Spring Blessings

When weather cooperates, farmers are busy replacing the fields of henbit and wild mustard with plantings of corn or soybeans, Gerald said I was probably correct that those early plants equal out any nutrient depletion when they are plowed under. Best of all, he explained those plants hold the earth and prevent erosion. And they add organic matter to the soil. So they are helpful as well as colorful to look at. He said some farmers actually plant rye or turnips (a field turnip, not the table kind) to accomplish those tasks; and as the plant and roots deteriorate, better air and water passages are left in the soil beneath the planted crops.

Nothing is prettier than white dogwood blossoms peeking through greening woods, and that has been a major pleasure for me this spring. I am in the midst of facing up to what must be done for a tooth problem. The spectacular displays of dogwood along the highway made even the anxious ride up to the periodontist at Mt. Vernon pleasurable for me and Gerald.

We continue to watch college softball games and are more interested than ever as tournament time approaches. We even got an unexpected over night visit from our son Gerry back when A&M played at Missouri. Taking some batting cages up early in his truck, he swung by here. Gerald had debated driving over as we have done it the past, but seeing it on television was certainly easier. In the third game of their series last Sunday No. 18 A&M beat No.1 Florida 6-4. Today Gerry posted that they were 7th nationally in home runs, 18th in batting average, and 7th in slugging percentage. Go Aggies!

Oregon moved up to No. 3 ranking after a streak of winning shut-outs and players breaking school records. Geri Ann hit her 10th homerun this season last night. They will travel to California this weekend.

A friend started Katherine’s birthday celebration a day early with a gift-laden visit from her church girl friends. I made a homemade birthday cake and ordered in pizza for Gerald and me to join Katherine in her bedroom to celebrate. I have opened and displayed her birthday cards there; her husband’s flowers and the flowers of a friend have made the room festive. I read to her the more than 100 birthday wishes on Facebook, and she enjoyed reminiscing of those friends from the times when she lived a much different life than now--one full of activity, accomplishments, and challenges.

Unfortunately, one of Katherine’s long term aides, the oldest and one of the very best to get much accomplished in a brief shift, had to resign because of some health problems. She stuck it out through the need for infusing an antibiotic, and the last dose was given on Katherine’s birthday. We deeply regretted her leaving, but knew she needed a chance to rest and revive. So I have spent more time at Katherine’s house than usual trying to help out until she secures more staff. (Final exams at the local colleges have also played havoc with some of her aides.)

Her many bedroom windows open up on a lovely city park, and the activity there does add some variety to her limited life. Last fall, Gerald fixed a new television for her up in the air above those windows at just the perfect height for her viewing. Always good with electronics, she understands all the complicated choices that modern TVs have, and she has to repeatedly tell me step-by-step what to push to get shows chosen, watched, recorded, rewound, or whatever, while I still long for the days when one pushed an on and off button. But the television and some things on her phone (which is even more complicated than the TV) allow her keep up with sports, the political season, local news, and the current TV shows every one talks about. Since I am busy doing other tasks while there, I am not so up to date. (When I am in my kitchen at my house, however, I usually have the news on and try to keep switching from channel to channel as commercials come on. Nevertheless, I know the words to some of those commercials.

In addition to softball excitement, our singer/actor granddaughter Leslie got a call back on an audition for a nation-wise tour this week. Suddenly she had to frantically arrange to take the very last seat available for a flight to New York City, and she even got a request to return on Tuesday, but she did not make it to the final cut and returned to Nashville where she had been pouring her heart and extra time into the second “Any Song Will Do” event to be streamed at 7:30 tomorrow night (Thursday). Hope you can watch it with us at anysongwilldo.com.

And her brother Elijah finished his student teaching with an A and will graduate from Illinois State this Saturday morning. As if that is not enough excitement for Jeannie and Rick’s family, Cecelie has her prom at Freeport High School that night!

The excitement here on the farm is the abundance of asparagus and now a handful of strawberries starting to turn red. Gerald honored me with the first one but confessed that some little animal had actually had one or two before mine.

Spring Snow and Softball

A couple weeks ago, Katherine asked me if our pear tree had buds yet. I had not noticed; but when I did, I saw it would not be long till blossoms would come. Soon the city lawns and country yards were full of the pear trees’ beautiful blooms. I would entertain myself as I drove trying to decide how to best describe that loveliness. I thought of “ethereal lacey virginal whiteness,” but that was too long, and I continued to try to find words to capture that spring visual pleasure.

Then Sunday on the first day of spring, I looked out the window at Woodsong and saw it was snowing. As I drove in to Katherine’s house to give her morning pills, the large fluffy white flakes coming down surrounded the pear blossoms. It was magical. The ground was warm, and by afternoon, the flakes had melted. Already the pear trees are replacing white blooms with greenery. But the beauty of that drive will be permanently etched in my brain. I will pull it out every once in awhile and enjoy the loveliness.

College softball season is going strong, and our weekends are full keeping up with our two teams. Weekend before last Saturday was softball alumni day at Texas A&M. Consequently, our granddaughter Erin was helping with the radio broadcast of their game. So we had both of Gerald’s computers going so we could see A&M, which was being streamed on the SEC channel; and on the other computer, we kept switching between Oregon’s game tracker and the radio broadcast so we could hear Erin’s sweet voice!

This past weekend on Friday night, we watched A&M on the Internet win over #4 ranked Louisiana. On Saturday both A&M and Oregon were scheduled to be on the Internet and at slightly different times, so we were excited as we settled in to watch in Gerald’s office. Daughter Mary Ellen came over to join us in the cheering.

We enjoyed A&M’s game even though they lost 6-1. At that level of play, it is hard to be too disappointed. When it was time for Geri Ann’s game on the Pac-12 channel, we could not get on. The site said to contact Dish to access; and so most of the game, Gerald and then Mary Ellen were following the written instruction to contact Dish. Unfortunately, the people who answered not only did not have the faintest idea how to correct the problem but could not listen well. (One kept thinking and saying television instead of Internet, for example, no matter how clearly she was told otherwise.) Even worse, they stubbornly would not allow us to talk to their supervisor, whom we assumed would know what to do to get us on. (This made me wonder if there is a punishment to an employee who allows you talk to the supervisor.) The next day, Gerald talked to someone who quickly helped and gave us the access we had paid for. It just happened in the midst of this frustration that Gerald switched to Oregon’s game tracker on the other computer at the exact right moment. We were able to know of Geri Ann’s three-run home run that helped win the first game in the series. (Later, of course, her hit was posted on Facebook and we could relive it as often as we wanted.) We were happy that Erin and husband Josh Simons were there to share the moment with Geri Ann. Josh has returned safely from South Korea, and they were in Seattle visiting his family.

We spent most of Sunday afternoon before I returned to Katherine’s house watching the third game between A&M and Louisiana. And A&M won the series!

For us the good thing was that Oregon vs. Washington’s last two games on Sunday and Monday games were both on television, so we watched in the family room. With the time differences, the game started at 9 p.m. here in Southern Illinois, which is Gerald’s usual bedtime. Needless to say, he stayed up. And we were well rewarded when Geri Ann came in to pitch and did an outstanding job, and the Ducks won again. Brianna is on spring break from Murray, so she and Mary Ellen were there with us watching. Texting with other households watching this second game made it even more fun.

Monday night’s game was rain delayed, so it did not start until 9:30. Very rapidly into the game, it was called for another rain delay. As the tarp was rolled out, Gerald and I figured that would be the end, and he decided to go on to bed. I stayed up and went into my office but came back to watch when I heard the announcers’ voices again. I think it was close to 2 a.m. when the game ended, and we had swept the series! Gerald woke up by this time and came down for a report before going back to bed. So if we have looked a little bleary-eyed, we have an excuse.

Today was Gerald’s 86th birthday, and I had to quit in the middle of this blog to go celebrate it with Mary Ellen, Brian, and Brianna. (Trent was working as usual.) So now I have finished what I started about softball watching. I will have to tell you about Gerald’s birthday celebration another time. I’m sleepy.

Home Again after an Extra Long Weekend

We left Woodsong around 10 last Thursday morning and headed south. We watched as the roadside grass turned ever more green. Because previous winter trips to the South included some of the coldest softball games we ever endured, we’d thrown coats into the back seat of the car. When we arrived at Lafayette, Louisiana, we found ourselves in the land of live oak trees and where alligator and quail are on restaurant menus. Roses, pansies, and tulip trees were blooming, and coats were never necessary.

This was the closest to us of softball games on Oregon’s schedule this year, and we arrived there Friday in time to briefly see granddaughter Geri Ann before the Ducks began play against the Ragin’ Cajuns. Our daughter-in-law Vickie was already there, and soon Bryan and Tara with the three Archibald boys arrived also. Aidan, Maddux, and Payton were so excited to see their “Auntie G,” who was just as thrilled to see them.

In the first game, we were able to see Geri Ann hit and play in the outfield and then come in to relief pitch. It was a good game though we lost 3-2. At supper that night, Maddux was prepped to eat his first crayfish; and despite his reputation as the family’s picky eater, he pronounced it very good and shared with whoever had the nerve. Gerald and I ate gumbo although different kinds. Before our visit there was over, I’d eaten chicken, crab, crayfish, and shrimp in my gumbo. I’d heard of jambalaya in the song most of my life, so I had to sample a bite from Tara’s plate. After supper, we all gathered for a family visit in the hotel lobby before good nights were said and we went our separate ways although Aidan managed to snare a bed in Vickie’s room.

