CELEBRATE!

In a few days we'll be turning a calendar page and trying to remember to write 2024 whenever we have to include a date.

While we're adjusting to the end of one year and the beginning of another, here's something to keep you occupied.

I borrowed this idea from CNN's Good Stuff--they do it each year. Very simple:

• do a little thinking back over the past year
• write down some things you really, really liked
• choose the one you like best

That's all! You've just chosen your very own personal "Best of [whatever]" for 2023!

Here are some of the ones The Good Stuff published:

• a cultural event
• a food you tried and loved
• a place you went that you'd never been before
• a movie/book/CD
• an experience you never had before

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I want to give thanks for those extra-special "bests"--and I'm grateful that I lived long enough to experience them.

Enjoy the ride! See you in 2024!!

Blessings,

Thursday's Child

 WINTER SOLSTICE

I was sure I'd written about the Winter Solstice a few years ago, but when I looked for it, it wasn't there. So, just in case it somehow snuck off and left Thursday's Child in a lurch, I'll try again.

The Winter Solstice in the Northern Hemisphere occurs around December 20th/21st. On the calendar it's the day when the earth is at such an angle that we up north have the least amount of sunlight and the most amount of darkness. Actually--scientifically--it's only a moment, not a full day. Then the earth begins to start its tilt the other way and we begin to add a minute or so each day, and that continues until the Summer Solstice (June 20/21, approximately).

For those of us who have been moaning/whining/ranting about the Dark Mornings and Dark Evenings--well, the solstice is Good News! Change isn't instantaneous, nor is it even immediate. Think of it as letting us get used to the change.

If you can't accept that--you might consider moving to another hemisphere for the next six months.

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Since the Winter Solstice signals change, here are some thoughts to entertain you:

Write it on your heart that every day is the best day in the year. Ralph Waldo Emerson

Cheers to a new year and another chance for us to get it right. Oprah Winfrey

Year's end is neither an end nor a beginning but a going on, with all the wisdom that experience can instill in us. Hal Borland

Wishing you blessings heaped up and overflowing for the coming year! See you next time!

Thursday's Child

FLOAT . . .

Back in my working days, we had a "floating holiday"--our choice of a day off that would help us get through some thorny patch of too-much-to-do. Or whatever.

Some people took their birthday. Nowadays this would be called a ME-day. But back then, it was just "my birthday."

The "floating" part was especially nice. I got to choose whatever day I wanted off. There were some limitations, though--we couldn't use our floating day to extend a long weekend (Thanksgiving weekend, for example) or to add to our annual week or two weeks of vacation. But the big advantages were enough.

A floating holiday meant:

• a day off during regular working hours so we could get to the license branch, the bank, the post office, other county or municipal offices
• we could go out of town to visit family or friends on a weekday
• we could do all kinds of errands during daytime (and maybe day light) hours that would normally have to be done after work; winter meant probably getting home 'way after dark.

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So that's the "historic" connection.

Today--here we are at mid-December . . . people are starting to count down to Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, a party, a school program, maybe a wedding . . . anyway, it's Counting Down Time.

It's probably, for a lot of people, Big-Time-Stress Time. So, why not float?

Take a floating day for yourself. (Think of it as a gift to yourself, that no one else can give you. How's that for special?)

Here are a few guidelines:

• doesn't have to be a full day
• you can take a few hours or half a day
• you can use the time for yourself, or for someone you care about, someone who needs help or just needs company
• you don't have to tell anybody about it if you don't want to

Not sure what you'd do? Here are some suggestions:

• go by yourself to a mall or shopping area or specialty shop; spend as long as you like there, whether or not you buy something
• take yourself out for lunch (or breakfast, or afternoon tea)
• spend some time in a nice park; there may be other people there, but you don't have to be social (really!); or, be social if that floats your boat
• read a book you've been wanting to try. Even if you only get through a chapter or two, you'll know if you want to continue once the holiday rush is over.
• listen to music you like--Christmas? Not Christmas? Jazz? Baroque? Piano/organ? Vocals? Choral groups?
• watch a movie you like--you know, the ones nobody else in the family will watch or the ones they make fun of. (This is your day, remember. Do what tickles your fancy.)

If you use up only half a day, schedule the other half for another time. Before or after the current holidays. Doesn't matter. It's a floating day.

