Climate change, plague, war, cultural conflict, economic uncertainty and personal challenges have been wearing us down. We feel cranky, critical, helpless, witchy. We moan or chuckle, smirk or snort over how we’re becoming nattering nabobs of negativity.* Then, we find a way to ditch doldrums by pitching energies into a neighborhood project. The annual appleContinue reading “Juice”
As friends describe their jolly summer car trips, I feel jealous. I’m glad they are adventuring, but that’s not in the cards for us this year. My workaround is to peek through the rear view window of time and savor the car camp trip to our niece’s Chicago wedding in June, 2019. Tables are fullContinue reading “Pie Day in Mullen, Iowa: June 6”
Jim and I have become elders. Seems like over night we’re over the hill, making adjustments, shedding old habits and expectations, wondering how on earth we’re going to cope with extreme old age. We’re picking up tips about each other’s domain–when one of us knocks off, the other will somehow survive. Jim is learning toContinue reading “Jim’s Bitchin’ Kitchen”
Right when we think we’ll never, never ward off worries and anxieties, right when we always, always feel leery about going anywhere with the plague hanging over us, when our winter garden schedule goes haywire, when we could write a book titled How to Get Cranky, up come the daffodil trumpets booming outrageous spotlights. EvenContinue reading “Daffodilia”
When the words low tide 2:39 p.m. Jan. 12 popped up on our email from Rick Paulus, we immediately gave our standard enthusiastic YES! We invited a few friends and packed up a picnic. The sand doesn’t stay smooth for long–dogs and humans scuff it up. But it doesn’t matter because of beach art’s largeContinue reading “Beach Art 2022 and ….”
The first time Gayle Alexander and Wanda Swenson spread out their new olive harvest netting, our minds melded as we flashed on the space-time continuum. The net’s grids and folds reminded us of cosmic and micro relationships. Since our focus here is local olive harvests, we imagine it is theoretically possible to map coordinates forContinue reading “All for the Love of Olive Oil”
Angie Cooper’s green hair and scream show how I felt during The Mummy’s Hand–my first and last horror movie. The curse, the potion, the spell and suspense have haunted me since 4th grade 4-H summer camp. Jim’s mummyish hand, worn out from work and old age, is almost as scary as the 1940 version. IContinue reading “The Mummy’s Hand and….”
During this summer’s dog day doldrums I didn’t have the gumption for art work or writing. My list of ideas for Wild Art stories was bland and way too light-weight to be appropriate during raging fires, hurricanes, deepening social fissures and the pandemic. Even though I was mucking about in a mud puddle version ofContinue reading “The Game”
We usually have a seaside sack lunch on our way to town. On this day, though, we nix the picnic and I lose my 20/20 eyesight at Blind Beach. We notice the rough surf with white caps, but don’t expect such a buster-bluster blaster ferocious wind. It almost knocks me down as I step outContinue reading “Vision”
Below the enormous bay tree, beneath lush sword ferns, spring water seeps through black muck and trickles into a small pool. When we were camping on the land, we refrigerated salsa, mayonnaise and chardonnay there. These days, the spring feeds into a small tank and a solar-powered pump pushes water up to 2,000 gallon holdingContinue reading “Spring, Summer, Water, Fire”
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