Tunes 'n Twine

Reminder...

2012-02-18T05:34:00.000-08:00

Yes, it's true. This is my reminder for what I should remember to do next week. You say, "Oh, isn't that lovely. Flowers, branches, greenery..." and that it is, but it's also my sign to wake up out of the grey, winter doldrums and the slew of detail that seems to be taking over my job, and get out into my "dreaming" world.

Have you ever noticed that going for a walk is one of the few chances we have to truly just be alone with our thoughts? Of course, this doesn't count if you are walking in step with whatever newest, favorite song is downloaded on your iPod. No, here we are talking about a true stroll out in the woods with only brain and feet in gear. It's a great chance to tumble things around between right and left hemispheres - to turn on the blender and let one side work out the other's problems. Things get boiled down to their essentials more easily, and decisions that need to be made crystalize magically---or they don't, but at least you can feel as though you've made progress with them, or made peace with them.

So, all I'm saying is that, I need to get out and do that. I need to walk around the property, see what's blooming, make my estimates on when the azaleas will pop out, walk the gravel trails, and rid myself of the cloud of detail that has been clouding my cubicle. (Aha! the noble alliteration,)

There are no guarantees, but I suspect it will work as well now as it did before, if not better.

Goodbye to "House"...

2012-02-11T15:46:00.000-08:00

No, the house has not sold yet. An offer from a builder who wants to tear it down, and some interest expressed by a buyer who would want to remodel. Right now, it's a waiting game.

No, this "House" is the one that has been a prime-time tv series for 8 seasons - the one whose producers, including the star (who is also a producer), announced this week that they had decided that it is time to end the story. I think they are all very smart people. Contracts are ending, and these creative people are ready to move on. They have given this project their all for a very, very long time, in tv production terms, and they deserve to choose to move on .

The truth is, though, that I will definitely miss the show. Though there has been a certain amount of predictability to the formula as the years have gone by, the loyal part of the show's following has always been given plenty of philosophical fodder for disection, interpretation and argument. And they have been given intriguing characters who kept us continually guessing about their outcomes. And adeptly chosen passages of music to heighten and add poignancy to every kind of moment. Lighting, scoring, direction, set dressing, and costuming all very meticulously orchestrated to create as much of the story as the script did.

And then, there has been the portrayal of the title character, an interminably detailed work of actor Hugh Laurie. The description of the day-in-and-day-out demands put on his talent and stamina seem to be somewhat legend at this point, and there is really no doubt that he has put on the mantle of his "counterpart" with an unspeakable amount of patience and understanding, all while living apart from his family in a celebrity crazed atmosphere where privacy is a rare commodity.

Oddly enough, I'm not sure I would ever have been drawn into the craziness of the series had it not been for the music that threaded its way through the first few seasons - those moments when House played the piano, and especially, when he played with guest star, Dave Matthews. Nothing like that to hook another musician! So, if when he says goodbye to "House", Hugh Laurie decides to continue on his recently begun musical journey, I say, "Go for it."

Life is too short. If we give our best to what we promised to do, then we should be allowed the lee-way to follow our other dreams, and be able to be with our families and spend time in a place that we love, wherever that is.

Best wishes, "House" staff. Job done well.

"Lotsa, lotsa, lotsa, lotsa.....".

2012-02-04T05:10:00.000-08:00

...love." Well, that's the way the line goes in the British series, "Fortysomething." It's often spoken by a younger-something female in response to saying goodbye to most any older-something male character. One of those things that really just sticks in one's mind, especially when confronted with "lotsa" just about anything. (Funny, crazy little series, by the way - especially if you are a fan of dry wit, British perspective, fridges, stacks of traffic cones, young adults, Hugh Laurie...)

This morning, that "lotsa" would be rain...and thunder...and lightning. And on the other side of the room, our ancient dog is trying desperately to dig her way to China through the hardwood floor - hoping to escape the dreaded storming outside.

I woke to bare rumblings from the heavens way too early on a Saturday morning, prepared a simple breakfast/coffee, and propped by feet up in my corner chair/sanctuary to check my email, and there was that gentle rattle of sprinkling on the roof and trickles running out the gutters. I thought, "I love that sweet sound". Fifteen minutes later, I'm startle-jumping at a near lightning hit.

Lotsa rain. Lotsa stuff to do inside the house. Lotsa stuff to do in the garage. Lotsa decisions to make when one puts a "For Sale" sign of the house where one has lived for 30 years. Lotsa, lotsa, lotsa, lotsa....

"Oh, where have you been..."

2012-01-28T06:16:00.000-08:00

"Oh, where have you been Billy Boy, Billy Boy,
Oh, where have you been, charming Billy..."

It's an old, old song and I'm not sure of the rest of the lyrics. Something about a wife and the "love of your life", I think. And why would this come to mind? Well, I have not made an entry here in a while, and have sort of been struggling with what to write, and stumbling over myself, and then finally wondering why I should be too worried about it, after all.

This morning, a real estate agent is coming to meet with me about selling my house, which is a wreck right now because I know I'm goingto be selling it, and so have been pulling things out and sorting as to what goes, stays, recycles, is garage sale material, etc. Vicious circle strikes again. It is also not as clean, in general, as I would like, due to 4.5 years of not-having-time-to-keep-up-with-it.

And because our very old and precious canine-member-of-the-family has forgotten that she needs to go outside to take care of business, so cleaning that up goes to the top of the cleaning priority list every day.

And then there's work of course, and care-giving, and children here and there, and choir, and exercising, and well, need I go on? Sometimes, I feel like I have something to contribute to a blog, and sometimes, I just really don't. Except that here I am writing about not much of anything but getting through life, and I guess, if we all realize that others in the world are in the same boat, perhaps we can reach deep into our reservoirs of patience, and be an ounce less judgemental.

Floods...

2012-01-19T05:44:00.000-08:00

This is Buffalo Bayou on a lazy summer day in June. Green, lush, sloping sandy banks several feet deep in lush vegetation.

One day last week, we were blessed by torrential downpours for most of one morning. Not such a blessing if one had to be driving in it on Houston's flat streets that don't always drain so well, but an enormous help in relieving our current drought conditions.

At the end of the day, I walked down the hill to our public parking lot, and glanced over to the areas where thos lush sloping banks would normally be, and they were a swirling, muddy, rushing sea of overflow. Only 2 other times have I seen the water rise so high. We were fortunate that it went no higher.

Nature's way of dealing with more than it can handle... A flood. Human being's way of dealing with more than can be handled... Tears. Sometimes tears of joy. Sometimes tears of utter sadness. Sometimes, just tears of ultimate frustration. The step beyond which we come "out of our banks". It's allpart of the rhythm.

Paperwhites...

2012-01-07T05:28:00.000-08:00

I didn't expect it. I drove around the bend on the lane that leads to Bayou Bend, and there they were. That part of the gardens is shaded, but the ground is primarily forest floor - in other words, not populated by shrubs. In the spring, all of the "bulb" flowers start sending up their straight green shoots, and soon after - Voila! We have clusters of paperwhites, or daffodils, or whatever surprise ensues.

This year, they surprised me. I think they may be early. The camellias are different in that there are so many varieties that they start blooming in December, and fade in and out until the azaleas take over. But somehow, I didn't expect the paperwhites to be out at the beginning of January.

Who knows? Climate is such a strange thing, and ever-changing. As we are, correct? Four years ago, I had no idea what a paperwhite was, much less when it would bloom, or where. I had no idea of when camellias would bloom.

Watching the cycle of life in the gardens is a good thing. It's never exactly the same, but there are patterns and a certain flow to it all. Then, if you throw in a hurricane, or flood, or drought, or an enormous tent that stays up way too long and kills the grass beneath it - well, that's just the recipe for excitement that may be welcomed, but usually is not.

Our lives are the same. I know it appears that some people seem to never have "bumps" in the roads of their lives - that they are continually blessed with not having tragedies or setbacks or obstacles thrown in front of them. It also appears that some have way more than their "share". I can't really be sure of where reality is - probably as Forrest Gump said that it's "somewhere in between." Maybe part destiny, maybe part floating along on the wind.

All I know for sure is that the paperwhites are out in the gardens, and that is a sign of life and continued growth and the hope that comes with both.

Hello, 2012...

2012-01-01T07:10:00.000-08:00

The sun is out, and cooler weather has blown into the city. New Year's Day has fallen on a Sunday, and I just listened to the sermon via the internet. In awhile, I will go to sit with my mother who was hospitalized yesterday.

Out in the world, there is a lot of loss and a lot of suffering going on. There is plenty about which to worry and be sad. But then, there is sunshine, and fresh air, shelter, food, a change of scene. And for some, another day off tomorrow for recovering from all that ails.

There are plans that have to be set aside for the new priority, and the goals set back to "simply existing" and surving the one day ahead of you.

A holding pattern...not necessarily where one wants to be on a day that has the promise of being our "rebirth" for the new year. It's ok. Time to forge ahead.

The day after...

2011-12-26T12:31:00.000-08:00

'Twas the day after Christmas and quiet in the house,
And only the dog was around, no sign of a mouse.
And though it was Monday, I did not to work go
For the powers that be had graciously said "No,
that will be one of your "Floating"days off."
And I, not to argue, did think it enough
To stay right at home, and it was a good thing.
My body and brain had kept up with a string
of the longest of days, and worries, and frights
That sometimes do come of not pacing one's nights.
Though all of the frolic indeed had its' place
My body had finally shut down the race.
Not once, but twice, it bade me go back
To my bed full of quilts for the sleep I did lack.
Of this I am sure. When I sleep in the day,
There is plenty of reason to be lazy that way.
I had other chores planned, but have learned o'er the years
When my heart takes a stand, I had better so hear
The warning, and heed what it begs me to do.
Peace of Christmas we should carrry the year through,
and rest should be part of the celebration, too.

I do send out my wish for us all to enjoy a bit of rest and peace before taking on 2012. I know that many had to go to their workplace today, and that in the fever of after-Christmas sales, returns, etc., peace may not have been the emotion encountered. Our world is a difficult place, and not nearly so simple as a manger, but I am infinitely grateful for the One who has shone the light on the difficult times of my life - and wish that others may come to know it as well.

Fall color...

2011-12-17T15:37:00.000-08:00

It's one of the stranger things about living in Houston - the fact that our fall color might be its most vibrant just the week before Christmas. But, indeed, that is what has happened in the gardens. A raft of poinsettias in pots contrasting with the yellows and red of the changing foliage.

What a blessing! As I have driven through our beloved Memorial park every day and witnessed the destruction of the drought, it has been spirit- lifting to see some of the trees changing color not because they were dead, but because they were still alive and preparing for rest. Somehow, that amongst all of the death, there were still things alive, and thriving, and holding on for dear life, and going on about their normal routines.

The holiday madness at work has ended. Next week will be quiet. Many will be leaving for holidays with family. We will be blessed with a simpler rhythm, and a wrapping up of the old year before starting the new - going about a more normal routine. This evening, with the help of my younger son, I decorated a mini-tree with some of our most representative ornaments, and while unpacking to find those treasured pieces, divided up the ornaments from our 30 year old artificial tree into 4 most appropriate boxes - one for each "child" and one for me. With a bottle of wine and home-heated pizza, it was a good evening. Somehow, I felt a little like those trees, dressing for the holidays a little differently than before, and shedding some treasured leaves to downsize for the winter.

It now feels like Christmas is coming, and peace can be part of our lives for a while, if we let it. Silent night. Sleep in heavenly peace.

Masses and Madrigals

2011-12-11T06:47:00.000-08:00

Could you hazard a guess as to who are some of the busiest people in the world at Christmas time? They would be the musicians - especially professional ones. Why is that? Well, for some reason, everyone in the world is attracted to holiday programs, and especially musical ones at this time of year. And those same "everyones" would really like for the music to be special and well done. This means that when one is trying to make a living at being a musician, a good part of the year is spent in famine, and the holidays are feast-time.

The problem with this is that, for those musicians who are also strongly connected to the fellowship of a church, things begin to get very complicated. Choices have to be made, one or another person disappointed, and said musicians wear themselves to nubs at a time when we are all to be mindful of the peace of the message of the arrival of God's Son.

For some time now, I have not really had to make some of those difficult decisions, because I have not been on the professional "call list". The calls for "gigs" that used to start in October every year - those calls don't come any more. There are reasons for that - namely that, for many years I decided to say "no" in order to be able to attend my own children's performances, and secondly, because there are plenty of younger and hungrier musicians out there now to take my place. They are better able to whip through those allegro passages of the "Messiah" several times a weekend, and, I am happy for them to do that.

On the other hand, I still am thrilled to get to play/sing during the holidays, on my own terms. That sounds a bit selfish I guess, but is certainly not meant to be. I just love to be able to pick the events in which to participate.

For instance, for four days straight, I will be involved either in performances or rehearsals for 2 events - a children's musical (a delightfully well-written bit of story and song) and a madrigal dinner. (Now you see the connection with the picture above from our local RenFest.) I never have done a dinner like this before, but my daughter did - twice, in high school. And because of my previous decisions, I was able to attend both of those events, and relish in watching her and hearing her sing. Next Tuesday's portrayal of that feast will be my chance to blend my skills with those of the many, and to feast at the holiday musical table in the way most appropriate to where I "live" today.

And my heart will be full.

Secrets to Christmas shopping...

2011-12-03T09:32:00.000-08:00

First of all, start out with very limited funds. This is very important. It also helps quite a lot if your children are somewhat grown...say in their twenties. And that they have refined their interests to things for which it would be difficult to shop with your "very limited funds." Now, enter into this activity with an attitude of "what would really be useful to them in their everyday life, might fit in their stocking, and might bring a little chuckle as they open it?"

Next, keeping in mind the others in your life for whom you would like to find a small remembrance - again, with your very limited funds, consider what they don't have, but might enjoy having, would possibly fit in a drawer so as not to be cumbersome, but would not be relegated to the "re-gifting drawer. After all, they may also be at the point where they are ready to downsize thier lives.

And speaking of downsizing, perhaps you could go shopping in your own garage, or attic, or any other place which accumulates gently worn items. One would need to be extremely careful in attempting this maneuver, as it might backfire royally. But then, if you have been the one storing treasured items from another loved one's life, as I have been now for some time, it might be the the very moment to get serious about passing those along.