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Feel better? Sometimes just knowing we have a choice helps lower the stress level.

And if you're not stressed? Bless you! Share some of yourself with people who need it.

Next week we'll celebrate the Winter Solstice. In the meantime, be blessed, take care of yourself and others, and take a deep breath. 

Thursday's Child

 ARE YOU UP FOR A GAME?

[Revisiting something that might perk you up while you're stressing the coming holidays. Take a break--play the game!]

As you've no doubt gathered, I'm a word person--I like words. I collect words. I use them when I speak and write and think. Of all the possibles, words are very likely the basis of my existence.

Other people are number people. They think them, they live them--words are much lower on the scale of existence for number people.

I understand about numbers--about, I said, not, I understand numbers. My understanding is quite basic, learned by fifth grade: addition, subtraction, multiplication, division (long and short). I also know about decimals and fractions. As I say, by fifth grade I knew all that. (Yes, I took math in high school and college, but not much of that stayed with me. It went off and hooked up with a numbers person for its happiness.)

So! Back to words.

We're starting a new month, and already today we're on Day 7. (See? Can't get away from numbers.)

I propose a game--activity--to accompany us through this last, and nearly blackout-dark month of the year, until we can start writing 2022 on our checks. Are you up for it?

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I like simplicity. So this is a very simple game. Only a couple of rules:

1--choose a new word each day--long, short, whatever part of speech--but just one word. FYI: a hyphenated word is considered one word. 

2--think or write about or just meditate on your chosen word for that day. See how many times it comes up for you--words have a habit of doing that; once they're in your head, they're like those ear-worm songs that won't go away.

That's it! No need to keep a record. No need to tell anyone what you're doing. (Unless you want to share the game with someone else; but remember, it's a one-person game. No competition.) No prizes or awards, except whatever fun you get out of doing the game.

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Some examples:

If you like nouns, you have a whole world of choices: dog, cat, candy, pizza, tree, presents, ribbons, money, truck, happiness, anticipation . . . you name it. 

The nouns may spawn a few more: mess, expense, greed, disappointment, joy, excitement . . . .

Your choices will come from your life and your imagination. Have a go! Might lighten your day.

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Now, for you numbers folks:

--there are 31 days in this last month of the year. How about working with each day's number?

--does the number 2 ring a bell for you? Or 7? Or 19? Think about each day and its number, what it means, if anything; or if it means nothing, make up a meaning for it.

--do you prefer even or odd numbers? Do you have favorite numbers? Or lucky numbers?

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For all of you--word or number people--by the time you get to the 21st day of the month, you'll be past the shortest daylight day of the year, and it's all up from there.

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Q&A:

What if I miss a day? You missed an opportunity to play. Start again the next day.

What if I don't want to play? Go do something else--wash the dog, shop in a busy store at rush hour, eat something really bad for you.

Why are there no prizes? Because they're not good for you. If you only play to win a prize, what have you learned? Probably only how to play to win that prize.

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Start when you're ready . . . the fun is about to begin.

Blessings,

Thursday's Child

Winter Solstice--coming soon!

 INTERRUPTIONS - PT. 2

Did you miss me last week? I managed to tangle with a virus that practically robbed me of a Thanksgiving dinner because my appetite up and left town. But I managed to enjoy a lovely dinner at my Ohio daughter's house. 

A month ago I promised you I'd come back with some more thoughts on the topic of Interruptions. The virus last week certainly qualified for the topic of the day. So here goes with Part 2..

Part 1, you may recall, covered the most likely annoyances I call Interruptions--not getting to finish my thought, my sentence, and so on.

Today--well, this is a horse of a different color. Big-time Interruptions. We've all had them. Here are a few you might recognize. Let's start back when we were kids:

• For some reason, you come home from school and learn that "we're moving." First you've heard of it. Never picked up on any clues. Nobody hinted. Just, "get your stuff together and put it in these boxes."
  
• At school--you go to class and there's a totally different person up in front of the class, sitting at the teacher's desk. You have a new teacher. How come? 
• Your best friend since kindergarten moves away.
• The school bus you've ridden ever since forever shows up with a different driver--who looks big and mean and doesn't smile like the nice lady who used to drive.

