I'm Thinking…No!

Yes, a time to remember all fathers, be they biological, father figures, surrogates, and others that have played or continue to play a role.  I often think of my father, a man left without his own at age three and left him nothing but a name, and survived two stepfathers, one of whom he connected with for a short time, and one with whom he didn’t, and of consequence didn’t really have a model.  He was an only child, and thus didn’t have any siblings with whom to share the experience.  Considering that, he did remarkably well in the parent department, raising three of us.  He wasn’t a doting, demonstrably doting parent, but we knew that he loved and cared deeply about all of us.

Continue reading “Father’s Day Renewed”

Many of my faithful readers are well acquainted with our friend, Lady Peacock. She is endearing, yet colorful and just a bit quirky.  In her latest adventure, she was preparing for the warm weather with her front porch container garden, what would be her “showstopper” were this the Great British Baking Show.

Lady P. arrived at our house, fresh from a trip to a local nursery.  I should mention that I do business there quite frequently, so I make sure I never let them know that she’s a friend.  She breezed in late morning on a beautiful day, so it was crowded.  That meant that she couldn’t park in a close, handy location.  That further meant that she’d get dust on her sandals from the unpaved parking area. Strike One.  Arriving at the check-out station, she announced loudly that “she needed help.”  One needs to understand the nuanced language of Lady Peacock here.  That doesn’t mean, “could you direct me to . . . .”  It means, “set aside whatever you’re doing and guide me to whatever I wish to see.”

Next Scene – Lady Peacock is visiting every inch of the nursery with a very patient employee in tow.  She’s on the hunt.  It has to be a certain color combination.  She manages to find secondary plants in her preferred colors – purples, pinks and just a dash of white for drama.  So far so good, but she has her heart set on ranunculus, her favorite, which Lady P announces regularly, or, as a backup, dahlias.  No ranunculus available. The storm clouds gather.  There are, however, some dahlias. These cannot be just any shade – they must be pink.  Not just any pink, but a subdued and dignified pink, not a shocking, gaudy pink.  Subtlety is her middle name.  Well, actually, Jean is, but we digress.  Color themes play heavily into her world vision.  Hence her official residence, Teale Cottage. My readers can see where this is going. So, back at the nursery, nothing suits.  Strike Two. They’re all yellows, oranges, off-whites.  I suggest zinnias if we can’t find dahlias.  They’re first cousins and remarkably similar, but no, those won’t work. Lady P. hates orange – she’s made a point of telling me that on numerous occasions, most recently as she was given an orange begonia, and routinely when I’ve been coerced into thoroughly enjoyed helping her plan her container.  Mercifully, she only has the one in mind.  If she did more, blood would be spilled.

Up she goes to the cashier station with her purchases.  You would think that the line would open up immediately, other customers clearing a path and sensing her look of resolve, so Lady P. could complete her transactions and leave, but no.  Apparently, they failed to pick up on her cues.  Two or three customers had the impertinence to be in line ahead of her.  Not only that, but they weren’t very fast.  In that delicious line from Devil Wears Prada, they “moved at glacial speed.” They asked questions about different kinds of mulch and then chatted amiably among themselves for what must have been an eternity for Lady P.  Strike Three.  This garden center, previously a favored establishment, has now dipped precipitously.  Perhaps they’ve even lost a Peacock feather or two in their rating.

Here’s the fun part from my perspective.  Lady P. arrived on our doorstep, where she deposited her initial purchases – the partial container “in progress”.  She opened the back of the car for what I frivolously thought was a viewing of her finds. No, no, again. She brought them out and informed me that it was my responsibility to procure the required focal point for her container masterpiece.  This, she told me with a perfectly straight face, would be a real “win-win” because I’d have the joy of shopping for her favorite flowers.  I’d have the further joy of combining them all into a stunning container.  She brought them over now not only for me to put all together, but also to maintain and water it while she’s away later that week. 

I may have mentioned previously, that Lady Peacock returned some flowers that she’d purchased that were just budding.  She was then away, and upon her return found that the petunias or some such had burst in the bloom in the wrong color.  They were supposed to be pink to match the wreath on her front door, but they came out lavender.  Well, back they went to the store, and the people there (again, I surmising, long suffering) were told on no uncertain terms, that they were not at all the color their buds had led her to believe.  It’s just that type of “bait-and-switch” against which Lady Peacock is ever vigilant.  (You may want, for context, to review the blog, “The Art of Return”.  It pretty much explains Lady Peacock’s vision, and most of what she holds dear.)