And ultimately, there is the option to simply write a letter to your "giftees", letting them know how much they mean to you, what you have learned from them, thanking them for being themselves or for listening when you needed them to listen. This requires no shopping at all, unless you correspond primarily electronically - in which case, get thee to a stationery store post-haste.

But for heaven's sake, whatever you do, do not drive into a Target parking lot any time after 9:00 a.m. on a Saturday between Thanksgiving and Christmas. You may be risking life and limb, and every kernel of peaceful holiday that you might have.

Rainy Saturday

2011-11-26T08:02:00.000-08:00

Today, I actually slept late - all the way until 8:00 a.m. That is late when normal waking hours are 5:30 or 6:00 a.m. But then, it is also overcast, and there has been a light rain falling off and on. It was darker later in the morning hours. I never heard rainfall during the night, but could see the wet pavement on the back patio this morning. It's rather amazing what we can pick up from simple clues, if we are paying attention.

My bedroom windows happen to be on the side of the house where our very well-used nighborhood jogging trail slices through my yard. At one time, 30 years ago, there was a gently sloping, grass covered bar ditch there. Then, the city came through and enlarged the ditch, making it so deep that it could not be mowed or negotiated in any safe sense. Then, for months, there was road construction on the side street such that we had no access to our driveway or sidewalk, with the end result being that the ditch was covered, with huge drainage pipes lurking beneath to carry away rain runoff. Our lush St. Augustine grass was replaced with a sidewalk, curb and gutter, and weed-choked grass farm turf that never quite took hold on the never-well graded sandy surface below.

Now, I am privvy to any and all conversations, all rhythmic padding of running feet, all dogs getting into altercations along the path, all swim-team conditioning runs, and all children fussing about which part of the wagon they want to sit on, or in, or to push or pull.

And when the rain comes, I can tell by the sound of the cars passing by, and the water under the tires. And the quiet demeanor on the trail... And I have to say I relish it. Sleeping in is wonderful.

Pink Perfection...

2011-11-19T11:06:00.000-08:00

It is a lovely work of God's art, this variety of camellia, nicknamed "Pink Perfection", and it's no wonder it was given that name, given how symmetrically the petals are placed around the center. The first time I came across it in the gardens, it was the symmetry, and the most delicate of pinks that caught my eye. Then, when I checked the plant tag on the ground, one of the stories I've heard often in my life made even more sense than before.

The story goes that, when my parents were married, they had the very simplest of ceremonies. They arranged for the organist and the minister, and with a matron of honor and a best man, and a very few guests, they said their vows. The only flower was a pink perfection camellia pinned to my mother's suit. Lovely and simple.

Today, there is an enormous wedding reception taking place under an expansive tent in the same gardens where this picture was taken. A week to put the tent up, and a week to decorate and equip the grounds for whatever food and drink and festivities will follow. I have no knowledge of the people involved, except to reflect on what I see and be bewildered that one could and would make the choices that they have.

This week, my first-born child became engaged to be married. My hope for them is that theirs can be a relationship built on simple pleasures, celebration of life, and an occasional Pink Perfection camellia of their own.

Chickenpox...

2011-11-12T06:54:00.000-08:00

Chickenpox. It's one of those diseases that many of we older folks lived through, but for which there is now a vaccine. Even my own children had to deal with the blisters and the proverbial itch, but manyof their friends just a couple of years younger did not. It's one of those strange time warp sorts of things.

In my day, the only remedies were calamine lotion, oatmeal baths, and love from mom.

This past work week was one of those that just threatens to make one's head explode. Every one of the "hats" I wear seems chock-full of detail work. Stressful. Wearing. Like being sick with something only time can cure. Enough said. Though I seem to digress, I promise I am not. Work with me.

Working for a non-profit organization often means that the lower monetary compensation is offset by knowledge of the intrinsic/extrinsic value in what you are doing - what you are working for and toward. That said, in an attempt to get creative with low-cost, but meaningful Christmas gifts, I began a project of scanning many of the smaller pictures in the family archives. Going back through family records just seems to put so much in perspective. Hence the picture above.

And then, being right there at the computer, I decided to burn a cd of songs discovered listening to Pandora at work (to keep said head from exploding). Commute-time is music time, and I needed something new. Yesterday, one of the tunes to come up was "How We Loved", a hauntingly beautiful piece by Beth Nielsen Chapman. "All that matters in the end, is how we loved."

It's also a birthday week for me, which can turn into an introspective thing, if you are that sort of person. Why yes, I accept that I am. Ultimately, my family, past-present-future, and my Father in heaven - these are the ones around whom my world has revolved, and will continue to revolve. Everything else will be tossed about in the blender of life, and possibly, periodically explode. But when chickenpox, or it's equivalent raises its troublesome head, love will be what carries us all through.

"This is my box...This is my box..." - Amahl and the Night Visitors

2011-11-02T05:30:00.001-07:00

It's a sad and somewhat telling tale that one can go into a store of most any kind before Halloween, and see Christmas merchandise being added to the displays. We exclaim that every year, this seems to happen earlier and earlier, and for parents of young children, it all becomes a form of nightmare because the hype begins and our children are drawn in no matter how hard we might try to forestall the inevitable.

There is an important thing to remember in all of this. Remember that one of the most treasured of gifts is simply...the box. Have you ever watched a child in the presence of a such a glorious thing as a box with a lid, or just flaps that go up and down and fold in on each other? And the imagination spurred by a box large enough to hide in? And if there happens to be wrappping paper around to stuff in said box, all the better. When the child is so overstimulated as to not be able to contain his behavior any longer, what a remarkable gift it is to be able to tuck himself away inside a box with his own creative senses transforming that container into a plane or train or race car or princess room or who knows what. Maybe just a quiet, cozy spot for a nap.

If only we could all just re-discover the wonder of a box, right?
(To understand the title of the post, visit the link below.)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uAZlS9ZogQE&feature=related

All Saints Sunday.

2011-10-30T11:47:00.000-07:00

For all the saints, who from their labors rest, who thee by faith before the world confessed, thy name, O Jesus, be forever blest. Alleluia, Alleluia!

Thou wast their rock, their fortress, and their might; thou Lord, their captain in the well-fought fight; thou in the darkness drear, their one true light. Alleluia, Alleluia!

O may thy soldiers, faithful, true, and bold, fight as the saints who nobly fought of old, and win with them the victor's crown of gold. Alleluia, Alleluia!

O blest communion, fellowship divine! We feebly struggle, they in glory shine; yet all are one in thee, for all are thine. Alleluia, Alleluia!

And when the strife is fierce, the warfare long, steals on the ear the distant triumph song, and hearts are brave again, and arms are strong. Alleluia, Alleluia!

From earth's wide bounds, from ocean's farthest coast, through gates of pearl streams in the countless host, singing to Father, Son, and Holy Ghost: Alleluia, Alleluia!

...William W. How

I can't say it any better than he did. "Hearts are brave again and arms are strong." One way that I like to think of those who have gone on before us.

Rearranging...and cheese straws...

2011-10-23T06:22:00.000-07:00

A few days ago, when asked what I planned to do over the weekend - one of those pleasant sort of non-committal questions we ask to make conversation - I replied that I thought I might take a day trip to Galveston just to sit on the beach, look out over the horizon and listen to the waves. It's about a 50 mile drive, so not too stressful...and a complete change of scene...and there are tasty shrimp to be found.

But then, I had forgotten that I had a date with the company that maintains my heater at home, so I needed to be there. I decided to rearrange the landscape of my bedroom instead. We are not talking about anything huge, just an addition of a small folding table, and a removal of clutter on the floor and accumulated boxes. My life in that room is about addressing my music, writing, crochet, reading, relaxing...generally re-creating myself when I can't get away to Galveston or elsewhere. The problem is that creative spaces tend to get cluttered, and then, start to drive you as crazy as the parts of your life over which you have no control.

So, I rearranged, reorganized, restructured, re-shuffled. And then I made faux food cheese straws for Yuletide - our next installation at work. Surely there is some kind of irony in that.

Mentors...

2011-10-16T11:02:00.000-07:00

"The Little Fiddler" - a Hummel figurine given to me years ago by someone I would have to consider a mentor, at the very least. She has since passed away, but was instrumental in my musical development from the time I was 6 years old until the time of her death.

The sermon I listened to today had to do with mentoring, and with make investments in people rather than things. With passing along what we have learned, and helping others through not only our successes, but also by acknowledging our failures and allowing our survival to be of some positive effect in our world.

As it turned out, the sermon followed an opportunity that had been given me to play a duet obligatto accompanying the church's adult choir. I sing in a choir because I learned to worship by being in children's choirs, and by being given the charge of helping to lead others in worship in that way. My mentor directed those children's choirs for years and years.

I was encouraged on my musical journey by little gifts from my mentor that visually reminded me of the value of what I was doing. I was encouraged every time she asked me to perform something that was a stretch for my comfort zone, every time she showed confidence in me by asking me to teach or solo or sing for a wedding at the last minute. She did this for countless numbers of children, students, and adults, and though she never had children of her own, there were hundreds of people she mentored over the years who would consider her to be like a mother to them. Thinking of her this evening...

Creative Zone...

2011-10-08T15:11:00.000-07:00

I just returned home from an afternoon of helping children with a craft which had them creating azaleas from their handprints. This is a well-known and often used craft in the pre-k world - atleast the handprint part is. The child traces his hand with fingers extended, then cuts the shape out. To construct a flower,, all that need happen is a rolling up of the handprint into a cone shape, and attaching a green pipe cleaner at the base of the flower. Simple.

Enter the Creative Zone at the Bayou City Art Festival. Around 10 or so craft sessions, with children and adults sitting down to paint, glue, draw, cut, tape, color and generally have fun together. And then all around the outskirts of these tents, are the "showing" artists, actively and not so actively, trying to sell their wares, and to look enough different that someone will fall in love with the uniqueness of what they do.

Add to that environment musical entertainment, food of every nationality, and a maze of people of every sort. I love this event. Metal mesh dresses, sculpture covered with flattened bottle caps, slices of burled wood intricately carved. And now, an exhausted museum worker puts her feet up, and closes her eyes. Sleep will be sweet.

The road ahead...

2011-10-03T19:54:00.000-07:00

It's sort of an inviting path, right? A little intriguing in this picture because you don't have the perspective of seeing what's on the other side, as you would if you were actually standing in that spot. I can assure you that there is much more green in this shot than there would be at this moment, the drought having sucked the life and color out of most everything. No matter how much irrigation you use, it's just not as good as the rain from above.

The hopeful part is that, for a couple of days last week, the temperatures have been lower - as in, in the 80s. Now I am perfectly aware that some people in our fair land have already had snow. I'm not comparing here, folks. I'm saying that I am ever so thankful to be on this side of the summer. Incredibly thankful.

Just when you think you can't take it for one more day, the perspective changes, the frame in the viewfinder morphs to include more clues to what lies ahead, and gives you a renewed energy to forge ahead. You can count the number of steps from here to there, and the goal seems more attainable. Even if you have to climb, you know to what height you are climbing and that makes a huge difference.

I love October.

The year has just flown by...

2011-09-24T12:41:00.000-07:00

This time last year, we were celebrating the opening of our new education andvisitors' center, with dignitaries galore, and crowds and festivities and displays and craftsmen, and so on. A culmination of years of work, 3 of which I had been a part. It really does seem like a great deal has transpired since. Well, doesn't just seem - actually has.
This table was part of the display, a representation of what we do with our Yuletide installation, which usually involves "dressing" a table in a "period" fashion with appropriate ceramics, silver, crystal, and of course, faux food from our extensive collection. Even the chairs around the table are antique - hence the ribbons and little signs reminding the crowds that they are for looking at and not sitting on. And all expertly created by some of our most experienced Yuletide curators, volunteer docents.
Part of the job that has fallen to me in the past year is the care and tending of our Teaching and Yuletide collections. This is a potentially huge project, due in part to the fact that we are talking about close to 2,500 objects to catalog, unpack, re-pack, inventory, keep glued together, etc.
Since then, we have also added a children's library of approximately 100 books - all of which seem to have become my responsibility. So let's see - my hats now include, besides chief bottle-washer to a director, and two 2 managers, being the calendar/attendance guru, the room set up guru, a curator, a registrar, a conservationist, a preparator, a librarian, an office manager, and an errand runner. That comes close to covering all of it. Oh. and there are those extra-curricular events where I go to represent us on a weekend, or weekday evening. Detail floods through my veins with astounding frequency.
I think one thing that has always been true of my life has been that I appreciate variety. I would get extremely stir crazy without a wide spectrum of activities, and without being able to learn something new. I guess I'm in the right place.

A peaceful corner...

2011-09-10T07:18:00.000-07:00

Tucked away in the gardens at Bayou Bend is a lovely waterfall that cascades down to a lower level of one of the landscaped gullies on the property. The story is that a larger fountain just above it developed a leak at some point. Rather than tear everything apart to repair the leak, they just incorporated it into another water feature and recycled the water somehow. The result was this delightful cascading trickle down to a pool flanked by two Pan-type statues. If the bench nearby were more shaded, I could sit there and listen to the water all day.

I decided that, though recently, I had allowed a few of my posts to leak some negativity, and for me, that was a good thing to do in safe quarters, it was time to move on from things that are bitter pills to swallow and about which I can do nothing. It was time move forward. I can choose not only to recognise the evil of those things, but also to take the path away from them. I can imagine being a little vulnerable right now because so much is changing, but I can also hang onto the beauty in my life - and there is a great deal of that!

No excuses...

2011-09-06T17:39:00.001-07:00

I had a sobering experience today. I witnessed some incredible hatred that left me feeling truly in disbelief. It's not that I am so naive that I don't think this happens all of the time, but this time, it was touching something I love. Yes, I admit, this was personal.

Over the past few days, our state has been enveloped in wildfires, fanned by winds from a hurricane/tropical storm. Thousands of acres have burned - acres turned into kindling by the exceptional drought. Hundreds of homes have burned. People have died. Firefighters have worked to exhaustion trying to fight against impossible odds.

