AS TIME GOES BY . . . .
This week is Anniversary Week—Thursday’s Child is two years old now. We began our exploration of Things to Celebrate on October 24, 2013. By the way, all the old posts are still around if you want to see what we talked about, celebrated, and lifted up ‘way back when.
Autumn is the natural time for me to begin anything—school begins in Autumn, Sunday School begins in Autumn after a summer rest, the choir starts singing after Labor Day; cooler weather arrives (usually) with the autumnal equinox, and we comment to our neighbors how wonderful it is not to run the air conditioning or the furnace. (Though I have to confess, I have run both in the same day recently, night having dipped down into the low 40s and daytime temps soaring to the 80s. Next year, after insulating my house, I hope to live a more temperate life. We’ll see how that goes.)
What else comes with Autumn? The end of the garden—really, truly fresh veggies become a novelty once more: that last humongous red tomato, three more little eggplants, tiny bell peppers masquerading as Christmas ornaments. And with the end of gardening, comes the end of canning/freezing/preserving for another year.
And now that the garden is over, we can devote our energies to cleaning up the landscaping, blowing or raking leaves to the curb for the city vacuum truck, and hacking down dead peony bushes and done-bloomin’ hostas. Some days, when the weather chills out and I’m out there in layers and layers of clothes plus gloves, mask, and hoodie, I envy my friends in condos. While I’m freezing my phalanges, they’re reading the newest best-seller or having tea with a friend who bakes or hiking the park trails. They’re definitely not raking leaves.
Yes, Autumn is a time for beginnings, as well as endings. Hence, Thursday’s Child was born in Autumn and continues to grow and prosper.
Since October 2014, my life has been full (or, rather, status quo). Thanksgiving in Ohio with some of my children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. Christmas in two places—Wabash, Indiana, and rural Ohio.
Then came January 2015. Oh. My. Goodness. Sub-zero temps. Wind. Snow. Ice. Days on end in the old log cabin. (Well, my ranch-style 1950s house, but there’s a reason it’s called cabin fever.) Cancelled exercise classes, church services, my knitting/sewing group at church. Some days, the driveway was called a skating rink. My heavy Buick doesn’t skate.
February turned out better because I had something great to look forward to—a trip to Phoenix to visit my oldest daughter. Ummmmmmm! Warm air, gentle breezes, sunshine!! (The trip home was a bummer, coming north into unstable weather, but I got here. Eventually.) Even better than the weather was visiting with my daughter in her space and viewing life from her perspective in the desert Southwest.
March brightened my world—Spring did, indeed, arrive, and bring all her treasures. Days appeared longer, because sunrise was earlier and sunset a little later. Friends began traveling (I like to hear about their trips) and neighbors started gardens. We moved toward Easter in April, then in a rush, school was out.
My summer was very, very good. And I’m not a fan of summer. This past year’s was not too hot. Not too rainy (that was spring: rain rain rain). My youngest daughter came for a couple of long weekends to visit (long weekends, too-short visits). I played the organ at church in June and July, part of August.
Then September—we arranged an alternate-Sunday schedule for organists; I practiced with soloists and duets for special music. The sewing/knitting group, who had given up their machines and needles for a couple of months to let their fingers rest, started up again in early September.
And now it’s October again. Before you ask, I did not get another dog. That subject still touches a tender spot for me.
But I did have work done on my house, work that has needed doing for a long time. And I bought myself some garden/lawn equipment—nothing like a gift to oneself to help with morale—I bought a long-handled pruner, a hand-held pruner that looks like a wicked pair of pliers, and an electric leaf blower. (I’ll get hooted about that; never thought I’d get one. Will see how it goes. If I don’t like it, I can always give it away.)
The past two weeks I seem to have been in one doctor’s office after another. I now know: My teeth are fine; my eyes are fine; and the rest of me is fine, too. They all say, “Lookin’ good. Come back in six months.” How all these appointments got schedule in the same couple of weeks is beyond me. Well, not really beyond me, since I'm the one doing the scheduling. Have to work on that.
Exercise classes keep me limber and strong for dealing with the leaf blower and for pruning bushes that have developed a mind of their own.
And I’ve had a ball finding fabrics for big-guy quilts—the great-grands have been growing up while I was out doing yoga and tai chi, so now the little guys are bigger guys and ready for more grown-up quilts.
Outside my window I see trees waving their branches at me. Lawns are turning tawny gold, carpeted with the hundreds and thousands of leaves drifting down.
People are walking dogs. My neighbor is out on the patio with her six-month-old daughter and their little dog.
Life was more even-keel this past year, and for that I am grateful.
I celebrate a good year gone by, and welcome the year to come.
Hope you do, too.