And the Blooms Just Keep on Coming...

More things are blooming here on Green Acres and, once again, I find myself clueless.  As I was maneuvering the lawn mower through the overgrown ditch, I discovered this beauty atop a fence post.

It has grown up the fence post and then tangled amongst itself to make a ball of flowers.  I was sure there had to be a flowerpot under there somewhere, but it is completely supporting itself by winding around it's own stems.  I believe I can identify this as clematis - but feel free to tell me if I'm wrong.  And how do I go about getting a start from this plant? Collect seeds?  Take a cutting?  I would really like to have it growing on the trellis by the house.

And the peonies are here.  We knew there was a bush with white blooms in the front yard, but I discovered three more out by the road near the clematis.  They were buried among weeds that hadn't been trimmed for who-knows-how-long, but once Dave cleared away the junk, we had beautiful light and dark pink varieties.

Next, this scraggly looking bush that I had actually wanted Dave to remove, began blooming in the most amazing shade of neon pink.  And, lo and behold, as Dave continued clearing brush and dead trees, we discovered it comes in a white variety also. Anyone have an idea?

Then there is this huge bed of what we assume to be some variety of hydrangeas??  The blooms are a rather unimpressive green/yellow at this point.  I read somewhere that the bloom color can be influenced by the acidity of the soil.  Anyone able to verify this?

Coming soon:  Tons and tons of lilies, at least some of which are bright orange.  We'll keep you posted.

FLASHbacks

The fireflies o'er the meadow, in pulses come and go. - "Midnight" by James Russell Lowell

We were sitting in the front yard last night, enjoying one of the few remaining pleasant evenings before the summer heat and mosquitoes hit - and watching the lightning bugs.  I felt 8-years-old again...except for the aching joints and stiff muscles.  Fireflies, or lightning bugs as we called them in central Kansas, conjure memories of running through my grandparents' yard, catching bugs in jars, and giggling with my sisters and cousins.  Don't know why I have no memory of chasing fireflies in my own yard, which was just across the street.  Maybe there was just more open space at Grandma's.  Having lived the majority of my adult life in the dryer parts of Kansas, Nebraska and Colorado, I had nearly forgotten about the twinkling fairy lights that lit my childhood summers.

Now that you have a magical picture of little girls in pink summer dresses with flower wreaths in their hair, skipping through meadows of wildflowers...we used to pull the lights off the fireflies and use them for jewelry.  Those little bug-butts were sticky (can't imagine why after being dismembered) and made beautiful rings and bracelets for miniature mutilators.

Were fireflies a part of your childhood?  Do you have them where you live?  What else brings back memories of summer for you?  For me it's playing in the sprinkler, bikes, games of hop-scotch drawn with "chalk rock", and lots of time to read.

While you're pondering you're childhood memories, ponder these fun facts about fireflies:

• Fireflies need standing water -  heat and humidity. 
• In the U.S., almost no species of fireflies are found west of Kansas—although there are also warm and humid areas to the west. Nobody is sure why this is.
• Fireflies also love long grass. Long grass conceals the fireflies better and allows them a better vantage point for signaling at night, and over-mowing your lawn may disturb your firefly population.
• A light bulb in your home can only use 10% of the energy that goes through it to produce light, the rest is turned into heat. 90% of a lightning bug's energy is used to create light. 
• Fireflies/lightning bugs are neither flies nor bugs - they are beetles.
• Adult fireflies (after the larvae and pupae stages) live only three months.
• The Lightning Bug contains luciferin and luciferase, two rare chemicals used in research on cancer, multiple sclerosis, cystic fibrosis and heart disease.
• The larvae of most species are specialized predators and feed on other insect larvae, snails and slugs, so they are beneficial to gardens.

I have some good news ...

Doctor:  I have some good news and I have some bad news.
Patient:  What's the good news?
Doctor:  Your tests showed that you have 24 hours to live.
Patient:  That's the good news?  What's the bad news?
Doctor:  I forgot to call you yesterday.

[drums: ba-dum-bum-ching]

It's an old joke, I know, but appropriate today because I have some good news and some bad news.  First the good news:  I got a job.  Now the bad news:  I got a job.

