Sprinting into fall

Tuesday, September 23, 2008 at 9:31 am (Cottage Industry, Heavy Clay)
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Fall is such a mixed blessing. Sweaters instead of sweating, leaves that aren’t green, the clarity and smell in the air and shades of blue sky that just don’t happen any other time. Apples and pumpkins and cider and harvest moons. And, NO MORE WATERING!, which wasn’t an issue earlier in the summer but has been such a bother the past month or so, especially because I’ve been planting and transplanting like a mad woman (and all the rain we’ve had came at once, so the rain barrel couldn’t keep up).

But, but, but… we all know what comes after. Nobody I know likes winter, and all the gardeners I know go through withdrawal from December to April. (November is usually spent recovering from the beat-the-frost flurry of fall planting and transplanting and trimming and raking.)

We went through another plant-purchasing frenzy a couple weekends ago — partly because we keep refining the back yard (to make up for the ongoing mayhem in the front yard) and partly because Lowe’s got its fall planting stock in (nice selection) and a nursery we really like is closing (boo hoo) and had 40% off everything. All that resulted in us buying something like 17 perennials, a flat of ground cover, and 18 shrubs (including this oak leaf hydrangea…and a couple mums for good measure). Guess how I’ve been spending every spare moment?

We also traded up — instead of a giant, bare, burnt spot on the lawn, we bought a beautiful burn ring that Mike painstakingly installed (twice — did I mention he’s a perfectionist?).

I’m happy to report all the new shrubs are in the ground and many old shrubs and flowers have been moved around (please live). I actually had a moment last night, as I looked around the yard in exhaustion (just before it got totally dark) and thought “This looks pretty good.”

It’s that thought that will carry me through the last frantic days of autumn (hosta to split, mulch to spread, weeds to attack, bulbs to bury, shrubs to prune, lilac to whack), sustain me through the winter doldrums, and make me raring to start it all over again next spring. Just like gardeners everywhere.

Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it,
and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth
seeking the successive autumns. 
                                        ~ George Eliot

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Getaway gone bad.

Wednesday, September 17, 2008 at 5:23 pm (Hack for Hire, Writing by Ear, Youngest of Seven)
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Friday morning

  • Leave 2 hours later than planned due to teaming, pouring, buckets and buckets of torrential rain (after weeks of drought). No way to load the car (or get the almost-never-used-in-the-three-years-we’ve-owned-them bicycles up on the roof rack) without getting soaked.
  • Notice the practical, water-conserving rain barrel is overflowing (despite the overflow valve) and open the valve so it drains down the driveway instead of flooding the garage.
  • Load the car when rain reduces to a drizzle.
  • Drive 2 hours to Cook Forest in the same rainy drizzle.

Friday noon

  • “Arrive at destination.” So announces Thomas, our newly acquired British GPS navigator that I don’t like much because of his proclivity to send us down winding, 2-lane roads when there are perfectly good highways nearby.
  • Unload car and cooler, lamenting the state of the rental house (blast those Internet pictures). Pigs (not pit bulls) in lipstick come to mind.
  • Watch it rain for the rest of the day with family.

Saturday

  • Watch it rain all day with family.
  • Decide to take a drive in the rain.
  • Discover MARVELOUS BEST-EVER ICE CREAM at the little concessionnaire in the park.

Sunday noon

  • Sun at last! And record heat (mid-’80s). Decide to take almost-never-used-in-the-three-years-we’ve-owned-them bicycles to the park for a ride along the river.
  • Enjoy a lovely 3-mile ride.
  • Curse all things bicycle on the exhausting 3-mile ride back, especially manufacturer of expensive “made for women” bicycle seat akin to riding astride a balance beam.
  • Discover MARVELOUS BEST-EVER ICE CREAM place also makes the MOST INCREDIBLE CURLY FRIES YOU HAVE EVER EATEN. Top them off with another MARVELOUS BEST-EVER ICE CREAM cone to recover from 6-mile balance-beam ride.
  • See careless, inconsiderate jerks from New York park next to us at concessionnaire and think they ding our car door with theirs. Forget to check before they pull away.
  • Visit “rustic furniture” place and dream about owning a log cabin one day. Realize it’s a pipe dream because we’ll never be able to retire due to having to bail out irresponsible home-buyers, mortgagers, insurance companies, hurricane evacuation-refusers, and assorted other money-sucking leeches.

