When the stores said fall was upon us, I didn’t believe them. Stores put out their “Back-to-School” signage before the summer is half way through. On the other hand, the calendar’s decree of fall’s arrival comes far too late. By that time, classes are well-started and my old school has won at least three football games. No, you can’t predict the seasons by anything man-made. The long, slow slide away from summer started about 3 weeks ago, according to my early warning portents. I know when the year starts to turn by the leaves, the nuts and the spiders. A 2 day haul of acorns and pecans.Anyone want to pick up the rest? Some people say they see the signs of fall. Me, I hear about it first from the trees. When the leaves are still green and the thermometer hovers above 90, trees signal the change of season with a series of small bombing raids generally known as the falling of nuts. Phooey. These nuts don’t fall. From the sound of them hitting our roof, they are hurled and God help what they hit when they land. The impacts and ricochets sound like gunfire and the noise initially scares the…
Petunia as played by Fiona Shaw I do not like to keep house. While other girls grabbed 4H badges for their sewing and cooking skills, I got Ds in Home Economics. When I realized my husband wasn’t looking for a wife with a Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval, I was overjoyed. But after 30 years of loathing laundry and hiding the dirty dishes, I’ve developed something worse than a bout of HouseFrau tidiness. I have a latent streak of Aunt Petunia. For anyone who’s spent the last 20 years under a rock, Aunt Petunia is a minor villain in the Harry Potter series. She’s an unpleasant woman who devotes a lot of energy to forcing her narrow worldview down everyone’s throat. She scrubs her house so thoroughly, all sense of “home” is rubbed right out. In my own defense, I’m not a complete Aunt Petunia. I adore my sister and nephews; I think they’re some of the greatest people ever made. I believe in tolerance and diversity. But I’ve joined Petunia’s obsession and quest to keep some surfaces squeaky-clean. Oh God, is that a scratch? At one time, oven surfaces heated things and tables held cooler ones. Spills were regrettable,…
Every since 1929, female writers all over the world have been chanting a sentence of Virginia Woolf’s like it was a mantra. Agree or disagree, ever she-scribbler knows the quote: In order for a woman to write fiction she must have two things, certainly: a room of her own (with key and lock) and enough money to support herself. (Truth be told, I’ll bet a lot of male writers echo the sentiment but apply it to themselves. Privacy and financial security are woefully lacking these days for those who craft belle-lettres.) As for me, I created that room in my imagination around the time I was 12. I was reading an exercise in a self-help book my mom had borrowed (It was the 70’s and the adult world was awash in self-help books) that suggested the reader construct an imaginary place equipped with everything needed to be that person’s spiritual and physical retreat. It was the reader’s famous “happy place” and, once constructed by the mind, it could be accessed whenever needed. Well, of course I started imagining mine. What did it look like? It was a spot for someone addicted to reading and writing. Books by the hundreds, books…
We’ve officially moved into the Summer Season, the one we dream of during the dreary, wet days of February and the long brutal nights of Winter. The thermometer has begun it’s annual low boil of mercury, keeping the glass over the 90 degree mark opaque but I am not complaining. This is a glorious time of year, when the earth seems to spill over with an abundance of living things and I am its eager audience. More than any other, Summer is a season of scents for me and a single whiff sends me into a cascade of memories eternally tied to this season. Lilac I grew up in a two bedroom house, unprepossessing in appearance. Between the patchy lawn and the faded exterior, it would never draw the eye except for 10 days every year when the wall of lilac surrounding the house blossomed. For the rest of the year the bushes were just as a privacy fence between us and the neighbors, but each year, between May 1 and my birthday, they burst into glorious bloom, drowning the block in scent and turning our wren-brown house into a thing of beauty, framed by that delicate color. In the…
I was born to be a Sedentarian. I’m not sure that’s a recognized word yet but when I’ve seen it used, it describes (obvious, isn’t it?) someone who prefers walking to running, standing to walking, sitting to standing and lying down to sitting. Someone who loathes the idea of exercise. When you add in an addiction to books, sedentarianism becomes more than a preference, it becomes the path to salvation. Only problem is, it can be detrimental to your health. Right now, you are looking at my library, complete with desk, PC and reading chair. Comfy as all get out but not a site adapted for getting in shape. So what’s to be done? I have to read and until today, that mean I had to sit still. (Every time I’ve tried to read with the body in motion, I’ve contracted an epic-sized bout of motion-sickness.) I’m under doctor’s orders to lose some weight and I’m trying to comply but exercise isn’t just sweaty and painful, it’s boring, a factor no bouncing paperback or Kindle could overcome. And there’s the answer, friends and neighbors, I needed book that doesn’t bounce and I got one. Does anyone besides me remember Kindle…