Footloose and Footstools…

Footloose and Footstools…

Tis The Season
Footloose and Footstools… Miss Parker, my fourth grade music teacher, was really cool. She sported tiny, oval-shaped, gold-rimmed glasses, had long, straight dark hair, and played acoustic guitar as accompaniment to our singing.  This was 1973, so it was all perfect. For a project, she asked us to write a Halloween Song. My mother and I came up with this: There was a pumpkin round and fat His name was Jack-o-lantern. Come, and light him up, Come, and light him up, Come, ... Read more
Dead Wood…

Dead Wood…

Design & Garden Tips
Dead Wood… I perfected the fine art of eye rolling when I was thirteen. So charming.  I’m guessing I came to this expression in response to something my father said when I thought I knew way more than he about the world and that he was purposefully trying to work my nerves. Since that time when I’m annoyed, it’s my fall-back look. I was in full eye-roll mode last week when my letter to all of you grand folk was stuck ... Read more
Ode to Blake…

Ode to Blake…

Tis The Season
“This is how I shall measure time….” I can’t find the poem. I found a short essay from which the poem was crafted, but the poem may be lost, which is not surprising since there have been many moves and nearly three decades between. The search was not exhaustive so there is yet hope. I remember only fragments of the poem, the last line being, “This is how I shall measure time.” When my son, Blake, was ... Read more
Garden Style…

Garden Style…

Whimsey
“We are stardust, we are golden…..And we got to get ourselves back to the garden.”   –Joni Mitchell I am more than just occasionally tardy and I know it is a bad habit. I was late to an evening appointment today but I feel it was for a good reason: the sun was on the lemon-yellow tree peony with such bright perfection I had to stop and take a good look. And a photo. ... Read more
Tools of the Trade…

Tools of the Trade…

Design & Garden Tips
A few years ago I was deep into the spring clean up and had hauled many rounds of debris to the curb to await borough collection–some stacked in piles, the rest in refuse cans. I knew the truck was close by because Katie gave me a three-bark alert. I continued to work when I heard two masculine voices say, “Look at all this. I don’t think I can lift this container ... Read more