Change Is Hard

…but change is certain.


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Sweet Southern Story

I was at the local grocery store in the small Alabama town where I’ve been hanging out for the past couple of weeks. An older man (probably about my age if I were truthful) is leaving the deli counter, a package in his hand, walking toward me.

He looks me in the eye and says “If I had any peanut brittle I’d give you some.”

I figure he’s talking to the women behind the counter, so I smile vaguely and turn my cart into an aisle, looking for something on my grocery list. He follows me and calls out. “Have you ever made peanut brittle?”

I respond that I had, but it was a long long time ago. He repeats the question. I repeat my answer. He comes closer and says he’s sorry he can’t hear me. So I say it again.

“Where’s that accent of yours from?” he asks.

“Michigan,” I say.

“Your team gonna do anything this year?” he asks.

I look at him blankly.

“You’ve got a good new coach.”

I figure out he’s talking about the University of Michigan, so I just nod in agreement…backing up down the aisle.

“You living here now?” he asks.

“No…just visiting.” I say.

“Well if you’re living around here you got to make a choice.” he says. “You got to choose either Alabama or Auburn. Doesn’t much matter which you choose but you got to make the choice.”

“You know this guy?” he asks, pointing to a store employee behind me shelving cans.

“No, I say.”

“Hey there!” says the clerk to the man.

“He’s rooting for the wrong team” says the man.

“I still pray for you every night.” says the young clerk smiling.

All three of us resume our business but the smiles stay with me as I drive back to the house. I’m still not sure what peanut brittle had to do with anything. But people sure are friendly down here in the South. Except on football weekends.

Just down the lake is a boat dock with a flag that flies. The homeowner has made his choice clear. For those of you not from around here that’s the Alabama A blowing in the breeze.

Football is huge down here.

Football is huge down here.

Wonder what would happen if I were to hang Auburn’s flag at the end of our dock.

Go Tigers.
2000px-Auburn_University_Athletics_logo.svg


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Black & white photo challenge: Shadows and reflections

Shadows and reflections. Having spent the better part of two weeks on the lake I’ve been struck by the many beautiful reflections I’ve seen, and I’ve used quite a few of them in the last few posts. Maybe, just maybe, there’s nothing new to show you.

Still. Cee’s black and white challenge is intriguing and I haven’t done enough of them. In fact, I had to go back and watch the you tube instructions again because I’d already forgotten how to convert a color photograph to black and white since I did my last black and white for Cee’s challenge a few weeks ago.

After I figured out how to do it, the question became what to use. I had a couple of ideas but what it came down to was the still water right in front of the lake house, and the reflection we look at in all different kinds of light whenever we’re here, of the house across the way.

Early morning stillness.

Early morning stillness.

You can tell the weather just by the way the house reflects in the water. If it’s dimpled there is rain. If it’s ruffled there is wind. If it’s perfect it’s water-ski water!

So I guess you can tell what we did right after taking this picture earlier in the week.

Yep, it involved a boat.


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Flying through clouds

Glassy water

Glassy water


I’m resting after more than a week at the lake house. A week filled with lots of water activities, lots of family, lots of sun, good food, laughter and quiet conversations.

Last night I randomly read blog entries from years past, blogs about hanging out at the lake. I came across this one written in 2010 that talked about being afraid to try water skiing after years of skiing only occasionally during summer visits.

It seemed appropriate because in the past couple days I’ve water skied twice. Neither time was for a very long distance, though I got up on the first try each time.

But it was still scary.

Scared

Scared

You think about how hard it’s going to be to get your heavier person up on that ski. How the boat will pull. Lots of water rushing over your head. Falling. You think maybe it’s best to retire from skiing. After all you’re older then you used to be. You’re no athlete. You might get hurt.

Then you think about your mom who was older than you are right now and still skied once a year just to prove she could. And you think about the fact the lake is absolutely still, the boat is running well, the sun is shining. There’s no one out there but your boat filed with your family.

Breathing relief

Breathing relief

It will never be any better than this.

So you put on the life jacket and whine a bit about being scared. You slide into the water and put on the ski which feels unfamiliar and clunky.

You feel clunky and awkward and the ski rope is moving as the boat slowly moves away from you and you can’t remember which side of your ski it’s supposed to be on and you can’t remember if you normally put your back foot into the boot or trail it as you get up. And you’re wobbling back and forth in the water and the rope is tight and everyone is waiting for you to say “HIT IT!” and so you do.

And the boat surges ahead and the water rushes over you and you remind yourself to just hang on. HANG ON and it will all work out. Balance over that ski and hang on. Let the boat do the work. And soon you’re popping up out of the water. Not gracefully. But you can breath.

You’re no expert skier, not throwing big rooster tail spray, not preforming tricks. You’re just out there, but oh the water is glass, the clouds are reflected beneath you, the sun is shining, the lake is beautiful and soft.

