under-lighting

Early this morning we saw something beautiful that we had never seen before. Gulls flying overhead with the sun rays of dawn under-lighting their wings. It was as if they had shiny reflectors on the underside of their wings ~ breathtaking…

The patient (Tim) has had his last meal at his favorite restaurant and we’ve stocked up on clear liquids and chewing gum. Not looking forward to driving to the hospital in a snow storm tomorrow morning.

first snow

janetchui-firstsnow
“First Snow” by Janet Chui

Snow provokes responses that reach right back to childhood.
~ Andy Goldsworthy
(Midsummer Snowballs)

I am a book of snow,
a spacious hand, an open meadow,
a circle that waits,
I belong to the earth and its winter.
~ Pablo Neruda
(Winter Garden)

muffled steps outside

johnbauer-in-the-christmas-night
“In the Christmas Night” by John Bauer

The snow is lying very deep.
My house is sheltered from the blast.
I hear each muffled step outside,
I hear each voice go past.

But I’ll not venture in the drift
Out of this bright security,
Till enough footsteps come and go
To make a path for me.

~ Agnes Lee
(The Second Book of Modern Verse:
A Selection from the Work of Contemporaneous American Poets
)

from daffodils to snow

3.21.16.2448
3.21.16 ~ second day of spring in Groton, Connecticut. The small dumpster is for construction debris from our bathroom renovation.

It’s been snowing! I’ve come back from my twelve days in North Carolina, where spring has already sprung, big time!

3.13.16.2082
3.13.16 ~ daffodils blooming in Chapel Hill, North Carolina

Poor Katherine… it’s no fun when it’s so nice outside but you are miserable with a fever and a very runny nose. And you don’t want to get out of your pajamas or comb your hair or let go of your bunny or blanket… And your visiting Grammy still insists on getting some pictures of you!

3.13.16.2090
3.13.16 ~ Katherine and Hopkins the bunny.
3.13.16.2096
3.13.16 ~ Maybe I will try taking a little walk.
3.13.16.2112
3.13.16 ~ Getting warm, time to take off this jacket. Yes, I do know that one pajama leg is scrunched up and I don’t care!
3.13.16.2116
3.13.16 ~ Maybe Daddy can get the blanket draped over my shoulders just the way I want it.
3.13.16.2119
3.13.16 ~ Then again, maybe not. Oh well. Feeling warm enough so I’ll just sit here with Hopkins and Daddy again.

Several hours later – it must have been at least 80°F in the afternoon!

3.13.16.2437
3.13.16 ~ Mommy persuaded me to get dressed and follow her out to the garden, but I still don’t feel well…
3.13.16.2441
3.13.16 ~ Mommy and I fixed the position of a slate stepping stone that had shifted over the winter.

I had a lovely time visiting the little one and her parents. Their new house is beautiful. Larisa and I planted some seeds in her vegetable garden, re-potted a couple of plants, discussed colors for painting the walls, took walks, ate out several times, and went shopping for all sorts of things for the house and for clothes for Katherine. I also got to spend time with my friend from high school, Susan, who lives only two miles away. We got caught in a scary thunder and hail storm one night on our way home from having dinner out. Yikes! And I had plenty of time to work on my ancestor table (see sidebar) while the family was at work and daycare.

Now that I am home work on the bathroom has stalled as we wait for the floor tile to come in. But a lot got done while I was gone. The new closet is framed out, the electrical and plumbing are all done, and the walls are up. And I’m looking out my window at about 5 inches of snow – quite a contrast to the daffodils down south!

stillness becoming alive

ane.lisbet.norway.2015.800wide
“Glorious Illumination” by Ane Lisbet Smedås

Was it light?
Was it light within?
Was it light within light?
Stillness becoming alive,
Yet still?
~ Theodore Roethke
(The Quiet Room)

1.22.16.katie600
Katie got a little bit of snow…

So… We finally got a snowstorm on Saturday, seven inches of snow here. Washington, DC and New York City got much more snow than we did. Record breaking amounts, in fact.

After eleven days of misery it was determined that I had a particularly nasty virus and that it wasn’t necessarily food-borne. I could have caught it the same way one catches a cold or the flu. Sobering thought.