This is good news because it means a little extra money to help pay for college, it gets me off of Green Acres and into the real world where I can interact with others (hermit-age nearly to the point of agoraphobia can easily become an issue for me), and it's only part-time so I can still sew, read, visit children, etc.

This is bad news because I have to leave Green Acres and venture into the real world, which has scheduled hours and dress codes.  If you will recall, my last job was a dream job - library, books, flexible hours, book shopping, working basically unsupervised, book discussions, and books -- I'm still in mourning.  My hours were 9:00 to 5:00, but if I showed up at 9:15 no one cared as long as my work got done. Taking lunch at 2:30 so I can get my hair colored?  No problem.  The dress code was pretty flexible as well - my summer work wardrobe consisted of capri-length pants, simple blouses and sandals.  The new job requires "business casual", which means no capris, no jeans, no sandals that are not "affixed to the foot".  In other words - new wardrobe!  I went clothes shopping yesterday, which ended in tears - not an unusual reaction when I meet up with a three-way mirror.  

Lest this become one of those stories where an employee gets fired for posting something negative about their employer - there's nothing wrong with dressing professionally and keeping regular business hours.  It's just been a long time since I did.

However, I think I can handle returning to the world of rules and propriety.  After all, one of the questions I was asked at the interview concerned my "career goals" and I DIDN'T say "I'm 50-years-old and applying for a part-time reception position for which I am waaaaaaay over-qualified.  Do I LOOK like I have career goals?"

The Ghost and Mrs. Muir by R. A. Dick

I have a confession to make.  A few weeks ago, I went to town to run some errands, one being a doctor appointment.  I finished everything on my list with time to spare before appointment.  Not a problem, just find a shady spot and read a book.  But...I didn't have a book.  I know, it's shameful!  What kind of person doesn't have a book in her car or purse for just such emergencies?  I was humiliated, but I did the only possible thing - I went to the library.  I already had a half-dozen library books checked out, so I scanned the shelves for a quick read and found The Ghost and Mrs. Muir by R. A. Dick.  The cover was plain red - well worn, the title hand-written in marker over binding repair tape - but it tapped a vague memory of a tv show from my childhood, so I grabbed it up.


Mrs. Muir, a recent widow, purchases a sea-side home previously owned by a sea captain.  The house is available for a ridiculously low price because it is said to be haunted.  And, indeed it is, by the ghost of Captain Gregg, but desperate to escape her overbearing in-laws, Mrs. Muir befriends the sailor and she and her children move in.  The captain becomes her protector and an unusual relationship - something akin to romance in a strange, metaphysical way - blossoms. 

A quick Google revealed that the show starred Hope Lange and Edward Mulhare and ran from 1968 to 1970. The tv version updated the story from turn-of-the-century England to a modern American setting.    There was also a 1947 movie, starring  Gene Tierney,  Rex Harrison and Natalie Wood as Mrs. Muir's daughter; as well as an hour-long radio play on the December 1, 1947 broadcast of Lux Radio Theater with Charles Boyer and Madeleine Carroll.  It was also adapted for the August 16, 1951 episode of Screen Director's Playhouse with Charles Boyer and Jane Wyatt.

The library's edition was the original, published in 1945.  Inside the front cover I found this interesting message that I had never seen before:  This book has been designed in a Victory Format.  Small type and margins produce fewer pages which permit a vital saving of paper and labor in the manufacture of a Wartime book. 

Throughout the book, Mrs. Muir questions the Captain about the after-life he inhabits and why, if he is able to return at will, more people don't do the same.  His answers are thought provoking:

Captain: Only the unhappy return to earth.  The average after-lifer never wants to return.

Mrs. Muir:  But isn't that very selfish?  I mean when they see their relations and friends weeping their hearts out for one word of reassurance and comfort, don't you think they might come back just once to tell them all is well?

Captain:  Why? When all that's wanting is their own faith?  That beats me every time - all those psalm-singing hypocrites who spend half their lives in church, imploring God Almighty to give them wings like doves to fly to Paradise, and when their frinds get their wings, they smother themselves in black crape and refer to the departed as "poor" - there's no consistency in it and no sense!

