Earth Day

Earth Day--let's celebrate our planet. Here are two lovely views of my favorite doth on our globe the Lone Star State--especially the Bayou City.

The field of bluebonnets is near Enchanted Rock. (Thanks to brother-in-law Bill for the shot.) The city shot is on White Oak Bayou looking at downtown Houston.

Glorious Texas

It's glorious time in Texas again. Even in the city. I captured this beauty in the heart of Montrose. I'm setting off this morning on more glory hunting. Stay posted.

And what will the birdies do then, the poor things?

We dashed off to Dallas for a weekend of visiting and for me to attend a gathering of Veteran Feminists. Talk about wonderful women—including Sissy Farenthold and Gloria Steinhem. Made me proud to have been a foot soldier way back then!

We thought we’d officially welcome spring just after noon on Saturday, but Persephone decided not to make her appearance. Winter persisted (P.’s here now—Houston is glorious, more in days to come). We took shelter in our room with books, and one poor pigeon must have thought we were having fun—she hopped right onto our 10th floor window sill and spent the afternoon. If it had been an opening window, I would have invited her in.

Saturday night we went to a party with new and old Dallas and Houston friends. We drove back to the hotel in a snow flurry, but we woke to lots more. Brrrrrrrrrrr.

Spring in the park

Spring comes early in Houston. This year we had a couple of false starts, but the blossom goddess has definitely come to call. After a (for Houstonians) cold, wet winter, folks all over want to witness her handiwork.
Saturday, tranquil Menil Park, my neighborhood’s front yard, transformed into a festival at the annual Community Day. Strollers, picnics, posters and a clothesline art show—all part of the fun.

Welcome, Year of the Tiger

Here's a lovely close to the celebration of the New Year of the Tiger. The Houston-style Chinese banquet benefiting the Gee Family Scholarship was great fun. A huge amount of food, good company and one heck of a dragon dance, which an only slightly out of focus Trilla and Bob enjoyed greatly. Bob especially since he's a Tiger. Click those chopsticks to a bright and fine New Year!

It's been a long, long time!

It’s George Washington’s birthday! My mother always baked a cherry pie and delivered it to the supper table with vanilla ice cream and a lecture on telling the truth. “Always the best policy,” she declaimed.
Here’s my February 22, 2010 truth. I’ve been gone from this blog a long, long time, and on about half of those many intervening days, I’ve told myself tomorrow, or maybe next week. Today, I thought Now!
So, a quick 21 months and few days update. Ginger is gentled. Heck, Ginger is a housecat par excellence! Here he is gazing out the Houston living room window and posing for his Valentine portrait.
Houston? Yes! I say “Houston!” For we now are for the most part (still have the house in Georgia) far from the glories of southern Georgia small town living, and in the heart of the exciting city I’ve felt was my home from the time I first visited in 1965 right through my long (20 plus years) sojourn away. We call a leased house in Montrose (the artsy, eclectic fun part of the city) home.
Thanks to my friend Linda who revved up her first blog yesterday—check her out here, http://lindadrawingtime.blogspot.com/ . I realize it’s time to get back. Ginger agrees.

And enjoy a view of Houston February glory--although it may snow a little tomorrow night.

Finally!

Finally! And for a couple of reasons.

First, I’m back on the blog. No promises, but here I am today after a hectic six or so weeks since my last visit.

Second, maybe more important, the gentling Ginger gender mystery is resolved. No more gender guessing. No more Thomas or Thelma?

Thursday, we managed to coerce, force, drug her/him into a cat carrier and make the long overdue visit to the vet for a check-up, shots and the final answer. But no, at least, not at once. “Well?” I demanded. My vet friend looked chagrined. He couldn't tell either. Ginger wasn’t being gentle. He/she was not going into this examination routine without a bit of help from some anesthesia.

Later in the day, after some medical adventures of my own, I called the vet for the results.

Why was it so hard to determine? The vet’s best guess is that Ginger had been caught in a feral cat round-up, neutered, and set free. The ear notch is most likely a mark declaring “Don’t round me up again, you’ve had me once!”