We were back at the ball park by mid morning and watched our only win over 7th ranked Lafayette 6-3. Cheridan Hawkins pitched most of the game and added nine strike-outs making her total this season 42, which is why she is 19th in the nation for strike-outs. This broke the Cajuns undefeated status to 8-1.

Our third game that afternoon against LLU had us losing again by one run: 5-4. This 30th Louisiana Classic with three teams had a different format from what I’ve previously attended anywhere. Very soon we were playing our fourth game--this time against Central Arkansas. Geri Ann pitched, and we won 8-0 in six innings.

As usual after the games, we went to the team’s restaurant choice to meet up there with the family for a final meal together. I really liked that establishment’s rustic decor, and I especially enjoyed the long wait before our table became available! (Much more fun than eating peanuts and throwing the shells on the floor!) On to the side of the dining rooms was a colorful country stage with a Cajun band in front of a small dance floor surrounded with benches for sitting as we waited to eat their locally famous Creole food.

When we entered, a little girls’ softball team was actively engaged in a combination of gymnastics, horseplay, and dancing, and I think our music lover Maddux was already out there with Geri Ann. Later Aidan joined them; and finally over his protests, Auntie G enticed Payton to join in the fun. Many older couples were obviously regular customers, and it was pleasant to watch their expertise at country dancing. Perhaps the most skilled was one young man with a cowboy hat that had circled the seated crowd commenting to us with thick speech that I could not understand. He found a partner near the band that I assumed he had danced with before, and they were so good it was a joy to watch.

None were cuter though than Oregon freshman Cherish Burks and her baby sister. Little Leah at eleven months had provided us with smiling beauty all weekend. She could almost walk, and everyone was expecting her to take off by herself any time. Perhaps she wanted to save those first steps to show off for her daddy when she got back home to California. I speculated she was such a pleasant child because her mother too was always smiling. When Leah was tired, she would take her bottle and go to sleep in her mother’s arms or in her buggy as her mother pushed, but always she had an audience because she was so engaging and so pretty. I may have watched her as much almost as the teams on the field. Well, on the dance floor, she was in her element. Those little feet that moved so well if someone held on to her arms as she walked were now stepping high in perfect rhythm. She also had a steady supply of partners picking her up and carrying around with the music. Just as cute were twin brothers, who were probably two since they were steady on their feet—too steady at times. (Watching their dad or mother race to intercept them as they would dart toward the opening into the main restaurant provided some humor.) Watching them interact with little Leah was so sweet as children always seem delighted to see someone else their own size.

Watching all this made me almost disappointed to be called to our table for food. (A screen in that room, however, let us hear and see the band and an even larger group of senior citizens circling the floor.) The meal was good and everyone was happy. That is until Geri Ann had to join the Ducks for the trip back to their hotel. Because the Archibalds had to return to College Station yet that night in order for Aidan to play baseball the next day, this was a final goodbye to Geri Ann. The team left, and Maddux sobbed. And soon Payton was sobbing also. Gma Vickie solved Maddux’s grief by inviting him to spend the night and go home with her the next day, so he was able to see Geri Ann again on Sunday after all. Bryan and Tara quickly figured out a solution for Payton, who would soon be fast asleep in their van going back home. At age nine, Aidan is very committed to his sport. And we heard that he pitched a very good game,

The next day many of Oregon’s younger players were on the field against Central Arkansas, and the score was even more lopsided with a 19-3 score in five innings. After the game, we were busy saying goodbye to Geri Ann, Vickie, and Maddux and getting on the road to Dickenson, Texas, so we did not stay to see Central Arkansas play the host team.

We arrived at Gerald’s special Air Force buddy’s home with the help of our GPS. I found out after we returned to Woodsong that I had mistyped one number in Gerald’s cell phone, so Ray and Gladys had been unable to reach us. (I am still confused about that because I know I checked it after I hurriedly typed it in a personal message on their Facebook page, but I guess I goofed.) We had a great two-hour visit while the guys reminisced and Gladys and I got acquainted.

We met their granddaughter and two great granddaughters temporarily staying with them. Camie, the younger of the two great granddaughters was 19 months, and she had a head of lovely soft black curls and a beautiful face. Gladys brought her into the family room when she woke from her nap, and she was all smiles for us strangers even though her mother and sister were not there right then. She too entertained us showing us how she walked with Gpa Ray’s shoes and sharing her doll and toys. After watching Leah and her, I began to wonder if babies don’t cry anymore.

It was hard to leave, but we needed to hurry on to Gerry and Vickie’s house in College Station. We were looking forward to it because we knew Gerry would be in a great mood. He had been with A&M’s softball team at the Mary Nutter Classic in California that weekend and had come through undefeated against all the great teams there. We had a good late evening visit and got re-acquainted with Chloe, Chance, and Nelly—their house dogs. (The bird dogs are exiled to a friend’s ranch during softball season.) Erin and Josh had been there dog sitting for Vickie all weekend, but they returned earlier in the day to their respective places. (Erin to her apartment to teach the next day and Josh back to Fort Hood.) We enjoyed sleeping in the bedroom decorated with all Erin’s softball awards and mementoes. however, and that made us feel like a partial visit with her. We are still looking forward to meeting Josh.

The next morning I slept late while Gerald and Gerry ran around, and I came downstairs to the smell of bacon and sausage and the sight of another beautiful baby—this time a little boy named Trent that Vickie cares for part of the day three times a week. He could pull himself up, but does not walk yet. His curls were blond. He is their sunshine, Vickie explained. He proved my theory that modern babies must no longer cry. At nap time, Vickie would put him in his crib, walk out of the room, and he would go to sleep until nap time was over. Nor did he wake up crying but all smiles. We enjoyed meeting him and watching him play contentedly with his toys and all of us. Soon after his lunch, he took another nap. We ate a late lunch with Gerry and Vickie and packed our bags. We were all out on the front lawn saying our final goodbyes when the Trent’s mother and little sister came to pick him up.

We traveled late on Monday to be further on the way home the next day. The grass was even greener than in Louisiana. And redbud and other shrubs were flowering by the roadside. There was sometimes even a hint of green in the dark limbs of the trees in the wooded areas. The starkness of the bare limbs was often broken with large balls of mistletoe.

We drove an hour or so before we stopped for breakfast on Tuesday to break up the drive. I believe it was in Arkadelphia that we stopped for lunch at a local barbecue place that claimed fame for having catered 10,000 folk at one gathering! As we traveled north, the green grass became more splotchy, and finally by Missouri, it was mostly brown again. There were large fields of bright green winter wheat, however. Once we saw a rice field covered with water and ducks. Then we were on Interstate 57 after stopping at Boomland for rest and cheap gas. We picked up our accumulated mail at the post office when we arrived in Marion just before it closed. After a bowl of chili at Pulleys, it was back to the farm and carrying in luggage. I sent text messages to our four kids that we were home all safe and sound. Made the coffee for the next morning and attended other details of living. I think Gerald checked the Internet. We fell in bed early for a good night’s rest and woke up to snow coming down outside our windows.

Softball and Spring

Since February, many of the conversations around here have been about University of Georgia’s softball games.  We are again having meals in front of game tracker on the computer in Gerald’s office, and already Gerald and his nephew DuWayne have had two trips to see UGA play.  They attended the first opening tourney at Athens, and then last weekend enlisted Sam, who was on spring break, to go with them to games at Auburn University in Alabama.   The weather there was warm and beautiful, and three wins made the outing quite a success.  The many homeruns confirmed the team’s improved batting, and everyone came home happy.

Little Payton, our youngest great grandchild, had chosen to come along with his Gma Vickie while his two older brothers elected to stay home in Athens under their dad’s watch care.  So Payton’s unexpected presence was another plus adding to Sam and Gerald’s weekend enjoyment.  Come to find out, Vickie’s mother (Gma Shirley) had caught a ride down to Athens with her son who was going through, so she was at Athens too and able to attend church with Bryan and the older boys, Aidan and Maddux.  So I know those two little guys had plenty of adoring attention also.

A few weeks ago I was thrilled, as I am each year, to see the crocus coming up beside Katherine’s  front sidewalk from bulbs she had planted in healthier and happier years.  Since it was still winter, the snow came, and I assumed the yellow buds beneath the snow were destroyed.  Happily, after the snow melted, there the sturdy blooms were fully opened and more vibrant than ever.  A second snow covered them, and I thought that might be their demise, but the second melt left them still lovely proclaiming that spring was around the corner.  At that time I was also watching and enjoying the  flowering of roadside daffodils, which had come up in their annual abundance before the second snow.  They too continued to thrive after the melt.  Since then, Katherine’s precious miniature daffodils have joined the crocus and their bigger relatives beside the lamp post and sidewalk to welcome in spring today.

Gerald wanted me to go along to Auburn since I suspect he knows it may be harder each year for us to travel to see Geri Ann play college ball. However, I knew we only had day-time hours covered for Katherine’s care, so I did not consider going.

I went out the Thursday afternoon before they left knowing that the young woman who comes for that night (and two other nights a week) had been having car trouble after her car accident and probably would not make it. (She thought she had her car fixed with a new part she bought, and she made it one night the previous week before the car broke down again.)  An older college student, she had been coming three nights a week for some time.  She was pleasant company and faithfully there to lift and adjust Katherine as needed. Then after the part did not solve the car problem, the car was in the shop for a couple of days. Then it still would not run.  So there had been frantic last minute phone calls from her area town about catching a late-night taxi or getting a friend to bring her before the friend went to work.  But the negative results of those calls made me expect that she would not to be there that night either, so I was prepared to spend the night.

