The forecast was for a low of 48 degrees; the thermometer said 54 at 7 o’clock this morning. The wind is blowing; the cats are dashing from tree to tree. I have two reactions to the wind.
Understandably, I want to hunker down. I want to bake bread, make soup, and get out my turtleneck shirts and my puffy jacket. I want to plant bulbs, in anticipation of next spring, and clean up the drab flower and herb beds. Having acquired bazillion spools of ribbon, I want to figure out what I can make with them, how I can use them to facilitate the passing of winter. I want to make a Christmas list, plan Thanksgiving dinner.
On the other hand, after the lethargy of summer heat, I’m invigorated by the chilly autumn wind. I dream of wandering, seeing new places and people. An ongoing dream of a motorhome, a piece of home I can take with me and the cats, going south in the winter, up to Canada in the summer, entices me. Just drive away from the drama and boredom of day-to-day, see new places and people. Charm folks, them move on, without having to apologize for any inadvertent, awkward comments I may have made.
Of course, that takes resources I don’t have, so hunkering down ain’t a bad alternative.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Sunday, September 27, 2009
interesting
I got a call this morning from my ex-husband. He had gotten an email from a friend of mine, who was concerned that she hadn’t heard from me in a week. My ex lives three thousand miles from here; we communicate via email or Facebook every couple of weeks, max.
The interesting part of this, to me, is what went through my mind, before I returned his call. He and I have been divorced since 2000. He’s remarried to a wonderful woman. They’ve visited me here at the creek. But I found myself thinking that maybe there was trouble in their paradise, and he wanted to come back. Oddly, given that I was the one who instigated the divorce, I found that to be an interesting idea.
Most of the time, I enjoy living alone. I do find that I procrastinate, knowing I have tomorrow to do whatever it is, and I tend to schedule events to blast me off my butt. I have a lot of friends and spread myself around, so I don’t overwhelm any one of them. Just lately, I seem to want to overwhelm someone.
This time, last year, I was gearing up for having guests. Autumn is one of my favorite times of the year, and I was going to host two women for the month of October. I have been married twice, both of the weddings in October, the one to the last ex in a lovely outdoor wedding in a park across the street from our home. Next Saturday, I’m hosting a cookout/bonfire for a place I worked prior to retiring. A couple of weeks later, I’m going to a wedding, which will be held at the cottage I talked about a week or so ago, a place with wonderful memories.
It seems I’d better be aware of the effect of October on my psyche. Sometimes loneliness can creep up on you.
The interesting part of this, to me, is what went through my mind, before I returned his call. He and I have been divorced since 2000. He’s remarried to a wonderful woman. They’ve visited me here at the creek. But I found myself thinking that maybe there was trouble in their paradise, and he wanted to come back. Oddly, given that I was the one who instigated the divorce, I found that to be an interesting idea.
Most of the time, I enjoy living alone. I do find that I procrastinate, knowing I have tomorrow to do whatever it is, and I tend to schedule events to blast me off my butt. I have a lot of friends and spread myself around, so I don’t overwhelm any one of them. Just lately, I seem to want to overwhelm someone.
This time, last year, I was gearing up for having guests. Autumn is one of my favorite times of the year, and I was going to host two women for the month of October. I have been married twice, both of the weddings in October, the one to the last ex in a lovely outdoor wedding in a park across the street from our home. Next Saturday, I’m hosting a cookout/bonfire for a place I worked prior to retiring. A couple of weeks later, I’m going to a wedding, which will be held at the cottage I talked about a week or so ago, a place with wonderful memories.
It seems I’d better be aware of the effect of October on my psyche. Sometimes loneliness can creep up on you.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
yesterday
Where to start? The day was full of friends, some local, some not.
I got an email from Sharon, who used to live nearby until her husband died, and she moved back to her family in Tidewater. She and her sister are planning to visit this weekend. We’ll have a great time, catching up and eating!