Ginger isn’t completely gentled yet, but feral is no longer an appropirate description.

Please welcome, finally. . .Thomas Jefferson Pando!

Gentling Ginger VII First Cat

The first cat is getting a bit fed up with all this Ginger gentling and has asked, firmly asked that I speak on her behalf.

Dolley Mae Madison Pando declares that she was here first and that makes her definitely First Cat. Besides her indecisive owners can't even decide if Ginger is Thomas or Thelma. People!

[Editor's note: Dolley M. is mostly right. She was first cat in the house, but Ginger was hunkering under the azaleas when she arrived. (See Gentling Ginger I.) That was before the editor had a change of heart.]

Dolley M. continues that not only has she been working hard as First Cat, she keeps the editor's head warm at night by stretching out across her hair. She has also spent long hours serving as Bob's muse as he finishes his disseratation. (See entries for March 3, 2006 and February 26, 2008.) She adds that he is defending this afternoon, and while she is unable to attend she'll be sending good thoughts and hope you will as well.

Meanwhile, she finds this entire Ginger thing rather boring.

White Iris

Spring is beautiful all over. I can't leave my house here in Bainbridge without slinging a camera over my shoulder. It's not just my garden (call it a jungle!) that's over the top. It's the whole town. I'll share some of this glory in the next few days.

One of my favorite stops is my neighbor around a corner and down the street. I exclaimed so much that's she's told me to prowl around and take all the pictures I want. That's great, 'cause she's one of the town's premier gardeners.

On my last foray, I captured some of her breath taking white iris. It made me thing of my mother and grandmother's gardens. How they treasured the iris. They bloomed later--deep into April or early May. The wait made them all the more welcome.

When I returned home and checked a few of my favorite blogs--no surprise! I'm not the only one who loves white iris. Share some Texas hill country beauties from Susan Albert's Lifescapes. If you haven't been there, plan to spend a little time (or more). She take you on a tour of her home, and then let you join her own blogtour. She's at http://susanalbert.typepad.com/

Gentling Ginger VI Thomas or Thelma?

Oh dear. Here we've been married almost 50 years and have three children. You'd think one of us could figure out if a cat is a boy or a girl, but. . .Our initial diagnosis (guess) about Ginger is back in question. He/she's coming in the house now--Dolley M. puts up with it--and allows petting, but no, absolutely no, picking up or cuddling which make the exam difficult. And so next week it'll be off to the vet for the verdict. Whatever the outcome, we'll do the socially responsible thing.

Meanwhile, is it Thomas Jefferson or Thelma Ryan? Here she/he enjoys a little time in the house.

Busy days, blazing spring

The Georgia State Flower, the Cherokee Rose, flourishes on the ancient fence in front of our house. There's a lovely legend about the rose--I'll tell it soon. Maybe too, I'll tell the story of a neighbor who took it upon himself to take down our almost eighty-year-old fence. I taught him what "it's my fence" means!

I've been busy. We've been busy. Bob's almost through! Let me catch up. Following an involuntary retirement, Bob decided to fulfill one of his forever dreams and go to graduate school. (Fatherhood at 20 had precluded it almost 50 years ago.) Once he got started, he couldn't stop. After he got an MA at Florida State, the history department asked him to stay. See the March 3, 2006 entry for some background (how can it have been 2 years?). He turned in his dissertation last Monday. Now he's doing all the finishing touches before he defends next Monday. I've been helper doing all the things that are legitimate for the nonauthor to do. (My rule of thumb--if he could have paid someone to do it, then I will.) I've proofread 'til my eyes swim, checked footnotes and taught myself to do tables on the computer, while he's done the heavy thinking, writing, and editing. Neither one of us has thought or talked about much else.

With all my good intentions, the blog has suffered.

So here I am in my third March blogging, and I can't help myself. It's too beautiful. So one more time share a blazing Bainbridge spring! Dogwoods float around the cypress (our Christmas tree about 20 years ago). Azaleas planted in 1933 thrive on the side of the house. It's a good time to be here!