For a kid, those are Big-Time Interruptions to Life as Usual. Sometimes we know the why behind the change. Sometimes we don't. What we do know is that Things Are Gonna Be Different from Now On.

As an aside--when I ran into those things in my young life, I started to get uneasy. I mean, if those rock-solid parts of my life were shown to be crumbling to dust, what the heck else was gonna happen?

Stay tuned. There's lots more.

Okay, fast-forward, as we say nowadays, to adulthood. You're the parent or teacher or bus driver. Life seems to be rolling along pretty smoothly, considering. (Nobody's life goes only smoothly. Don't let them kid you.)

Then--whap! Interruption. Somebody gets injured in a car accident. You get a medical diagnosis you never thought you'd have to deal with. Your job goes away, for whatever reason. And life is never going to be the same again. That's Interruption.

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I hesitate to bring this up, but since some of you probably watch the news or listen to it in the car as you drive around, or get information on the Internet or from friends--one way or another, you're going to know about a whole bunch of Life Interruptions: wildfires, floods, crime, war, pandemics and other medical emergencies . . . . Whole lives changed in a short time. Families torn apart. Homes destroyed. To name just a few situations.

When we get to this point, we're talking about Life-Changing Decisions. There is, sadly, little opportunity to Go Back to what we once were. Many of us have tried that route. It's closed.

What we can do is go forward. Not, probably, in the way we thought we would go before. Maybe not straight ahead--more of a side step to find a different path. Many of us have had to experience this kind of shuffle--after a death, after the loss of a home or a job or a relationship.

And while that is the most likely way to deal with some of Life's Interruptions, it may be the best thing we can do for ourselves, our families, or our associates. I won't go so far as to say Interruptions are good--that they shake us out of our self-satisfied little rut so we don't stagnate--no, Interruptions may indeed do that, but we'll only see a positive result if we look for it. And, maybe even more important, accept it.

Time line? Heck, no! May take us all our lives. May be resolved in a few days/months/years. But we know we're on the right track if we keep on keepin' on. Who knows? We may help somebody else who's on that same rocky path keep their nerve. Always worth a try.

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There may be more to say on Interruptions, but I'm done with this subject. Next time we'll be looking at a different picture on the calendar--the days will be starting over at "1"--and if I can stay away from viruses and flu bugs, I'll be around to join you in the new month.

Blessings,

Thursday's Child

remember--forward is forward

 

GIVING . . .

Tomorrow in the U.S. we celebrate Thanksgiving Day--a time of offering our thanks for the many blessings we've received.

There's another way to look at Thanks-giving--emphasis on giving. Here's a poem by Alberto Rios, poet laureate of Arizona, that addresses that topic. I hope you like it.

When Giving Is All We Have

Alberto Ríos

                                              One river gives
                                              Its journey to the next.

We give because someone gave to us.
We give because nobody gave to us.

We give because giving has changed us.
We give because giving could have changed us.

We have been better for it,
We have been wounded by it—

Giving has many faces: It is loud and quiet,
Big, though small, diamond in wood-nails.

Its story is old, the plot worn and the pages too,
But we read this book, anyway, over and again:

Giving is, first and every time, hand to hand,
Mine to yours, yours to mine.

You gave me blue and I gave you yellow.
Together we are simple green. You gave me

What you did not have, and I gave you
What I had to give—together, we made

Something greater from the difference.
 

[Copyright © 2014 by Alberto Ríos. Used with permission of the author.]

Born in 1952, Alberto Ríos is the inaugural state poet laureate of Arizona and the author of many poetry collections, including A Small Story about the Sky (Copper Canyon Press, 2015). In 1981, he received the Walt Whitman Award for his collection Whispering to Fool the Wind (Sheep Meadow Press, 1982). He served as a Chancellor of the Academy of American Poets from 2014 to 2020.

 

 BABY STEPS

[We've become such a society that expects immediate results and instant gratification that I fear we're in danger of remembering some simple ideas--such as, learning takes time.]

You’ve no doubt noticed that starting something new is no easy-peasy task.

For example—you retire. Ahead of you are seemingly endless days without your former 8 or 10 or 12 hours per day earmarked for a particular task or series of tasks. So you decide to tackle something new, say, woodworking.

