Fall is in the air

Don't get excited.  This picture was taken last fall on one of our trips to Caney Mountain.  But the past few days have certainly seemed fall-like in temperature and humidity.  Don't you just love it?  And in my current state of limited walking, it is just the incentive I need to do those things that will get me back on the trail again.  Fall is one of my favorite seasons...right up there with spring, and winter,....and summer.  

There is something about the change of season...any season....that just seems right to me.  My mom felt this way too.  She retired to Florida and lived there for many years.  It was better for her health for sure.  But she missed what she called "the change of seasons".  The slight change from hot to mild and the amount of rain didn't seem very satisfying to her central Illinois soul.  So she would make her annual trip up to see us in August and always stayed until the end of October.  It was her favorite time of year.  

As I look from the porch, I can see the slight change in the trees over on the river bluff hill.  Crickets are sounding very autumnal.  There is a difference in the air.  The foggy mornings have even changed minutely, but living day to day as I do, I can sense that the earth is getting ready to cool down and brighten up.....clear nights,  red and gold vistas,  rising harvest moons,  softer sunsets, mild winds that carry a hint of frost.  Our baby blue birds have passed their bug-catching lessons and are ready to find a place to spread their wings and fly. 

Fly.  How I would love to fly over that hill.  Down in the valley.  See the clear water where the fish run in schools, darting after minnows or breaking the surface to catch the unwary bug.  And then soar up again, over the hill and down along the road that curves and wanders around the houses and farms of my neighbors.  See the cattle in the fields.  Watch the horses feeding on the lush green grass on the water's edge.  See the last of the white tails of deer disappearing into the woods.  Smoke rising from the morning fires in nearby homes.  Sounds of tractors starting up, ready for the day.  Roosters crowing.  All to welcome a new season.

Come on Fall.  We're ready and waiting. 

On being an optimist

I can't help it.  It's in my DNA.  I understand that my dad's mother, Ada Belle Myers, had the same trait.  So perhaps I came by it honestly.  I love life.  I love to smile.  I love to laugh.  And I try to find as many times and places as possible to do indulge in it.  Do you remember that song from the musical South Pacific?  Cockeyed Optimist?  That could be my theme song.

Don't get me wrong.  We all have times when we are sad and hurting.  I have had my share.  But I take my lesson from the beautiful roses in the picture above.  A little rain, some sun, a few thorns along the way...but still it thrives even in the worst of conditions.

Every day is something that we can experience.  Not just endure.  It's hard, I understand.  However,  I have always tried to make the best of what is happening and look ahead.  Maybe  tomorrow won't be any better....but, golly, there is next week and next month.  And next year.

I am a morning person.  Many people in my family were  not morning people.  Case 1.  My brothers.  Both of them.  The conversation at the breakfast  table  went something like this: Me: Blah,blah,blah,so happy, blah,blah,blah.  Paul/Derek: murderous stare, no comment, if you don't hush up we will do it for you.  Yes, it is true.  And I soon learned to quiet down and just keep the  AM joy to myself.  Case 2:  My co-worker at the Amerind Foundation, Sonny Jerkic.  (Living in a ranch house in Arizona for 8 months while we mended pots and recorded data from a dig in Mexico)  Me: Good morning.  Beautiful day. What do you want for breakfast?  Do you think we'll get done with Unit 3 today?  etc. etc.   Sonny: blind, blank stare, no comment, familiar sense that I am talking to a stone who is not responding to my chatter.  Finally, after the third or fourth morning we had  a talk.  Rule for mornings:  Take the breakfast order the night before.  No talking to room mate  before 10 AM.  Problem solved.

Don't you know that I was well pleased when  I fell in love and married  a man who was a morning person as well.

My philosophy is this.  God gave me a good life.  My job is to show my appreciation for that in being the happiest, kindest person I can be.  And sometimes it just spills over into uncontrollable joy.  And optimism.  So be it.   