For many gardeners, in fact I might venture to say most, searching out new plants, new color combinations, and new looks is part of the fun.  Visiting the nurseries at this time of year is an adventure that we’ve been looking forward to all winter.  We’ve flipped through gardening magazines to see what’s new for this year.  So, it’s a bit of a mystery to me that someone asks  to put together a container of same old.  And the funny part is that they ask me to assist them because my containers look so nice.  My dear sister-in-law has a similar view of plants.  They’re something to be endured rather than enjoyed.  In fairness, my brother-in-law absolutely hates gardening, and I get that. A few years ago, I did a window box for them for the lake that deviated from the norm.  It wasn’t red and white, didn’t have impatiens, etc., etc.  She gave me a look that said “What were you thinking?”, but put it out back anyway.  By way of vindication, the neighbors all told them how beautiful it was.  Rather like the year I took over the raised bed in front of the cottage, the turf of my late father-in-law.  As I brought in the plants, he stood in the front window with his cane, pointing.  “I put three geraniums in the back, then a row of marigolds in front.”  I calmly told him that I was “going in a different direction” that year, and not to worry.  I suspect he was sitting inside fuming until Roberta, a neighbor down the road told him, “That’s so pretty – you’ve done something different this year.”  Rather took the wind out of his sails.

Like the innocent query, “would you help me with my taxes”, the next yearly event is on. The hunt has begun for Lady Peacock’s ranunculus, and / or dahlias – soft pink, hold the zinnias.  Have struck out at the next two places I’ve tried.  Not the right colors, too big for the container.  I have a few more places to try, so Herself and I will have to branch out to a few more nurseries farther away.  We’ll make a day of it. Perhaps I should charge Lady Peacock mileage.  Anyone know what the going rate is?  I’m thinking, by the time I’ve factored in anxiety, about four bucks a mile might cover it.

Following up on my insightful writings about inventors with time on their hands, I thought that more brilliant ideas are well overdue for discussion.  So, here goes. We all have items that were developed to protect us, make us safer, or perhaps even to simplify our lives. They’re supposed to free us from anxiety or fits of rage.  They’re supposed to free us from mundane tasks, or simplify our routines.  Here are some of the things that I’ve found should make our lives easier and more relaxing, and yet, I’m thinking . . . . . .

Continue reading “Good Ideas Gone Rogue”

So many of the country’s best and brightest engineers are designing meaningful solutions to significant problems – climate change, alternative energy sources, medical research, earth-saving environmental innovations.  Some, however, are not.  They’re applying their gifts to new products that, well, are of somewhat dubious benefit at best. A catalog arrived yesterday of, shall we say, high-end products that are interesting and curious.  These are pretty costly, and quite frankly, don’t really seem to be filling a niche in the marketplace.  As I was leafing through the pages, I wondered who actually bought these items.  And, of greater importance, who has or is making so much money that they really consider some of these items “essential consumerism”.  For example:

Continue reading “Inventors: Too Much Time on Their Hands?”

As America appears to be emerging from the worst of the pandemic, and at least the numbers are well down and are going in the right direction, I looked back at a blog I wrote a year ago.  At that stage, things were getting progressively worse, and the summer outlook bleak.  Schools had gone to remote learning, groceries were being delivered or seniors arose at dawn to do their shopping, Amazon was doing a huge business – and that was just our house.  People were stockpiling toilet paper and spray sanitizer.  Well, thank goodness we’re beginning to see improvements.  Lots of people have been vaccinated, stores and restaurants are cautiously reopening, and restrictions are starting to disappear.  I had to pick up a few things yesterday afternoon at the supermarket – fully masked – and for the first time, the one-way aisle markers were gone. 

Continue reading “To Mask or Not To Mask II: A Year Later”

Do you see ads for television shows and wonder, “What possessed them?”  No, really, what were they thinking, or probably not?  Do they see themselves in these ads and think, “I nailed that”? It doesn’t matter how much money they were paid, it’s not nearly enough to cover the enormous embarrassment they should rightfully be feeling, and the derision the rest of us feel for them.