When she asks for a description of heaven, he answers:   I have no words to make you understand.  It's all the beauty and serenity and nobility you have ever experienced on earth.  It's all your grandest and most generous feelings, and the finest sunsets and greatest music - and then you're only on the fringe of understanding.

I enjoyed the story and comparing it to my memories of the tv show. If you ever find yourself in a reading emergency, run to the nearest library and look for The Ghost and Mrs. Muir.  

Freedom Isn't Free

I watched the flag pass by one day.
It fluttered in the breeze.
A young Marine saluted it,
and then he stood at ease.
I looked at him in uniform
So young, so tall, so proud,
With hair cut square and eyes alert,
He'd stand out in any crowd.
I thought how many men like him
Had fallen through the years.
How many died on foreign soil?
How many mothers' tears?
How many pilots' planes shot down?
How many died at sea?
How many foxholes were soldiers' graves?
No, freedom isn't free.

I heard the sound of TAPS one night,
When everything was still
I listened to the bugler play
And felt a sudden chill.
I wondered just how many times
That TAPS had meant "Amen,"
When a flag had draped a coffin
Of a brother or a friend.
I thought of all the children,
Of the mothers and the wives,
Of fathers, sons and husbands
With interrupted lives.
I thought about a graveyard
At the bottom of the sea
Of unmarked graves in Arlington.
No, freedom isn't free.
                                    - Kelly Strong

Now That's What I Call Service!

I've been a Schwan's Food Service customer for years.  I like their ice cream and their bbq chicken wings and their shrimp and...and...and..   But this week, what I really like is the delivery dude.   Schwan's advertises that their delivery man is "Your Mealtime Hero".   But they have no idea.

Wednesday was my birthday, and my parents and sister came to visit.  We had a lovely lunch, gifts, birthday cake, reminiscing .... and no toilet paper.  Totally out...not a single square...nada!  Our visit time was limited so we hated to spend 30 minutes of it driving to town for toilet paper.  But three women in the house...we're gonna need t.p.  But wait - three women in the house means three purses.  We scrounged enough little packages of Kleenex to get us through the afternoon, then I called Dave and asked him to swipe a roll or two from the office and bring them home.  I would make a run to town the next day.  Problem solved.

About ten minutes later, the Schwan's truck pulled into the yard.  Totally forgot it was his scheduled day.  He greeted me with "Happy Birthday!  I hear it's your 50th birthday and you're in dire straights," and from under his yellow raincoat he produced two rolls of toilet paper, wrapped in a plastic bag to keep out the rain! What a surprise!  He had been making a sales call at the office where Dave works, and agreed to make a "special delivery" at the next stop on his route.  It was not only service with a smile, but service that had us all howling.  

Schwan's should put that in their ads!

Is Anybody Out There?

Do you keep stats on your blog?  I've tried two different sites for tracking number of visitors, popular pages, etc.  I'm currently using StatCounter, which gives wonderful graphics and maps to show me who is looking at the blog.  The statistics site I used previously basically just told me total number of hits per day, but no detailed breakdown of who those viewers were.  

What I am discovering with this new influx of info is that, although the number of visitors per day is growing, the vast majority of them are from random - and sometimes hilarious - Google searches.  While it's nice to know that the subject variety of our blog is expanding so we are included in more search results, those hits are one-time visitors who either gathered the information they wanted and are never heard from again, or scratched their heads and wondered why in heck Google brought up THAT site. 

Since the first post in October of 2009, this blog has morphed from strictly book reviews,  book-related events, and a campaign to encourage reading together as a couple, to a stream-of-consciousness about my life, my frustrations, my celebrations and some books - it's my therapy.   In spite of that transformation (or because of it?), the number of returning visitors has shown very little growth.  Which brings me to my second question...

Do statistics matter?  Do you write for yourself or to gain an audience?  Do you have dreams of fame and a book deal?  Or do you just want to make a few new friends?  Ok, I know that was more than one question, but it all boils down to the same point.  If a blog publishes but no one is reading, does it still make a sound?