Travels with Flo

My mother was  a seasoned traveler.  She honed her skills during years of traveling door to door in the farmland of western Illinois, selling silverware, books, and infant seats.  You name it.  My mom sold it.  However, this is not what this story is about.  This one is about Florence Myers and how she managed to drive three days - and nights- and get all of us safely from the Midwest to the East Coast in five easy steps.

1.  Always pack enough food for every occasion.  Breakfast?  No problem.  Have a banana.  And some orange juice.  A few sticky buns from the last bakery we stopped  at in Indiana.  Ditto...lunch.  Supper?  Well, we might stop at a HoJo's along the turnpike, but Mom's favorite places were truck stops.  Her motto:  If a man who drove a semi from coast to coast ate there, the food must be good.

2. Always pack as  much stuff as you can in the back seat.  The smallest person rides in the middle.  You pack around her.  And when she needs  to use the bathroom, you unpack her and then re-pack.  Guess who was the smallest person?   Obviously the picture above shows four people...and I notice my brothers are not present.  Where we put the gear on this trip I don't remember.

3.  Drive all night.  Drive all day.   When you get tired let someone else drive.  Take a snooze.  Stop to eat. Gas up the car.  Drain the family.  Head on into the night.  I do not ever remember stopping at a motel, or hotel on these trips.  One time everyone was just too exhausted to go on.  I vaguely remember Mom directing my brother Paul to pull into a place that seemed to resemble a parking lot.  We all fell asleep immediately.  Sometime in the early dawn someone came tapping on the car window.  Mom rolled the window down.  Pennsylvania State Patrolman.  Ma'am, are you okay?   Sure, we are fine.  We just got a little sleepy and had to stop.  Yes, that's fine, but  you see, you are parked in an outdoor movie lot....and you really need to move on.  Evidently, we hadn't noticed the giant screen or speakers when we wheeled in there  at 1 AM.

4.  Always, and I mean always, stop at an antique store.  My mother had a sixth sense when it came  to one of those quaint little places that were tucked around every corner as we made our way through New England toward New  Hampshire.  If she was driving she would immediately turn into the place and we would all have to pile out.  Except me, if I was packed into the back.  Mom would usually find something to buy...and it took some time because she always bargained.  Because of her antique habit, the last day on the road often turned into a day and a half.

5.  Collect as many maps and brochures about places of interest as you can and stuff them in your glove box.  We always stopped at the Tourist Welcome Centers.  Free coffee.  Free juice.  And lots of things to look at.  Mom kept every single piece of information she picked up.  She was always going to make sure we took a side trip the next time we came that way.  Maybe we would add a few days to the journey.  I can remember the teenage me groaning silently, trying to imagine adding a "few more days" to an already too long trip. 

But even with all the hard times I thought I was suffering through as I made those yearly trips with Flo , there were some things I remember.  Just how good a chocolate  milkshake tastes at Howard Johnson's when you've been traveling for miles and miles.  The sunrise over the mountains in Pennsylvania while you brush your teeth at a roadside park in the early morning. (Mom always called it "the bathroom with a view". )  The green hills of summer New England that told  us that we were near our journey's end.  And the sight of our little white house up at the end of the road.  Shuttered and waiting for another exciting summer.  After a long road trip, courtesy of Flo.    

Sidekick

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My new best friend is shy.  She doesn't enjoy having her picture taken.  She is gray, kind of blocky, and moves on wheels and slides.  My new best friend is my sidekick.  A walker.  And I would be lost without her.  

Recovering from total hip replacement is no stroll in the park, let me tell you.  I know that it is easier than knee replacement.  The recovery time is quicker.  The pain is less.  Oh really, the pain is less?   I guess so.  If you could rate your pain from 1 to 10, Mrs. Elder, what would it be?  How about 8 going on 800!!!!  Give me some relief.

Truly, I am doing fine.  I have had lots of phone calls, cards, food, visits from friends.  Everyone is so helpful.  And for them and their concern I am grateful.  I can't thank them enough.

But me and the Sidekick are in it for the long haul.  I have started physical therapy.  I do my home exercises everyday.  I walk.  And walk.  And walk some more.  Me and the Sidekick.   We have become friends.  Very good friends.  Couldn't make it without her.