Tami is getting married. I’ve known her for about ten years, and we each went through the dissolution of our marriages during that time. Mine was a bit less volatile, in part because I didn’t have the involvement of children. We also worked together at her garden center business and share a love of gardening. The garden center was the glue for our friendship, as it was housed in an old cottage, up the creek from the house I live in now. During the two or three years I worked with her there, we hosted some wonderful “girl” parties, complete with bonfires, potlucks, and twinkle lights on the trees. She sold the business and left the area to go back to school to become a veterinarian tech. Having completed that course, she moved back, divorced, and got a job at Virginia Tech. I’d see her maybe once a year at festivals, where we’d catch up. I got an invitation to a Fourth of July party at her new home in Blacksburg, where I met her fiancé. Then I got an invitation to her wedding, which will be next month at the cottage. She’s rented it, again, and she and her fiancé are fixing it up to be their weekend hideaway. I stopped there yesterday to see how they’re doing. The magic is still there, in the cottage and in her.
Rita just got back from a long-weekend trip with her husband. They rarely go out of town, as they farm, which pretty much ties them to their acreage. She works in town, so I stopped and had lunch with her and her co-workers, always a cheerful, noisy time. She’s my “solid as a rock” friend, brave and funny.
I had been getting emails from Anna, saying she was thinking of me and thought she would call, so we could catch up. She stayed here for a month last autumn, while we worked on a film. The screening for the film was a couple of weeks ago, and she wanted to get my take on it, as she couldn’t make the trip from her home in California. I called her, when I got home from work, and we had a wonderful talk, every bit as thoughtful as the talks we’d had, sitting on the back porch after filming was done for the day.
Friendships take commitment on both sides. I’m honored that these special women have chosen to make the effort with me.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
food
Living alone, I’ve gotten lax about cooking. I make my old standbys, generally in too large quantities. Buying packaged, fresh produce is difficult, as the chances are good that some portion of it will spoil, before I can use it all. I make a lot of soups, stews, and sauces, which I either eat for days or freeze in (hopefully) single servings.
As a young wife, I invited friends to dinner and experimented. Some of those experiments have become standbys; most of them haven’t, because they involve too many fresh ingredients. Given my relationship status and age, there aren’t many choices for friends I can comfortably ask to dinner. Generally, the male part of a couple isn’t at ease with the idea of spending a couple of hours, listening to two women talk, particularly if the food is a bit different.
So, I started a food club. I invited three girlfriends, all of them married with children at home, to come to my house once a month for a themed dinner. The last dinner was Mexican. We each take a part of the dinner. Depending on work and family schedules, each friend either brings their ingredients or the finished product. Lisa made quesadillas here; Christina made a flan at home. I made chicken mole here; Jessica put her bean dip together at work. We spent a couple of hours, laughing and eating. It was great fun for me, having friends in the house, and for them, getting away from their houses.
These women, with their busy lives don’t have the time or energy to plan meals, regardless of what Better Homes and Gardens would have us believe. This way we can experiment, without having a seven year old turn up her nose. I can be creative with menus and know that at least once a month I’m going to do a bit of cleaning!
I’m leaning toward French for next month.
As a young wife, I invited friends to dinner and experimented. Some of those experiments have become standbys; most of them haven’t, because they involve too many fresh ingredients. Given my relationship status and age, there aren’t many choices for friends I can comfortably ask to dinner. Generally, the male part of a couple isn’t at ease with the idea of spending a couple of hours, listening to two women talk, particularly if the food is a bit different.
So, I started a food club. I invited three girlfriends, all of them married with children at home, to come to my house once a month for a themed dinner. The last dinner was Mexican. We each take a part of the dinner. Depending on work and family schedules, each friend either brings their ingredients or the finished product. Lisa made quesadillas here; Christina made a flan at home. I made chicken mole here; Jessica put her bean dip together at work. We spent a couple of hours, laughing and eating. It was great fun for me, having friends in the house, and for them, getting away from their houses.
These women, with their busy lives don’t have the time or energy to plan meals, regardless of what Better Homes and Gardens would have us believe. This way we can experiment, without having a seven year old turn up her nose. I can be creative with menus and know that at least once a month I’m going to do a bit of cleaning!