Continue reading “People on TV – Why?”

My faithful readers may get the impression that I’m that cranky old guy in the neighborhood.  The one that yells at kids on bikes and shakes an angry fist at falling leaves.  Actually, not really, although most of my blogs tend to be about little things that set me off.  Most of the time, I’m fairly calm and very happy. For instance, one morning last week, as I was in the kitchen pouring my first cup of coffee, I looked out on the front terrace and saw two mourning doves strutting proudly across the walkway.  Dashing around them was squirrel, scampering among the spring blossoms.  While the weather has been in that transitional stage – cold for a day or two followed by some sunny, warm days.  The increased animal activity is a joyful sign of spring. Up in the garden are daffodils and ground phlox.  The forsythia is particularly good this year, and the azaleas aren’t far behind.  The flowering crabapple tree in the back yard is just starting to leaf, and the buds are evident.  It will be a bit longer before it reaches blossoming stage. We call it Alfred after my late father-in-law, because a friend gave us money to buy it in his memory. It keeps its own time table, as did he, so it will blossom when it’s good and ready. But everything reminds me that the earth is coming back to life.

As the Princess had lived in DC for many years both in college and working, we tend to keep tabs on the cherry blossoms.  They were early this year, coming out in late March.  Whether that’s climate change, a new and hopeful administration, or simply those beautiful trees doing what they do best, it’s a sure and glorious sign that civilization will persevere.   We’ve only seen the blossoms fully out once, and that, ironically, was her last year at the end of an 18-year run there.  

I opened the newspaper this morning, and there, all over the front pages were pictures of volunteers cleaning up in celebration of Earth Day.  We humans can be responsible when we set our minds to it.  We will, from time to time, give the outward impression that we can be thoughtful stewards of this planet.  There have been ongoing efforts to clean up along the riverbanks, to pull trash from the river, to pick up our local bike trails, and generally to clean up the messes we’ve made.  There are those that will ask, “why bother?”  But most of us appreciate those volunteer efforts. Another story again caught my eye.  A local real estate company, specializing in transfer closings, sent their people to freshen up the outside of a local charitable service.  What a wonderful thing to do.  Pictures featured their employees planting bulbs and flowers.  Well done!

Our nephew’s son, on a recent visit to his grandparents, was full of excitement, telling them how much he loved being there and seeing them.  Big hugs and kisses, and we got the same later in the week at a family birthday celebration, the first family gathering not on Zoom in over a year.  That’s a little unusual for a teenager in seventh grade.  They’re not typically too effusive, particularly a hockey player who is developing his “cool”.  His sister, now in third grade and a dancer, is always bubbly, but not so often her big brother.  He conned his father recently into buying him something expensive, which doesn’t happen often and brought a smile to lots of faces, because his father is both an attorney, not easily given to persuasion, and, shall we say, just a tad frugal. 

My dear sister—in-law is an avid quilter, and so much of our house benefits from her efforts.  She made us a beautiful new table runner for the dining room – yellows and lime greens – that adds so much pleasure every time we walk by.  A new splash of joyous color that, well, just makes me smile.  The other day, I noticed that we had some bananas that were fading fast, so I made a banana bread.  Her Ladyship was still in bed, but she woke with a smile, and then told me that I really needed bake something every morning so that the aroma would be lingering. Won’t happen, but certainly a happy thought.

The Princess has been sharing with us her writing for courses and a presentation.  While much of it is well outside our areas of expertise, it’s refreshing to hear her enthusiasm for the topics, her excitement for her research, and her pleasure at the positive feedback that she receives from her fellow graduate students and her teachers.  She’s coming home this weekend to get her second vaccination shot, which will be a milestone to all of us.  It will particularly bring a smile to the faces of the folks at Starbucks.