Great! Get some books on woodworking. Go to the library and check out their back issues of magazines devoted to the subject. Find a mentor! (That’s the best of all—good old hands-on, show-me-how teaching.) (And an experienced mentor probably has all the expensive tools you may not want to buy right away. Check out a table saw, and you’ll see what I mean.)

After a few days/weeks/months of perusing the projects available, you decide on one. But—your mentor says, “better start with something smaller” (simpler) (less expensive). And you’re already discouraged. You really want to see that small (you thought) jewelry chest come to life. It’d make a great gift for your wife/daughter/auntie. Hmmm.

Now, why should you be discouraged? Everything has to start somewhere—the biggest, most complicated, and expensive projects—all had a humble beginning.

Discouraged? Well, of course you are! If you’ve lived long enough to be approaching retirement (see paragraph 2 above) you’ve not only learned a lot along the way, you’ve been injected with the idea that NOW is the best time to do anything, and NOW is when it’ll happen.

No Practice. No Trial & Error. No Baby Steps leading to a final goal. Uh-huh.

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I’ve now been retired for 15 years. Seems like every day I’m learning something new—not because I forgot how to do something, nor because I’m always trying different things. No, every day’s learning comes with practicing what I’ve been doing for years and years. The take-away for me is this: The longer I practice, the more likely I am to reach beyond where I’ve always been; and at that point, I embark on a new journey of learning. Same subject. Now deeper.

Somewhere I read that writing a novel doesn’t teach you how to write the next one. You learn that when you write it. So writing a novel teaches me how to write this one—and next time . . . . More practice. More trial and error. More learning.

A similar thing happens with painting, which is my current creative activity. I watch YouTube videos, I practice, I learn something, I paint using that technique. Sometimes I remember that technique and use it again and again. Then the next week’s video goes into detail about something else, and I’m on the learning curve again.

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Learning also happens when we make mistakes. (Some people say that’s exactly when learning occurs.) 

• Another example from my life: I’ve been knitting since my teens. Learning as I go. Trying new things. Now that knitting is only an occasional activity, I don’t tackle ambitious projects. But I still love the process of producing knitted and purled stitches in patterns. Then comes the day when I’ve been talking with my knitting buddy and not counting stitches or paying attention, and my project has gone into some kind of fit. It no longer looks like a square dishcloth, but now resembles part of an elephant, or maybe a hippopotamus. Backtracking from my mistake causes me to practice how to un-knit, how far back to actually go, and whether I can figure out where I can pick up the pattern again.

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    Learning can be discouraging. I’ll agree with that about 97%. But why is that?

I suspect it has several causes:

•      Pride – if we’ve learned a lot of stuff already in our lives, why should this new thing take very long?
•     Time – along with our pride, there’s the time element—it keeps speeding up (seems like) and if I don’t learn this new thing pretty soon, I’ll be too old/infirm or lose interest completely.
•     Peer pressure – really? About learning something new? You betcha. Look at any magazine article or online set of classes. How many of them say something like “10 ways to look better in a week” or “7 days to a new you” or “make this table and chairs in a weekend”? Who says it can be done in X number of hours/days/weeks? Better question: Who cares?

My approach may not be yours. But here it is, if you care to hear it:

• It takes as long as it takes.
• It may take longer if you have more to learn. (Remember, those baby steps, practice, trial and error, etc.)
• It may take longer because you get interrupted by Life. (Remember this one? Life is what happens when you’re making plans.)
• It may take longer because you have to let go of somebody else’s expectation—and here’s a good place to remember: you don’t have to tell other people what you plan to do. They’ll give you advice, keep asking when it’s done, and wondering why it’s taking so long.

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Baby Steps. Think about a baby learning to walk. First there’s crawling, then standing upright. Next, walking along the couch, holding on. Then a tentative step away from the edge of the couch. A step or two. Then a fall. Unless the baby is hurt, it grunts and gets up again and tries to take off on two feet, no hands. Sometimes it even giggles when it falls. Now that's worth hearing.

Most of us started out like that—so why not use the Baby Steps method the rest of our lives? It worked before.

I leave you with two more words:

• EXPLORE - what you'll be doing while you're learning
• DISCOVER - all part of learning

Have a wonderful week filled with exploration and discovery.

