Our Winner Is ....

Nature is our winner!
Mother Survivor prevails.

Moi advised us clearly :
Adapt or die


Boxer reminded us what Mother once nursed returns the favor:
Fallen tree nurses


Gentleman Karl hammered home Moi's message:
Change is the new norm








Bi-Czar was off message with his 17 about a vice not an ecosystem.

Serendipity illuminated the balance of power.
Photosynthesis is Algae's job not Fungi's.


Becca reminds us good is not always positive:
rain.....like tears from angel's eyes


Aunty Belle opened her eyes long enough to remind us to be vigilant:
Alas!


Corey Jo personalizes the bees struggle:
No honey for me.


Rafael's haiku haunted me.
It speaks of a frightful tragedy , the transition from the blessing of baptism to the horrors of Nature diverted from her purpose. There is much intensity in the implied perversion from once "baptismal tides"  to the resulting devil spawn of "poison"  tides/


Chickory once again shared with us her love for and the beauty of her Summer forest,
July's broadleaf glade


Because of these haiku I have revisited the meanings of a "glade" of "photosynthesis"  and of a "derecho".
I re-read some of the credits for Helios, the duties of mycorrhizal fugi and all the definitions for  "spawn".
This was helpful although not particularly influential.  The top three are:
Moi
Serendipity
Rafael

So it came down to the visuals:
Have you visited these sites?
Moi had a picture of creation
Serendipity has a picture of Lichen's Troth
Rafael has an image which looks like an abstract painting of tidal dna gone amuck.


Stalemate!
I loved something about  all the visuals!
This necessitated another reading aloud.
So the winner emerged ...


Photosynthesis
is algae's job, not fungi's
in Lichen's troth

Congratulations Serendipity!


Thank you  all for playing :-)
Well, maybe not Czar ......eeeeewwwwweeeeee!

Haiku Monday Theme: Ecosystem

Our area is in a drought status. Recently we had enough rain to downgrade our status from "severe" to " moderate".  Throughout the region there remains serious concerns for the ecosystems of  our streams, rivers, lakes, estuaries, marshes, wetlands, bays and 
p.o.n.d.s !!!!!

Because of this I have given much thought of late about ecosystems.What is my own piece of the puzzle? Do I contribute to the balance of a greater ecosystem? I am not likely to be bear food or to eat a bear but does that mean  my being has no bearing on bears?  What is the significance of seeing more preying mantis and fewer ladybugs this year?  Why are we seeing  more black garden snakes  than ever before and why do the sugar ants seek out my air conditioned house instead of subterranean ant hostels?

South of here a bit there are folks taking great issue with the desires to deepen and lengthen the ports in both Savannah and Charleston. There are concerns about  fish species, insect species and the birds they feed and those which feed on the birds. There are daily arguments in the paper  from the side screaming for progress and jobs and those screaming for stewardship of the Earth. As best I can tell we are all losing.

Rules of the game are  the  classic 5-7-5 format of imparting an awesome concept/message/ wish in just 17 syllables. And, while my beloved Troll seems to have abandoned me, I cannot abandon his teachings.   Thus,  proper  use of Kigo (seasonal reference) and kireji  (cutting word) will each have an additional point value.  I like visuals so these too are factored  in determining the top three. Just give me a  "visuals up!" so I know to come have a look. Two haiku per entrant will be judged. If you write more, please indicate which are to be judged.  As always, you are welcome to invite friends and family to play. The bigger the game the more we learn!


Happy weekending.

The Wedding

The Kellen-Culpepper wedding was spectacular. (see post of 2-04-2012)


Spectacular venue.
Outstanding food.
Flowing libations.
An inspiring church chorale group before and during  the ceremony
A rockin' 11 piece band from Asheville for the reception.
Gorgeous flowers
Gorgeous bridesmaids in gorgeous dresses they will wear again.
Handsome groomsmen in  silvery gray suits looking ....composed and confident.
Radiant mothers and grand mothers.
Smiling fathers.
Darling flower girl toddler and the most beautiful child on Earth as the ring bearer.
Confident groom.
Breathtaking bride.
Breathtaking gown.