Although the Friday, Saturday, and Sunday day-time care giver had had to transport someone to Chicago the previous weekend (an assignment from her regular job), she was scheduled to be there those three days, and I knew she was quite competent.  My plan was to try to get night time care arranged for those same days, but if that did not work out, I knew I would be rested to fill in.   So when I finally saw Katherine arranged comfortably in bed  that Thursday night (long after midnight), I  knew the day worker would relieve  me at 8 the next morning when DuWayne was meeting up at the farm with Gerald and Sam, who had spent the night there, and they were leaving for Auburn.  

I would go home to an empty house with plenty of time to rest and try to enlist more help.
What I did not expect was the early morning phone call from the day worker trying to explain through pain and tears that she had a tooth break off in her sleep and must go to the dentist that very morning.  Or at least I thought that was what she was telling me with her garbled speech and my hearing aids not on.   Next came two or three text messages, since she could not talk, apologizing for crying because of the terrible pain.  I assumed she would get taken care of and be there the next two mornings.  Katherine had a long-time employee who now is back in school and just comes every Friday afternoon for four hours and helps her with paper work and whatever is needed. So after I spent the unexpected morning there, I hurried to the farm for fresh clothes and a breather before the night.  There was no time to try to find a brand new night worker for the weekend.  But I figured that was okay as the tooth problem would be solved and that aide would be able to show up Saturday morning.

By that night, however, she was in the hospital for over night as a result of the tooth, which was absessed and poisoned her system or something.  A text said she’d be out on Saturday. Evidently the whole episode was even more serious than I thought because she was not able to come in on Sunday either.  Her cousin, who was supposed to work over night Sunday to replace the girl with car trouble, was suddenly called in to fill he place of the tooth-troubled aide at the group home where she works.   But at least I knew Monday morning was covered by a most reliable employee and the afternoon by another extremely reliable worker.  It is usually two or three in the morning before Katherine is adjusted to be able to sleep, but she made a point  of not calling for me, as she had also kindly done the night before, and I got several hours of steady sleep before the Monday morning sunshine work me up. The cheerful morning worker, who is dealing with her husband’s recovery from surgery last week, arrived at exactly 7:20 all smiles with every hair in place.   I stayed to help her for a couple of hours when suddenly her phone rang telling of a death in their family.  Since her husband has breathing problems and was taking the death hard, she phoned their nearby grandson to go stay with her husband.

I knew she might have to leave early, but the afternoon worker is just as experienced and dependable so I felt comfortable leaving.  Katherine urged me to go home and get some rest.  What she did not know was I was scheduled to host the monthly women’s meeting from our church that night.  Leaders had said I did not need to fulfill my turn to open my house for the meeting, but I did not think it would be a problem since I did not know all these various cancellations would occur.  I haven’t been able to attend many of these meetings this year, and I thought it would do me good to be involved with a happy gathering. So after checking with the one to give the devotional that night, I wanted to have my turn at my house and had it announced.  

Since I could not decide if I wanted to fix ham salad sandwiches or chicken salad, I had already decided that I would put out various kinds of bread and let everyone make their own sandwich.  (I have made my own chicken salad a few times in my life, but now I am inclined to purchase it at the local warehouse store; and if I want to make it more personal, maybe I cut up some grapes in it.  I also have another store where I like to buy ham salad.)
I had made a couple of  angel food cakes without icing  when it was my turn to help with refreshments at Women’s Club in February, so I thought I’d do that again for these friends.  That was an interesting experience because one of the three of us to do refreshments had phoned and said she had napkins and everything bought and had the recipe and planned to make red velvet cake. I haven’t been able to attend but one previous meeting this year, so I said let me make an angel food cake for any diabetics present and also make a red punch to fit in with the Valentine theme.  She assured me I did not need to do that, but agreed I could.  The day before that meeting, she phoned with the awful news that her sister’s 45-year-old son had dropped dead of a heart attack totally unexpected and, of course, she must go to Kentucky to be with her sister. But, she said, the third member of our committee was back in town and she had taken supplies to her house and commissioned her to buy some sweet little red velvet cupcakes at the warehouse store instead of her homemade one.  That sounded like a fine plan to me. 
  
For many years if I make an angel food cake (from a mix), I have always made a second one at the same time—hardly any extra trouble.   I might send the extra one home with granddaughter Brianna, who likes them, or take it to a shut-in or freeze the extra. So that is what I did that morning, but then I debated whether it would be silly or not to carry in the extra cake with the punch bowl, ice ring, etc. that I needed to carry in to the library meeting room.   The angel cake was supposed to just supplement the red velvet cupcakes.  Fortunately, I decided to take both cakes. 

I went plenty early to set up, and there I learned that although the napkins, candies, and tablecloth were brought by the president, the cupcakes (main refreshment) were not there because that committee member had to go to the hospital the night before. Whew!  I knew we now needed two cakes, and I had them in the room.  We had a wonderful program with three speakers, and as usual, they were first on the agenda so they could leave before the business meeting if they chose to do so.  And as usual, they were invited by the president to help themselves to the refreshment table as they exited.  When one man gratefully said, “Oh, I will take an extra piece for my landlady,” I knew my decision to carry in two cakes was the right one.  
 
The elderly ladies (my age group are the young members!!) were most kind and seemed to really enjoy the freshly baked un-iced angel food. The tall white cake on a lovely white pedestal cake plate that author Hua-ling Hu had given me looked very pretty on the red tablecloth.  So I bought two more cake mixes planning to repeat that success at my house with my church friends.

I digress.  Back to this week’s  situation—although I had spent an unplanned night away from home, I still had  a day to prepare for the Monday night meeting—picking up all the clutter of reading material I’d left in the living room and the dirty dishes I had left Friday afternoon when I expected to be back home the next morning.  In the meantime, Gerald, DuWayne, and Sam had returned to the farm after midnight Sunday, and of course there was stuff carried in from their trip. 

When I left Katherine’s that morning, I knew I needed to pick up the chicken and ham salads at two different stores, but I would have time that afternoon to whip up the angel food cakes because they are so easy to make.  I already had the breads, chips, party napkins, and pretty candies in spring colors—even some yellow Peeps.  I decided the most important thing I could do that morning was to get a much needed hair cut and shampoo, so I went to the beauty shop and gratefully saw my favorite beautician, who always makes me feel like a new person.  I was so pleased that finally I was getting that respite and relief from hair in my face, and I relaxed.

 I am not sure who called first, but the afternoon worker phoned to say she had stomach flu, and the morning worker had heard from her grandson that her husband was not doing well and she better leave even earlier than planned. (She is so fine an aide that I was amazed at all she accomplished while she was there.) I rushed on to the stores for the sandwich spreads and picked up some pretty springtime looking miniature cupcakes and some of those red velvet ones I’d been told about.  Oh, and some yummy chocolate cookie-candy type treats in a tray that I could put directly on the buffet.  Since I would need to take the place the afternoon worker, the angel food cakes would have to wait for another time.  I had not really had a relaxed meal since I was home Friday afternoon, so after I picked up the ham salad, I decided I would stop at a close by local eatery that serves good breakfasts.  Unfortunately it was now eleven, and they quit serving breakfast at l0:30. They are also famous for their barbecue, so I ordered a sandwich and fries to go with my coffee—something I miss most at Katherine’s house.  After I saw an enticing list of pies on their blackboard (another thing they are famous for), I added a piece of raisin pie as an after thought. 

Well fueled, I left to go back to Katherine’s.  A friend and husband had come in, so as I left I stopped at their table and asked if she’d be at my house that night.  She suggested that I simply cancel, but since I had been told for certain the night worker was coming at 7, I knew it would much easier to have the meeting than to find time to make phone calls to cancel. 

I got home after five and loaded the dish washer and bathed and put on clean clothes.  Gerald helped me get down the punch bowl and serving plates.  I stirred up a punch and had an ice ring left from the Women’s Club meeting, and I fixed a pitcher of ice water.   I can honestly say I experienced  very little stress because I knew the church friends would pitch in and help me and completely understand anything I failed to get done—one of which was the clutter of reading material.  Sure enough, our pastor’s wife arrived early to help and soon another friend showed up, and the three of us had things pretty much organized by the time the others arrived at 6:30.  I pushed the button on the coffee pot, so we could smell it brewing during our meeting.  Jeannie had given us a special Freeport Blend from one of their local coffee shops, and I had deliberately saved it for this meeting. 

At the last minute, our president Kim Barger made her first public appearance since her very painful shoulder surgery—her husband brought her since she still cannot drive.  She could not play the piano for us either, but Charlene Morris led us as we sang a cappella  The hymns were unusually beautiful that way.  (I thought of our friend Loretta White, who now lives in South Carolina, who always loved our singing.)  After our devotional by Deanna Odom and a business meeting, the dozen of us in attendance moved to the kitchen and dining room area.  (My earlier helpers were there to put the last-minute things from the fridge to the buffet.) Soon the room was filled with conversations and laughter, and I knew my decision to go on with the meeting was the right one. It did do me good just as I thought it would. There were lots of hugs and loving things said as we parted, and I slept very well with the dish washer humming again.