Maybe more on Ginger tomorrow. There's a serious question. She may not be Thelma.

Gentling Ginger V It's a girl!

Bob's been in much closer communication with Ginger, and we can now say with confidence--Miss Ginger. Maybe considering her beat-up appearance we should say Ms. Ginger.

Now a new dilemma--an official name? For reasons, or nonreasons, I'll go into later, we use presidential and first lady names for our pets. We've had Eleanor and Frankie D. (Also Miss Lucy Mercer--but, again, a story for another day). The current ruling feline is Dolley Madison Pando--sometimes known as Dolley Mae. A fella cat was going to be easy--Thomas Jefferson, but a chick cat?

We have two choices--going for the nickname, we can dub her Elizabeth Virginia Truman, or going for the red-headed angle, there's Thelma Catherine Ryan Nixon. (She named herself Patricia when she started college.) I'm leaning toward Thelma Ryan (Ginger) Pando. She quiet, a bit aloof, and from the looks of her left ear, able to endure adversity. Seems like a natural. Besides, do you think that there's ever been a cat named after our 34th first lady?

Here's Thelma. I'll try to get a close-up of that right ear.

Gentling Ginger IV More Contact!

We did it! Rather Bob did it. While I was out roaming Texas, hanging out with friends, generally having a good time, he was back here in Georgia bringing out food three or four times a day and crooning, "Here, Gingie, Gingie, Gingi."

I'm not the only one to be wowed by his sweet words. Ginger is now definitely his cat. I don't speak kitty very well, but I can translate the plaintive meow I hear when I try to be the bearer of good food. "Where's my fellow? He's the one who feeds me."

Ginger has (except for some of our recent rainy days) abandoned under the house and taken up permanent residence on the kitchen porch. Bob made a bed from the rug that used to live in front of the sink.

Moon over Bainbridge

Thank goodness my daughter called. All day I'd thought about the lunar elipse, and then I forgot.

Sometimes I love living in a little, tiny town almost in the country, and then, other times, I ache for city lights and more to do in the evening than be a political junkie on MSNBC or a zombie watching Law and Order reruns for the fourth time. Last night, the dark skies of the Georgia countryside won hands down.

Notes from the Road

Home again. I’m still relishing the heady excitement of Stories from the Heart and wonderful visits later in Austin and Houston—a great balance to my usual quiet small town living; although Bainbridge is beginning to share its early spring glories. (We all run around warning each other that we’re likely to have another frost.) More about this on Valentine’s Day.
Meanwhile, I’ll share a few more conference and Austin memories. At the conference, we gathered for panel discussions and writing practice sessions. Nancy Aronie’s presentation was inspiring—someday I’m going to one of her workshop. We ended the Conference on a true high note. At the closing luncheon, Austin singer/performer sang and chanted, and then, she had everyone in the room on their feet singing and chanting joyfully. What a sendoff!

Fellow board member Joyce, and I stayed over for the Monday night board meeting. What to do? Books! Of course, as if we hadn’t had enough of the written word. Sunday afternoon we headed to the legendary Austin book store, Book People and loaded up. Monday afternoon, tired and with time on our hands, we took our books and notebooks and headed for Jo’s Coffee, a hangout on South Congress. The view from the table included the legendary Austin Motel and in the distance the State Capitol.

We enjoyed books, each other, new friends and some balmy Austin weather.

In Austin with Stories from the Heart

I've left Bob to tend to Ginger--the votes are coming in for her in the her/him mystery--the adopted tree and all the Bainbridge doings, while I'm in Austin at the Story Circle Network's Stories from the Heart Conference. I wouldn't miss it. Women from all over, this year 17 states and Canada, gather to tell and listen to our life stories.

It's been a wonderful, and busy, day. First everyone pitched in with the set-up. All must be ready and bright and shining when registration opened at noon.

Next, Story Circle founder and President Emerita Susan Wittag Albert led an all-too-short pre-conference workshop on writing about place, "Mapping Our Stories." We did lots more than write. We all had crayons and traced our lives out on a map, and then drew maps of our personal community. The air was alive, you could about hear the popping of insights.