In even my best dreams I  have never designed a wedding this beautiful for Mermaid.
( Sorry Babe)

I could not be more pleased for my friend Grant and her hubby, the parents of the bride.
I have never seen more joyful parents. They are pleased with her choice in Culpepper and if there is any friction between the families it was undetectable. They all were having a great time.  I had a great time too as I was seated with the families of the  brothers of the father or the bride.  I was introduced as an adoptee of the brides family and was regaled with hilarious family tales  from the assorted aunts, uncles and cousins. At least two of the cousins I would bring home to Mermaid in a heartbeat.  I am very, very honored to have been the only guest at a family table and to have been so ...  enfolded. I will count my blessings every day of my life should Mermaid marry a family this generous of spirit.

The venue was in the mountains bordering North and South Carolina and just a  stones throw East of the Georgia line. This venue offers a "barn" which is actually a very wisely designed events building.
It is mostly open to the view you see here but with a roof and  walls  on the sides. So the feeling is of an outdoor wedding but no one was uncomfortable or bugged or rained upon. The sides have huge
double hung windows so hot air could be vented out while  winds were kept from whistling through microphones or hairdos or turning skirts into kites. On the road side of the building there is a caterer's kitchen, a brides preparation suite and facilities on the right. On the left is the farm store offering  preserves, relishes, pickled veggies, vinegars, spreads and butters from the fields. There is also the option to purchase fresh from the hen eggs and  all natural proteins. Beef, chicken, pork and fresh catch from the mountain streams.

There was some mingling of the left and right fronts as  on the caterer's side of the barn  is where  men in black slacks, tucked shirts, bow ties, white chef hats and sleek black aprons were grilling bacon wrapped fillet mignons and frying up catfish for the dinner. Part of this farm is an orchard so the salads were pear, apple, arugula and walnut in a fruity vinaigrette which was so yummy it was hard to  resist licking the plate. The fillet was perfect.
Perfect temperature.
Perfect texture.
Perfect taste.
There were an assortment of  picked that morning grilled vegetables from the farm and 3 gentlemen assigned the task of keeping fresh, hot, hand mashed  potatoes coming forth by the steaming bowlful.
One of the Uncles said, "We are a meat and potatoes kind of family so they know better than to serve up ballerina fare." Clearly he has never seen ballerinas eat after a performance. All of the brothers, and their offspring, are over 6'6" without a single extra pound in sight on a one of them.  Obviously they have figured out what works best for them. If I ate their regular diet I would be called  unkind names by teenage boys hanging out of car windows.

Both the bride and the groom are graduates of the Big Orange University. So the wedding colors were  of course orange. O.R.A.N.G.E. The girls bouquets were  Applegate and Tropicana roses, mixed with Limelight Hydrangeas, various  pink and white baby roses and sugar snap peas they clearly stole from Chickory.  The mothers wore purple the grandmothers wore green. Very beautiful in the presence of that gorgeous, groomed,  green orchard with that amazing  purple mountain background  basking in the last glow of orange light.  Breathtaking ! And smart. As if someone had spent days on site matching colors to the environment. I remain impressed.

The guests were mostly young people in their 20's or 30's  who were having a really great time. They were  beautifully dressed. There were no visible tats or piercings or other irritants. There was no drama from the guests.  No overheard cattiness, no  offensive flirtations, no unfortunate behaviors resulting  from the flowing libations. It was so beautifully wholesome I nearly cried. This was a living diorama of our country I so love. And fear we are losing.  I pray not. I prayed for Kellen and Culpepper, for Grant and her sweet, proud husband. I prayed for their continued joy.  I prayed for their ability to resolve their differences with wit and wisdom. I prayed my gratitudes too for being a witness to these celebrations.