In trying to find some news about the progress in containing the blazes, I happened upon some national coverage, and out of curiosity, scrolled down to some of the comments made by readers from other parts of the country. I was appalled by the things that were being said, for the most part veiled in political tirades against our governor and his bid for the Presidency. The comments were instead pointed towards the situation at hand - comments such as "Let them burn," and the like. Not just on one site, but on several. As much as I know that these people do this all day, just to be sensationalistic, and to get a rise out of others, I couldn't help being taken back.

As we approach the anniversary of 9/11, it brought back that horrible feeling to me of "How could anybody really hate us so much that they would do this, wish this on innocent people? What kind of human beings are these?"

I have grown so tired of hate-mongering. And gloating, and one-ups-man-ship. There are no excuses...

Fire and rain...

2011-09-05T15:42:00.001-07:00

Would that this were about the song.

In my last post, I asked for the weather predictions to come true, and yet, our meteorologists have once again been foiled by the whimsy of the planet. Yet another part of our country is being devastated by flooding, and we in Texas were only to receive the wind out of the storm. Gusts of wind. And no precipitation. Gusts of wind to knock down power lines that would spark and start wildfires in our tinder-box of a state. 25,000 acres...How does one imagine that. And 300 homes. People who have lost everything. A mother and child who have lost their lives. Resources for fighting the fires depleted and firefighters being begged to help wherever they come from.

It all makes me very sad. Very, very sad. So many extremes become overwhelming at times.

A prayer for the meteorologists...

2011-08-31T16:14:00.000-07:00

Lord, just for the next week would you mind letting the weather forecast be correct for a change? They seem to think that we will have some better chances for rain. I'm sure they would appreciate not being made fools of.

And yes, I ended that with a preposition. Sorry.

Artistry...

2011-08-28T15:55:00.000-07:00

One day, when our offices were actually onsite, and it was easier to get out and take pictures, I went around the gardens one day with the intent of taking pictures only of all of the wrought iron furniture. There are benches everywhere - all along the many pathways, in little nooks and crannies and in arrangements in the garden "rooms". Most, if not all, were manufactured
in New Orleans, and carry some of the flavor of that city with them. Most are more comfortable for shorter and smaller people than myself, and the benches would only accommodate two at most. The designs vary from location to location - no matchy, matchy business here, and all blend into the garden-scape just begging for a visitor to take a rest and truly experience a few precious moments of being still.

I think about the craftsmen who built these pieces - who, no doubt, stood over an extremely hot fire and bent and hammered and molded and measured to create something beautiful out of something so pedestrian as iron. But then, why not? Most every craftsman out there is doing the same thing, and nowadays, often times creative people are finding new ways to use old things. Art work that tells a story made from bits and pieces of abandoned buildings. Houses built from the discards of other houses and businesses. Renewable materials, or just thinking of old materials in a new and creative way. I like that. The trees that fell on the property during Hurricane Ike have become any number of beautifully executed bowls, vases, tops, and jewelry thought the skilled hand of two men with lathes and a passion for creating. Let's keep up the good work.

Cicadas and summer...

2011-08-21T06:46:00.000-07:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0apHYAUQegk

Sometimes, weather just leads to creativity. When it's all you can do just to buy a few groceries and get back home without melting or being overcome by an unhealthy ozone level, it's time to "hunker down" (as we do during hurricanes) and do something that does not require moving...at all...except at an air-conditioned gym...or in an air-conditioned facilty of any kind...

I have had this little piece in mind for some time, for obvious reasons, and finally decided that I had no perfect way to illustrate this summer. I had thought of plenty of possibilities, but the logistics never seemed to work out. So "just sit down and do something with it to finish the project off. Then you can move on to the other million things on your list." Yes, those were the words that flashed through my mind. For better or for worse, here it is. Now, it becomes yours to interpret....

Texas Drought: Where Is It “Worst”? | Climate Abyss | a Chron.com blog

2011-08-19T14:40:00.000-07:00

Texas Drought: Where Is It “Worst”? Climate Abyss a Chron.com blog

Well, this is just really scary. I wonder how many stages of water conservation we will have to go through to survive this. It makes one think twice about turning on the faucet. We should have been thinking about that before, of course, but this truly does bring it all home.

Experiences...

2011-08-14T13:45:00.000-07:00

It's a simple ferry trip across the water from Bolivar Peninsula to Galveston Island. I have been known to drive the 50 miles to the coast just to drive or walk onto the ferry and stand as these people are, feeling and smelling the salty breeze and watching the horizon for ships coming into the port. Hoping to see dolphins running alongside and waiting for the random spray that happens when the ferry crosses the wake of another boat on the water.

It occurred to me today, as I was loading the dishwasher and de-cluttering the countertops in order to spray them liberally with disinfectant spray/degreaser/de-everything-else (and going through in my mind all of the other chores that need doing) that one attribute of our family that seems to be a constant over the generations is that we value all sorts of experiences. We value a good adventure, and love to make record of it. I think what brought this to mind was the knowledge of the 25- 30 photo boxes of prints lurking on the upper shelf of our hall closet, put there years ago to protect them from the possibility of flood waters during/after a hurricane, and then left there as it seemed a practical place in the end. This is what happens when you love to take pictures, your parents love to take pictures and you marry someone who also loves to take pictures. The wonderful thing about the digital camera is that you don't necessarily have to print every single thing. Thus, the volume of prints has managed to decline remarkably since we all bought into digital wizardry.

The point though is that I need to go through those boxes, narrow the field, and scan those favorites into digital images in order to consolidate for an eventual move out of a 3 bedroom house into an apartment. So, how does one decide what to keep. Well, of course, there will always be captured expressions about which you'll say, "Well, that is a keeper." And there will be some that illustrated the releationships we had with those now departed from this life. And then there will be the ones that capture the essence of experiences we shared - times of being together outside of the everyday, learning together, laughing together, feasting together...our adventures that contributed to making us who we are.

It will be a difficult thing, perhaps, because I hold all of it dear, but now that many years have passed, I find some of those experiences have crystalized into a purer form. Perhaps it will be easier than I think.

108 degrees...

2011-08-06T06:28:00.000-07:00

That was the high temperature in Houston yesterday. How would one take a picture to illustrate that? No. Don't answer that. It would make me hotter just to think about it. I read this morning that the high pressure system that has settled over southeast Texas will probably remain in place 'til the end of the month. Then, after the Caribbean and Gulf waters have heated up to a toasty warm soup, the pressure will move away and leave us vulnerable to the landfall of hurricanes that just thrive over warm water.

Time to work on lots of indoor projects, then. Yesterday, as the world boiled outside, I spent a day working on an inventory of our Teaching Collection, an 800-piece array of hands-on objects for engaging people on American history. It is quite a journey to go through all of those boxes - clay pipes, lanterns, oil lamps, dipped candles, pewter tea services, carding combs, redware and salt-glazed ceramics, fifes, 200-year old books, clay marbles. It's like digging in some one's attic - a very substantial project. That's why it has not been undertaken by anyone in years!

It's' an interesting irony to be unpacking and re-packing all of these accoutrements of life in another time while sweating inside of an air-conditioned building with water fountains and restrooms just down the hallway...and dressed in jeans, a t-shirt and sandals.

Filters...

2011-07-30T08:48:00.001-07:00

After our new visitors' center was built, a landscaping company came in and created green spaces around it that are an inspiration in themselves. A landscaped retention "pond", an assortment of boulders and rolling berms, azaleas (of course), iris, "bridal wreath", magnolias, and these lovely trees with feathery fronds of greenery. I'm going to guess that they are bald cypress, but I would have to confirm that, so don't give me trouble if I am wrong.

With my digital, but somewhat limited camera, I can capture the essence, but because the fronds are so lightweight, even the slightest breeze makes them quiver. Hence the parts in focus vs. the parts not in focus. Not to worry. They are just doing their job of cleaning up the air for us, and looking beautiful at the same time. And creating a good deal of shade, considering their small size.

Sometimes, I think "filtering" is one of the most difficult things we do. For the tree, I want to think that it is a fairly simple process - even though I'm sure a horticulturalist could show me how many things effect that process and how complicated it can be. But the process we go through in learning how to filter out what is important, and true, and what part of things to hold on to - it is truly a learned precess. We aren't born with it. And if it's learned then it is also taught. We would all do well to be careful what we teach about filtering.

Saying goodbye to the shuttle...

2011-07-21T07:17:00.000-07:00

Please take the time to watch the video under "Diversions". One of John Denver's gifts was that he could speak for so many people.

Early this morning, the final NASA shuttle mission touched down. 30 years worth of history, technology, invention, refinement...and yes, tragedy. Two tremendous tragedies that should not totally overshadow all that was accomplished during those years. I think I will attempt to find a listing of the discoveries that came out of that program. I'm sure that if we were to go all the way back to the Mercury program to create that list, there would be an untold number of technologies that we take for granted today that came out of these programs. The one that always initially comes to mind is Velcro...

The story goes that for the next few years, NASA will "rely on the Russians to ferry astronauts to the space station and back, at a cost of up to $63 million per seat." (msnbc.com/Alan Boyle)
You know, that is a lot of dollars, and when presented to the general public in that context, I think it makes most of us pause.

I do know that I am grateful, and somewhat in awe of the professionals who dedicated their lives to take on "pushing the envleope" of aeronautics, mathematics, engineering, medicine, psychology, physical science, and most any other scientific endeavor to explore what could be done. And I hope that we will never give up the cultivation of curiosity and desire for discovery that kept this program alive.

Blushing...

2011-07-18T18:04:00.000-07:00

Even though we are in the midst of a truly terrible drought, we have had a few days in the past week when we've had a passing shower.
At lunch, when I walked down to the bridge and back, I passed a number of stately magnolia trees which were planted when our new visitors' center opened. Seeing this reminded me of the cycle I first noticed when walking the gardens nearly every day. After the magnolia finishes producing those gorgeous platter-sized blossoms, a seed pod forms that at first is just a sort of beige, furry egg-shaped creation. Then the magic starts to happen.

Do you see the little blush of pink? Inside the furry pieces of the whole are the seeds that are starting to ripen. Those seeds will eventually turn bright red, and the pod will reflect that transition. It's really a beautiful thing - simple change. Then comes the finale - the time when all of the individual seedlets burst open to reveal the flaming red contents. Field day for the birds!

These trees are regularly watered, so they are fortunate. Less than a mile away, huge oak and pine trees are perishing in one of our largest city parks. They stand out, orangy-brown against the contrasting evergreens that have managed to stay alive.

Struggle is a difficult thing to watch wherever it is.

Shop Class...

2011-07-17T19:03:00.000-07:00

These two quotes are for parents of children who choose a path different from what may be touted for the "masses". Let us remember that knowledge does not come from books alone!

From Shop Class as Soulcraft, by Matthew B. Crawford:

"The fact that a firefighter's knowledge is tacit rather than explicit, and therefore not capable of articulation means that he is not able to give an account of himself to the larger society. He is not able to make a claim for the value of his mind in terms that prevail, and may come to doubt himself. But his own experience provides grounds for a radical critique of the view that theoretical knowlege is the only true knowledge."

If you have a child who learns kinesthetically, the following is food for thought...

From Doug Stowe's blog, "Wisdom of the Hands":

"[in] schools, we create artificial learning environments for our children that they know to be contrived and undeserving of their full attention and engagement... Without the opportunity to learn through the hands, the world remains abstract, and distant, and the passions for learning will not be engaged."

I don't have the answers to the problem, but if studying history/construction/color theory/expressive language through art technique, or mechanical engineering through auto technology are part of it, then let's support those endeavors as highly valued ones too.

Automotive excellence...

2011-07-09T07:45:00.000-07:00

At this moment, I am sitting in the waiting area of my local (closest) Honda dealership. 60,000 mile service. And they have wi-fi. A somewhat surreal experience, I have to admit. Wonderfully surreal, but surreal nonetheless. It occurred to me that when I bought this car 5 years ago, I could not have been doing what I am doing right now.

A few months ago, my sister and I put together a program for our mother's 95th birthday. The program included a chronology of events, inventions, music, etc. that had been influential during her life span. It was somewhat sobering to see all that had transpired.

When I consider the technological advances that have happen even during my lifetime, I can't help but be amazed again. This week, the last space shuttle took off from the cape. I remember the first moon landing. We were trained to us a telephone sparingly, as a tool, when I was growing up. Now, we can always easily be in touch with loved ones anywhere in the world, and we can add every data plan imagineable to our cell plans (and pay a small fortune for it!)

And we can buy cars that seldom need servicing, compared to the vehicles of old. They still should be treated well and with respect for the machine, but it is an incredible relief to have dependable transportation.

Anyway, here is to automotive excellence, and technological progress. May we learn to appreciate the wealth, without becoming a slave to it.

Geometry...

2011-07-03T07:11:00.000-07:00

On my right is my good friend, the sycamore tree. I was first introduced to the sycamore by our gardens curator at Bayou Bend. On the historic property, there is an enormous specimen of this fascinating tree that invariably catches visitors' eyes. It looks like two trees, actually, joined just above the base, and it soars into the sky for several stories. Most of the bark shines almost stark white - the eye-catching characteristic, and at certain times of the year, the outer layer turns dark and sloughs off in long sheets that curl into brittle rolls on the ground.

The tree in the picture is actually another visible along the walk from our visitors' center down to the bridge over the bayou. Though the weather has been somewhat unbearably in the high 90s with heat indexes in the 100s, that walk is just a perfect one for thawing out from the frigid air-conditioning of the offices, with the best part being the chance to open one's eyes - to stretch one's vision and imagination over the lunch break before returning to the business part of working for a museum.

So, why geometry? Well, does the angle of this branch not bring to mind some sort of geometric word problem from your past? Some impossible scenario created by an annoying textbook-writer trying to show us how these things might have practical application some day? A 90- degree angle in a tree for what appears to be no really good reason?

This is another fascinating aspect of sycamores. Their branches do that sometimes. Unpredictable things for no good reason. Well, maybe they had a reason, but they aren't telling. Something about that just really appeals to me. It makes me laugh.

Patriotic Sunday...