Sunday evening

  • Hunker down to watch nationally televised Steelers game. Notice the wind is really whipping outside, and wind warnings are crawling all over the bottom of the TV screen.
  • Endure blinking lights, intermittent TV outages. Dig through rental trying to find working flashlights (2) and candles (none).
  • Completely lose power at the end of the first quarter. Worry that you will also have no water because there is probably a well and pump.
  • Walk along the road and see neighbors. Hear that power is off all the way to Clarion (20 miles away).
  • Go to bed — nothing else to do.
  • Wake up at 2:30 a.m. when electricity (and all the lights) come back on.

Monday

  • Still no cable.
  • Notice considerable door ding from careless, inconsiderate jerks from New York. Realize it will cost at least $100 to fix their one second of “it’s all about me” carelessness.
  • Pack up and go, leaving sister, mom, and brother #1 behind. Drive home in beautiful, cool sunshine.
  • Discover minimal debris from storm. Start to water plants (not using the now-empty rain barrel), unpack, do laundry, clean up assorted cat puke.
  • Stop everything when power goes out at home for 1-1/2 hours.

Tuesday

  • Start working bright and early. Discover numerous e-mail requests for new projects and annoying rework of project drafted 5 weeks ago.
  • Discover through brother #2 that power is still out at my mother’s house since Sunday — literally only her house and about 5 others on the same line (the one where the power always goes out and nobody else’s does).
  • Lament loss of food in fridge and full-size upright freezer.
  • Discover when sister returns home with mother that brother #3 has redistributed most of the freezer food to neighbors and cousins.
  • Discover power company is estimating FRIDAY NIGHT before power is restored in her area. FIVE DAYS AFTER IT WENT OUT.
  • Curse power company.
  • Frantically keep working to make up for time lost and new projects requested while away.
  • Discover front tire almost flat. Fill it and drive an hour each way to pick up mother and bring her here.
  • See power crews working near her house as we pull away.
  • Sigh.

Wednesday

  • Lament no sign of power at mother’s yet. (Power crews must have been a cruel hoax.)
  • Raalize next much-anticipated getaway (aka vacation to North Carolina mountains) is only 2-1/2 weeks away.
  • Wonder if it’s even worth it.

No vacation goes unpunished.
              ~ Karl Hakkarainen

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Remembrance. Resilience.

Thursday, September 11, 2008 at 12:51 pm (Hack for Hire, Writing by Ear)
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This won’t be a long post. We all have our own thoughts and memories of that horrible, horrible day seven years ago. I captured mine in an essay shortly after to be sure I’d always remember.

What got me, though, was yesterday. Last night actually. A late-day e-mail from a client that resulted in him scheduling a meeting for today. For 10:00 a.m. Just about the time, seven years ago, when the world changed forever.

My first thought: I didn’t want to be on a conference call at this time. I wanted to be free to think about things.

But, duty called. The call went fine. It was nice to talk with my colleagues. I got my assignment. No one mentioned 9/11.

Even more striking: My clients are in New York City. Their company was in a building in the Trade Center complex seven years ago. Everyone had to evacuate that day, and the company soon relocated to a new office. I think their old building may have even been damaged so much it had to be torn down.

Yet, here we all were, seven years later. Having a meeting. Doing business. Making money. Living the free, capitalist, enterprising dream the terrorists wanted — and still want — so desperately to destroy.

Take that, you bastards.

They shall not grow old, as we that are left grow old;
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning, we will remember them.
                                                  ~ Laurence Binyon (quoted by Rudy Giuliani
                                      in his 9/11 tribute speech today)

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