As I was leaving the reception the Matron of Honor, the older sister of the bride, came and gave me a big hug. She is pregnant with the first grand child of the family. A daughter. Due in late October. After our hug she took both my hands and said, " Miss Fishy, I told Mama she has to give you to me next.
Our house is small but I want our baby  Ellie to have a beautiful nursery. When can you come to us?"

 I love being a present.

Decoration Day

It so happens my 19th year,
I was at my Grandmother's home on "Decoration Day".
I knew the day to be "Memorial Day" but since that was a name change in the late 1960's my grandmother paid this "no nevermind" preferring to maintain loyalty to the original label.

I had noticed in the week leading up to this day there had been an unusual amount of telephoning in my Grandmother's life. In her house there was one  land line phone with a very long cord so she could move all around the house and not be "tied to the wall"  in a single location. It worked well for her but required astuteness on the part of those sharing the house with her. The unaware could find themselves kissing the hardwoods without notice. Since I had been stellar at jump rope on the school playground I was not often the one face down on the floor with depleted lungs.

In addition to all the telephone traffic there were numerous trips to the grocers, butcher, baker. I was dispatched to the alley way garage to find and organize for transport baskets, gloves, hats, gardening implements and old blankets.  Eventually I got around to asking why we were all so busy?

" It's  for Decoration Day."
" Isn't that a parade with horse drawn cannon and old men in funny uniforms?"
" Mind your manners Fishy."
" Huh?"
"Ladies do not say 'huh?' and it is impolite to disrespect the dead who suffered for you"
" Yes ma'am"

She went on to explain on Decoration Day every one got dressed up to attend  a 9am Mass
 in honor of "the Fallen", followed by a progressive Brunch from house to house of family members on all sides. Most of the telephoning  and other busyness was about who would be progressing and who would be hosting, the menus, the flowers and the all important question of who would be wearing what.

" Well then, why do you  keep sending me out into the alley to organize and pack  all the gardening stuff?"

" Because after Mass and Brunch we will  dash home to change, gather our picnics and our gardening equipment to meet up with the others at RoseLawn by two."
" RoseLawn?"
" The cemetery"
" Did you say picnic?"
" Really Fishy, have  you never been to a Decoration Day before?"
" Apparently not. I am sure I would remember picnicking in a graveyard "
" Watch that mouth Fishy!"
" Yes ma'am"

Exceeding all expectations I loved this day. The Mass and Brunch were pretty typical. Not much different from a normal Sunday schedule. Since this was in the days before the South allowed boozing and retailing on Sundays most of the time we had  family gatherings or went visiting.

RoseLawn is a beautiful old fashioned cemetery with huge moss draped oaks and family plots defined by azalea hedges,  roses, camelias and  statuary.  This was long before the days of flat markers and plastic cone shaped floral insults.  These were gardens of eternal resting.

When we reached the cemetery we joined a long winding caravan of cars slowly making the way to a chosen spot. We were bound for the grave of my Grandmothers second  husband
 (not my grandfather). He was not one of the "fallen" from military confrontations he had fallen to heart disease a decade before. His placement is graced with a life size angel statue so it was easy to find. We left the picnic in the car, but unloaded all the gardening gear and hiked over to the grave site. Hundreds of other families were doing the same thing. The common purpose was to first groom then decorate the grave sites followed by story telling and honoring of the occupants with food and music. It was a very festive and very social occasion. There was friendliness toward the neighbors families there for the same purpose. There was the sharing of the stories of the departed; some riotously funny, some  piercingly sad. Once the  headstones and statues had been scrubbed new, the graves  weeded, pruned, clipped, and nourished;  we hauled all the debris and tools back to the cars then returned with the blankets, our picnics, fresh flowers, flags and musical instruments.

