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Fall Within 100 Feet

/ still a dreamer / 2 Comments

I have had a 100 things to blog about, all swimming, swirling in my head. But at the moment am coping with something else, and the thoughts are just not solidifying. (One thing I want to write about, having just seen Where the Wild Things Are and finished reading Coraline, is about what happens when children’s books become movies. Stay tuned …) So when inspired writing fails and I still have a ton of work on my desk, what to do? Take a few pictures …

Home-Across

These photos are taken without me walking more than 100′ from my front door.  The first, my neighbors across the street, taken from my front porch. Not much wind today, but Old Glory always looks so nice in all the seasons.

Home-CaddyCorner

My caddy-corner neighbors …. their fence is always lined with some kind of blooming flowers, daffodils, lilies, and in the fall, white shasta daisies

Home-Porch

My front porch … have to have something of fall there! Each year the local deer inevitably take down whatever live flowers I put on the steps, but I will prevail! Or at least I’m trying – my neighbors had success in protecting their Hostas with Deer-Out, (nothing horrible in the way of ingredients), which is no small accomplishment, so I’m giving it a try. Doesn’t bother next door’s cats, so it must be deer-specific. Time will tell.

Home-2Delaware

Looking down my short block from in front of my house … I’m on the corner. At the very end, if you look carefully, you will see a spot of blue/grey. That’s the Delaware River. I’m happy to live near a river, near any water, really. I’m very happy for the little town I live in and how un-modernized it is. Real people with real small stores and local friendliness. I’m lucky.  Grateful, too.

The Deer Ate Them

/ still a dreamer / 2 Comments

Who was it that said “No good deed goes unpunished?” Seems so true on this count! Because I am so behind in getting flowers in pots around the house, I decided a couple of weeks ago to at least buy two big pots of lovely pink, dark-leaved begonias for the edge of my front porch. Left the impatiens behind because I know the deer love `em – begonias not so much. Or so they say.

BegoniasEaten

Looked out yesterday morning to see the begonias had been dragged down two steps and mostly consumed! This means that the deer had to literally come up a step or two to eat them. Now that’s a first! The irony of this is that even though I live “in-town” and am surrounded by farmland, fields, etc. the deer have PLENTY to eat. So they’re just cruisin’ for BegoniasEaten-2candy!

This is no surprise to anyone living in Hunterdon. If I come home late at night, the deer may literally be in the street, sometimes in my driveway. So my begonias are nibbled to the nub, and keeping anything on my front porch is out. Do I care? Nah. Not really. I love the deer – they are such elegant and graceful animals. I know they are considered one step down from vermin by many people out here. Not to me. I just have to be a little smarter than them in where I put my plants when I DO pot them and where the begonias will be recovering in safety.

Vicarious House-Hunting

/ still a dreamer / 2 Comments

Now this was fun! My friend, unfortunately, has to move, as his house has sold and there’s but so much time to be out and into a new place. However, looking at places to buy can be lots of fun for me, as there’s no pressure to pack, move, etc. Been there, done that, 2-1/2 years ago and that was enough to last me quite some time.

house

house3He was looking at a place today in another of the (Delaware) “river towns,” and south of me by a few miles. This Victorian is in-town, needs more TLC than it looks in this photo, and in some cases a lot of work – window pane replacements, wiring upgrades, and so on. But the amount of space is HUGE – so many rooms, and so many windows! (Those boarded up are very tall windows, not easy to replace, and being protected in case anyone has some not-so-good intentions.) The pumpkin pine floors have all been restored and look great. For me, with so much on my plate, the task would be daunting. 

house2It lists as having 4 bedrooms, but actually there are another 2 on the top floor – one is humongous and could hold ballet classes. Kitchen needs a LOT. This couldn’t be the house for me unless it was all done, but I loved looking at it. It’s on a really lovely block where everyone has taken wonderful care of their homes, also mostly Victorian. I know they would all love to see someone take this house and give it the care it deserves.

I found another house for him to look it in another area very close to my town as well – a farm with 6 acres for the same price! Hope I get to see that one, too.

Ahhh – decisions, decisions!  Glad I don’t have to make them!

The Dollar Christmas Plate

/ still a dreamer

christmasplateHow does one know the Christmas season has begun? Ignoring the fact that the onslaught of marketing for the holidays has now begun shortly after Halloween to make commercialism at an all time high of 7-8 weeks,  what happens in your home that says Christmas will soon be coming?

For me, it’s the bringing forth of two different Christmas dishes – my humble, dollar store plates and my bright red, green and white decorated, coffee mugs.  I’ll admit that perhaps why they are the first manifestation of Christmas is that they are conveniently at hand, as are all my dishes, right there in a kitchen cabinet. But there’s something about putting away my winter mugs and replacing them them with the festive red ones, and putting away my stoneware plates in a lower cabinet, their upper spot now taken with these simple china plates, that gets hopes and dreams to stirring.

No doubt the dollar store plates were made in China, too, (the mugs were made in Germany), so as befits this time of celebration, each year I bless those who made and painted them and thank them for this small joy that marks the beginning of the season for me.

Christmas changes as we grow older … once it was the excitement of opening presents under the tree in the morning; later, coming home from college and seeing family and old friends; then through relationships, perhaps children, and so it goes. Each year becoming a little bit different, offering some slightly different gift. Christmas steadily brings the exchange of warm wishes of family and friends, some who we barely have time to keep up with during the year. Cards are still sent and received, and though sometimes in too much of a rush, we get them out and delight at the treasure in our mailboxes.

Among our gifts may be something thoughtful from someone unexpected, new friends, the comfort and love of old ones, new music that fits us just right, the book that we need to read exactly at this moment in time, a candle scent carrying us back over time … riches, all.  The care, preparation, hopes and dreams of each of our Christmas or holiday seasons always begins with one simple thing … something as simple as a dollar Christmas plate.

Throwback

/ still a dreamer / 1 Comment

ThrowbackIs there something terribly odd about my feeling really happy when my kitchen floor is just washed and sparkling clean? That my stovetop doesn’t have a smudge on it? I have to admit, in a way, it seems pretty odd to me.
As a professional woman in one career or another all my life, you’d think this would be the get-it-out-of-the-way kind of chore I’d do so I could get on with the ‘real’ stuff in my life.
But I was raised in the 50’s – when we had stay-at-home moms who cooked 3 meals a day, and whose homes were always immaculately clean. They were the moms who raised us and taught us how to clean, cook, bake and de-frost the fridge. Old habits die hard. I have not one moment’s regret that I know how to make a mean pie-crust, sew any garment of clothing from a pattern, and even iron properly (according to Mom). And not that I actually do the latter – if it has to be ironed, chances are I’m not buying it.
But that clean floor – mind you, not washed nearly as often as my own mom would have done – still brings it’s own little joy. When making a living takes priority, dirty floors and dusty surfaces can be our accusers – telling us we have somehow failed because we can’t do it all. And indeed, many women I know who work for a living and were raised in the 50’s feel exactly the same way – bring home the bacon and have that 50’s squeaky-clean home as well. Oh – and squeaky-clean kids, too.
But when I do get to cleaning it – and it smells fresh, shines bright – just like a TV commercial – I love it. I may be in the 21st Century, but I guess I’m always gonna be a bit of a 50’s throwback, taking some small comfort in there being millions of you out there, just like me.