2011-06-25T07:16:00.000-07:00

It is Saturday, which of course, means that tomorrow is Sunday, which in my world means singing in the church choir, which always leads me to think, "Now, what were we going to sing tomorrow?" This morning, I remembered that tomorrow, we will sing our patriotic music in anticipation of our country's July 4th Celebration - our Independence Day. Now, I realize that June 26th does not equal July 4th, but sometimes, in the church-summer-choir-communion calendar, things have to be juggled a bit to fit everything in. After all, we don't really have to save patriotism for the actual day of July 4th.

In this case, I have to say that our choir does a pretty fabulous job with this music. It is well-practiced, because we do most of the pieces every year. As a choir member, you eventually memorize it well, which makes it all the more thrilling to sing. For those of us whose second language (or perhaps, our first) is music, I hardly know of any more heartfelt expression than singing this music with the specific intent of taking a moment of our busy lives to remember our history and story as a nation.

I am not one to be open about my politics - I'm a strong believer in the secret ballot. I like to gather as much information as I can from a variety of sources, and sift through it, think through it, and make my decisions. Sometimes, my choice gets elected - sometimes not. Sometimes, I believe that the leadership is doing the best they can - sometimes I think they lose sight of what is important and make serious mistakes. Sometimes I am proud of the way we present ourselves to the rest of the world - sometimes not, but always, I have a very deep love for my country. This is my home. As an entity, it is not perfect - it is run by human beings after all - but I believe that its collective heart is good. I can hope that, given the chance, year by year, we can accomplish some good in the world.

Tomorrow, I will sing for that.

Green again...

2011-06-23T11:00:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, for the first time in months, we enjoyed a substantial amount of rain! Yay rain! Hard to imagine that idea, but we so desperately needed it that driving in it, rearranging plans for it, getting wet in it, and so on and so forth were truly welcome experiences.

It has been so painful to see everything turn brown - grass is one thing, but massive trees withering to a burnt color in the midst of green...a not-so-subtle reminder of how little we control we truly have over our world.

However, today, all has been washed clean of the dust, and all the leaves have "perked up" to a living state. Not the dead trees, but we can certainly be grateful for a reprieve for the rest of the horticultural world. Oooh. Big word.

Just around the corner? Mold.

Dads....

2011-06-19T10:35:00.000-07:00

Father's Day has rolled around again, and for those of us who have had to say final goodbyes to our own fathers, and other fathers dear to us, it can't help but be a day of mixed feelings. Indeed, we are so grateful for all of those dads in the world who are still with us - sharing wisdom, laughs, a knowing look, a gentle reminder, their "lore" of stories that somehow, even after all of these years, we had never heard. And yet, there is the tangible loss of fathers, husbands, and those who have been as close as fathers.

Many times, I hear the term "lost our fathers", and I admit to having used that term myself, but the truth is that, if we had a chance to know our fathers well, we have what my mother has affectionately called "tapes" running in our minds of the things our fathers taught us. And yes, that could be a good thing , or a bad thing. In my case, these have been good, and have shaped the passions in my life. Nothing unusual there.

The picture is a self-portrait of my dad. My niece described it as a picture of a "class act". Yes, that would be correct. Photography was one of his passions back in the day when that art was a different one from the digital one of today. He taught me how to appreciate the art of black and white photography, with the attention to capturing the detail in both the light and the shaded areas, so when I look at this, I not only see the strength, intelligence, and attentiveness in his face, but I also see the play of the backlighting along with the detail in his face - even behind those rather amazing glasses.

So, the "tapes" are playing today, and new tapes are being created, as the marvels of the human mind keep us connected spiritually until we share our stories on heavenly ground. Blessings on all fathers today!

Tangled...

2011-06-11T06:29:00.000-07:00

Recently, one of my picture-taking themes has been branches. I can only give credit to my plant-loving mother for this, as it came up while I was taking her for a wheelchair ride through the gardens of Clarewood House. She does love to get outside, and to watch things grow. It is truly painful to her to see a plant neglected to where it dies. She was commenting on a stately oak tree on the grounds, one of many, whose huge branches spread so gracefully that they become subjects for artists in residence who still practice their skills.

The next chance I had, I ventured out onto the path leading from our new visitors' center down to the historic property, taking pictures of every interesting view of branches I could find. Of course, we all are taught of the basic symmetry of nature, and the way trees' branches erupt is a perfect example - and each species and each tree has its own symmetry. But what of this tangle above? Each of the parts has its own life entering the fray. Each is healthy on its own. Each comes out healthy on the other side. Kind of like a family.

I would not go so far as to say our family is "tangled", as for some reason, that might have a negative connotation to it. But there are many variables in each of our adult lives right now, all to be worked through in the next 5 years or so. It's not a bad thing to have a tangle as long as you can be gentle finding your way out of it. It takes lots of patience, and no rash moves.

Early morning hiking...

2011-06-04T10:59:00.000-07:00

Last evening on my "exercise" walk, I had an especially creative thought about revisiting a goal I had pondered setting about a year ago, which was to select a hike from a handy little guide to hiking trails around Houston, and complete it on some sort of regular basis. Something in my adventuresome spirit liked that idea, and it came flying back to me as I trudged along on the concrete sidewalk.

When I got home, I looked up the Edith Moore Sanctuary, which is an Audubon Society "project," tucked away along a creek in West Houston, surrounded by neighborhoods of somewhat pricey homes. This morning when I arrived, there were a couple of other cars around, but otherwise it was quiet except for the birds and cicadas, and squirrels chasing each other in the dried leaf cover. On sight is a log cabin, complete with a huge porch all the way around. I stopped by the pond across from the cabin to see all the tiny fish and tadpoles busy doing their early morning thing, and then started towards the main bridge that crosses the gully and creek.

It had been years since my last visit, and things were definitely different. More planting, more foliage, and a beautiful clean up and banking of the creek. Almost every bend introduced another board walk to make the paths more accessible. A large slider turtle sat on the side of the path, looking up at me as if to say, "And?", and the birds and cicadas took turns trying to drown out the sounds of the traffic on Memorial Dr., and fairly successfully, if one chose to listen selectively. By the time I had made it all the way around the outer loop, the unseasonable heat was starting to get to me, but I had finished what I came for. A mini-escape into the woods to break the monotony of the work week.

It may not be the Tetons or the Sierras, but it will do!

Memorial Day...

2011-05-30T06:18:00.000-07:00

Somewhere in my school-day studies of American history, I learned of the reasons for the observance of Memorial Day...at least in a generalized way. And yes, as a working person, it becomes, on the surface, one of those days that we also embrace as a given 3-day weekend. However, this morning, because I did have the morning off, I decided to step back into the history files to revisit the origins of the observance. It was originally a day set aside to decorate the graves of those, on both sides, who had died fighting in the American Civil War -brothers who had fought brothers being mourned together. 20,000 at Arlington Cemetary alone.

I believe that a visit to Arlington Cemetary is something that all Americans should experience - there is nothing that brings home sacrifice more than seeing, on those gently rolling hillsides covering acres and acres and acres, the simple white crosses marking so eloquently the graves of those who have served. No matter what one's political persuasion, this becomes a moment of deep reflection.

For those of us on a faith journey that, on the one hand may recognise the practical "necessities" of war, but on the other hand, trains a heart that pleads for peaceful solutions, this is a time that brings us to our knees with a prayer that expresses gratitude for the lives of these, and all of those across the country and around the world who "rest from their labors" of fighting the battles they were asked to fight.

Library time...

2011-05-27T12:24:00.000-07:00

The 2nd floor library at the Bayou Bend Kilroy Center has 2 glass walls that look out over the treetops on one side, and over the downward sloping hillside on the other. Floor to ceiling windows let in an abundance of light. On Fridays, this is my home for an hour as I give the library assistant a break for lunch. It would be enough just to enjoy the quiet and the view for an hour, but then there are also all kinds of books and magazine/catalogs to browse through - more than one could ever hope to absorb about textiles, silver, pewter, American antiques, jeweelry, gardening, paintings, American and Texas history, ceramics, lamps, rugs/carpets, furniture design, architecture, and on and on. It is a delightful place!

Yes, some of this information in these printed books could be obtained online, but for me, there is just something glorious about holding a book, turning the pages, feeling the paper, smelling the book "smell", flipping through it in its full-sized glory. It's not just the learning and reading - it's the tactile, tangible experience.

What will become of our libraries? Will computer searches ever be able to replace the experience of walking through the "stacks" and pulling out something simply for curiosity's sake - something that you might never have imagined "Googling", but that caught your eye nonetheless? And what will become of the magical librarian who could help a growing child develop a love for reading magical stories? What of the quiet common spaces for curious folks to sit and take on the world not "squirreled" away from the rest of the curious folk at large?

http://www.mfah.org/research/bayou-bend-library/

Museum conventions...

2011-05-21T06:02:00.000-07:00

Ha! I typed that and immediately thought, "Well, that could have a double meaning." Such is the English language, and perhaps others as well, with this whole idea of multiple meanings in a single word.

My original idea was to comment on the American Association of Museums, and their current convention (as in keynote speakers, vendor displays, pull-out sessions, meetings, meetings, and more meetings...) in Houston. It is really a great thing for this to be held in our fair city, and as a museum employee, one may have opportunities to witness intriguing events. Stuff I find truly fascinating... Our facility is hosting an afternoon adventure for those who wish to hop on a bus and come visit, and since we surely wish to be great hosts as Miss Ima would have expected, what better way than to know something about our guests? I studied the list, and lo and behold, these people are here from all over the place - Bahrain, Alberta, Puerto Rico, San Francisco, Nebraska, the North Slope of Alaska, Massachusetts, Charlotte, TheSmithsonian - and from a variety of institutions from burroughs covering thousands of miles to house museums to forts to drug companies.

So what do I do but Google all entities represented and spend some time learning about them. Life is a learning experience. It just nevers stops unless you let it or lose the ability. The lovely thing about museums is that they have the capability to help us do that very thing - learn!

Driving in the rain...

2011-05-15T12:42:00.000-07:00

A strange experience it is to drive it a blinding rain after many months of drought. Texas has been in drought conditions for some time, and to a truly scary degree. In Houston, in May, we should not be seeing trees withering and grass turning brown - which is what happens when you don't have an irrigation system. Granted, many areas and personal lawns do have that, but we do not on our little corner of real estate.

However, back to the original topic. This past Thursday included a trip to San Marcos, a friendly, college town gateway to the Hill Country of Texas - a life-style mecca in our state. Drier climate, rolling hills, lakes, scenic roadways, clear cold spring fed rivers and a suggestion of a more relaxed and laid-back Bubba-on-the-porch-strumming-a-guitar-to-a-rollicking-Texas-Swing-sort-of -tune kind of place. If you are a native Texan especially, you dream of living in the Hill Country.

Once again, back to the rain. I happened to be almost half-way to San Marcos when I drove under a massively black front cloud - the kind that turns day to night. On the other side, buckets of rain started falling, slowing the normal 80 mph speeds on the interstate to a crawling 40 mph, wipers going full blast and even then seeing only the tailights of the car in front of you and the occasional sparkly lane dividing cleats. It had been so long since I had driven in a rain like that, I could feel my neck and the back of my head tighten into a vise. I have to say, the trip takes much longer at 40 than at 70 (Yes, I do follow the speed limit...It's just easier than having to worry.)

I did not begrudge to difficulty of the drive, though. What a blessing to have had that downpour to dust off the world an give it a desperately needed drink. We can hope for more!

Magnolias and mothers...

2011-05-06T20:21:00.001-07:00

I kept thinking I had a better photo of a magnolia blossom in full platter-sized regalia, and somewhere amongst the myriad of pictures I've taken at Bayou Bend, it seems to have hidden itself.

We are two days away from Mothers' Day - one of those Hallmark holidays meant to sell cards, flowers, chocolates, and brunches. However, being a mother myself, I have to say I do appreciate it. The celebration doesn't have to be a huge thing. Being together with your own mom, or as a mom, or celebrated by those to whom you have been like a mother - these are all simple pleasures.

So today, I send you a picture of what is blooming in the gardens these days. The blossom of a tree, no less. Interestingly enough, when I researched what the magnolia is said to symbolize, these were the words that were used:

Splendid beauty and dignity. Perseverance. Nobility. Sweetness. With love for nature.

Hmmm. Actually sounds like qualities of many of the mothers I know. What a coincidence, right? Happy Mothers' Day!

Being proud...

2011-04-30T18:51:00.000-07:00

There are watershed moments that we carry with us all of our lives. Every experience builds on another, and that on another. Losing your spouse when your children are young leaves you, and them, with a hole in your experiences that seems to heal over, then open, then heal over, then open. The loss, over the long term, is a handle-able thing. Not that it is ever an easy thing, but you comes to terms with certain aspects of it all, and you find ways to move forward in a way that is consistent with the part of the relationship that you hold in your heart. Even so, every once in a while, a time comes along when you just dearly miss having your spouse with you. One of those is coming up.

Four years ago, it happened when my oldest child graduated from college. Here was a young man who, not for being asked to, but just out of circumstance, had to serve as a male role model for his younger siblings. A young man who had struggled with aspects of school because of his "abundant energy" and numerous other obstacles, but who had persevered and obtained his degree. I so missed having his father there to be proud of him with me. There were others there who had been monumental support on all different levels, but the one who had helped to bring him into the world and had given him his name was not, except in spirit. So, I was incredibly proud and happy and deeply sad at the same time.

Now, four years later comes along our third-born child, ready to graduate with highest academic honors. She has worked extremely hard - earned scholarships and found jobs to enable her to attend a school away from home, and spent hours upon hours thinking, dreaming, creating and helping others to do the same. She has found a church home and grown with her friends there, and kept a beautiful spirit about her through it all. She will walk down that aisle, and I will have the same emotions well up again, knowing that her father's spirit is surely with us, knowing that his sweet baby girl that he was so thrilled to have has become such a lovely confident young woman. And he will laugh at whatever she glues to the top of her mortar board, remembering his own antics at his high school graduation.