I’m leaning toward French for next month.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
words
A friend is going through the end of her marriage. The obvious culprit is alcoholism, her husband’s. Less apparent are the hurtful words that have flown back and forth over the more than a decade they’ve been together.
I’ve never understood the need to belittle people, even in jest. Heaven only knows, I’ve been unkind to people I care about, but it hasn’t been intentional. I would hope the worst that could be said was that I was careless. I’ll admit to that. I get frustrated and cranky.
It’s no mistake that I live alone. I need a lot of downtime, recharging time. I took the Meyers-Briggs personality inventory, which confirmed that I am an introvert. The thing that interested me about that was their definition of “introvert” as someone who needs to be alone to recharge, as opposed to an extrovert, who draws energy from other people. Being with most people drains me.
I’ve never understood the need to belittle people, even in jest. Heaven only knows, I’ve been unkind to people I care about, but it hasn’t been intentional. I would hope the worst that could be said was that I was careless. I’ll admit to that. I get frustrated and cranky.
It’s no mistake that I live alone. I need a lot of downtime, recharging time. I took the Meyers-Briggs personality inventory, which confirmed that I am an introvert. The thing that interested me about that was their definition of “introvert” as someone who needs to be alone to recharge, as opposed to an extrovert, who draws energy from other people. Being with most people drains me.
Friday, September 4, 2009
sounds
Sitting on the back porch this morning, I noticed that there are underlying sounds here, if you listen. The creek is still, generally. It’s deep enough, wide enough that there isn’t a “running water” sound, unless it’s in flood. But if there’s been dew, it sounds like rain, as it falls from the leaves of the two massive oaks in the yard. Then there’s the “plink” of an acorn on the metal porch roof. Soon, the profusion of acorns will sound like hail.
The Canada geese have been calling for the past couple of weeks, in anticipation of their coming departure. I wonder where they winter, if they come to Virginia for the summer. Their ranks should be filled, as I saw two broods last spring, a total of ten babies. The cattle have been all but invisible through the summer, what with the profusion of growth on the creek edges. I’ll catch glimpses of moving shadows on the water and hear the occasional lowing or hysterical bellowing.
In a month or so, I’ll refill the bird feeders. What with all the rain we’ve had this year, I didn’t think the birds needed supplemental seeds, but as the feeders were outside my bedroom window, I haven’t had a symphony to greet me each morning. Next year, I’ll fill them, as I’ve missed the general chatter as I open my eyes. First thing in the morning, the wild turkeys are active, too. I may not see them, but their talking among themselves on the ridges is evident. Occasionally, a family will cross the road, taking a low trajectory if startled. A mainstay of this country life is crows. It’s rare, if they aren’t announcing what seems to be imminent danger.
Now that the camp is closed for the season, I hear little or no traffic. That will continue until next spring. If I hear a vehicle, it’s someone I know. The cats and I have become used to the small sounds; the sound of a car or truck seems large.
The Canada geese have been calling for the past couple of weeks, in anticipation of their coming departure. I wonder where they winter, if they come to Virginia for the summer. Their ranks should be filled, as I saw two broods last spring, a total of ten babies. The cattle have been all but invisible through the summer, what with the profusion of growth on the creek edges. I’ll catch glimpses of moving shadows on the water and hear the occasional lowing or hysterical bellowing.
In a month or so, I’ll refill the bird feeders. What with all the rain we’ve had this year, I didn’t think the birds needed supplemental seeds, but as the feeders were outside my bedroom window, I haven’t had a symphony to greet me each morning. Next year, I’ll fill them, as I’ve missed the general chatter as I open my eyes. First thing in the morning, the wild turkeys are active, too. I may not see them, but their talking among themselves on the ridges is evident. Occasionally, a family will cross the road, taking a low trajectory if startled. A mainstay of this country life is crows. It’s rare, if they aren’t announcing what seems to be imminent danger.
Now that the camp is closed for the season, I hear little or no traffic. That will continue until next spring. If I hear a vehicle, it’s someone I know. The cats and I have become used to the small sounds; the sound of a car or truck seems large.
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