Sunday night Katie and I camped in the back yard. We’d done that on Friday and Saturday nights as well, no rain fly on the tent, sleeping out under the stars. Last night’s huge moon hung over the yard all night.
Occasionally I’d wake and gaze up at it. The soft light that flooded the yard, and the tent, was lovely; I wish you’d all been there for the experience.
But it would have been a bit crowded in the tent, and Katie likes her space.
Don’t you know.
I enjoy reading Judy’s blog – she’s a full time RVer and a volunteer this summer at Tamarac Wildlife Refuge in Minnesota. This week she and another volunteer are assigned driving the back roads of the refuge looking for purple loosestrife. It’s an invasive plant that spreads quickly and chokes out the native plants in low lying, swampy areas.
If you live around here you’ve seen a lot of it. Judy says she and her volunteer partner didn’t see any this time, and I told her we had it everywhere over here in Michigan. So when Katie and I went for a walk yesterday afternoon and we saw all the loosestrife we thought of Judy. We decided you need to see this too.
Wetlands being taken over.
The first glimpse we had was from the overlook. Down near the water you can see the purple sheen in the late afternoon sun. Looks pretty doesn’t it. And it is pretty, that’s probably part of the problem. When I drive home from work and the sun hits that purple I can’t help but smile.
Closer view.
Then I remember that what is beautiful is also deadly to everything native that used to live there.
Katie and I found more of it, up close this time near the pond where people fish.
Spreading.
Spreading across the hillside above the water.
Pretty, isn’t it?
The park people have planted other wildflowers there that are just as pretty and not invasive.
Also pretty.
Katie and I spent a long time in the lingering sun photographing the beauty.
Makes you smile, doesn’t it!
In hindsight I should have pulled up that loosestrife along the pond after I was finished photographing it.
Dangerous
Zigzag. I thought it would be hard to find a photo to represent the concept. I didn’t think I’d find it in nature. I thought of a few places to go where I might find something, commercial locations, man-made places. I thought maybe I’d skip this photo challenge because I didn’t have time to go anywhere in search of zigzag.
Then I got out of the car this evening after a long day of work and saw that the hibiscus plant is in bud. And on the still tightly furled buds were…
…zigzagging veins.
Proof once again that if you just slow down and take a moment you can find just about anything.
Right there in front of you.
You can see other zigzags here, here, here, and here. And of course the classic zigzag. Or stop by the original blog entry and look at all the comments with their photos!
I can’t watch TV anymore.
Round the clock news is filled with plane crashes and carjackings and runaways and murder trials and even worse, war. Up close and personal reports of war and the ordinary people that seem to be paying the price for leadership failure. Nonstop footage of dead and dying children. Interviews with mothers and fathers – you don’t have to speak their language to know what they are saying. To feel their grief.
Last night Anderson Cooper asked an onsite reporter the question I wanted to ask; where do regular people go to get away from the falling bombs? Nowhere is safe was the response from the corespondent wearing his helmet and bullet proof vest, instinctively flinching as incoming missiles shake the earth and light up the sky behind him.
Nowhere is safe.
I know I am not educated enough in the history behind the Palestine/Israeli conflict. It is generations deep and I don’t understand where it all comes from. But I listen to the leaders on each side being interviewed and I don’t see how it can be resolved. Everyone is so entrenched in their opinion of who is right and who is wrong. No one seems to be willing to listen to the other side. The cease fires expire or are broken, more warning sirens scream, more illumination missiles are shot into the air above Gaza, more people flee. Some don’t get away in time.
And I post pictures of baby deer and Katie and walks in the park and flowers in the garden and try not to think about the reality of life 7 or 8 hours ahead of my own time zone. Because I don’t know what to think about all of it; I can’t even talk about it intelligently. But I can say that it feels wrong – wrong on both sides. And that innocent people are dying and maybe it’s not our problem but then again I think maybe it is.
Not watching TV feels wrong too.
I am conflicted myself, not sure if I want to understand more of something that seems so unresolvable, but thinking I should learn about something so important. And then feeling overwhelmed by all the important things in the world that I don’t understand.
Which brings me full circle. I don’t know what to think.
Katie here!
You were all RIGHT! My mama finally took me to my park! I haven’t been there in a really really long time. Maybe 100 years in dog time. We couldn’t go in my car because it’s at ‘the shop’ whatever that means. So when we left the house I went and stood behind the other car, but mama said, ‘No baby, we’re going to take Daddy’s truck!
Driving to the park in style.
Woo Boy! I get to go in the truck! I like to do that (I used to be afraid of the truck, but I like it now. I’m a brave girl.) I get to stick my nose right in the air conditioning vent! Not like when I’m stuck in the back and no good air even gets back to me! When we got to the park I noticed it was the Farmer’s Market! I get lots of attention at the market so I thought maybe we were going there.
Farmer’s Market!