Blessings,

Thursday's Child

 

 WHAT A DIFFERENCE A DAY MAKES!

That's the name of an old love song, but today I'm not going to explore romance--I want to talk about how much can happen in "24 little hours."

For instance:

• trees that last week had a full compliment of leaves--all colors, including green, are now nearly completely naked
• what used to be a shade tree is now a skeleton--still lovely in its own way, but definitely providing no shade whatsoever
• last week I wore a lightweight denim shirt for a jacket when I went outside; today, I've broken out the lined winter coat that's long enough to cover my tush
• also rummaged through the closet for a long scarf to wind around my neck a couple or three times
• along with the longer lined gloves that have been waiting their turn
• and, to round out the chilly-days wardrobe, the ear warmers (like ear muffs but worn around the back of the neck instead of over the top of the head)

And that's not all. Our current menu has shifted into winter mode:

• Tuscan Bean Soup--full of turkey sausage, cannellini beans, onion, chicken broth, and a bunch of spices and herbs
• rice and pasta dishes: risotto; mac 'n' cheese
• a few frozen dinners - we're partial to Saffron Road oriental meals with rice--dinner in less than less than 8 minutes in the microwave
• also gluten-free pot pies--best done in the conventional oven to brown the pastry
• and the ever-present roast chicken and roast veggies

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I'll admit, all the above didn't happen in a 24-hour period. But it sure seemed like it. Remember the old saying? "If you don't like the weather, wait 5 minutes and it'll change." Well, right now, it's "If you don't like the season, wait a day or two and it'll get worse."

We're definitely on the slide down to the winter solstice. October flew by. November is a shorter month, with things going on (elections, Thanksgiving dinner, a family birthday), including the preparations many people make for Christmas. (We often see folks hanging their outdoor lights on Thanksgiving Day afternoon.)

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In order to hang onto whatever grip I have on reality, I try to go with the flow of the 24 hours. Do what I can--what needs to be done--maybe even do some early prep for a later 24-hour period. So if you don't see much of me, remember--I might be inside the house trying to keep up with the differences that rush my way that day.

Wishing you the fortitude you need to press forward.

Blessings,

Thursday's Child

 INTERRUPTIONS

[Please consider today's post a "taster"--definitely more to come on this topic!]

If you're one of those fortunate persons who never gets interrupted, then feel free to go play solitaire or Wordscapes or wash your hair, or something.

For the rest of us--let's do a little dissection of INTERRUPTIONS.

Interruptions, in my experience, seem to fall into three categories:

• incidental interruptions - something I say triggers a thought in the other person and I get interrupted (usually causing me to forget what else I was going to say) (a mental power outage)

• intentional interruptions - something I say triggers a strong response of "Oh, no, it's nothing like that!" and an argument/discussion begins

• non-sequitur interruptions - I'm explaining something, and the listener says, "I never realized how crooked your front teeth are." Talk about conversation stoppers!

I might as well confess, right here and now: I don't like interruptions. They throw me off. They're like walking on a perfectly clear sidewalk and hitting the one patch of ice left from the last storm.

Any analysis of interruptions would have to include the big question "Why"--why do I respond badly to other people horning in on my thoughts and speech?

There are probably a number of reasons, but I can give you a few. For example:

• All my life I've been a reader. In a book, people continue to talk and recite and narrate, the story line proceeds, and nobody interrupted. Or, if they do interrupt, it all makes sense...on paper. Funny thing, though, real life doesn't work that way. People interrupt each other all the time.
• When I taught freshman composition I was the only one who talked. (This was back in the day--before online classes.) I presented the information, encouraged class participation, and often met only silence. Lulled me into thinking they were listening.
• Later, I had four little kids at home all at once; in order to keep things running smoothly, everybody heard (and learned, I hoped) the same rules. They seemed to take it all in.
• Finally, and probably the most likely reason, is the element of surprise. A close first cousin to interruptions, surprise throws me for a loop. Without a doubt, surprise is definitely not for me.

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You've probably heard the old expression: "There are two kinds of people in the world--those who say/do/act/believe (something or other) and those who don't."

In my experience, the words always and never somehow wiggle into that piece of pseudo-wisdom.

And in my further experience, one of the two kinds of people is more than likely to interrupt whatever it is that I'm saying at the moment. Not quite always, but certainly more often than never.