Last evening I felt things were in good shape when I left Katherine’s, and good help was to be there today, so I felt no need to go in. Today I mostly piddled and rested. The first day of spring looked warm out the windows. However, when I went out to share table scraps with Jake (that is why he likes me), I felt how biting the wind was.  Today’s UGA softball game at home in Athens was on video as well as game tracker, so we enjoyed seeing our son and granddaughters Tara and Geri Ann as we watched on the computer.  Gerry and Tara were wearing warm coats and the trees were swaying around the ball field, so I know they were having a windy day too. Since the game ended mercifully at five innings (14-0 in UGA’s favor) Gerald and I were able to eat supper afterwards upstairs in the kitchen—dining on sandwiches from the spreads left over from Monday’s party.  

I did regret that I did not have time to stop and pick daffodils from the roadside for the tables Monday as that is a springtime tradition I have. But I will enjoy them tomorrow as I drive to town  and may find time to pick a bouquet yet someday.

Dogwood and Azalea Time

The red azaleas are blooming in the front lawn, and our little dogwood out there is so pretty. The garden is plowed and waiting for someone to plant something. The martins are back and more numerous than ever. When resting together, they fill both electric wires all the way down the lane to the mailbox. Their familiar swooping and swirling are a welcome sight overhead.

After our return from Erin’s softball game at the Southern Illinois University field at Carbondale on Saturday afternoon, we quickly tuned in to game tracker to see how Georgia was doing in their second game against fourth-ranked Florida. They completed their rain delay game from Friday night with a victory, but unfortunately lost that afternoon game.

Adjusting to the hot spring weather is draining, so though I wanted to stay on at SIUC for their double header, I was glad to get out of that hot sun. But I sure would have liked to see that second game that resulted in a win for the Salukis--as did Sunday’s.

I tried to stay up and read Saturday night until Jeannie and Cecelie, our youngest grandchild, arrived. But I kept falling asleep and dropping my book. Finally I woke up miserable and went on to bed at midnight. I heard them arrive shortly after. They are on spring break from Freeport. Everyone who visits here soon learns to find a bedroom wherever one is available and make themselves at home.

We visited at the breakfast table Sunday morning, and Jeannie drove on down to Paducah go to church and to visit with her special friend and neighbor, Carrie, from their Carterville/Crainville days. Cecelie went to Sunday School and worship with Gerald and me. Back at Woodsong, I hurriedly warmed leftovers so Gerald could fill his plate to go down and watch the third softball game between Georgia and Florida. (Sadly we lost.)

As soon as I cleaned the kitchen, Cecelie and I went in to Katherine’s. The new weekend and night aide we were so thrilled about, come to find out, had ended up in the hospital on Friday and was still unable to return to work.

Her day-time aide, who is wonderfully dedicated, had lost her father to cancer and was off at the end of the week. She had only begun to work for Katherine a couple of months ago when her father went to the doctor for what he thought was flu. He came home with the diagnosis of two Stage 4 cancers and an order for hospice. One of the things we have learned during Katherine’s illness is that many people have terrible trials and troubles, and that our lives are not the only ones with challenges.

I went in to Katherine’s bedroom to help her with lunch, and we did quite a bit of television watching. Cecelie had stopped off in the family room with her cousin Sam and his friend and neighbor Josh. Katherine explained that this was the day that Josh’s family were having their annual Easter egg hunt for friends in the park, which is just outside her window. So soon the teens had gone to Josh’s house to help prepare for the hunt when hundreds of candy-filled plastic eggs would be splashed in the grass throughout the small city park.

We stayed alert for signs of the hunt, and in late afternoon here came the teens and several adults with plastic grocery bags full of the bright colored eggs. We watched the hiding, which was more like sowing than trying to conceal. When we saw the number of wee little ones helped by parents in addition to all the older children, we knew why it was good the eggs were in abundance and everywhere for the picking. Mamas and daddies were helping the smallest children, some who were barely walking, while the older kids ran grabbing eggs here and there to quickly fill their baskets. It was a beautiful sight of adorable children running and scooping with excitement and joy.

Katherine and I realized it was also April Fools Day, and I guess for the first time in my adult life I did not spring a joke on anyone. She and I tried. We plotted, and she rang up Sam’s cell phone telling him that one of the little kids had escaped the park and ended up their back yard which is beside the park. “You better come and get him,” she texted. And we had a text all ready for her to send him when he showed up saying, “April Fool!” Unfortunately in all the activity, he did not answer the phone, and the joke did not materialize.

Cecelie and I took Sam to his church youth group, and she declined his invitation to go along for the evening. (I had been so proud of how she had enthusiastically participated in the egg hunt with teens older than herself, and I was sort of relieved she did not go on for an evening with yet another group of older kids she was not acquainted with. However, she is unusually poised for 13, and she has spent a life time coping and participating with her older sister and brother’s friends, so she probably would have been comfortable if she had gone with Sam. I was the one feeling shy for her.) At the end of the day, Jeannie was home from Paducah and had taken her bike ride and picked up Cecelie shortly before I had finished helping Katherine with supper and David had come in for their television watching in the family room.

So once again at Woodsong we gathered at the kitchen table to review our days while we snacked, talked about the coming week, and headed to bed.

Jeannie has a very long list of things she must accomplish during her spring break and her week off next week—including faxing plans, if necessary, to her substitute if the art substitute for some reason is unable to be there as planned. She has total confidence that the former art teacher sub will do a good job without coaching, but for a non-art sub to keep grade school kids on task for a 45 minute period is no easy duty. But that concern is next week.

The last two days, Jeannie and Cecelie have been going around town shopping and trying to pare down Jeannie’s list. Of course, Jeannie is also enjoying the beautiful weather and roads and trails in this end of the state as she rides her bike twenty or more miles a day trying to build back up and surpass last fall’s eighty mile achievement before winter weather stopped the riding until recent weeks. After her daughter Leslie’s wedding in our village on June 23, she has plans and hopes of taking her first major bike ride.

Tonight we indulged in the Mackey’s pizza that Gerald and Cecelie brought home from Harrisburg and their Rural King visit there to get a new pedal boat. Jeannie put the bike back on the rear of the van before she and Cecelie refilled the van with their suitcases, Lucky and Leah, and Cec’s violin. I hope they have arrived at Leslie’s apartment by now and get a good night’s sleep before they tackle such things as ordering the wedding invitations and planning Cecelie’s part in the music at the wedding reception. They will be back at the farm by Thursday night for the weekend if all goes well. That is when other family members will be arriving, and Cecelie wants to be here as soon possible after her cousin Brianna arrives.

Next week they will be returning to Nashville for Leslie’s two senior music recitals at Belmont and a bridal shower on Saturday afternoon, and I will be tagging along. Consequently, I began switching winter and summer clothes today as the very warm weather is demanding, I started planning what I will wear for next week’s festivities. What with Easter coming up and a shower gift to purchase, I realize I need to make a list or two also.

Flowers and Flooding

The doorbell ringing yesterday morning started my Mother’s Day early since the local flower shop in our village was delivering me not one but two bouquets. One lovely multi-flowered one in a unique square-shaped vase with clear glass outside and wine inside is now on the dining room table for me to enjoy each time I pass, which I do several times a day. (Since the wine will also look beautiful in our living room, I expect I will be filling that vase with flowers for years to come.) That was from Katherine, David, and Sam.

The gorgeous dozen red roses were from my husband, and they were placed in the living room where I also pass each time on the way to the kitchen in our very open upstairs. By the time I walk by the two bouquets, I am brimming with joy because of their beauty and the love they represent.

The owner of the flower shop was in high school with my two older kids, and knowing LaRonda created the arrangements make them even more special to me. She is very talented, and she and her sister Melody, who has opened a restaurant, have begun a business renaissance in our village. Cards, phone calls, and Facebook messages completed my continued celebration today.

Just as joy-bringing were reports on the grandkids’ lives. We have two high school senior grandsons this year—one living in the middle of our state and one about as far north as you can go without crossing into Wisconsin. Knowing they both had successful proms last night was happy news. Next will come the photos. And Sam’s eighth grade band did great at super state in Champaign on Friday, and I will be checking his friends’ photos of that trip on Facebook too.

While the instant communication with loved ones is one of the many blessings in today’s world, the knowledge of all the suffering around us keeps us aware that life can be very difficult and many people are in sorrow or trouble at any given moment in time.

Shortly after the doorbell rang yesterday with the flowers, a phone call came from our pastor A fellow pastor in our community was sending out an invitation to collect food this morning for flood refugees in our town—with the admonition that these people had only a microwave to prepare food in—no fridge or stove. Evidently the facilities with food being supplied or with better kitchens are now full.

So we made a stop on the way home from Southern Illinois University Carbondale softball double header and tried to thoughtfully figure out a variety of non-perishables. With everyone’s contributions this morning, our pastor had a job to take all of them to add to the other offerings from our community’s congregations. Yet I am sure there are tremendous needs all our area not being met.

We were shopping for the refugees next door to the empty parking lot where a tent city is now set up with a row of outdoor latrines. These state-of-the-art tents were extremely roomy and neat looking, and, as I understand it, are for the National Guard and other volunteers who are down at this end of the state helping with sandbagging and other rescue efforts. The explosions of the levee at Bird’s Point, MO, saved the levee at Cairo, and water levels here are going down. Yet the citizens there and in many small towns all over our area are still kept out. Water systems are not functioning, and many homes, cars, and fields are flooded. Now the mighty Mississippi River is headed to Memphis and further south, so all those people are frantically preparing for the floods as people here try to recover from them.