Last week, our computer, on which I’m writing this gave me a spot of bother.  The sound wasn’t working, for some reason.  I, using all of my technical expertise, disconnected the external speakers.  That’s pretty much all I can do.  It still didn’t work, so I contacted Apple Support.  45 minutes later, a trip to the repair shop was recommended, so we scheduled that for Monday morning.  Somehow over the weekend, and I still have no idea how it happened, the internal speakers started working again.  When I turned it on, it made that “start-up” sound, and I being an apostle of the obvious, thought, “that must be the internal speakers!”.  Oh, yes, you have to get up pretty early in the morning to slip anything by me.  Since then, everything is great, I didn’t have to load the computer in the car and drive it to the Apple store, nod my head knowingly as the techie explained something incomprehensible to me in excruciating detail. Best of all, I had a great smile of relief on my face as I called to cancel the repair appointment (which still took fifteen minutes on the phone with tech support).  Now I just have to pop up to the dealership with my car for its third airbag recall.  Free coffee, my book, and it won’t cost me anything, so, ok, I can live with that.

A lone wild turkey stands vigil this morning, braving the gusty winds.  We have a flock, and some mornings they come boldly up the walkway in front of our house.  I’m tempted to stand on the porch and say, “Good morning, Ladies.”  Tom had done his guarding earlier, then walked up the steps and sauntered off, much as I’d envision a Beefeater going off duty at Buckingham Palace.  Usually there are two or three hens, sometimes as many as five or six.  They were born here, up in the meadow, up by the community garden, and we’ve watched them grow up – the turkey version of “Make Way for Ducklings”.   Now they’re adults and, presumably there will be more little ones before long.  Also saw a bunny yesterday.  They haven’t been around in some time – I figured that perhaps the foxes or fishers out back in the apple orchard got them, but I guess not. As long as they don’t eat my gardens, I’m pleased to see them. 

I went off to the local nursery yesterday and made my first purchases of the new season.  That’s always exciting.  I bought a couple of new items with a gift card I got from Her Ladyship for Easter.  She was very generous this year.  We’re still waiting for a new top I ordered for her, but maybe it will be here along with the things I ordered for Mother’s Day.  Fingers crossed.

Off with my coffee to read my morning newspaper while Herself has a last bit of sleep.  It’s a quiet time of day.  Restful, recharging, a gentle transition into the day.  I set the coffee maker the night before, so I just have to press a button.  Sometimes I put on the radio to my classical music station.  Then I quietly read my paper and contemplate the simple joys of life.  Until the Princess, when she’s home, gets up and announces her arrival into the day by shutting off my radio with a decidedly hostile jab at the power button and turns the television on to “Morning Joe”.  So much for a gentle transition. At some point, she’ll point out that all of my plants are sure indicators that more of her inheritance has been squandered. But even that brings a smile.

It occurred to me that, while most of us have not given more than seventy years of service to Queen and country, as did the late Duke of Edinburgh, there are elements of our lives that could and should rightfully be recognized.  To that end, I’ve taken the liberty to add titles and recognition to our dear friend, Lady Peacock, as she would be most appreciative and certainly in full expectation.

Continue reading “Lady Peacock – Building a Legacy”

I’m reusing most of a blog from two years ago, but it’s working again (the truly great stuff is ageless), because  I’m looking out the window and snow is again falling significantly from the sky.  We’re in mid April, and apparently Global Warming isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I thought last week, when it was warm and sunny,  “I’ll bring out the deck furniture”.  I had one fireplace log left over from the winter, so we had a fire in the fireplace this morning.  That’s just not normal. I did uncover some benches on the deck, but decided on a whim to wait for the rest.  Now, I’m rethinking getting the grill tank filled this weekend. Not going near that thing for a while. And, here we are, reliving the past . . . . .

Continue reading “It’s Snowing Again! Again”

No, not globally or in large swaths of the economic sector.  Just a solemn announcement from the Princess during her recent visit.  “The service is declining in this establishment.”  Sad but true.  This came about when she’d asked about breakfast options and was told that Eggs Benedict and Crab Cakes were off the menu. (In fact, we’ve been out of Hollandaise sauce for quite some time.) This terse pronouncement came on the heels of the initial disappointment of the day that, as I got up early and drained the first pot of coffee, there wasn’t much left when she arose and made her grand entrance.  Her breakfast options were bagels, English muffins, or cereal.  She often has to make her own breakfast sandwiches, so there frequently isn’t a gratuity added to the check. But the cereal option is served promptly and always with a smile, although, as she pointed out, it was the “generic”, store brand raisin bran.  Life is full of let-downs.

Continue reading ““The Service is Declining . . . .””