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See you another time with more on the subject of Interruptions. In the meantime, wishing you an uninterrupted and joyful week! 

Blessings,

Thursday's Child

  ARE YOU GETTING READY?

[With all the talk of climate change and global warming, you're probably laughing up your sleeve at today's topic. Well, go ahead and laugh. One day we'll have real Winter again. And if you're too far south to have the snow and ice and winds that creep inside your heavy coat and chill you to the bone, then give thanks for that. And say a little prayer for those of us who probably have to deal with such, um, conditions.]

I have to say it: If you have to ask "what" you're supposed to be getting ready for, you ought to go back to bed and get up later when your brain is awake as well as your body.

Ready for what? WINTER, of course; change of season; cold weather; longer nights, shorter days (light-wise, that is). 

In case you haven't noticed, stores are carrying products to ease you into the next season--heavier clothing, including sweaters, jackets and coats, hats/gloves/mittens/scarves, padded vests. 

They're also offering the fruits of the season, namely anything that has to be cooked/baked or mixed with other foods for a filling something-or-other, like stew or chili or a big dish of mixed-up stuff like Shepherd's Pie--anything that'll stick to your ribs.

If you've noticed all that stuff, how about the home improvement aisles? Something to shut out the drafts, warm the floors, heat up a room without installing a fireplace or making you wear seven layers of clothing from the skin out just so you can sit for a while to read, knit, or watch your favorite team tear each other to shreds on the playing field. 

Then consider your vehicle--that wondrous invention that got you to the store in the first place. Are its tires good? Are they safe for another season? How about oil--need a change? Are there any leaks? Defroster working? (I told you this was about winter. Pay attention.)

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Okay! The closet is full, the pantry bulging, house is warm and snug, and the vehicle is ready to hit the road (safely).

What else is there?

Well, I hate to bring this up, but there is the matter of our attitude . . . you know, how we're going to handle the days of freezing rain, frost (or ice) buildup on the windshield of the vehicle that sits outside the garage, piled-up white stuff (called snow, remember?) that has to be shifted by a shovel attached to your gloved hands before you can back the vehicle out, because the snow plow shifted it from the street to your curbside and across the end of your driveway . . . 

[Aside--times like these, when I contemplate all the events in the previous paragraph, I envy our family and friends who either migrate to warmer climes or actually reside there. And I know envy is a sin, but dang! winter up north is a sin itself, sometimes.]

As a retiree, I have a permanent dispensation for Winter Woes--if the weather's too bad for me to be out, I cancel whatever appointment I had for that day. (Fortunately, I have very few appointments so I'm not getting a reputation as a no-show.) I've learned to give myself some space to "not do" tasks that formerly were absolutely necessary (somebody must've said they were). I've cultivated the current ways to stay in touch with family and friends so I'm never lonely or feel I'm missing out by staying home.

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While I'm awaiting the arrival of The Next Act (you know what I mean) I'll enjoy the place I'm in--some colorful trees (finally), some nice days (sun, no wind, low humidity), some moments to do abso-bloomin'-lutely nothin'. They won't last--Life does keep rolling along, you know--and then I'll be wading around in my seven layers of warmth trying to find that library book I know I didn't return yet so I can read while I drink a big, steamy, milky coffee.

And after I've had my book-and-coffee break, I can assess the tasks to be done. Maybe I'll find one that appeals to me and do that. Maybe I'll do the virtuous thing and pick the chores I like least, do those first. 

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Getting ready--the process has begun!

Blessings!

Thursday's Child

PREPARATION

Here at Thursday's Child we're preparing for a large home maintenance project--painting the interior of the house.

Not all the rooms--just the ones that form the major portion of the front of the house, what you might call public rooms, if this were a place where a lot of folks gather.

Since we're not a gathering place, nor a public place, we are concentrating on these rooms because they get the most use and often the most abuse. (I hasten to add that we aren't wild-and-woolly folks; just that, well, you know, paint gets chipped here and there, and so on.)

Anyway! In order to get all this done in one week (my daughter's vacation), we have to look ahead, assess the situation, and--PREPARE.

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So while I'm "helping" prepare for the big event, I'm letting my mind slide off to the side to see if there might be a topic for a blog post. Sure enough, such a topic walked right in, sat right down, put its feet up, and said, here I am. Let's talk.