SIUC split yesterday’s double header with Drake, and we got there to see the end of the first game and the entire second game, which we won. Before we went, we’d taken time to watch the video taping of senior day for the University of Georgia’s softball team. Georgia had lost to Mississippi State on Friday night, but it won yesterday and again today, and we enjoyed watching today’s game and the homeruns in Gerald’s office as we ate lunch sandwiches.

I’d planned to surprise myself and get this blog written and posted before we went to evening services at Katherine’s church. But I was pleasantly interrupted by a visit from granddaughter Erin who had somehow found time after today’s game to come over and see her Gma Shirley and me. Now as I finish this blog, I also have a beautiful dozen white roses in my living room. Knowing Erin has to leave with the team Wednesday morning for the Missouri Valley Conference Tournament at Springfield, MO, makes the roses even more appreciated. And with all the attention I’ve received today, I feel appreciated too.

Good and Bad--And Maybe the Bad Was Good

Georgia softball team won the second game against University of Texas on Monday night. We all were elated. It started out unbelievably lopsided—almost embarrassingly so. Everyone was saying they were feeling sorry for the Longhorns, but then Texas hit a home run, and the scored ended 11-5. Georgia’s defense was spectacular, but we also had three home runs. Erin and Mel Dumezich were there from Texas A&M feeling good with their final exams over! Mary Ellen saw the camera pan their row in the stadium, but I missed it. It is not only fun watching, but the follow-up phone calls and conversations are great fun too when your team has just won an important victory.

Now we are excited planning to watch Georgia play Tennessee tomorrow at 4 on ESPNU. I think that is CST—but if I am wrong, then that game will begin here at 3 p.m. Our women’s banquet at church is tomorrow at 6, so I may not get to see the ending of the game. It will likely be a very tough game. Hope it ends well for the Dawgs.

Yesterday morning I was still lazily drinking coffee and reading the newspaper in my pajamas when the phone rang. The dentist office was calling to say that impression did not work and could I come back for another one! That was not in my plans for the day, but I changed my plans. I admit I was scared. I told the dentist that I suspected he was dreading the redo as much as I was. He assured me he was going to give me a shot in the gum this time, change whatever caused the problem before, and this time would be different. And it was.  I had a feeling he had put some thought into that previous episode.

Actually it was a good thing his office called. At noon right before I left home, I had reheated some of the corn casserole from Sunday. It was good, but evidently one kernal had gotten hard in the microwave. We were watching a replay of Monday night’s game, and I was not paying attention. I usually try to use both sides to chew but favor the side without the temp crown. I have followed the dentist’s advice not to eat popcorn or chewy taffy, etc.

My attention to the ball game wavered when I thought I heard a slight pop in my mouth, and I wondered if I had damaged that temp crown. I had. I could not tell it with my tongue, and if I had not had the unexpected appointment, I would probably assumed the crown was okay. So my dentist had to repair that also and warn me if it happened again to call him immediately since it could change my adjoining teeth or something so that the permanent crown might not align properly.

So all is well that ends well. Is that what the parents used to say in the Little House books? If not that, it was a similar sentiment and a good way to handle difficulties once they are over.

The Best Made Plans of...

The car had been serviced for the trip, arrangements had been made with various folk that we need to tell when we are leaving, prescriptions were filled, etc. etc. Our son Gerry was making our motel reservations where they were staying. Unfortunately, I caught a cold early in the week, but I was counting on feeling better by today. (And I am.) By Thursday, however, Gerald was catching the cold. He did not feel like driving to Knoxville yesterday (with a side trip to see our friend Tossie, he’d hoped), so suddenly we were staying home all weekend and all the preparation was wasted.

Instead we found out what was going on between University of Georgia and Tennessee’s softball teams with our old standby—game tracker. Since we lost the first game this afternoon, we were not too sorry we were absent from the stands although, of course, we wanted to see Vickie and Geri Ann there. The second game started badly and made us think it might be more of the same, but it changed in the fifth inning and we won 9 to 5. The tie-breaker tomorrow should be fun to see, but, of course, we won’t since we are still in Southern Illinois.

This first day of spring changed many people’s plans with floods at Red River and a historic struggle in Washington, D.C., to change our way of providing (and not providing) health care in this nation. That tie breaker will be of considerable more consequence that who wins a softball game tomorrow.

Nieces in Texas and a nephew in northern Illinois all wrote to each other on Facebook about waking up to snow-covered ground. Our weather here was quite beautiful, and Brian was down putting on anhydrous in anticipation of planting. Gerald had plowed our garden yesterday in preparation for planting his first potato crop and then he also plowed up a small part of the lawn where the moles have ruined it. Today he replanted that area.
He’s already mowed the lawn for the first time. The martin houses are washed out, dried out, and cranked back in the air.

Why is he planting potatoes for the first time in his garden? Well, before he took Leslie to Texas, our friend Don Dillow phoned to see if Gerald could bring him some Yukon Gold seed potatoes because he had not been able to obtain them. Now Don is in his 80’s and had a heart attack years ago, but he still gardens, gathers pecans from the trees in his yard, hunts turkeys, deer, and quail, and I don’t know what all he does do in addition to ministering to many people. So Gerald called their mutual friend Bill Tweedy, another champion gardener, to find out where to buy seed potatoes and became so interested in Yukon Gold potatoes that he couldn’t resist buying some to plant for us.

Gerald certainly planted potatoes as a boy, but we never had to after we married because Dad Glasco grew large patches to fill his cellar bins with enough for all five of his children’s families as well as plenty to take to various widows that he knew would appreciate them. (After he retired, Dad Glasco used part of his acreage and his farm machinery to grow multiple patches of many kinds of vegetables to share at housing projects and with friends and family. Garry, the son that took over the farming, was good to help Daddy with his vegetable projects. I always wished we had some way to export Daddy’s expertise to underdeveloped countries because was the best gardener I ever knew.) We will find out this summer how much Gerald remembers about potato growing from his boyhood. If nothing happens to change our plans, that is.

Back to Our Own Niches Now

Gerald and Leslie drove 13 hours straight and reached Woodsong between 2 and 3 a.m. Friday morning. After sleeping in, they phoned me at Katherine’s house, and I met them in Marion for lunch. I switched into Leslie’s car after lunch, and Gerald drove the pickup I’d used all week to go back to the farm. Les and I did a couple of errands and ran back by Katherine’s so Les could see her and I could pick up the items I’d forgotten and left in the bathroom I’d used. We met Kate’s new aide, a college nursing student back from her spring break. David and Sam were home from Kentucky and so we got to see them too—also Sam’s buddy Tyler before we left.

Back at the farm later in the afternoon, we watched a couple of very old videos that Leslie was putting on a CD for us. I loved seeing those youthful images and didn’t want to leave to go upstairs to prepare supper. So I fixed a quick meal of salmon patties, instant mashed potatoes, and peas with fruit for dessert. I was still disoriented from being away all week, and I remembered something my sister Rosemary shared with me that her mother-in-law taught her. Mrs. Parks always kept canned salmon on hand, so she could fix a quick meal if someone showed up unexpectedly at their farm. You don’t have to thaw it. It is quick and easy and you don’t have to think very hard. Ha. Down through the years, I have followed that advice.

I enjoyed telling Leslie about the large house that her Uncle Phil grew up in over in the near-by Carrier Mills/Stone Fort area. The Parks had acquired an old-fashioned hospital building and moved it to their farm. I think it was ten rooms or so. Was there a fireplace in each room? I know there was one in the living room. While Phil was in basic training with the Air Force, I moved out of the dorm and into their apartment with Rosemary for three months when I was a freshman at Southern Illinois University Carbondale.

Rosemary liked going to the Parks for visits since they missed Phil too and she was comforted by that shared understanding. The first time I ever remember seeing a jet air trail in the sky was when we made the trip there one snowy winter day. We didn’t know what that “split” in the sky was. We watched it for miles, and I wondered if the earth were coming to an end. When we got to the Parks farm, somehow a road was blocked by snow or ice, and we parked at the bottom of a very steep hill and Rosie and I proceeded to climb that hill—going up two feet and back one often times. Of course, it didn’t help that we got the giggles.

Today Leslie was introduced to a Woodsong custom. Georgia softball team was playing Alabama a double header starting at noon. So lunch was served in Gerald’s office as we followed the game on game tracker. She had to leave after the first game and head back to Nashville. She arrived there hours ago and has already posted photographs of the Texas trip on Facebook.

We loved the first game of the double header because fourth-ranked Georgia won 3-0 against seventh-ranked Crimson Tide. This was the first conference game for both teams. (Georgia’s games with Florida were rained out on Wednesday.) The second game later in the afternoon was not so much fun. We were ahead, and then illegal pitches kept being called on Georgia’s pitcher. Because of that, two runs were given Alabama to tie up the game. The radio announcer could not refrain from commenting that 16 previous umpires had seen her pitch and never saw an illegal pitch, but this third base umpire saw it that way today much to the season-high crowd’s dismay and disgust. Then we tied the score in the bottom of that inning. In the next, we thought we’d gotten a third out on a bunt when the umpire called Alabama safe. That gave them the opportunity to get two more on base before Olivia Gibson hit a home run, and Alabama won 8-5.