And then, a year from now, when our second-born son gets his first degree, once again I will live with this experience as he celebrates his journey of struggling to find his passion, and then following through on it. And it will be as much a celebration of "finding", as of the self-confidence that has blossomed and shone and lifted him into a new vision of himself as capable and valuable in the world outside of home. And his father again will be with us somehow, bursting with pride in the young man who is so in his likeness in so many ways. He will be with us, but not in the way where you can hold his strong hand and see the joy in his face, and again, I will be proud and happy and also deeply sad.

Then, when all of this is done, we will continue our journeys in this world - finding our paths, taking our turns in the road, climbing over obstacles, and making new relationships until finally, we meet him again in the journey and have all of our questions answered. And love will reign over all.

Our answer to the Decorah eagles...

2011-04-21T17:54:00.000-07:00

This week someone on the staff discovered that we have a hawk sitting on a nest close by one of our signature sights. We have always known that we had a pair of hawks who frequented the grounds. In fact, they had been known to "follow" certain people who, perhaps, appeared threatening. I don't know how any of those people could look threatening to a bird of prey used to riding the wind currents and swooping and sailing all over the gardens, hunting and diving for goodies in the back woods. In any case, several of us were very excited, and have been keeping a watchful eye on their home tucked away in an appropriately camouflaged spot.

Now, earlier this week, I really wanted to be able to get a picture of this wondrous event. I mean, after all, one can venture onto YouTube and follow the Decorah eagles' webcam, waiting for each instinctual movement of these enormous, but gentle giants. The truth is though that I am not equipped with the right camera/lenses/etc. to get the job done with the hawks. So, though Iwas initially disappointed, I decided that perhaps it was just as well. It's their home and family, after all. And we already know how I feel about privacy, right? I can be content with a daily pilgrimage to see what can be seen. Today, one was calmly sitting on the nest, no doubt happy that the air boats that only occasionally pass, as they did yesterday, are not around today, and will leave them at peace with the breeze, and the shivering sycamore leaves, and the sandbars and muddy banks.

What a beautiful Easter gift, these creatures waiting patiently for new life to come into the world!

"It sounds like the last act of Traviata"...

2011-04-14T05:28:00.000-07:00

I cannot claim to have uttered these words. No, they emerged from the illustrious mind of our church choir director and organist par excellance. I'll have to admit that it took me a while to put the joke together, perhaps because it was beginning to be the witching hour of the day for me - that time when the brain just starts to fade into shut down mode. The sad part is that I was actually one of the guilty parties in the description. When I did make the connection, I couldn't help but guffaw. Sorry for those within earshot. As I said, couldn't help it.

You see, it is spring in the Bayou City. Glorious time of year. Everything blooming, trees sprouting - a generalized coming alive going on. And with all of this delight comes, wait for it, ridiculous amounts of pollen and whatever else throws ones eyes, noses, and sinuses into fits of discomfort. And here we were trying to sing with all of that going on in our heads. All that leads to is fits of coughing and sniffling and clearing of one's throat and more coughing and hacking.

So, what is the connection to La Traviata,Verdi's operatic tragedy? Hmmmmmm. As it turns out, the heroine, in the final act, is on her death bed with tuberculosis.

Oh my... Such a very bad joke, but so very true. I couldn't get an acceptable breath all evening. As much as I love spring, it may be a good time for the simple green of summer to take hold around here and give our repiratory systems a break!

Edit...

2011-04-10T06:18:00.000-07:00

For some reason, even though I prefer to separate my paragraphs with double-spaces, Blogger keeps taking them out. It's entirely possible that I have mistakenly set the formatting to where it is doing this on purpose, but for whatever reason, I find it annoying. Every English teacher I ever had would be shaking a stick at me. "No! No! No! I promise Ms. (fill in the appropriate teacher's name). I do know that new thoughts need to be set apart somehow!" Oh dear. Does this mean that I will have to resort to the age old practice of indenting at the beginning of the paragraph? Let's see if that works...

Ha! Well so far, so good. Well, no actually I discovered the secret, I think. I had been in the "compose" window, rather than the "edit Html" one. Silly me. Computer logic strikes again. I should have known that I would be editing my editing and that code was involved, even though it was all hidden. Now I totally understand why my two sons finally reached a point in the web design world where the coding was no longer a puzzle, and became just plain annoying.

However, it seems that my immediate problem has been solved, and I will no longer be haunted by English teachers (Mr. Pedigo, God rest his soul!) or my fear that my loyal readers eill think that I'm writing run-on paragraphs...

Gates and doors...

2011-04-08T11:02:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I had an enlightened moment. Perhaps I've had them before. Who knows where these things will lead, but I did have one as I pulled into the gravel parking lot at work and parked my car. As is true for many people, I'm sure, I listen to music on my commute. Certainly not the radio - I would arrive ready to pinch someone's ears off. The commercials, the hype, the news...let us protect ourselves from these things early in the morning!

No, I keep a few cds in the car, and when I tire of those I recycle the stock, choosing replacements from the eclectic collection at home. This particular day, I was listening to the Cambridge Singers performing favorites composed by John Rutter. While, Mr. Rutter would not necessarily be on the top of my favorite composers (I'm not totally sure who would be at the top of that list...), he has written some absolutely lovely music. The important part is that most of the pieces have gorgeously lyrical melodies and equally as satisfying and comforting Christian texts, and listening to these performances done by an English choir, some with boy sopranos and altos in their hauntingly light to non-existent vibratos ---well what can one say. It's a prayer in and of itself.

On this morning, one of my favorites was in mid-play, so when I pulled into my parking space, I just turned off the engine (but not the music) and listened to the end. Just closed my eyes, let the melody and lyrics wash over, and calmed myself for the day. Now I imagine there might not be anything unusual about that except for the fact that one of our trusty security staff saw me pulling into the lot, and had very kindly opened the door for me to come in while I was out of sight, sitting quietly in my car with the motor off.

He was kind enough not to ask me why, but I thought later that maybe I just should have said I was having my time with God. I mean, it was true. We have to grab our moments with Him sometimes in unexpected ways. Those moments open so many new gates and doors,,,,

Thanks...

2011-03-27T16:59:00.000-07:00

I started this little blogging project a few years back, and though I really have enjoyed the writing part - the reflection, the finding-the-words, the sharing-part-of-my-world - I had no idea that anyone beyond a few family members and close friends were ever stopping by to see what was going on.

Enter, a little tab on the "navigation" bar to Tunes 'n Twine - the one that reads "Stats". I had never noticed it there before, but it tells me that there are people on the other side of the world from me who have visited this page, for whatever reason.

My hope, of course, would be that, there would be something here of substance to each one, even if it were only a picture or a link to a bit of the world that I love. You never know. Today, I leave everyone who has spent even a few moments here with a "Thank you!" and a bouquet of spring flowers. It may not be spring everywhere. In fact, in some places, there may be deepest winter still in force and very difficult times and suffering to endure. But I do wish an instant of beauty to be in your day, and a glimmer of hope that spring can bring.

Dreaming...Part 2...

2011-03-25T19:35:00.000-07:00

This time, left alone with my imagination, I picture myself in a modern cabin in the mountains...probably the Rockies. The modern part would come from its having a low impact on the environment, but it would still be full of warmth. Mostly, that would mean a bevy of windows looking out over trees, water, not necessarily much of anything else. There would be a stone terrace and a wooden porch with rockers, with plenty of room for visitors to feel at home. Any planting would be native and self-sustaining, but if I felt like it, I could plant a veggie garden in a tub in a sunny spot. There would be wind chimes - the big long metal ones that chime low.

And there might be a fanciful metal sculpture that twirled in the breeze. Inside, you could flop onto comfy, soft couches, and curl up in upholstered chairs, and stretch out legs onto ottomans. Fabric wall hangings - old quilts, woven rugs with no fringe. Random collections of smooth river rocks would fill blown glass or wooden bowls,and Mason jars would display treasures from walks in the woods.

Tasty multigrain breads, peanut butter , fuji apples, pomegranates, and an assortment of strong-bodied coffees, baby spinach, some emmenthaler cheese or baby Swiss. Recipes and ingredients for multiple kinds of meatloaf. River sandals, serious hiking boots, and some leather flat clogs. Fun socks. Jeans, more jeans, and many more jeans, loose-fitting Tshirts to layer and simple pullover sweaters. A simple camera to capture morning, evening, shadows, sunshine, wildflowers, rocks, water, and any furry or feathery creatures that might visit. If there were butterflies or hummingbirds, they would be welcome.

There would be geography and history books, and autobiographies and lots of Bach and Brahms and folk music of every sort from all over the world, and room to dance, and a 3-wheel bicycle with a big basket and a funny, squeaky horn. Every day would be a new adventure - however small - and I would welcome my family and friends and faith.

Privacy...

2011-03-20T16:25:00.001-07:00

One of my very favorite private spots, that is before Hurricane Ike rearranged the landscape and ripped out the trees. Today was my day to contemplate privacy - especially in the artist's life.

There was a time many, many years ago when I went to an open audition held by a record label somewhat based in Dallas. All comers were recorded in an enormous studio, I did one of my original songs, and all went quite well. Not too long after that, I received a letter inviting me to come talk business with them.

For several reasons that really had to do more with where I was in life, my naivete, and my knowledge of what the music business might be like, I ended up declining the invitation. So "What if?", right? In hindsight, I'm sure I madethe right decision for me, though I know there were some who wondered, still do, why I didn't follow through on the offer.

All this past history took a little revisit today as I was reading an interview with Hugh Laurie, the actor/musician of note from England who has become so insanely popular across the globe for his portrayal of House, M.D. He was discussing, among other things, the paranoia which stems from being hounded by all manner of people with cell phone cameras ready to send any picture, comment, out of context remark or expression out over the internet for the world to make its own. I thought, "Yes, the loss of privacy, for yourself and those you love - that, I didn't think I could do." Privacy, totally ripped from one's control as with the onslaught of hurricane-force winds.

It has been said that in any art, the moment you finish your creation, it is no longer yours, but becomes the property of the audience and subject to their interpretation. What a complicated thing for an actor or singer in a world where people often forget, or refuse, to separate the creator from the creation. Where people often try to "take ownership" of that artist's life in addition to the art...

For this particular artist, I do wish him well. His heart seems to be in the right place.

2011-03-18T14:36:00.000-07:00

I just went for a quick walk on the north side of the house - that is, the one at Bayou Bend. Not my house. Definitely not. I walked down from the offices, so it was a bit of a trek, but worth it. Since last weekend, the azaleas have absolutely exploded into bloom. The blooms on the smaller varieties are so thick, they look almost like someone stuffed brightly colored tissue paper into every nook and cranny of a screen, then placed it in the garden. The large hedges have come alive, and the dogwood is still claiming its corner of the East Garden.

I had heard Bonnie say at the beginning of the week that everything seemed to be at 95% bloom, and so I had been aching to go down there. Crowds of Sip and See go-ers thronged in last night to take advantage of their Groupons, and I loved telling them that they had chosen the perfect night to come for a visit. Now if only I could scoop up my mother, wheel chair and all, and take her for a walk in the gardens - that would make for a perfect spring. We'll see how she feels about taking on that kind of adventure.

Adventures are things we never grow out of, but sometimes, they have to take a different form than we might have hoped for or dreamt of. (And yes, I have concluded with a preposition. So sorry about that!)

Dreaming....

2011-02-26T10:08:00.000-08:00

So, today I'm thinking that, eveything else being equal and of no consequence in the decision-making process, because, of course, I'm just allowing myself to wander around in my head, I should someday: Live in a small cottage at a beach, with a big porch and simple, comfy furnishings and a floor that can be swept. And I think that it really should have a self-cleaning bathroom. They did it for ovens, didn't they? And a fridge full of fruit and veggies and cheese and continuous supply of spring water and Sonic ice. Some roasted almonds, pecans, with no salt, or the very,very least bit of sea salt dusting.

I would need a few good books that I've always wanted to read, and some kids' picture books, and casual pictures of the ones I love scattered about. Lots of kinds of music and ways to make it. Plenty of yarn and crochet needles. A few momentos of old and new memories, and journals in handy places with pens attached on a string. And I would have plenty of loose fitting jeans and soft fabric shirts, and I would live in worn-in Birkenstocks (with colorful socks for the winter). A cotton sweater, a wool sweater, and a rain slicker, with hat. Some sort of perfect container for beachcombing. And I would surround myself with shells, and sea glass, and driftwood, and be a friend to children and adults who love to dig in the sand.

And sometimes, I would wake up to greet the sun, and often, say goodbye to it as it set. And as often as they could, my loved ones would come and visit and bring me happiness in my heart. And God would always be with me.

Birthdays and such...

2011-02-15T15:49:00.000-08:00

February is a big month for birthdays in the family, with my twin son and daughter on the 8th, and my sister on the 9th. And those, of course, are closely followed by Valentine's Day. The twins actually came home from the hospital on Valentine's Day, not because they were premature in any way, but because their mom was sick as a dog. So, as it turns out, all of the three dates are very special to me.

This year's weather has been very reminiscent of the year that they were born. We were in the middle of one of the worst ice storms Houston had ever seen, noone was supposed to be on the roads because they were all trecherous, and there I was with two big babies ready to be born. I'm really glad we are this far removed from that, but of course, the worries then transfer to all of the grown children having to drive in the bad weather. The worries just change and morph and mutate and whatever other verbs one can think of to mean the same thing. Then we get to be the concerned parent who decides to go ahead and give advice as best we can without hovering... Lest we not, and have something happen that we regret. Parenting is just definitely one of the hardest things in the world. Noone has all of the answers, but we just keep on keeping on.

We have Ice, folks.

2011-02-04T07:59:00.000-08:00

No, not the snow that was predicted. Oops! Just ice. Actually, ice is worse in Houston because, first of all, you can't see it. We in Houston tend to be the self-sufficient types who think that if it can't be seen, there is surely no problem. And then our well-meaning media types have to overdo their warnings and preparations because we don't always make the decision to use our "common sense" mode of thinking.

In any case, I get to stay home today to protect myself from those who do not know how to drive in icy conditions, and I have to admit, that's fine with me. There is always a grocery list of things waiting to be done at home. Closets to clean, clothes to wash, clutter to be un-cluttered, and on the other side of the coin, books to read, music to learn, daydreaming to drift off into, dogs to cuddle, yarn to crochet, Grannys to call. Bank accounts to check, bills to pay, notes to write, cards to send. Recipes to try... What else?