Every grave was groomed and decorated.
Even those looking forlorn and abandoned on the perimeter of the grounds.  If there was a site with no family there, then those in proximity did the grooming and the decorating. And the talking. I don't mean talking about those resting on the other side of the grass, I mean talking to them. In the South, talking to the dead is a common practice. Now that my Mother is gone I completely understand this.  I talk to her often. Out loud. Which is a concern for Blowfish. He is a Yankeeman who does not walk around talking to his parents.  He thinks about them,  prays for them, but he does not talk to them as if they were right there with him. I suspect he thinks I am a  bit "off ".  If he had ever been to a Decoration Day in the South he would not think anything of my chatting up the departed.

Younger children were given flags to plant next to the graves of those with no family present to do the duties. Children being children, they interspersed these duties with impromptu games of hide and seek or tag or jump the stone.  There were a few injuries. Many of them had been told to read the name of the occupant and say a little something to him/her while placing the flag. Kids are kids everywhere so what was heard were things like, "here lies Fred because he's dead!" or " Old Mr. Hopper told some whoppers!" I doubt these were the sentiments parents had hoped to hear but then they would shrug and grin and say something like, " Let's hope Fred has a sense of humor."  My favorite was one which said,

"It is best to carve  love into hearts before granite"

As day passed into dusk the musicians started strumming guitars, banjos, fiddles. There were plenty of  plaintive wails from harmonicas and more than a few singers who had obviously broken the Sunday drinking bans. Children danced between the headstones waving their sparklers  while the seniors quietly  reminisced.  In our group  there was a lull in the conversation when a brother in law of my grandmother stood up and started to sing,

 "My Country Tis of Thee, Sweet Land of Liberty."

 May this forever be true.

                                    God Bless You Each and Every One

A Bear of a Haiku

Half ton brown fishes

at waterfall precipice.

Mother's "Fresh Market"

Salmon for breakfast?

Waterside service for two!

Mind your manners Bear.

The Sonoma Drooler

One of my siblings gave Blowfish an online Williams Sonoma gift certificate for his birthday last month. It has changed the man. Maybe forever. Blowfish does not "shop" unless you count going to Concours D' Elegance car shows.  He has lived a life where what he needs magically appears with no effort on his part. He does fuel his own truck and will go to the  grocers or stop in at a bakery or florist shop to bring home the apologies but that's about it. Until the transmission of his online gift certificate he had never, ever shopped online. In fact the old fish had no idea what to do with such a gift.

One morning he was wandering around  restless and grumbling  until he  eventually ended up in my studio.
"Hi "
"Hi "
" Can you help me with something?"
Over the years I have learned to not just automatically agree to these seemingly innocuous requests.
" Probably. What is your issue?"
" I don't know how to use the Williams Sonoma gift certificate. Do I print it out and go to a store?"
" I think you can use these in an actual store. There isn't one here but  there is one in BigCity.  If you want to go we can certainly do that. However, if you want to preview your options you can shop online."
" How do I do that?'

And thus was Pandora's Box opened.

In his young mans career Blowfish worked his way through Manhatten's world of artists in the publications business making a splash by becoming an executive art director before reaching 30. He is a serious, ummm make that a very serious critic of all things graphic, typographic and photographic.  Blowfish's other great passion in life is food. The Williams Sonoma website is a joy.
It is  photographically beautiful. Especially the food pictures which,
trust me, speak to the foodie of our household. There are beautiful
screen layouts, beautiful graphics, great typographic choices and there is even a section on Chefs with interviews and recipes. And there are books. Very beautiful cook books. The man drools.


For weeks now I have been summoned to his office to once again have a look and extended conversation about his latest "find" on the website. This is the old mans version of the young mans wishbook from Sears.
Like so many of his generation he spent hours perusing the pages and thinking a million "what ifs". Now he has discovered he can not just "wish" but actually "shop" without ever leaving his executive  leather womb.
My sister has no idea what she has given this man.  Or me.