The evening closed with an energy-filled presentation (speech doesn't do it justice) by Nancy Aronie, author of Writing from the Heart: Tapping the Power of Your Inner Voice. Here she is with Story Circle Executive Director Peggy Moody. Nancy is on the right.

This hotel if full of fingers itching for tomorrow to come so we can grab our pens and write, write, write.

Gentling Ginger III Contact!

Contact!

We did it. Ginger was pussyfooting in the door, out the door, couldn’t make up his/her mind. I got down and enticed—to no avail, but then Buddy Bob gave her a chance. It only lasted about 5 seconds—long enough for a picture. But we’ve made contact. This kitty is about to trust us.

Adopt a tree

Several years ago, I journeyed up to the botanical gardens in Atlanta to take a class on drawing trees. It was a wonderful experience. I didn’t produce a masterpiece, but I had a wonderful day outside. Plus, I learned lots about looking. There are many ways to see a tree.

The instructor suggested we adopt a tree for a year. She didn’t mean we should dig up a tree and take it home. No, she suggested we pick a tree in our own yard or somewhere that we were regularly and study it. Draw it. Look at it from all directions and different times of day for the year.

Know the tree.

I propose to do that only with photographs instead of drawing. I’ve picked my tree. I didn’t choose one of our towering pines—more about them another time, nor did I choose a fine live oak. I’ve picked a little tree near the curb in my front yard. A persimmon tree.

When we first moved in, I had no idea what the somewhat scrawny tree was. The first year we were here it produced exactly one persimmon, and a bird ate it. Now twenty years later we had a hugely abundant harvest. We gave fruit away, we mailed fruit across the country to friends. We munched on persimmons for breakfast and dinner. What bounty. Now that we have had some frost the fruit is gone. What we did not pick to eat or share, the birds made sure did not go to waste. This afternoon the tree was bare save for one lonely, last piece of fruit.

Gentling Ginger II

Ginger is coming along. She’s let Bob touch her. It was brief, but it was a touch. We’re encouraged. We enticed her into the back door with the lure of breakfast and warm after a cold night, but mostly she/he (we still haven’t solved that mystery) keeps her distance watching us from the edge of the porch or from under the Jeep.

She explored around the sunroom for a little while and then encountered the resident cat, Dolley. A spat ensued, but Ginger retreated outside and Dolley recovered nicely on her favorite resting place, the sheepskin.

I’d worried about Ginger on the cold nights, and then I discovered that her pal Bob had moved some bricks. She’s been warm and cozy under the house.

I’m leaving tomorrow for about ten days in Texas. I expect by the time I return that Ginger and Bob will be best buddies.

Gentling Ginger I

For a year, maybe more, this orange (I call it ginger) cat has been hanging around our house. It (we haven’t settled the he/she issue) strolled the front porch, peaked in the kitchen window, hid under the Jeep (scary) and meowed pitifully from under the azaleas.

We agreed on one thing. No more cats. Resident cat Dolly felt strongly about this.

“Shoo! Scat! You go on home where you belong.” Each time we saw it, we ran him/her off. It came back. We ran it off. It came back.

Around Thanksgiving, I don’t know, maybe it was the holiday spirit, I began to mellow. I sneaked a little dry cat food out under the azaleas. I didn’t tell Bob or Dolley. The next morning it was gone. Then I sneaked a little more. Bob caught me.

I didn’t stop. Bob gave up, next thing you know he’s joined the campaign.

“Here, Ginger, Ginger, Ginger. Want a little snack?” Once you name an animal there’s no going back.

Ginger will come up on the porch to eat, even meow to call for his/her breakfast if we aren't early enough. But there's no touching. She/he's had a hard life, it's clear from the chewed-on ear and the darting eyes. I suspect that human treatment hasn't been much better than what's come from other cats and few dogs. Now we're determined, we will gentle Ginger and bring a new member to our family. (It's hard to avoid those pronouns.)

Here’s Dolley regarding Ginger through the kitchen window. She’s not on the welcome committee--yet!

I'll keep you posted on the gentling of Ginger.