Who would guess...

2011-01-27T05:30:00.000-08:00

One of the most magnificent things about the gardens is that, eventually, no matter what kind of winter we have endured, they come alive again each spring. The gardeners and garden club always see to it that there is always some color scattered about, but the true heralds of the coming color are the camellias. Not just one kind, but tiny to enormous, stark white to deep red, perfectly proportioned to infinitely ruffled.

What would we do without so much variety in our lives, and what better model than nature to bring it to our attention. One thing affecting life in our family right now is the change in relationships. Some that we thought were good, or even the best, for years (and some were...) are now changing, and that is troublesome for those who have not experienced the cycle before. It is hard to assure those encountering it that all will be well in the end. Sometimes watching the "bloom" fade is the hardest part, but it can give way to glorious new growth. Or sometimes, after seeing the wealth of many choices, we crystalize in our minds the qualities that we most value over time, and we search for more and better examples of those.

In nature, the process goes by quickly from season to season, but in life, the transitions can be so slow that we get a bit blindsided when they come to a recognizable change of direction. That's when we really need faith...

Discovery

2010-12-22T05:54:00.000-08:00

I just took a few moments to review, and discovered that, what I thought might have been erased into the vast chasm of the digital waste basket, was actually right there in full view all the time. Somehow, I had thought that I started blogging sooner than I actually had, and that a year's worth of writing had evaporated. Now, had I taken the time to read the first entry, I would have realized that what is posted is actually the full content. We won't speak as to how erudite any of it is...

It is way too easy to get timelines scrambled around in our minds, and I'm not sure that gets any better as we age, though maybe it just refines itself down to the most important moments, and then we remember those quite well. In speaking with a co-worker about her working history with the MFAH director, Peter Marzio, who recently passed away somewhat unexpectedly, I was reminded that more and more of what we take for granted about those around us is actually a very rich tapestry of stories, which when viewed for the first time, can definitely rework the importance of some of those timeline moments. Oops. Time to pack up the netbook, and get ready for work.....!

And we're done...

2010-12-17T18:45:00.000-08:00

Done with 4 weeks of Candlelight Tours on Thursday and Friday nights...three hours on top of an 8 hour work day...welcoming hundreds of people graciously into our home away from home.
I will sleep well tonight!

And as of last weekend, seeing my youngest niece embark on her married life...leaving behind her "single-ness", but not herself. Graciously accepting the steps of a new journey.

Now, here comes Christmas...a week away...and miles to go to bring the celebration together. Can we simplify our expectations such that being together is more important than being busy? We'll see. Music, a few surprises, and a bit of a meal together. Ah! And finding a time to take some pictures of the three young adults at home for the holidays. Sounds like a perfect holiday to me.

Yum!

2010-12-04T16:37:00.000-08:00

By popular demand...the recipe for Leche Quemada.

Ingredients:

2 cups pieces of pecans
1 stick of margarine plus 1 Tbsp.
3/4 cup light brown sugar
1 can sweetened condensed milk

First, roast the pecans. Spread them evenly on a microwave-safe plate. Cook on High for 2 minutes (700 watt oven). Stir thoroughly, then cook for 2 more minutes. Stir. Cook last 2 minutes. Stir a few times afterwards to keep from burning with latent heat.

Melt margarine in a 2 quart microwave-safe bowl. Stir in sweetened condensed milk and brown sugar. Cook for 7 minutes, stirring every 2 minutes. When the sugar starts to have a grainy texture and is golden brown to toasty brown in color, add pecans and stir thoroughly. Pour immediately into an 8" square dish. Chill, and then cut into squares.

Enjoy!

Time out...

2010-12-04T09:57:00.000-08:00

I am sitting in my comfy chair with my feet up, having returned not too long ago from HEB to buy ingredients for leche quemada, and I just had the fleeting thought that it would actually be wonderful to just lay down there next to the dog and do exactly what she is doing - sleeping. I have never had much luck falling asleep in the middle of the day - at least not since I had children. The two just down't seem to go together, but today, it seems like the right thing to do.

Do I have the "time" to do this? Not really, if one counts the innumerable projects that could be brought up... Just the two on tap - the candy-making and the stiffening of the Christmas snowflakes with a solution of water/glue - make me long for my pillow even more.

Too many days of getting up at 6:00 and working until 7:00... May need to take some vacation days after all.

Yuletide arrives...

2010-11-21T05:10:00.000-08:00

Three days later, and exhausted to the bone, we welcome you to Yuletide time at Bayou Bend. Yes, it is approximately six months in the making, actual "installing", and weeks in the showing to hundreds of usually delighted guests. Who would guess that it is such a production, even in a year when the materials and stoies told are a repeat from last year. (And that is really meant as a statement, not a question.)

Let the season begin! I went out on a limb with my church choir, suggesting they come because it is a delightful way to escape the madding crowds of the holidays. I hope that will still be true, even as museum "visibility" increases. There may not be much about waiting in a line or finding a parking place that is different from going to the mall, but I think we still try to find ways to keep it from being too unpleasant - there are cider and cookies, and hugely funny puppets. There are nostalgic trips to be taken in some of the rooms where toys from Christmases past are scattered on the floor.

There is music in an elevated clear tent that lets in the moon and starlight but protects one from the sometimes chilly wind. There are candles lighting the pathways through the gardens up to the house, and in theory, one could take as little or as much time as one desired to relax and be transported away from the craziness of the season. Who wouldn't want that? (Yes, that one was meant truly as a question.) We will hope for record numbers of visitors this year!

News travels...

2010-11-14T08:15:00.000-08:00

I just finished looking at my YouTube "Insight" for the week. For those who question, "What is that?", I say it is YouTube's way of tracking all sorts of statistics regarding the number of times your posted video has been viewed. Now, my two little contributions are hardly drawing any great crowds. I was curious at first to watch for numbers, but that soon faded into tracking the countries in which people were watching.

Here comes the fun. The summary shows a map of the world. The areas highlighted in the darkest green represent where the most views have occurred during a given time. So, logically, my two little slideshows with music started out in the USA. But I have one dear friend in England, so I started seeing some color across the sea. Then, low and behold, I started seeing some green in the Netherlands and Germany, then France, and now we have crossed back over the Atlantic, and the green is appearing in Canada.

Now, mind you, we are talking about miniscule numbers of people in comparison to the numbers who regularly frequent the YouTube site, but it is fun to wonder how the connections are being made. In the meantime, I may just have to post another song, just to see where that might lead.

Hello, November.

2010-11-11T17:11:00.000-08:00

And where did you come from? What happened to October? Oh yeah, Now I remember. Wednesday nights - Antiques 101. Thursday nights - Sip and See. And saying goodbyes...
And tons of meetings. And some gorgeous weather.

Now, the birthdays unfold. What did I get as a present? A shiny crown, but not one of the sparkly ones with the blinking lights. This one hides in my mouth, disguised as a molar, but will most likely cost as much as a sparkly one! I hope someone will remind me next Halloween that Laffy Taffy is not on the menu. (or bubble gum, or Dots, or caramels, or Tootsie Rolls, or red hots...)

Low-water crossing...

2010-10-16T06:17:00.000-07:00

The entry to the gardens at Bayou Bend inovlves crossing a footbridge suspended over Buffalo Bayou. For one who does this often, there is a story to be told by the bayou and its banks and the color of the water. Right now, the water is running clear enough, and low enough that you can see the bottom and the colors of the sand vs. the color of the vegetation and sky reflected in the deeper water. The banks remain steeper than in previous years because we were blessed with plenty of rain - a plus for the vegetation, but a minus for the creation of a gentle slope to the water's edge.

Why do I care about these little things, and why do I write about them? I guess I'm just hopelessly reflective. Ultimately, I know that everything on this earth has its cycles, and somehow we are all related in that. In the last few weeks, I have lost several people who have been good friends, stalwarts in my "growing up" years, mentors, family,

and just generally, part of the fabric of my life. It's a strange feeling to bombarded with that loss.

So when I look out over the bayou and see all the ripples in the sand under the water, and the hidden pools and eddies, and the exposed sandbars, it makes me think of the simplicity and beauty of our lives when all of the rush and bustle of the hard-core living of it has passed. Learning how to just "be", and then letting go even of that. Another completion of the cycle...

Talking to myself...

2010-10-03T08:42:00.000-07:00

Yes, that's what I do when I'm cleaning the bathroom, sweeping the floor, sorting dirty laundry, emptying the trash and generally trying to catch up from several weeks of work activities and sad times in the family that contributed to my being behind with everything. My choice this morning in the midst of this was whether to make a point of attending church for the first time in weeks, or to try to get a few things back to normal in my house, so that I can feel a little peace in that part of my life. This time, I chose the latter.

That led me to thinking. What is a fair response to expect from our faith community when we are missing, or have lost a loved one? And when we have not kept this to ourselves, but have let them know about a loss. Perhaps on the large scale, one might expect very little, especially if one is discreet and does not broadcast his life from the streetcorner - but how about on the "small group" scale? My current experience is that my expectations must be way too high. The model I was shown growing up is not what I'm confronted with now.

The easiest solution then, I guess, is to expect nothing. But then, the question becomes, what is the purpose of being in a faith community? If each person in the group is acting only out of concern for himself and his given set of friends, then what becomes of the group at large - those who have been active and steadfast, but have ended up on the periphery. If the "value" of the periphery seems less, is it time to move on?

Changes

2010-09-18T07:35:00.000-07:00

Up until a few days ago, the pictures tacked to the
walls of my cubicle at work were of family, and of the gardens in the full regalia of spring. I needed that more immediate reminder of the beauty of my workplace - or at least, the ultimate focus of my work efforts.

But then, I noticed the light changing outside. Not the heat, mind you, as it still feels like summer, but the light was taking on the cooler look of fall. It reminded me of the beauty of the ravines in the color of changing of the seasons, so I printed off this photo and posted it beside the others.

Then, somewhat suddenly, though not totally unexpectedly, I received word of the passing of a dear family member. I think the fall would be a good time to leave this earth. When you've completed your work for God here, to be about laying down to rest with the rest of nature - that just has a resonance about it that seems right. Although we are an "Easter people" in terms of what is ahead, there is something correct about saying our goodbyes in the fall.

Love you, Grams.

Bolivar Ferry, Come Carry Me Home

2010-09-05T19:22:00.000-07:00

That's what my song says, though I never actually lived on the Bolivar Peninsula. I believe in the power of the imagination, though, and the idea of seeing that barrier island along the coast be wiped clean by Hurricane Ike 2 years ago was as horrific to me as if I did live there.

I've ridden the ferry across from Galveston now twice since the storm. The first time, we took the car and drove toward Gilchrest. A year's time had healed some wounds - some of the vegetation had returned, but there was little re-building going on.

I understand that they have created a "blueprint" for recovery, but all realize that it will be a long time coming. Even in Galveston, some of the landmarks are different, but soon, the only people who will miss the old will be the ones who knew it before, and plenty of them will not return.

I put together a little video remembrance for the second anniversary of the landfall of the storm - Bolivar Ferry - Come Carry Me Home on YouTube as my way of contributing to the re-building effort. Cash flow doesn't allow for much, but creativity can be a source for all kinds of hope. That would make me happy.

Back to School!

2010-08-26T04:42:00.000-07:00

Yes, folks. It's that time of year when the parking lots are full at the mall, the traffic is congested with school busses and extra parental people delivering precious cargo to the drop-off lanes, and everyone is somewhat harassed into the transition toward fine-tuning the new busy, busy schedule. Also the reason that onemight be updating a blog at an early hour of the morning, though, since this is neither email nor Facebook, who would know that it was early in the morning?

And as we face the flurry of activity of school being back in session, so we also face a flurry of activity at work, with the grand opening of the new building looming closer and closer. It is a strange feeling to no longer be on the inside group who hears about planning for everything - I just have to trust that the dates will be made available to me to put on the calendar. With the explosion of new people on the staff, and the compartmentalization of so many jobs which were once handled by a small group who all wore many hats, I find myself in a bit of an identity crisis.
The things left for me to do have their own importance - dealing with detail work that most others don't want to do - and finding things that my 3 years on staff have given me the knowledge to find - but not so much growth in responsibilities.

With all of this change going on around me, I find myself feeling strangely detached.

On the other hand, it has been a position of transition for 3 years. Back to school for me too, I guess.

In the heat of the summer...

2010-08-18T14:40:00.000-07:00

What in the world brought that phrase to mind? And I can hear Joan Baez singing it, at that! I think I need to pull that LP out and listen to it.

The simple explanation is that it is August in Houston, and that means temps in the high 90s and humidity that feels like a similar figure, adding up to a heat index of 110 or something else ridiculous. So, this is the month that we leave our air-conditioned house in the morning, go to our air-conditioned office, take our lunch so we don't have to leave the building at noon, get in our air-conditioned car at 5:00 to drive home to our air-conditioned house. And what in the world are those idiots doing running at Memorial Park when the heat index is exploding? NO, NO, NO!
Hop on the recumbent bike and go, go, go.

I'm not sure where I thought I was going to go with this. Perhaps it's just the fog of the heat. I do wish I were more inspired. That may be an indication that I need to get out of town and clear my brain of all the computer file re-organization and calendar detail that has been consuming my work days. Brain...drain...

We are a green garden...

2010-07-27T14:11:00.000-07:00

This is what we say to those who call in July and ask, "What is blooming in the gardens right now?" It's a innocent enough question, especially for those who are visiting from out of town.
However, in the summer, we are even lucky to be able say "we are green..." because sometimes, without lots of rain, things start to take on a withering, dusty, thirsty sort of look that comes from not enough of that elixir from the clouds.

Today, though, I took time on my lunch break to walk my usual course through the back paths - something I'm afraid I haven't done since mid-May. I've been missing those walks. I could always step out and take a turn around the gardens to clear my head from the office "fog", and now, our location makes it less convenient. This was the day I decided to make a point of getting reacquainted with those gravel walkways, and it was a treat.