Flying

Flying

And you are smiling, because you are skiing through the clouds, and because you didn’t give up on yourself.

Lesson learned. Again.

Summer fun

Summer fun


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Gift of water

Last summer days.

Last summer days.

My dad was always a water person. He played, as a boy, on the banks of a river and he and my mother went on a canoe trip down that river for their very first date. During his entire life he wanted to live on water, and he accomplished that when I was a kid, and then again later in life.

Reflective.

Reflective.

The love of water is one of the gifts my parents gave us. And another is their home. Tucked away on a big lake in a warm state it’s a place their kids gather to relax and spend time together.

Water that goes on forever.

Water that goes on forever.

I was thinking about what a wonderful gift the love of water is as we were out on their lake today. Big puffy white clouds interspersed with ominous dark streaks floated above us as my brother skied, as we floated near our favorite island, as we visited the mountain near where their ashes were spread eleven years ago.

Mountain accompanies lake.

Mountain balances lake.

Water. The basis of life. Magical, ever changing. Beautiful.

Evening falls.

Evening falls.

Aren’t we lucky that our folks passed on their love of water and then made sure we were able to enjoy it for years to come.

They are always near.

They are always near.

And aren’t we lucky we get to spend time on a beautiful lake while thinking about them, telling stories about them, appreciating them.

Remembering them.

Island stands tall.

Island stands tall.


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Plans

Diamonds and cobwebs.

Diamonds and cobwebs.


Yesterday three members of my family joined me at the lake. We had the best intentions of spending the majority of the day out in the boat. You know; bobbing in the warm water around the islands, talking, laughing, catching up. Relaxing.

Raindrops were falling on our heads.

Raindrops were falling on our heads.

Plans sometimes change, but a storm blowing rain up from the south didn’t deter us. We sat in the boat, boat still in the boat lift, and watched the rain.

Twisted web.

Twisted web.

It was a beautiful thing.

Rain on water.

Rain on water.

And then we did what any typical northern family does in a rain storm in the south.

We went swimming.

Come on in, the water's fine!

Come on in, the water’s fine!


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Lounging

Southern pine

Southern pine


I have much to tell you, much to show you, but at the moment no WIFI where I am. So I am sitting at the public library (where else!) but there’s nowhere to plug in for electricity and my time is limited. Suffice it to say there will be photos later. Meanwhile, here are a couple of pretty things where I’ve been hanging out.

Little spider working hard.

Little spider working hard.

Peaceful here.

Nice view.

Nice view.

Take a deep breath and relax.

Sunset reflections.

Sunset reflections.


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Reflection

Morning quiet

Morning quiet

Early in the morning I sit on the deck overlooking the still lake. It is cool, surprisingly cool, as I prop my feet up on the railing and open my book. Neighborhood dogs are barking at something up the shoreline, but here on the deck it is quiet except for the fluttering of wings. So many birds flitting around the trees, I only catch a glimpse of some; a house finch, a cardinal glowing in the dappled morning light. I think the birds are startled to see me there, being used to the emptiness of this house. A hummingbird suddenly appears. It stares at the red t-shirt I slept in last night and am still wearing. Then he zooms away and I feel sad that there is no food for him, that there hasn’t been a feeder here for the past 11 years.

Mom always kept the feeder full.


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Weeding peace

How does your garden grow?

How does your garden grow?


I weeded tall grass out of our wildflower garden this morning. It’s such an easy garden to maintain; this is the first weeding I’ve done, and with the grass as tall as I am it was easy to figure out which was weed and which was not. Plus I got to weed standing up, always a plus.

Pretty in pink.

Pretty in pink.

In the cool shade with a little breeze weeding was actually enjoyable. The only noises were the birds at the feeders and the bees buzzing around the flowers. I hummed along with them as I worked.

Bzzzzzzzzz....

Bzzzzzzzzz….

At one point, carefully standing in the middle of the garden I looked up and thought – – I should go get the camera. This is so pretty Mom would like to see it, I’ll email her some photos.

Does anyone know what this is?  About 3 feet tall.

Does anyone know what this is? About 3 feet tall.

And then, for a split second I remembered and waited for the sad to come rolling over me. But it didn’t.

Royal colors.

Royal colors.

Instead I felt sure she was already seeing it, even before I took the first shot. And I was also sure she thought it was just as beautiful as I do.

Crazy beautiful.

Crazy beautiful.

I remember as a little girl picking her flowers from the fields and woods around the house. She put them in a juice glass and set them up on the windowsill above the kitchen sink. So when I accidentally broke a pretty pink zinnia I tucked it in my shirt right next to my heart. And when I got inside I put it in a juice glass.

And I smiled.

For my mom.

For my mom.