Now tomorrow the two teams challenge each other for two out of three. Alabama has a 16-6 record now, and gave Georgia their second loss this season making their record 19-2.

Checking Facebook to see if Leslie had made it safely back to Nashville, I’d read that Ryoma and Gina Collia-Suzuki over in England were having pizza for supper. That threw a craving on me, so when Gerald said he was running into town to get a part to fix our broken sink sprayer, I suggested he pick up one for us. He and our son-in-law Brian arrived at Woodsong at the same time, and we teased Brian he had smelled the pizza. We enjoyed having him at the supper table, and he left to go up to their camper at the other farm.

Life is somewhat back to normal now after everyone has returned to their own niches in this universe.

Let the March Winds Blow

March is here and is always welcome because we know spring is coming soon. Even though we may have more snow storms before the month is over, April will bring relief. Five weeks to Easter someone said today.

The first two weeks of March promise to be busy, so I’m trying to plan ahead and be prepared. I’ve been working on the March schedule for preschool workers during our worship services at church. I posted them tonight but will be making some more changes as I was mixed up on one grandchild’s custody schedule.

She only gets to come with her grandmother every other week, and because of a change due to illness, I figured it wrong. She is very eager to help with the preschoolers, so I want to make the necessary changes so she can have this experience occasionally. This is not the first time I have dealt with planning around every other weekend visits. It is important that adults work to make these rotating weekends as stress free and pleasant as possible for kids.

We staff each preschool room with one or two adults but also have teens and older children assist the adults with the little ones. We try to space out everyone’s turn, so no one has to miss too many worship services. The teens and older children are a great help to pour drinks, sit down on the floor with the children, read books, and help in countless other ways. The little ones love the youth, and the adults can use the help. Most of all, however, this supervised participation in child care provides child care experience to our kids and teens.

Unfortunately, I entered parenthood with absolutely no experience with little ones; and though I read Dr. Spock and all the pamphlets given me at the hospital, I felt very nervous about motherhood. Because I had done almost no babysitting and I was the youngest in our family, I knew nothing about small children and their care. I don’t advise that ignorance. The most important job in the world—parenthood—deserves preparation and training. I like helping our church kids grow up understanding and experiencing childhood development and gaining a certain confidence and even expertise in working with preschoolers.

In addition to figuring out that March schedule, I’ve been thinking through what I will serve when it is my turn to host our church women this month. I’ve set a date, checked it with the one giving a devotional, and have started a grocery list that will include several green foods since the date is two days before St. Patrick’s Day. I’m the song leader, and the books are already in the house and the songs chosen. The reason I am trying to organize every thing early is because I will be out of the house quite a bit the first two weeks of March.

This is also Gerald’s birthday month—in fact several of his family celebrate this month. He and Keith have already made arrangements for Garry’s birthday breakfast this Wednesday. Gerald’s breakfast with the brothers will be later. I can’t remember if they do one in honor of their only sister out in Wyoming or not. It doesn’t take much for them to plan a breakfast.

I was hoping to do an 80th birthday party for Gerald that included more than the just our kids and grandchildren (whichever ones who could make it) going to a restaurant, which is what we have done in recent years. We have wanted to have a cousin gathering for a long time, and I thought this might be the special weekend to do it. I had ruminated about a number of possible larger gatherings in my mind before I approached him.

Gerald, however, had already figured out the birthday treat he wanted. He plans to have the ball tees he is busy making in his shop all complete by his birthday weekend. And the softball games that weekend at Knoxville when University of Georgia plays Tennessee will be one of the closest venues to deliver the tees to Gerry. He can celebrate with Gerry’s family there, and we may have to wait until Easter weekend for the rest to celebrate here with him.

Since it won’t work out to have cousins and extra relatives for a party after all, I won’t immediately need all the extra plates I bought at Salvation Army last week. But there are washed and neatly put away in a former television cabinet that was right there waiting for them the minute I cleaned out some old papers and CDs. I was surprised at how easy my storage problem was solved. Someday I will plan a party large enough to need them.

There are other plans for March, so it is probably good to have one less party after all. As a part-time writer, who has always made my living as a housewife and not from writing, the winter months have often been when I had a few extra hours to write. That has not happened this winter. I have slowed down, and we’ve also had more medical appointments than in the past to keep ourselves in good health. I am trying not to fret about what I haven’t completed. Sometimes it is better to go with the flow of events that life brings to you. Right now I am busy listening to softball games. Maybe I’ll have some extra time this summer. Maybe not.

Newspapers, Our Visiting Musician, and Softball

A high point in the week for me was hearing Chandra Green again at Southern Illinois
Writers Guild on Thursday night. Chandra has a most remarkable life story—one that could only happen to an incredibly gifted woman. Dropping out of school at 15 to marry and escape an alcoholic father, she went to work at the West Frankfort American and said she literally fell in love with journalism the minute she walked in and smelled the ink. She continued working at area newspapers through repeated bad marriages but acquired a GED and an incredible understanding of writing, page design, editing, and the business side of journalism. She also has acquired a long-standing stable marriage with the love of her life.

I met Chandra through her column in the Southern Illinoisan, and I was delighted with her writing and her stories of Ma, her elderly grandmother, and her mom—the Queen of Stuff. Rising in the ranks during her 16 years at the Southern Illinoisan, she became an editor, and she credited all those early co-workers who helped her learn the ropes and love her job. But changes and pressures there caused this largest area newspaper to lose one of their best talents--just as the paper also lost Jim Muir, our Guild speaker last month. Chandra did not say she was one of their best talents—but as a reader I knew she was. And so was Jim.

Employed at other work where she missed that smell of ink, Chandra came up with an idea as she sat at her kitchen table with a daughter. The daughter was taking a college class, which required her to make a business plan, so she was able to pick her mother’s brain for starting a niche newspaper. By the time the business plan for her class was completed, the daughter and her mother had determined to use it to start Heartland Women. They succeeded at what everyone believed was an impossible task. Five years later the award-winning paper is still going strong, and Chandra offers area writers an opportunity to sell their work. The free twice-monthly newspaper, which is distributed widely in several counties is filled with columns, feature stories, and news of area women.

In the midst of the declining use of newspapers by a public who now often depend on the Internet for news, Chandra has shown it is possible for a newspaper with a clear purpose to establish itself. (I won’t say a clear audience because I think many men read Heartland Women.) Could anyone do it? No, only someone who has the enormous talent and knowledge and the incredible work ethic that Chandra has.

I worry that she works too hard, but I love to pick up her paper. She pointed out that while she was in journalism because she loves to write, all the other duties consume her time and she probably spends little more than two percent writing. Someone has to sell the advertising that keeps the paper going, and often she becomes the one who has to do it. Her two novels sit half finished and unattended.

After the bitter cold weather at the first of the week and then the dire predictions of more bad weather this weekend, it was hard to believe how beautiful yesterday and today were. Coats weren’t really necessary although most of us were still wearing them out of habit. (I saw some wearing shorts.)

Folks were grateful for the break from cold and for the delay of the predicted heavy rain that replaced the icy weather predictions. A friend involved with the Red Rose Gala to raise money for the Marion Civic Center was concerned what bad weather might mean to that effort. Our neighbor of many years died Wednesday after three or four exhaustive weeks for his family while he was in hospitals and rehab, and I was very thankful the weather stayed pretty today for his funeral and the burial in a neighborhood cemetery. Our granddaughter Leslie was arriving at Woodsong at bedtime last night from visiting friends and family up at the state speech contest in Peoria, so I was very relieved she wasn’t driving on scary roads. Tonight the delayed rain began with gentle sprinkling, but she was safely back in Tennessee by then.

Leslie was ready for bed when she arrived at the farm late last night, because she’d had a slumber-party type visit Friday night with a high school friend now at University of Illinois, and the two met up with the Freeport speech kids at Peoria. I offered sandwich fixings and a very brief visit and encouraged her to go catch up on her sleep in the brown room. That’s the windowless room everyone wants because it is completely underground and great sleeping. (When our son-in-law dropped in Friday night, I invited him to sleep in another guest room because I told him I was saving the brown room for Leslie. However, he was already planning to sleep in their camper at the other farm, which is parked there most of the time. He had farm business to take care of with various people on Saturday before he returned home to his family in central Illinois.)

This morning we were pleased to hear Leslie sing at worship. She had forgotten her guitar, but after mulling it over last night, she realized she did have a song she could sing with piano. We hurried home from church for a quick spaghetti and salad dinner so she could get on the road in time to make a 5 p.m. rehearsal back at Nashville. She had a CD of Miles Davis on his trumpet that she must memorize and be prepared to sing in a jazz class on Tuesday. So she was planning to listen as she drove.

By this time, Gerald was finding the Texas A&M and Georgia softball tourneys on his computer, and those games occupied most of our afternoon. Both teams were hosting tournaments this weekend, and we had been following them as best we could, and both teams won all five tourney games.

Busy. Busy.

The martins are back to their apartment houses Gerald had all ready for them. As they create their nests and prepare to please us with a new generation, they are busy swooping and twirping and twittering . I am happy the barn swallows are back dirtying up our front porch with their annual mud and straw nest there. I cut dead branches off the rose bushes, which seemed to tall up over night and are green and healthy after their winter sleep.