In our home we each have our own office or studio. Mine is upstairs, his is downstairs.  Since his discovery of the Williams Sonoma website I have no need to go to a gym.  Trust me when I tell you I no sooner climb the stairs  when he calls out, "Fishy! I need you to come look at something!"  Somehow these requests are always urgent.  Like about a Kitchen Island. He wants one. Williams Sonoma has one called "The Bastille" which I am sure looks awesome in Wine Country decor but it is not a fit for our Pond house. Also his gift certificate will not buy this thing and certainly not pay the shipping. I reminded the starry eyed fish man that in order to have proper clearance for an island we needed to change to a counter depth refrigerator. To do this would require  remodeling part of the  cabinetry because the new refrigerators are too tall for the current opening.  For a while he looked dejected but then it was  back to  the  website for him and back upstairs for me.

While my fanny was still hovering just above my drafting  chair the call came out,
" Fishy! You have got to see this!"
" Busy!"
" Come on down here!"
I stomped over to the  stair landing knowing he would be at the bottom landing eagerly awaiting my appearance so he could shepherd me off to see his latest find.  I love that he still has enthusiasm for life and experiences but his timing could use some prudence.
" Blowfish, there are things I need to get done now. How about I come and look at all your choices later?"
" Okay. We can do that.  But right now I need you to come downstairs and look at this find!"
" No"
" What?"
"No"
DramaFish clutched his chest and began buckling at the knees to illustrate his discontent with my response.
"Blowfish, please, no drama. I will be down later and you can show me then. Okay?"
Grinning he said, " This will only take a minute and you probably need a break."

Agreed.
 I definitely needed a break.

As I descended the stairs I said, "I am coming to have a look because your inability to choose a gift and send a proper thank you is  bordering on rudeness. You really must make a selection and call or write your thanks for the item selected"

As I came through the door of his office there on the screen was a beautiful photograph of cookware. Ruffoni copper cookware with the cast ornamental  knobs on the lids.  I turned to look at that fool of a man I married and  there he was looking all puffed out and proud. "Blowfish. This is like going to the Concours  where I assure you  we cannot afford the hood ornaments never mind the automobiles.  Ruffoni is fabulous cookware but if we brought home even one piece of that you would want a new dual fuel stove and a complete appliance change out and a Kitchen remodel. Could you please just try to be rational ?"
" It is not all that expensive".
" Right. So you did not notice it cost more than the Bastille!"
" Well then will you please help me make a selection? I seem to be unable to choose."
" Start with what you might actually need, not want."
" Oh good idea! I have been missing waffles since you declared the old waffle iron a health hazard.  Maybe they have some good choices."  While he sat down to his giant I-Seek screen,  I slipped back upstairs hoping he would be so busy studying every word and every image about every waffle iron known to mankind ...I could actually get back to my studio and produce something creative.
No such luck.
" Fishy! Come have a look at this!"
As I again went down stairs I thought about the sister who gave Blowfish this gift.
As little girls we would sit  together on our Mama's Chippendale sofa sharing a magazine where we would pick our favorite thing on every page. Hours of our lives were  spent on this past time.  Sometimes we were  companionable, sharing our thoughts and expectations of a life in the making. Other times we generated nothing but friction as our diverse interests began to be expressed. I am ashamed to tell you how old I was before realizing the  life I picked on the magazine pages was never to be.


As I once again entered his office Blowfish said,
 "This is it!"

There on the screen was Cusineart's  Griddler for making pannini and other grilled wonders. The marvelous thing is the grill plates are interchangeable  with Blegian waffle plates all of which are removable for cleaning. Anyone who has ever seen Blowfish make a waffle will understand why I celebrate this feature. I am sure he will order it soon. Right after he finishes reading all the recipes for Pannini and Waffles. He wants to have an inventory of things to offer when he invites my sister to breakfast.

Cinco de Derby Moon

Have you ever been caught up short by just not thinking?
That was my Saturday. THE Saturday which was host to
Cinco de Mayo
Kentucky Derby
Pleine Air  events
and the occurrence of the
Super Moon

Yes well.
I did not attend any festivals, parties, competitions or celebrations.
Nada.