I'll give you the gist--the actual conversation would take too long to tell, you understand.

After a lot of rag-chewing, I could discern four distinct types of preparation:

1. Easy-Peasy
2. Middlin' Effort
3. Mucho Effort
4. Is-It-Worth-It Effort

The following are my own thoughts on these four categories.

Easy-Peasy - I think we've all done this one. Somebody says, "Why don't we---?" and folks chime in, "Yes, why don't we?" And in no time, a picnic is arranged, food appears (quick-marts are excellent for this purpose), and somebody drags out a moth-eaten, dusty blanket. "It's picnic time!"

I can recall a few times when my kids were young that we entered into spontaneous events. At the time, money was in short supply, so anything we could do at home, using no money and not much energy, worked great. Summer was especially good--since we had no swimming pool, we set up a sprinkler for cooling off in. A wading pool worked also (until it sprung a leak).

In my current stage of life (advanced, let us say), I can stave off a desire to go to the library by searching through the four (or is it five?) bookshelves for something to read. I used to be ashamed to say I have books bought but never read; but I'm no longer ashamed of that. Just like having my own book store! And the reason for not going out to the public library is that I'm too tired, or the weather's turned cold/rainy/windy or hot/humid/breathless. Why subject myself to that when I can browse resident bookshelves?

Middlin' Effort - As you might surmise, this kind of prep takes a little thought, some planning, perhaps; maybe even (gasp!) list making! Not a lot, not a lot. Just enough to keep the wagon on the road, so to speak.

I think of Middlin' Effort as preparing for lunch with a friend here at my house. Or afternoon tea, with only a couple of treats to go with the wide selection of teas to be had. The actual main event is visiting with my friend. No effort there, just enjoyment.

Mucho Effort - We probably all recognize this one--Thanksgiving Dinner, Christmas Eve Supper, special birthday party, anniversary/graduation/engagement/etc. event.

Our Mucho Effort event--now many years ago--was the tree-trimming party on Dec. 23rd. Not a lot of people invited--just three couples plus our family of six. One family had a child who came. We lived in the country, in an old farm house that had ten-foot ceilings, so it accommodated a really tall tree. You're probably envisioning a sweep of large rooms, lovely furnishings, a fireplace with yule logs ablaze. Sorry--not even close. The rooms were good- sized, but the furnishings had been through four kids, multiple dogs and cats, and were mostly hand-me-downs to start with. No fireplace, ablaze or otherwise. But there was a very nice bow window where the tree stood. And by the end of the evening, the lights twinkled, icicles reflected the light, presents under the tree had been opened and shared . . . .

Before the tree trimming itself, we'd had a "fondue dinner"--beef fondue (tenderloin tidbits cooked in hot oil, over a candle burning under the pot) and cheese fondue (chunks of French bread speared and dipped in melted cheese kept hot in another pot). Red or white wine to drink. Salad served after the main meal. Dessert (one of our guests was an excellent cook; every year he brought a dozen kinds of holiday cookies and special fruit cake, all of which he made)--and we ate those with coffee while the decorating progressed.

Lots of work? Sure, it was. And worth it. Which segues nicely into the next category....

Is-It-Worth-It Effort - This is a hard one to write about. This is some levels below the Easy-Peasy Effort category, but in other ways, it's 'way beyond Mucho Effort.

And here's why it's hard to write about. If I decide something is hardly worth the effort, I'm basing that on my own energy, my own interest, the possible outcome (good or bad), and whether I think I even want to attempt something that might not make me happy I did it.

An example of this was my continuing college education. Took 10 years, but I finally did it. There were many days when I was ready, far beyond willing, to give up. What difference did it make, if I finished my degree? Was I going to use it for a career? 

This kind of situation ends up being one long (and boring to other folks) dialogue with oneself about the merits--Do I or don't I? Who will care? Will I wish I'd gone on? You get the picture.

In the case of my college education, I did make the effort, convincing myself that it was a goal I'd set a long time before, for no good reason I could name; it was just the right thing to do.

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If you made it this far, I hope you began thinking about your own life events. 

