Mid-Town Wild Life

It is a happy event to observe a little bit of nature.  This time it is in my planter in the roots of my flowers.  I was first made aware of it when I was watering the pots along the house wall in the front yard.  My habit is to fill the pots to nearly brimming;  in the midst of holding the hose, up from the ground in the middle of the planter came four or five black little blind jumpers.  At first I thought they were rats and I was a little taken aback and horrified.

Not rats at all; they are baby bunnies so young their eyes are not open yet.

The little mother has dug a deep hole and lined it with grass.  I have never seen her near it, but she must feed them as they are growing.  I think it is clever of her to jump up into the planter to create her nursery.  It makes watering the flowers a little tricky.

A small thing, perhaps, but heart warming for this soul who longs for a walk in a pasture again.

Summer Swimmers

Summer Swimmers.

Cencus 2010

This household sent in the census letter, saving a worker to have to knock at the door and gather our information.  How many?  What ethnicity?  Simple form, quick answers.

Yesterday a wee small elderly gentleman saw our back gate open;  he parked to ask the man of the house some information on the neighbors who were never home, or at any rate, never answered his knock.  Five minutes later his small economy vehicle was parked and running in the driveway again.  This time he saw my front door open and came to ask some clarification questions of me.  House numbers were messing with his head as were skin colors and the concept of north, south, west and east.  Right and left are always so confusing.  From where you are standing or where you are looking, or just what.  West of China is more than a metaphor on our street as one of our sweet neighbors is named China.

He knocked on the door once more.  I was in my little writing nook nearby.  This time he would like our names and phone number so he could call with questions; which he did once.  This time he was trying to juggle papers, writing pads, manila envelopes in mid air with a pen in the other hand.  I asked him in, as I could easily tell that he was...all in.

The chair I motioned him into was a relief to him.  He clearly was not comfortable in breaking a rule.  He was 80, and frail, a little muddled, lived not a mile from us, had raised not only his own kids but other's kids, didn't have a retirement fund, had to work, found people uncooperative and indifferent in his quest.  If they only knew what kind of money it meant to the city to have their presence counted by the Federal Government maybe they would care. I got a dollar figure and he said it ran into the millions.

I did not ask the wee frail gentleman his name.  From my observation, I think it was American Hero.

Generations of Mothers

Do you see that pouty little child?  That is me surrounded by generations of mothers, my own, my grandmother, and her mother, my great grandmother, who out of kindness and motherliness held my little hand through this ordeal.

My own grandmother looks as annoyed by the event as I do.  Only my mother and my great grandmother seem to be pleased with our four generation accomplishment.  We are full Finns all, speak in that whispering sing-song language while breathing in or out.  There is no other sound like it.  I long to be fluent in it.

My grandmother was the eldest of her family of twelve, six brothers, six sisters.  All my heroes were cowboys and women of great strength and worthy of the admiration I have for them.

Happy Mother's Day to my own group of four generations of mothers including  four great grand babies about to welcome a fifth.  I am the oldest of this new group of mothers.

Junk in the Trunk

Our Holy Cross women's circles had a unique "garage sale" this morning.  The cars circled around in the chruch parking lot with their noses out and trunks in.  In each of the trunks was a varied assortment of garage sale items.  We must have numbered 15 or more cars.  A couple of tabled items filled in the circle.  We had a wonderful morning of visiting and eating cookies from the bake sale table.

 One fellow had a birthday and tied a helium balloon on each trunk lid.  It was one great big social with buying and selling for the benefit of the woman's circles.    I found some wonderful things I could not live without, and people sold things they couldn't live with.  When it was over, the trunk lids were shut, anything left on the tables was cleared off with whatever a person could fit into a plastic bag for a dollar.

What a sweet idea.  Nine to noon and we were done.