Neighbors and our son-in-law are all busy getting ready for planting. Gerald has been tied up trying to get the sprayer he is modifying for Scott just right. He keeps redoing it but believes he has it correct now, so he repainted it and took it back down to Scott yesterday afternoon.

Friends and family are out on the lake fishing, and Gerald has planted the first of his garden after Scott tilled it. I urge him to make it small this year. I wonder if he will listen.

My spring took an unexpected turn when a reporter mentioned that I was looking for a photograph of Priscilla the Hollyhock Girl. Betty Baker read the story and dug into her box of ancient family photos to find a group picture of the Harrison family, which included Priscilla who had taken care of little orphan Laura Annear at the Silkwood Inn.

After the Silkwoods’ deaths, it was arranged for Priscilla to live with Laura, who was now married to Isham Harrison, the executor of Silkwood’s estate. (One of the tidbits I have learned is that the name Isham has a silent “h,” and the older generation pronounced it Isom. Proof of this is his son’s funeral notice, which Betty also shared that has the father’s named misspelled just as the local folks pronounced it.)

The photo of Priscilla is not as clear as we would like, but it is extremely significant that she is included in this family picture, which gives evidence that she was considered a family member. The picture was passed down to Betty by her grandmother, Effie Harrison Snyder Penrod, who looks about five in the photo. Effie was rocked by Priscilla just as Laura had been at Silkwood Inn.

I have had emails and phone calls from several who have their own Priscilla or hollyhock story to tell me. That has been delightful, but time consuming. I have talked by phone to two women over ninety years old, and on Wednesday I was able to interview Roma Craft at the Hurricane Memorial Assisted Living facility. It was an exciting interview, and Richard Kuenneke was there to make an audio recording of the visit.

Consequently, I still have one more flower bed to clean out a bit, and books I’d planned to read have been neglected while I have reread one book and perused numerous articles and notes refreshing my memory on various facts and legends.

Nevertheless, we still have taken time to watch softball games on game tracker often. Last night we were able to watch Erin on ESPN when Texas A&M played University of Texas. Today they were back on game tracker as they played a make-up game against Baylor. We had seriously talked of going to Arkansas to see University of Georgia play, but the weather predictions made us change those plans. Yesterday’s games were postponed, and they played a double header today. Our friend Bobby in Texas phoned rejoicing for all that rain down south.

Next weekend will be conference tournaments for both “our” teams. We want to be in both Knoxville and Oklahoma City, but are planning on going to Oklahoma since this is Erin’s last year and Gerry’s team can be watched next year. Our grandson Elijah is playing the role of Eugene in Brighton Beach Memoirs up at Freeport High School next weekend also, and I guess I have to face the fact that we cannot be there and Oklahoma at the same time. I like to be busy—but I wish things were spread out without conflicts, so we could do everything. Ah well.

A Blessed Easter at Woodsong

After a leisurely breakfast with the newspaper, we went to our village church to celebrate the resurrection of Jesus.

Our three little ones in our preschool classroom looked adorable. Wearing pink with ruffles and lace, Miranda explained, “Grandma made my dress.” When Miss Kim took pictures, we knew we were not the first to admire these children today, because one-year-old Caleb without prompting posed and said clearly, “Cheese!” Bobby, looking sharp in dress pants and matching vest, was all excited that Grandpa was coming to dinner. The Easter card he made was to be for his daddy and grandpa.

In the service after Bible study, many had visiting family members with them to worship as a family on this special day. Our oldest member, Zella Cain had family members filling two entire rows. And that was only half of her family, she told us. We sang, “Up From the Grave He Arose” and other traditional hymns. Deanna Odom had a special reading for us, and we sang “Happy Birthday” to Dewayne Covey, who had been looking forward to this tradition, and he had visiting cousins and aunts and uncles there to participate.

Our beloved interim pastor had a second sermon prepared—he and several had gathered earlier at the church for the sunrise service and breakfast that Gerald and I seldom make. In the early years, I would have been out on the lawn hiding eggs and candies in our children’s nests they made on Saturday—just the way my mother was taught to do as a child. Then when our children took over the nest filling for their children, I would be in the kitchen preparing the ham and lunch for the bunch when we came home from church.

Today was different. For the first time in our 52 years of marriage, I did not dye Easter eggs. For the first time in decades, I did not cook Easter dinner. For the first time in several years, most of our children and grandchildren could not be with us. Yet it has been a special and blessed Easter.

We arrived back in Marion last evening from our trip to visit daughter Jeannie’s family and see Elijah and Cecelie participate in the 29th annual Showtime at Freeport High School. Before we refilled the gas tank and I ran inside Kroger’s to get fresh fruit and milk, Katherine phoned and said, “Mom, David has arranged to pick up a prepared Easter dinner for all of us, and we will bring it out to the farm tomorrow. There will be plenty for Mary Ellen’s family too if they are able to make it.”

We took Samuel on home as he was eager to check out the Easter egg doings at Josh’s house—his buddy just behind the park and their house. Sam carried in a large portion of the colored eggs that he had helped dye at the Eiler house and his Aunt Jeannie had sent home with him. So they became part of our dinner today.

He even was invited to participate in the dyeing session going on at my brother’s home when we stopped at Mattoon for a break. Jim’s wife Vivian, who always remembered her grandmother’s huge dishpan full of colored eggs for her many grandchildren, has always tried to approach that sense of bounty for her kids and grandkids. She and her sister Jo, who had arrived from Chicago by train the day before, were laughing and working with a dozen of so cups of color on the large dining table and assisted by my niece Judi getting ready for the egg hunt at their house today. When Sam unobtrusively took a wax crayon from the kit and put a star on an egg, his mother’s cousin Judi had a moment of wonder and confusion when she took a green egg out and unexpectedly saw a star on it.

So after we dropped Sam off at his house, we returned to shop for the few needed items. With the delightful surprise and neat gift for the next day arranged by our son-in-law, I did not even think about what I might need to buy to go with the little half ham I had stowed in the fridge for Katherine’s family and also Mary Ellen’s family if they were able to come down from Lake Saint Louis. I knew Easter dinner would be scant in comparison to some past feasts, but I also knew my children would understand.

David works extraordinary hours already both at the plant and at home helping care for Katherine and Sam, and that he would go to the work and trouble to arrange to bring an entire holiday dinner out to the farm was very touching—and absolutely lovely. When I phoned her an invitation, we found out that Mary Ellen’s family had gone to Springfield—she had known we might not even get back from Freeport for Easter.

So I took the usual leaves out of the dining room table. With Sam’s friend Josh added as a guest, we had six present. Thus, I was able to use the white china with pink roses that I bought long ago at the thrift store when our family had only six members, and the light green cloth that usually only fits the kitchen table. The green stemmed glasses (also from the thrift store) made a pretty table with lilacs and white tulips for the centerpiece.

While the men talked and rested, Katherine and I looked at photo books and enjoyed seeing Tara, Erin, and Leslie as tiny ones. Sam and Josh went looking for minnows and rode the “mule” and played with Scooter and whatever boys do outside.

All too soon the Cedars had to go back home, and Gerald and I were alone again at Woodsong after the flurry of weekend activity. We enjoyed ham sandwiches and reflecting on the day.

We knew from Facebook that Leslie, who’d been in Freeport for the weekend, had succeeded in getting her first car yesterday and was driving it back to Belmont. Tomorrow she finds out about her summer job. Gerry had been off work from recruiting and had been able to go to church with Vickie and Geri Ann at Athens. Like Gerald, I am sure they were in touch with Erin down at College Station and with Tara’s family in northern Illinois, who celebrated with Bryan’s family this weekend. We were still enjoying Gerry’s proud accounts of Erin’s winning home run on Friday and A&M’s second victory against Texas Tech yesterday. And the Georgia Dogs won all three games against Ole Miss this weekend despite rainy weather and lightning delays.

We know that softball is fun and despite its importance to our family, it is not that important in the grand scheme of things. We know that every one of our family members have challenges and concerns—some of which cause us to live life with broken hearts. We know that many good people are out of work in our state, and they didn’t sit down to ham and all the good food that David carried in. We remembered the poignant presentation of world hunger that we saw at Freeport’s Showtime. We know that they are still pirates and thugs and terrorists in the world despite our rejoicing at the captain’s release. We are grateful for a living God who is willing to help us through the struggles here on earth.

Daffodils and Eating Humble Pie

Yesterday I was privileged to drive into town twice and observe the world turning beautiful. I always take the country road to town if I can, and so twice yesterday I passed by the special roadside filled with blooming daffodils in front of a woods. Every spring I enjoy them and love to wonder who the former resident was who planted them. I was sure long ago there was a house there and the farm wife planted a few of the bright yellow flowers to pleasure the end of winter.

Now they have spread to a wide area, and they spell spring to me. Since there was no house or living person anywhere near this spot on the road, I have felt free to park the car and pick a bouquet of the blossoms to place on the Easter dinner table or even one year to press and send one to a daughter living in far-off Tennessee who could not come home for Easter.

About a year ago, I began to notice a new road cutting through the woods behind the daffodils, and now there is a beautiful new house back there barely visible through the trees. I wonder if they bought this lot in the spring time because they too fell in love with the spread of the daffodils.

I may need to plant some bulbs of my own now. I have bought bulbs from school children before, but they were delivered late in the after-Thanksgiving rush and I never planted them. Gerald planted some here at Woodsong in a bed by the patio from an old house site far back on the farm, but they turned out to be double daffodils. He also planted some over on the island. From a distance, the yellow is pleasing, but I really like the traditional single daffodil for its grace.