I did not recover in time to go to North Carolina. Very disappointed, but we were given credit from our cancelled flight to apply to a new flight. Thank you so much, Jet Blue.

Yesterday I was dazzled by a photo my Norwegian friend Ane Lisbet posted on Facebook. It was from a walk she took in the afternoon, and I’m grateful she gave me permission to use it here. 🙂 The light is returning to Norway and my longing to go back there in a different season is getting stronger.

1.24.16.dima.katie800
1.24.16 ~ Dima and Katie

I hope we can schedule a new trip to see Katie and her parents very soon!

was it the batter?

"Farm at Montfoucault 2" by Camille Pissarro (1830-1903) French Impressionist & Neo-Impressionist Painter
“Farm at Montfoucault 2” by Camille Pissarro

Still waiting for some snow here in southeastern Connecticut. Still wondering what on earth gave me a very bad case of food poisoning. And wondering if I will be well enough to fly to North Carolina on Sunday as planned…

Waiting for test results to see what mowed me down… I’m guessing, by process of elimination, that it was the pumpkin muffin batter I licked off the spoon or the easy-over eggs I had at the restaurant. Of course I’ve been doing research online.

A post written by a 27-year-old woman proudly asserted that she had been licking the spoon when baking all her life and had never got food poisoning in spite of her mother’s dire warnings. Well, I have, too, for 58 years, and, a word to the wise, I will never ever do it again!!!

Tim and I ate all the same things in the days leading up to my illness, except for licking the batter spoon and except for having scrambled eggs when I had mine over-easy. I will never order over-easy eggs again. Tim did not get sick!

In fact, he’s been taking very good care of me. Laundry, dishes, meals for himself, taking me to the emergency room and then to the gastroenterologist. This is day four and I’m doing much better, still resting and sleeping a lot. The doctor wasn’t sure if I’d be well enough by Sunday to make the much-anticipated trip south to see Katie and her folks. Keeping my fingers crossed!

chickadee, titmouse, junco

Up and away for life! be fleet!-
The frost-king ties my fumbling feet,
Sings in my ears, my hands are stones,
Curdles the blood to the marble bones,
Tugs at the heart-strings, numbs the sense,
And hems in life with narrowing fence.
Well, in this broad bed lie and sleep,-
The punctual stars will vigil keep,-
Embalmed by purifying cold;
The winds shall sing their dead-march old,
The snow is no ignoble shroud,
The moon thy mourner, and the cloud.
~ Ralph Waldo Emerson
(The Titmouse)

perished in a snow storm

10.12.15.1149
10.12.15 ~ Island Pond Cemetery, Harwich, Massachusetts

GEORGE WEEKES.
Born in Dorchester Mass.
A.D. 1683.
Came to Harwich, Married
Deborah Wing: Oct. 13, 1714.
Preached to the Indians.
Perished in a snow storm,
when an old man in the
hollow 100 rods south of
this spot. He was grand-
son of George Weekes, a Hu-
guenot, who fled to England
and came to America in
1630.

My 7th great-grandfather, George Weekes, was probably born on 20 March 1689 in Dorchester, Massachusetts, according to town records, although his gravestone says he was born in 1683. He was the son of Ammiel and Abigail (Trescott) Weekes. He married on 13 October 1714, Deborah Wing, who was born 2 May 1687 in Harwich, Massachusetts, daughter of Ananias and Hannah (Freeman) Wing. George and Deborah were the parents of six children: Abigail, Mehitable, Deborah, Ammiel (my 6th-great-grandfather), Hannah and Elisabeth. We visited Island Pond Cemetery when we were on the Cape earlier this month.

It’s fascinating that George was most noted for preaching to the Indians. And of course, for the tragic way he died. Researching my family’s history I have discovered that many of my ancestors were deeply involved in various kinds of religious fomentation. According to this gravestone George’s grandfather was a Huguenot, a French Protestant inspired by the writings of John Calvin.

As this is a time of year for remembering the dead I decided to post this in memory of ancestors, George & Deborah Weekes.