I was astonished at how very green everything was. This of course means that every shade of green normally represented was that much more of a healthy green for this time of the year.
Most amazing were the beds of wood fern -- close to waist-high in some spots, and thick and plentiful. All green. None of the brown burnt fronds interspersed with the green, and new fiddle-heads everywhere so that one could tell there was still new growth. So, that's what happens when it rains every day in July!

The ferns are happy, and so are the azaleas and camellias. All deep green and leaves open, not drooping and folding up in the heat. The holly ferns look almost as if someone came along and polished them - all shiny and perky. The only thing suffering seems oddly enough to be the grass on the lawn...maybe too much water there!

Even with the 200% humidity, it was good to be back on the property. Eye candy.

Spider

2010-07-17T12:06:00.000-07:00

Not that inventive a title, but just this morning I remembered something about which I had been meaning to write. I remembered just as, for the upteenth time this week, I managed to walk face first through the handiwork of a very determined spider who has taken a liking to the area between our back door and the driveway where my CRV rests at night. This spider has, for the past week, been spanning the several feet of air space there with a catcher's mitt that ends up on my face or in my hair every morning.

I first noticed its creation early one morning when I had actually walked out via the front door and made the journey up the sidewalk to the car, approaching from the opposite direction than usual. When I looked up, there was the most beautiful of webs, right out of some geometry book or nature magazine. I wished for a camera, but all were inside, and I was running late. By the afternoon, some poor unwitting soul had walked through that one, and the spider was not to be seen. However, the next morning, I walked out the back door, and ick! Found the web with my face. You would think I would learn after having this happen several days in a row...

Finally, this morning, I remembered to watch for it, and went around. Give the little guy a break, right? Actually, I guess it might be a little gal. Whichever, it has to be the most determined, hard-working, stubborn creature around. A true inspiration from nature. I hope he is catching his fill of bugs, and doesn't get too angry with me for crashing his spider party so often.

July randomness...

2010-07-16T13:35:00.000-07:00

I started to write about the sweltering summer heat, but that does nothing to lift one's mood, does it?. It's Friday, and I need something to look forward to for the evening - especially since I fill in as weekend receptionist for the next two days.

What to do? I've been looking for unaccompanied violin pieces to learn. I love the Bach partitas, of course, but have no concerted desire todeal with the fugues, chaconne, and triple/quadruple stops of some of the movements. Truth is that there is a limited amount of repertoire out there, so adding in some fiddle music may help. Cajun? Maybe. I'm open to suggestions, but not expecting any. And why unaccompanied? Well, of course, the obvious - it takes two to make that tango.

I had occasion to practice in the conference room at the VEC. What amazing acoustics! You could fill the whole building with sound from one instrument. I've always thought playing from the 2nd floor landing about Philadelphia Hall would create a wonderful filtering of sound through Bayou Bend, but never tried it.

I do love making music, even if it is just for myself...

Independence Day

2010-07-02T19:12:00.000-07:00

We have managed to arrive at the 4th of July weekend - this year with the day itself falling on a Sunday. This leads to complications.

Sunday's are about worshipping, and worship for me is about singing, and singing leads to choir to special music for the holiday. And glorious music it will be. Patriotic, but in a faith setting, with orchestra to add color, and sweeping melodies that get thoroughly stuck in one's head. Bring on the Saturday rehearsal, followed by two performances on Sunday morning.

Grab a quick bite of lunch, and scurry over to Bayou Bend to "pulse" the footbridge for the 4th of July Celebration. This is really one of my favorite events. Yes, it is hot and humid, but that is Houston in the summer. Here is the reading of theDeclaration of Independence, the fife and drum corps, the music, the marches, the birthday cake, and 9 acres of room for guests to walk and run and escape from the pressures of the hoard crowding in for the fireworks in downtown. And where else can you go and sign your name there along with Jefferson and Franklin and friends?

How does one "pulse" a footbridge? Well, when confronted with lesser hoards of people, but a narrow footbridge across a bayou, one must allow only 30 guests at a time to cross, giving them time to find their footing on the bouncingly responsive suspension device and make their ways cautiously to the other side. It's just the kind thing to do for those who have not yet learned the bridge "shuffle" gait that keeps the walkway steady.

However, considering the amount of rain that we've had in the past week, thanks to the first hurricane of the season, we may need a ferry rather than a bridge...

Father's Day

2010-06-20T16:25:00.000-07:00

Today my thought is to wish a blessed Father's Day to all the fathers who are, all who took on the role, and all of the angels who were.

As part of a choir trip to San Antonio a few months ago, we toured several of the missions on the Mission Trail. The day was gorgeously clear and the tours afforded some walking and picture opportunities. My attraction to the rose window in the photo was that my father had taken pictures of it years before I was born. An avid and talented photographer, he waited for the light on it to be perfect so there were few, if any, shadows. In a box in my closet is a print from one of those photos - an 8x10 developed in his own darkroom.

The draw of this window comes from every side being carved differently. Yet, there's a great deal about it that is symmetrical. Interesting in that, like a whole person, within itself it has many facets. It wears many hats, just as fathers have to do. How do they ever manage? How do any of us ever manage to do that and still appear as a single being? Well, it's certainly part of what keeps us all interesting. I'm glad I managed to share this window with my dad. I like to think it gives him a smile.

3 years ago...

2010-06-18T13:42:00.000-07:00

I started to work at Bayou Bend. I was just reminded of this by our director, and of course, this set the brain in motion. Summers tend to be a bit slower - except for History Camp and the July 4th Celebration. There is a bit of time to catch up on all those little things that kept getting pushed down the "to do" list. Everyone knows that I mean the details that aren't going to make the world come crashing down if they are not addressed.

I remember being told 3 years ago that I would be given a good part of the first couple of weeks to go through files and get familiar with things. I was so lost, so clueless about so much. I didn't even begin to guess what anything was. I had made the jump to HyperSpace, and was pedaling as fast as I could.

I confess to still be pedaling, but that is a good thing. Challenges here and there, knowing enough to be able to think ahead, and being acquainted with the programming flow here - all of these make for a built-in continuing education course. No college credits given, but plenty of satisfaction in learning a bit of something new every day.

Buffalo Bayou Blues

2010-06-13T15:09:00.002-07:00

The sultry summer is definitely upon us. That familiar suffocating Houston heat that kept the city somewhat stymied until air-conditioning became the rule of the day. I grew up in a house only partially air-conditioned with window units, and there were plenty of summer afternoons stretched out on a bed next to the window while an enormous attic fan pulled air into the house, creating a breeze and mind-numbing white noise conducive to taking a nap.

Now, sometimes just to thaw out from the very high efficiency AC in our new office building, I exit the front door into the furnace of mid-day to walk down the hill. We now have a lovely sidewalk which is shaded for a good part of the trek, but by the time I reach the suspension bridge, the heat is beginning to take it's toll.

Now, after working here for 3 years, I have determined the best way to know how well the area is doing in the rain department. All one needs to do is note how high the bayou is running. I have seen it so low that you can see fish swimming, sandbars in the middle, and generally not enough depth to make for an easy kayak ride. Then I have also seen it lapping at the steps where the bridge ends and the entrance to the gardens begin, quite literally having seen it rise several feet as we watched. The most interesting of all is when the rains come and the bayou rises, then gradually falls over a day or two, then rises again when they open the gates at the Addicks Dam in far west Houston. Flood control at its finest.

The bayou has been running "high" now for several weeks. We've had plenty of afternoon rain showers and runoff. Very likely, when the water goes down, the channel will have been scoured clean, and the banks will be steep and barren. I wonder where the turtles have been hiding with no sandbars to sun themselves on....

Anniversaries

2010-06-04T19:13:00.000-07:00

Someone dear to me reminded me this evening that I had an anniversary coming up. The one intended was my wedding anniversary. Steve and I would have been celebrating our 28th this month. But then, there's also my 3 year anniversary of starting to work at Bayou Bend, and my first anniversary of joining the blogging community.

There's a great deal of history in all of those occasions - well, maybe not so much in the blogging thing, but let's look for potential here! My little expressions of thought have exercised my creativity, and vocabulary, and my search for connections in the every-day world, and for this I am grateful. Perhaps, along the way, someone else has taken a thought or two away with them to juggle for a time, and then make his/her own.

If so, well, bonus!

Downhill...Uphill...

2010-05-29T05:13:00.000-07:00

I realize that, to the uninformed, that description may sound backwards. I mean, surely one has to go up the hill before going down. However, not so. Since, in Houston, most all terrain starts out being flat, in some sense of things, the only way to go is down. This is the case when negotiating the sidewalk connecting our new building to the actual entrance to the gardens and house.

The landscape architects have done a truly incredible job of transforming the area around, and the walk down to the bridge which crosses Buffalo Bayou to the Bayou Bend property. The new offices are in a very modern, "green" building, but the landscaping alludes to the azaleas, magnolias, pines, grass expanses, stone features, and oak trees of the gardens. Even the mulched areas are done in pine straw, reminiscent of the forest floor in the wilder parts of the gardens on site.

Though summer temperatures in the 90s deter the desire for it, I find myself daily wanting to make the walk down the hill to visit the staff left behind, or to see how the renovations are going, or to deliver some paperwork, or just to feel the sun after being inside most of the rest of the day. If I take a deep breath, I feel as though I can capture a bit of the essence to take with me back up the hill so that I can better remember what all our work is about.

"My bags are packed...I'm ready to go..."

2010-05-13T11:22:00.000-07:00

"I'm standing here outside your door.." John Denver

I'm sitting in my office surrounded by boxes and boxes and more boxes of files, books, supplies and random other things that belong in offices, and there is little for us to do besides answer sparse phone calls. Someone must have sent out a memo saying "Don't call Bayou Bend. They are going nuts over there." Between the constant hammering, sawing and sanding going on outside as they do repairs, and the ripping of packing tape inside, and the movers coming and going with giant yellow crates and dollies, my brain is just on overload.

We have known this day was coming for months, and though our new quarters at the top of the hill will be quite nice, I will truly miss being in the cottage down the driveway from the house.
To be able to step outside the door and be at once in the gardens, both wild and formal - to be able to walk a few steps and smell the fragrance of whatever is blooming at the moment - to be witness to the phenomena of feeling immediately the warmth of a home that pervades the site even with its formality and history... I will miss all of it. Yes, we will be just up the hill, and only a beautifully landscaped walk away, but for now, I still feel as though I'm saying goodbye to the intimacy I've had with it.

Inadvertent Music Therapist

2010-05-05T13:40:00.000-07:00

Years ago, after having received my bachelor's degree, or maybe even before, I briefly considered becoming a music therapist. The idea of using musical elements to help people heal, or survive with physical or mental disabilities of various sorts - that held, and still holds a huge attraction for me. I've seen it at work countless times with cancer victims, long-term hospital patients, mentally challenged teens, infants and young children, and on and on.

During the years when I was a preschool music "teacher", I attended workshop after workshop discussing all of the new research that was coming from being able to scan the brain and see it in action, and there was always a special correlation mentioned having to do with music and the way the brain trained itself to sort it all out. Why? Because, music appeals to so many senses and so many of the learning styles that have been identified.

So, where am I going with all of this?

Years ago, I made a professionally recorded tape of some favorite songs that I had written over
several years' time. The point was to give copies to family and special friends as Christmas gifts.
Though the master was gorgeous, the copies had been "compressed" and had some annoyances, but succeeded in pleasing lots of people who received them. However, we are now in the digital age and tape recorders are soon to totally go the way of dinosaurs and whatever else, so I went about getting the tape converted to a digital file. The intent originally was to offer one of the songs as a fund raiser of sorts for Hurricane Ike relief, but that did not materialize. So, at Christmas time, 2009, guess what once again was under the tree for the family? The digital version, of course.

Where else am I going with this? (Sorry, I tell stories in the way-too-long version...)

That CD has been played in my mother's room at Clarewood House many, many, many times.
Some of her friends heard it and wanted copies. Some of the nurses heard it and wanted copies.
The activity director heard it and wanted a copy. She has been playing it in the Alzheimer's unit,
other's are playing it in their cars on the way to and from work, other's are using one song in particular as daily inspiration for taking things one step at a time, and it just occurred to me on the way in to work this morning that, in my own little way, I'm achieving the music therapist part of my life by having shared this little something from long ago. I've become "viral" in spite of myself.

Funny how life works. Funny how it turns things around on us. Anyone want a CD?

Only 10 minutes...

2010-04-28T14:52:00.000-07:00

I have only that long to capture a thought before changing into my walking shoes and radically walking into the sunset of Memorial Park to walk for 1 plus miles. I'm not sure how far the distance really is, but since the trail appears to be a somewhat lopsided equilateral triangle, is 2.9 miles long, and I'm walking a round-trip of one side, I'm going to give myself credit for 2 miles and about 5,000 steps. The steps I actually measured with a pedometer. So there.

What has brought this burst of energy about? Nothing, except that I admitted to Dr. Levins that I knew I needed to lose weight. Not sure how I was going to accomplish it, but I knew that it was necessary. I've tried various ways of modifying the diet, and we all have to work continuously on that, but the only other variable seems to be the exercise one. It is a second-by-second thing as 5:00 nears to commit to walking the "walk". I'm just ridiculously out of shape. I know this because everyone passes me. I do not pass anyone.

Well, I take a deep breath and...

Where I am today...

2010-04-18T05:34:00.000-07:00

For God has not given us a spirit of fear and timidity, but of power, love, and self-discipline.
2 Timothy 1:7
New Living Translation (©2007)

Some translations say "a sound mind" instead of "self-discipline". That's the version I first came across, and still my favorite, though I realize it may not be as exact a translation. I also like what Matthew Henry says below in his commentary:

"God has not given us the spirit of fear, but the spirit of power, of courage and resolution, to meet difficulties and dangers; the spirit of love to him, which will carry us through opposition. And the spirit of a sound mind, quietness of mind."

Quietness of mind is such a gift.

Moving...again.

2010-04-09T13:40:00.000-07:00

This morning was spent looking around various office spaces, and trying to determine how to best pack everything for the move to the new visitors' center. Oh my! This is going to be a project that will, most likely, drive me over the edge in wanting to clear out my own house.
I'm teetering on the edge of backing up a dump truck into the driveway anyway.