I know I'll enjoy the newly painted walls in my house. And in a while, I'll forget that I spent so many hours sorting and storing and even (believe it or not) getting rid of some things. (Recycling is a wonderful thing. So is the library's shredding service.)

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Lots of things are worth the effort--taking care of each other, spending time with friends, writing letters and notes, teaching children about their families. You can name a bunch more.

Blessings,

Thursday's Child

 IN PRAISE OF SEASONS

[Geese flew overhead yesterday morning when I took my morning walk outside. Later I ran errands all over town--leaves have changed color on nearly every block. They all reminded me of the joy of the four seasons. Here's one song I sang a few years back.]

If I have a favorite month it would have to be October—for her color, her cooler temperatures, her sunny days—October could have been designed especially for me. And on clear days when the sky is a blue found at no other time of the year, I recall a portion of a poem by Helen Hunt Jackson, of Amherst, Massachusetts, writing in the 19^th Century:

   O suns and skies and clouds of June, 
   And flowers of June together, 
   Ye cannot rival for one hour 
   October's bright blue weather;

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Autumn’s passing leads to Winter, and I can hear already the moans, groans, and grumbles of those who “hate winter”; can’t stand to live up north all those long, dark, cold months; or who proclaim it to be the ugliest time of the year.

Really? I’ll agree in part—the cold gets to me and I miss the longer hours of daylight. But ugly? I love the pen-and-ink-drawing quality of a winter landscape. Shadows harbor blue tones. Trees reveal their structure. Evergreens stand out against the subtle whites. Winter always makes me think of “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening,” Robert Frost’s famous poem; here it is in its entirety:

Whose woods these are I think I know.   

His house is in the village though;   
He will not see me stopping here   
To watch his woods fill up with snow.   

My little horse must think it queer   
To stop without a farmhouse near   
Between the woods and frozen lake   
The darkest evening of the year.   

He gives his harness bells a shake   
To ask if there is some mistake.   
The only other sound’s the sweep   
Of easy wind and downy flake.   

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,   
But I have promises to keep,   
And miles to go before I sleep,   
And miles to go before I sleep.

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I will admit, I’m ready for Spring when everybody else is. Of course I’m thinking of soft breezes, soft sunshine, soft green grass and plants. In reality, Spring in Northeast Indiana brings snow, fog, cloudy days, rain, thawing, mud, and freezing mud. But by April—ah, April, T. S. Eliot’s “cruelest month.”
From The Waste Land, Part I-Burial of the Dead:

APRIL is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.

April became the cruelest month for me when my mother died during my sophomore year in high school. Even today, I am vaguely unhappy during April, no matter how many flowers bloom, how gentle the breezes. But the time passes, and May comes with more and more flowers and trees in bloom and bushes putting forth fragrant perfume. And I am solaced.

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From John Keats’ poem, “On the Grasshopper and the Cricket”

The poetry of earth is never dead:
   When all the birds are faint with the hot sun,
   And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run
From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead;

That is the Grasshopper’s--he takes the lead
    In summer luxury,--he has never done
    With his delights; for when tired out with fun
He rests at ease beneath some pleasant weed.

Summer was always the season when time, for me, ceased to pass. Summer went on forever. Summer never seemed to end. For me that was punishment; I longed for cooler weather, school books, and teachers. (Being an only child meant I had no one to play with. But I managed—I lectured my dolls and made up stories.)

Now that I’m an adult, I distract myself from summer’s too-long visit with enjoyment of my neighbor’s roses, or the lovely shade of the trees surrounding my house.

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Seasons have come to mean more to me than merely changes in the landscape and activities to suit the time, temperature, and condition of the sky.

SPRING is a time of new beginnings; a time to sow, or prepare, or plan.

SUMMER is a time of growth, of tending what has been sown, of appreciation for what is growing.

AUTUMN brings harvest, and a time to take one’s ease after the previous work of Spring and Summer.

WINTER allows us rest, when much of life lies dormant, waiting for a new Springtime.

We can experience all the seasons of life—sometimes in one day, or during one project; in our homes, at work, at school; within ourselves, moment to moment.

If you live in other climates and don’t experience the change of seasons as dramatically as we do in Northeastern Indiana, look for signs of your own seasons—they may be more subtle, in color, shape, length—but you’ll find them. Look within. You’ll find them there as well.