The infundibuliform center surrounded by petals is so lovely to my eye. Why did I use the word “infundibuliform” instead of simply saying funnel-shaped? Well, I am just having fun and showing off. This is the 15th anniversary of Wordsmith.org, and this week they are sending us emails with words that have 15 letters. I did not even like this word and quickly deleted the email. But I just went into the delete file and rescued it.

Talking of things I don’t like, I did not like what happened to the Georgia Dogs today when they played Florida. Florida like Washington, whom the Dogs beat on Sunday, is rated #1. (There are more polls than one, and I am not sure which are in which poll.) Georgia’s Sunday win moved Georgia to 7th place in one poll and 8th in another.

And then we played Florida at Gainesville today and they beat us by the mercy rule with a score I am not going to report. Oh me. Oh my. Talk about eating humble pie. I am trying to digest it, but it does not taste good. We lost again 4-0 in the second game. That was better. I did not think that was such a bad score to play with the best in the nation. We will see how quickly our girls can shake this off and go back to having the mercy rule end games with them in the winner’s bracket.

Remembering Priscilla and Other Things

Whew! It has been a busy week until today. I had a volunteer board meeting Monday night in nearby Marion and a different board meeting last night way up at O’Fallon, and in between on Tuesday night I drove up to DuQuoin to speak on “Remembering Priscilla.” That meant researching, reviewing, gathering papers for each gathering, and leaving the farm in plenty of time to arrive safely and on time.

I got to the closest place, Marion, by the skin of my teeth on Monday night after finding all the parking places taken at our Williamson County Baptist Association board meeting. I didn’t want to park on the street as so many had to do, so I parked behind our pastor’s car and made certain I left before he and his wife did. That was good because it made me forsake socializing and got me home early, which I needed to do.

The meeting was interesting as several men were there in their yellow hats and vests and reported ever so briefly on helping elderly homeowners clear fallen trees after the recent storms in Metropolis and Kentucky. Their goal is not only to increase the numbers of those on “the chain gang,” but to obtain a trailer so their supplies can be kept on site as various crews come and go according to the free time they have to donate. We voted to adopt their goal.

Then Myron Taylor gave us handouts and explanation about the five-gallon bucket project that the men in our churches will be participating in soon. The idea is to fill the buckets with needed items so they can stay clean and untouched by ants or animals in the homes of AIDS in Africa. Just $100 can create a bucket that can make a tremendous difference in care on a continent where home care is more likely for terminal patients than hospital care.

As soon as I was back at the farm, I was doing a little more study and preparation for Tuesday night’s presentation. It has been quite awhile since I had spoken just focusing on Priscilla on the Trail of Tears, so I enjoyed digging into and updating her story with new information.
I went early enough to find the home where the DAR was meeting, and I was thrilled when I saw the beautiful old house beside an ancient brick-laid street. (The hostess told me the house was built in 1863, I think it was.) It was as simple to find as Mary Haines’ clear email had explained.

One member was a descendant of next door neighbors of the Brazilla and Mahala Silkwood family, and she brought seeds to share of Priscilla’s hollyhocks that had been passed down in her family and which now grow in her own garden. Another member Sharon Dollus was a descendant of Levi Silkwood, Brazilla’s older brother and she had been to Virginia and had information I lacked about Brazilla’s parents there. She has already emailed it to me!!

The group thoughtfully rearranged their business meeting after I had spoken and we had had refreshments. So again , I was on my way back to Marion early after the more than gracious hostess Doris Rottschalk had gone out and skillfully unparked my car between the one in front and one in back

(I realized later maybe I could have done this without her help, but Doris did it in a minute while I would have been getting in and out of the car being fearful I’d ruin the evening by bumping someone else’s car.) When you aren’t a good driver, and I am not, you have to be an overly cautious one. And I am. That explains my excellent driving record. It also explains why I often walk quite a ways to avoid parallel parking.

Our Illinois chapter board to the Trail of Tears Association has been meeting during these winter months up in the O’Fallon/Cahokia area to make up for our two board members up there having to drive down to Carbondale the rest of the year. Our president Sandy Boaz is a great driver, and we connect in Marion to ride up with her. After quick sandwiches at the local Subway, which has become “our” place, we then head to a meeting room at the O’Fallon library.

We heard reports and made plans. We saw Cheryl Jett’s publisher’s copy of her new book on the city of Alton, which will come out March 23, and we heard about Herman Peterson’s book contract soon to be signed. We congratulated Gary Hacker on his great book on the Trail of Tears through Johnson County that we’d read and studied since the last board meeting.

Herman reports that everything is go for our first 2009 general meeting of the Illinois Chapter of the Trail of Tears Association, which will be at the newly renovated Morris Library at Southern Illinois University. If the auditorium does not quite get finished by then, another room is already waiting for us. I am so eager to see the new facility. I wrote feature stories as a student journalist when the library was being built in 1954-55, and I am excited about the improvements bringing one of the nation’s great libraries up to date.

Despite the pauses for laughter that our TOTA board can’t seem to refrain from, we have to be efficient and leave before the library closes. Without making any coffee or restroom stops coming home, we were back in the Marion Kroger parking lot by 9:30.

That gave me opportunity to run in for Senior Citizen Day and shop for the items on my grocery list that I made in the morning. The frozen and fridge stuff was put away last night, and today I’ve been putting away the rest of the items. We’ve been eating soups and sandwiches quite a bit, so I actually made a nice dinner at noon today.

Oh, yes, the first thing I heard from Gerald when I woke up this morning was that Erin made a three-run homer last night when the Aggies beat Houston again—this time on Houston’s home field. Gerald completed our income taxes yesterday with Doug Hileman, and Doug and Beth are on their way to Baylor at Waco to see Luke’s baseball games there this weekend.

Watching Softball at Woodsong

A weekend highlight happened Friday afternoon when our granddaughter Leslie dropped by Woodsong. She was on her way up from Belmont in Nashville, Tennessee, to see two girl friends at the University of Illinois.

The next day the three were heading over to Belleville to meet up with the Freeport High School speech team at the state tournament. Today Leslie made the long drive back to Belmont after going to church with a friend in Effingham. Her Aunt Mary and cousin Brianna were able to come across the river and have lunch with her at Belleville.

Otherwise our weekend was taken up with following Texas A&M softball team playing in the Marriott Houston Invitational tourney and the University of Georgia softball team hosting the 6th annual Georgia Softball Classic at Athens.

When Leslie arrived, we were able to report Texas A&M’s first victory where they beat Northern Illinois 14-2. Her cousin Erin’s exciting 5 for 6 hitting success with seven RBIs, which included a three-run homer, kept the phone lines buzzing between Woodsong and Tara up at Aurora and Vickie down in Georgia. Her heavy hit over the score board excited the game-tracker announcers—but not as much as Erin’s family fans. Oh, yes, she also put out the two Northern runners who were silly enough to try to steal. Later that night, A&M defeated Prairie View 11-1. More phone calls followed.

Ranked 16th in the nation now, Georgia also won both their Friday games, winning against Ball State 15-3 in five innings and Tennessee State 8-0 in five. We went to bed happy for Erin and happy for our son Gerry at Georgia, where he is assistant coach.

Saturday morning the grey rainy day suddenly turned to a snowy day. Since Gerald needed a tool at Sears, he volunteered to take me to my hair appointment in his pickup. I hadn’t thought about it being slick, but evidently it was because we passed a car on Route 13 that had flown across the medium and across our west-bound lane and into the ditch. We got home in time for me to fix lunch and for us to have it eaten before the afternoon games began.

After A&M shut out McNeese State 3-0, and Erin batted .500, we were pumped to listen that evening to the game against home-team Houston Cougars, who were ranked 18 while A&M had slipped to 19th because of recent away-game losses. After battling the wind in a come-from-behind game, A&M forced the game into an eighth inning. The game-breaker rule placed Erin on second base in this inning. She made third thanks to Alex Reynolds’ sacrifice, and then onto home, thanks to Kelsey Spittler’s game-winning single. We went to bed happy after that 4-3 victory. Georgia had won over Marshall 9-1 in six innings and over Indiana University-Purdue University Indianapolis 15-3 in five innings.

Today started with a very early phone call from Gerry to his dad, and I am sure they talked softball. We thought we would see both of “our” teams won their respective tournaments with five wins apiece. But that wasn’t to be. Georgia did win their tourney by defeating the University of North Carolina Greensboro 12-2 in five innings—their ninth straight victory with the mercy rule. They had hit 10 home runs in this tourney, and their tournament batting average was .425. Next weekend they travel to the National Fastpitch Coaches Association Leadoff Classic in Columbus, Georgia.

Texas A&M was to play University of Illinois for the championship at Houston, and the game was in the fourth inning when we got home from church. Soon Gerald had the game going, and I brought down chili for our lunch, which is what we also ate last night while we watched their game.

When Kelsey Spittler made a big hit in the bottom of the seventh to tie up the game, I thought for sure we’d repeat last night’s victory. But Illinois scored a run, and then despite our game-breaker runner making it to third, we couldn’t get the hits to bring her home. We lost 5-4 and are going to bed sad tonight, but I am sure we aren’t as sad as those kids on the bus heading back to College Station, However, they will be playing on their home field for awhile now, and I predict more sweet dreams next weekend.