://hiddenlakegardens.msu.edu/

And these pictures I took on my dark and dreary cold rainy afternoon trip.  Which was, by the way, a blast from the past. (You can click on the first picture to make it bigger, and then move through them by clicking on the “next.”)

Sadly there were no swans at the small pond, but the willow trees were there.  And the winding drive through the woods was really fun.  I could just image Dad maneuvering our big station wagon full of kids around the hairpin curves, the rear view mirrors just fitting between the trees.

At the rare conifer garden it began to rain in earnest, so I packed it in and drove the rest of the way to the town I lived in until I was ten.  Nothing much looked familiar as I drove into town.  But I just stopped thinking and let my heart drive the car and low and behold, with only one missed corner, there I was in front of the house we all lived in way back in the 60’s!

Hidden Lake Gardens and Adrian Aug 2009 079

I sat in front of the house long enough that someone finally came and looked out the window.  I moved along then, not wanting to appear to be a stalker!  When we lived there the house was gray with either white or black shutters.  I say black, my Mom always said they were white.  She was probably right.  The house next to the one I lived in is for sale.  I went online later to see what the values are on that street and was amused to see they are just a little over 10 times what my parents paid for the house back in 1961.

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Driving around the neighborhood memories popped into my head, along with the names of  friends who had lived in some of the houses I passed.  I even found the first little house we lived in initially when we  moved to town; the house my two brothers were brought home to from the hospital when they were born, almost 50 years ago.

Hidden Lake Gardens and Adrian Aug 2009 081 The only way I could find my elementary school was to drive along the route I walked way back when I was five.  I remembered my Mom saying I had to cross two “big” streets, so again I just let my brain follow my heart, and there was the school.  Funny how much you can remember when you stop trying.

On my way out of town I stopped at the public library where I first discovered my love of reading.  It looks like a castle, doesn’t it?  It’s a museum now, but when I was a little girl we came to this building once a week;  we were all allowed to pick out books for Dad and Mom to read to us, and later, for us to read aloud to them.

Hidden Lake Gardens and Adrian Aug 2009 086

In front of the library is a sculpture of a little boy in glasses, reading a book, sitting on top of the world.  That wasn’t there when I was a kid, but it sure is cute!

Hidden Lake Gardens and Adrian Aug 2009 083

I stopped at a diner for some supper before leaving town, read the local paper and remembered.  Everything here was the same but not.  Since I had been so young when we left, I didn’t have clear memories of much of the town, so changes didn’t feel like changes to me.  The main buildings of my youth— my homes, my school and my library were still there, still largely unchanged,  a time capsule waiting for my discovery.

This place was the beginning of who I am today. The preamble to the now.  It’s nice to know that it’s still out there.

On the way home, listening to a country station I realized through the haze of my musings that someone was singing the chorus to a song:  “There’s too many memories for one heart to hold.”   True.

Hidden Lake Gardens and Adrian Aug 2009 038


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A librarian's recomendation

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Typically a librarian’s recommendation involves a book.  But last night, a couple of hours before close I remembered I had a long commute to my work location today, and thought it might be nice to have some music along the way.   So in a lull between patrons I purused the CD collection.  Did you know that you can borrower music CDs from your local library?  Check it out!  The first one I picked up turned out to be a winner.

It’s done by Peter Boyer and the Philharmonic Orchestra, along with several well known actors, and it’s called “Ellis Island:  The Dream of America.” I listened to part of it on my short drive home.  As the music began my eyes immediately welled up; it sounded like something I would love to do with a group of musicians, interesting and heart stirring.  And then the first actor spoke, and the tears slid down my cheeks.  These are the words of immigrants who came to Ellis Island in the 20’s, 30’s and 40’s, read by actors of similar ethnic backgrounds.  The music flows behind the words, and between the readings it swells.

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When I visited Ellis Island in the spring of 2008 I listened to several recorded accounts of arrivals at the island, the hopes and dreams, the stories of loss and renewal.  These are similar short versions of individual stories.  Each tugs at your heart.  And makes you realize how lucky we are to be here, most of us just by virtue of being born.  Check your local library and see if you can borrower this CD for a bit.  You won’t be sorry.

But then, I’m a sentimental sort of soul.

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