My week has been knocked off kilter a bit  by several events.

The appliance man was called last Monday and came on Tuesday to discover the washer was flooding my house because the main drain was impacted. This meant pressure of water with no place to go had  ruptured the drain tubes for the washer. This diagnosis meant I could not get any laundry done before  moving the appliances  out of the utility room before the  new floor gets installed.The plumber could not get here until today. The tile installer and his idiotic assistant were here Wednesday, Thursday and Friday mornings. I have a rush design job in progress in the mountains an hour away. So it's been necessary to be here in the mornings for the tile installation and then get to the job site to check the trades, etc. in the afternoons. I like busy but this past week was not the kind of busy I enjoy.

My house is filthy.
Like days of  my youth I am wishing for the power to twitch my nose and  voila! a perfect house. Sigh.

Blowfish and the appliance man, in their wisdom, moved vacuums,  floor scrubber, brooms, mops, cleaning supplies out of the utility room in order of smallest to largest . For some unfathomable reason they chose to use the guest bedroom as the store room. (A room with hardwood floors does not seem to me to be the best place to park leaky equipment.)  So they took all the stuff I need to maintain this house and put it along the far wall of the guest room then placed in front of it one dryer and, smack in the doorway, one washer. Effectively making it impossible to enter the room or fetch any of the cleaning equipment necessary to maintain our home. This overall is not a good scenario. It is especially difficult for a woman who deals with stress and anxiety by doing laundry.

Since being inside was not productive, and concentration impossible, I decided the best use of my time would be spent in the yard. Spring is a time of many chores in Zone 7. Many.  Not the least of which is mulching. Over the three mornings I trimmed hedges, pulled weeds, dead headed flowers and then raked and hauled.  Then  raked and hauled some more. Progress felt good but as I was working I realized this long term, unrelenting drought was already causing signs of distress around our property.

One of my biggest fantasies is to have all the mulch I want. Well. that is half of the fantasy.  The other part includes the mulch accompanied by  heavy equipment and laborers. Mulching is hard work. Most of our Springs here at the Pond we have  ordered a  ginormous truck load of mulch be dumped at the end of the tennis court then have pitchforked and hauled it all around the property. It cannot be done in a day or even a weekend. It is backbreaking labor.

So a few years ago I went down to the Fafard plant and had them load my cargo bay with bags of mulch. Then I drove around the property with Blowfish throwing out bags where  they were needed. A quick X with a blade followed by flipping the bag put most of the mulch where needed and the only thing left to haul was empty wrappers. It took multiple trips to Fafard but overall this was a more manageable approach.

Saturday morning  I decided I would finish trimming and hauling the holly hedge. This is an undertaking because it's 2oo linear feet of hedges and uphill hauling.  As the clock rolled around to mid afternoon I noticed some of the bushes were looking droopy. This is not a good sign. I never get too worried when the annuals go to drooping  but when the shade growing bushes get the droop it is an indication of urgent need.  So I turned the sprinklers on and went to fetch bags of mulch.

 Did I mention Blowfish was not available?
 As in  not on the premises so there absolutely was no laborer but me? I realize my yard will never look like a magazine ad but I was hoping to  maybe  get enough  mulch out  to keep the moisture from evaporating around the bushes. Hours later I came in to get cleaned up thinking I would join friends and festivities at the local Irishman's Pub. As I was toweling my hair dry I turned on the tv and realized they were calling "Jockeys up!".  No way could I get hair, make-up, clothing and driving to the pub done in a few minutes.  So I went to fetch a beverage and watch the race thinking I would still meet up with friends for the Cinco celebrations.

It was some time after 9pm when Mother Nature woke me up by the brilliance of the Super Moon shining  through the window. So, that was my  Cinco de Derby Moon Day. How was yours?