But my mama said, “No baby, we’re going to walk in your park, and you can sniff wherever you want, no rush!” Hot dog! Let’s get going mama! But you know what? My mama ended up saying “hurry up sweetie” to me a lot. She said it was because a storm was coming. But I think she’s just an impatient sort of mama, you know?
Storm clouds! (Dramatic setting on camera!)
I mean, what’s a little rain? Right? Unless you’re the Wicked Witch of the West. Hmmmm. Now that I think about it, she’s been acting a lot like that witch all weekend, so maybe she had a point. Anyway, we did get rained on a little, but we still stopped and got a picture together at the overlook. Mama was very proud she figured out how to do the timer thing. I was very proud that we could both look at the camera at the same time.
Me and my mama!
We had a good time and by the time we got back to the truck the sun was back out and it was hot. So I’m sleeping on my air conditioning vent at home. Mama says we have a bigger adventure coming up next weekend.
I’m going to dream about it now. I can’t wait!
That was FUN mama!
Katie here.
What is wrong with you people? Why haven’t you demanded my presence on this blog? You’ve been enjoying my parents’ photos of Maine, egging them on to travel more! Have you no compassion for me? The princess? You realize, don’t you, that while Mama and Dad are gallivanting around I have to go to doggie camp.
Wanna play?
And let me tell you it’s not so much camp because I know what real camping is! And I want to go camping again with my Mama but she’s all busy with work and stuff and hardly has time for me at all and I think that is just not fair!
OK, so right after I got sprung from the camp we had a whole bunch of company. That was fun. Mama’s brothers and sister and sister-in-law came to stay with us for a few days. They all thought I was pretty swell and I have to say it was OK to have them around too. I got lots of attention.
Which is a good thing because as I said my Mama seems to be really busy and ignores me most of the time. I can only get her attention at night if I bark a lot. Then she tells me “Katie! No bark!” and I sigh and go lie down on the air conditioning vent. I am trying to be a good girl. I even let her sleep until 6 a.m!
And do you know what I got in return for being a good girl while we had all that company? I got to go to the groomer today! GEEZE how much more torture can one poor doggie soul go through? I don’t really see that the groomer can improve perfection, but if it makes my Mama happy I guess I can handle it.
BUT…
…Mama owes me big time now and I’m expecting a very good adventure soon! And if I don’t get it there’s going to be no more Ms. Good Dog. No siree!
She better come through.
That’s all I’ve got to say.
Good night now.
I’m waiting.
I’ve been blogging a long time. Since September 2006. Some of you have actually read every entry, maybe even commented on most of them. Thank you for that, thank you if you’ve just read some of them.
The blog began when I quit my job and went back to school at age 50, working on a masters degree in Information Sciences, what used to be Library Science. I met a young man named Spike during my first semester. He was into technology and was putting together a host server. He asked me if I wanted to blog. I didn’t know what a blog was, but I like to write and I liked the idea of having a place to publish some thoughts. So he set me up.
It was kind of interesting and definitely fun to be back in school at my age with a bunch of 20 somethings. I felt both younger than my age and older, depending on the moment. I’d often forget I was so much older during discussions, but then someone would say something or do something and I’d realize I was old enough to be their parent. Perhaps their grandparent. In group projects I felt like their mother. I lent money to them to get home during stormy nights. I brought cake to the class with the snack break. I reminded them repeatedly that this or that assignment was not the end of the world, that there were bigger issues in real life. I told them often to enjoy the freedom that being in school affords. I luxuriated in that freedom myself, loving the public bus rides, the walks between classes, the work in public libraries where stories were always presenting themselves.
I especially like being in school at the university that both parents attended, graduated from, with most of my classes in the building my dad studied chemistry more than a half century previously. I liked walking the stairs he climbed. I said hello to them as I passed the house he grew up in. I thought about them when I wandered near the river.
So I wrote about school, and life, and my folks. And when I graduated in 2008 I wondered if maybe I should just close the blog down. After all, I was no longer an interesting student. I was back in real life and it wasn’t all that exciting. But I still liked to write, and I had a few readers, and while I tried to figure out what the blog was, it was still a place for me to put thoughts. To get support on life’s challenges. To offer my own support to others. To explore ideas. To play with the dog. To express sadness and joy sometimes in the same post.
1500 posts later I’m still trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up. And whether or not I will ever make a difference. And if any of it matters. Social media has changed. Now there’s Facebook and twitter and a whole lot more that I don’t even know about. And going into the future I suppose blogging will become even more old fashioned. On the other hand blogging allows people to express complex, more complete thoughts than Facebook or twitter. It slows people down for a bit longer, makes them think a bit more. It can be elegant. And thoughtful.
Or not.
So I’ve rambled enough. This post was supposed to be something significant, and here it is all nostalgic about my student life. But that was significant. And I’m glad I did it even though I didn’t get to work full time at a public library. I’m glad I did it for lots of reasons…
…one of which is because it led me to all of you.
Change Is Hard 