There are many, many files to be dealt with either by archiving them, which means keeping a detailed list of contents and removing staples, etc., or by tossing them, which means determining what will be important for a person who is not on board yet. And then there are the random books which must be handled, random supplies that may never be needed again, random collections of slides and scripts, random ad infinitum.

Nothing makes one want to live a minimalist life more than having to make seemingly infinite decisions about what should stay and what should go. I think that's especially true of anyone who has ever been an educator. There is always the idea that this might come in handy, or that someone might be able to use this, or this is a perfectly good thing that should not be thrown away in a landfill. Recycling comes to mind on so many levels, which creates another project entirely.

One cabinet at a time. One cabinet at a time.

Googly Eyes

2010-04-08T12:38:00.000-07:00

My eyes are tired. Simply put. Even though I did go out for a walk at lunch time,found asunny place to sit and close them while the warmth smiled on my face for a while, they keep speaking to me about how the sinuses behind them are swollen, and the eyelids down't close enough to keep them moist, and the numbers on the page and on the screen wear them down for having to focus back and forth. Sorry, eyes.
I picked up my fiddle a couple of times in the past week. On the way to pick up Alli for Easter, I listened to some music which could be, or already was, played as chamber music. My immediate thought was how great it would be to round up a few old string players of "my" time, and just read through some quartets and /or whatnot. If I were to do that, I would need to get back in better playing shape - increase my sight-reading skills and speed. Only way to do that is to pick up the instrument. Why let my limited free time discourage me, correct? Besides, playing the violin is great for building upper body strength.
My eyes don't like this either. How many strengths of reading glasses could one person possibly need? One for numbers, one for computers and crochet, one for reading music on a music stand -at least that many. And then the stand light doesn't provide much light, so I may need to replace it with a brighter one.
It's a good feeling, though, to be able to pick up the instrument and play well in tune after warming up. The next step is to get the bows re-haired so that the bow arm can get smoother.

In other news, the tape from 1982 that I had converted to a CD has become a hit in the Alzheimer's wing at Clarewood. They use it to calm the residents. It seems to have become a "found" ministry.

Blessed Easter and Spring!

2010-04-01T13:55:00.001-07:00

I'm hoping the pictures will say it all. We had to wait for the blooms this year - it was a cold winter, and the plants didn't respond to the schedule that the humans had "set" for them. We are such clueless characters sometimes. If you are out in the gardens every day, you can watch for the little signs that beauty is on the horizon. The same with faith. The more you walk with it, and watch for signs of good about to happen in your world, the more you appreciate it when it happens. And always, if nothing else, there's the hope and expectation!

Shovel, rake, and...scissors

2010-03-19T13:05:00.000-07:00

The freezes this winter left a variety of dead, withered, crunchy and/or rotting vegetation behind in our patch of yard. That means lots of clean up before the new shoots of green attempt to break through the mat of composting ick. In spite of allergies, I've managed to make my way through the bed of wood fern into which all of the fall leaves were blown, the other fern bed by our backyard, also littered with a year's worth of dead leaves, and the dreaded frozen back banana trees. In years past, I would have cut those down at ground level, but that is way too much work for me to even fathom. So this year, I grabbed a pair of old scissors and trimmed back all of the paper dry leaves til we only have the trunks left.

Yet, I have only scratched the surface. I fill all the garbage cans with a load of debris, and then have to wait for the next pickup. Off to the chopping block again. This time, we tackle the ginger grove in the back yard, and whatever else will fit in the cans. Of course, the chopping down is not the hardest part. Picking it all up and shoving it into waste containers is the added insult, and all about the "Bend and Stoop", hopefully not the "Bend and Snap".

Spring Cleaning

2010-03-16T13:33:00.000-07:00

Today was the day to tackle the stove-top and mircowave. There's something about having 3-4 cooks in the house - these two appliances get dirty no matter how much you ask, remind, post signs, threaten or whatever.

Why is it that we have such a hard time cleaning up after ourselves? Is it that we tend to hear of "cleaning up" in an unfriendly or negative context from day one in our lives, or is it because there has always been someone cleaning up after us, or is it that the "Cleaning Lady" is portrayed as a menial laborer? If the latter is the case, then shame on us for perpetuating the stereotype, since there is noone more valuable than someone who knows exactly how to truly clean a bathroom and/or kitchen.

I have wandered a bit off my original thought track, however. It occurred to me that I now have 3 adults living under this roof - with 1 other adult still away at school. Two just recently turned 21, which has become widely celebrated as being the legal age to drink and buy alcohol. In truth, being an adult goes way beyond the privileges that are bestowed. It also should carry with it the responsibility to be a citizen in parts of one's worlds - home, school, community, work, faith. So, all these opportunities also bring responsibilities to take care, to step up, to participate in the running of all of those worlds. In other words, take care of and clean up after yourself without being hounded!!!

Everyone within earshot, or internet shot, take heed!

Oh It's a Long, Long Way...from May to December...

2010-03-05T13:53:00.000-08:00

Actually, it's not even May, but it is March, and I have spent a while away from trying to compose my thoughts to any extent. Absolutely too many dustbunnies flying around in my aging brain, and no broom to sweep them out of the way. I'm not entirely sure why Willie Nelson's plaintiff rendition of this song popped into my head as I started to write.

When last here, I was expounding on giving parties where noone came, in reference to our possible lack of azaleas at Bayou Bend for Azalea Trail. Here we are at the given weekend, and sure enough, very few azaleas have peaked out to see the visitors. Interestingly enough, the gardens are actually quite lovely in their early, early spring attire. This is the show that people seldom see because they are waiting for the big color splash of March. Everything that is blooming is blooming its heart out. The oriental magnolias are so full of blossoms that you can hardly see through them, and the paperwhites are abundant. The camellias have shed their blooms that were nipped by the snow and freezes and trying to make up for the sleepy azaleas.

The garden club brought in extra potted color and pansies and a little of this ant that to dress things up - everyone is trying to put on a good show.

One just has to look at it all differently. It is like going down to Galveston after Hurricane Ike.

If you go expecting and insisting on what was there before, you will be disappointed. But, if you go with an open mind and some imagination, you can appreciate the possibilities for growth and "bloom" that are there, and it spurs your curiousity to return. Mother Nature just does not seem to run by our human schedule. Always forcing the re-creation...

...gave a party and nobody came...

2010-02-15T13:15:00.000-08:00

I know. It's a random title. It has been occurring to us that, because Houston has been besieged by some relatively cold weather this winter, The azaleas that should bloom in Miss Ima's gardens just may not cooperate fully with the River Oaks Garden Club's big event of the year,
The Azalea Trail. It is regularly held on the first full weekend in March. In the past two years that I have worked on site, the azaleas have started popping out in mid-February. Not seeing any sign this year. Aha! Perhaps that is because I have not recently been for a lengthy walk in the gardens because it has been so cold!

So, what if the ROGC has this huge event, with all the planning that goes into it...and noone comes? First of all, not likely. People will come - there just may not be much for them to look at.
We will have camellias, and some bulb flowers, but not the expanse of pinks that normally takes over the hedges. Even the oriental magnolias are staying in bud, and they certainly would have been blooming by now.

There are plenty of times that timing is just not perfect in the world. Plants, people, jobs, careers, learning, choices, prayers...they just don't always cooperate to apease our agendas, and often, in fact, send us on journeys we just never would have taken otherwise. Then there's also the waiting that comes with the total package. Sometimes it's about excitement and anticipation of something wonderful, and sometimes it's about dread and fear and "what ifs". And then sometimes, it's just a waiting that comes out of not seeing the choices.

God can help us with the waiting. We just have to ask.

2010-01-26T10:36:00.000-08:00

Yesterday's lunch break consisted of a walk in the gardens, which are closed on Monday so that certain kinds of work can be done without guests being inconvenienced. The gardeners break their backs shoveling mulch at this time of year, preparing for Azalea Trail and the spring rush of visitors. Nine acres of gardens full of azaleas, camellias, trees and bedding plants of all sorts equals 8 loads of 18 cubic feet each of mulch to be spread by five dedicated gardeners with push carts and shovels. So much has to be done entirely by hand because there is no way to access the beds with equipment.

The gardens staff work so hard, and seem to take a great deal of pride in what they do, as well they should. When the finished product allows for vistas such as this, then God smiles, I think.

Escape from Dodge.

2010-01-15T09:38:00.000-08:00

Last Monday and Tuesday were spent in Austin with Alli, accompanying her on a trip to job shadow at the Texas Historical Commission. It was interesting enough just to hear her describe the things she was allowed to do while there - attending meetings, examining spreadsheets, hearing about how they handle emergencies at the sites that they manage. (If you want to get an idea of what all they do, visit www.thc.state.tx.us/.)

But then on Tuesday, after having to check out of the motel by noon, I decided to go visit the Texas State History Museum. I had always heard that it was an amazing place, but was made even more curious by the fact that my boss at Bayou Bend was very heavily involved with its creation...as in Project Manager involved. So, off I went, and I must say that from the minute you walk into the lobby with its circular floor mural and three tiers of balconies, until you walk out a good 3 hours plus later (not including going to the movie), it is one of the most user-friendly, hands-on, object-based learning experiences I've had in quite a while. Definitely worth the trip, and worth making a day of visiting. Having worked now for over two years in a museum setting, I noticed details that would never have struck me before, but those were just icing on the cake, and great examples of how things look when they are done well.

www.thestoryoftexas.com

Chilly start to 2010

2010-01-08T13:52:00.000-08:00

It's 33 degrees outside, and though it has managed to not be rainy, there is ice forming wherever it has an opportunity. Early this morning, our gardens curator called us to come out to see what was happening around the biggest fountain on site. There was a thick sheet of slush all around the edges of the basin, and the mondo grass had become fingers of ice pointing in every direction. I took a few pictures, but his assistant came out later and snapped this one, among others. She has a great eye for composition, right?

I love it when someone captures these little details that we otherwise might miss. I also love that God created us all with different talents and abilities to use and interpret with our senses. What one sees, another hears, another smells, another touches... Just walking across the bridge this morning, I was greeted by the crunching of my footsteps on the green turf carpet. The sound, I recognized, but my feet have little experience with that sensation!

It is probably a gift that we don't always use all of our senses to their greatest capacity. We would just be traveling in overload constantly. Better to choose to concentrate on one or two things at a time, and treasure what we can fully take in.

"Behind in the Past"

2009-12-31T07:23:00.000-08:00

I have to use quotes in case anyone recognizes the words borrowed from "The Lion King".

The past week has been a bit of a blur. Or at least seemingly so. Here we are on New Year's Eve, wanting to get off work early to go home for some kind of ringing in 2010. With four people under the same roof right now, all seem to have separate plans for the evening, and I'm thinking that is a very healthy thing. All are finding a way to celebrate the turning over of the year's end in hopes of better times to come. It's certainly too true of this year in particular - that is, that we are looking for relief from the scary things that been huge distractions and worries during 2009.

So many corners have been turned in the lives of those who call our corner of the world "home".
Putting one's "behind in the past" and letting go of all those things that might seem unfair, difficult, unmanageable, overwhelming, disconcerting, etc. - and putting a tangible face (or date)on opening a new door - is that act of faith that lets us take a deep breath and move forward.
Like early morning in the spring. Like early morning any time...

No more Grinch...

2009-12-23T11:38:00.000-08:00

We have banished the Grinch to the top of his very high snowy mountain.

The Yuletide Open House season is done for the year, capped off by an enormous freeFamilyDay last Sunday when we had over 1,200 guests. Except for putting out a few inevitable fires, the work week has been quiet, and tomorrow is our first of 4 days off. Seems impossible.

The wait, the anticipation. Almost palpable. A mini-meltdown here and there because no matter how simple you want things to be, they never quite are because there are just too many variables. There are always nebulous expectations out there. Even though for me it all boils down to wanting to have some peaceful time with my faith and my family, making that happen is sometimes more difficult than it would seem. However, we will forge ahead!

That reminds me...We have not made leche quemada yet, and that could be a serious problem.
Must locate pecans, sweetened condensed milk, butter, brown sugar and vanilla in mass quantities! HO, HO, HO!

A touch of Grinch

2009-12-17T13:21:00.000-08:00

It's wet and chilly, and I have to smile and be cordial to guests outside from 5:00 to 8:00 p.m.
I am not really in the mood to do that again tonight. I'm sure that I will find my way to tolerating it, and in the end, will enjoy the evening and getting to intereact with everyone. Part of the difficulty of the season, especially for people in the arts, is that you do want people to come for these special events - you want for the hard work that you've put into the exhibits or music or whatever else to be appreciated. It's just that after awhile, you just feel all "given out".

So, I'm not really "Grinch"-ing. I'm just saying, after doing this every Thursday and Friday since Thanksgiving, I'm to the point where I would rather be snuggled up at home with a blanket and a scented candle and some good music, or a good movie, with the Christmas tree lit up and the people I love close by...

She knows her stuff...

2009-12-11T12:37:00.000-08:00

Our receptionist is in her 80s, and has worked here in some capacity for over 40 years. She is a constant source of entertainment and stories, and claims to have been the one most trusted to dust some of the pieces now in the museum collection. I sometimes wish I could just sit with her and capture all of her tales on a recorder.

Last Friday when we had our day's-worth of snowfall, I commented on how I was afraid that all the camellias and paper-whites that were blooming early would be nipped by the snow and ice.
After all, the paper-whites are seemingly fragile bulb-type bloomers a la daffodils that appear that they would just collapse if frozen. However, what was the response to my fears? "Oh no. They'll be just fine. They're fine in the cold."

Sure enough, all week I've been watching and walking and expecting the blooms to fold up, and they did not. Just kept on keeping on, and getting more full of blooms by the day. (Plus, we've been invaded by migrating birds attracted to the red berries in the gardens. They are making a mess!)

Is it not interesting how the things we think might be the most fragile are actually built to withstand more than one would expect - even ourselves. Situations that we believe we might never survive sometimes turn out to be the very events that we step up to handle with grace.

This just makes me happy in my heart!

2009-12-10T05:51:00.000-08:00