Sunday Snippets 8/27/23

My goodness it’s hot! I’ve been out watering Ron and Pat’s yard and my own. Yesterday I had to go out twice because the sun was so intense.

I told Greg yesterday I might be just about ready for the knee scooter again. He said to go back on Gabapentin.

I do think it helps. But I just hate to be taking more medication.

I keep telling myself I’m old and getting old is kind of painful.

My bones are weary and it seems like they’re complaining to me in the only way they can.

Oh well, such is life.

A Hummingbird In The Cypress Tree:

Do you see the dark shape of the hummingbird in the photo above? The light was wrong, but I wanted to capture a photo of it anyway.

Those darned hummingbirds seem faster than light. And of course that’s impossible.

I can’t even focus the lens before they’ve darted off someplace else.

They seem to like the red canna and the zinnias. I’m sure they visit other flowers, but that’s the ones I’ve seen them hovering over.

It makes me so happy to see them enjoy my garden! That’s one of the very reasons I plant a garden. For me to enjoy and for the wildlife to enjoy.

That canna has grown like a weed. Every time I look out there it seems like it’s grown another six inches.

The fountain grass has sent out plumes in all directions.

The liriope that was planted in the concrete blocks is getting lush and putting out purple flowers.

Black-Eyed Susan:

The Black-eyed Susan is blooming again. I had been hesitant to cut the faded and brown flowers off of the plant. But yesterday I went ahead and did it.

Since this plant is not one I’ve planted before, I wasn’t quite sure how to deal with it.

But I came in and looked it up and it said to deadhead the spent flowers to encourage more blooms through fall. Which, of course, if like most plants.

You have to remove the dead and dying to give the new blooms a chance to shine. To move into the spotlight, so to speak.

Every time a neighbor comes in the patio door (which is usually where everyone but Steve comes in), Ivy hops up on the coffee table.

She awaits a treat to be placed in the bowl. It is her favorite snack spot.

I tried giving her treats from an unopened bag Peg had given me, and she wouldn’t eat them. She bought them to give to a neighbor’s cat that suddenly disappeared.

That’s what happens when you have your pets living outside. They sometimes fall prey to predators.

But open a packet of the treats Ivy prefers and she’s right on that table guarding her blue bowl!

Cats can be picky creatures sometimes.

I’m really enjoying getting to look out the bedroom patio doors. It makes the bedroom feel bigger. And I do love that view!

I like to be able to see my garden, and the progress it’s made is a great feeling. The lush Boston fern near the patio concrete, for instance.

The other fern is setting on the bricks farther out. I think it’s called a kangaroo fern.

I’ve never had this fern before. But it is lovely with its far-reaching fronds pointing outward.

A Garden Is A Grand Teacher:

“A garden is a grand teacher. It teaches patience and careful watchfulness; it teaches industry and thrift; above all it teaches entire trust.” — Gertrude Jekyll, British Horticulturist

I believe that is speaking of trust that Mother Nature nurtures the plants. She brings in the wildlife. And she keep the outdoors interesting.

Gardening does teach patience. Like when you plant a seed and watch the soil every day to see if it’s coming up yet. And what a wonderful feeling when it does!

You feel joy and accomplishment. A garden is something you team up with. You do your part and it does its own.

My Thoughts On The Book Wrong Place Wrong Time:

Someone asked for my opinion on a book I read. I’ve already read several more, but I’ll tell you my thoughts on “Wrong Place Wrong Time” by Gillian McAlister.

This book is one of my favorite books I’ve read all year. I’d say in the top five, and I can’t even think of the other four right now!

Gillian McAlister is already a masterful writer and she’s not even yet 40 years old. I see a long career, a successful one, in her future.

This book keeps you guessing and finally everything falls into place. And then you’re stunned how the author managed to create such a story.

It’s quite different from anything I’ve read before. The plot thickens with every page. I highly recommend this book.

Thinking Of Fall:

My thoughts are creeping toward fall. This tends to happen every year around this time.

The leaves are already falling and skittering across the sidewalk. Probably because the heat is scorching. And all I can think is: when will this intense heat end?

Sometimes it’s so hot it’s hard to think straight. Dangerously hot.

And that naturally turns your thoughts to fall. To cool breezes and hot beverages. And to the changing colors of the leaves on the trees.

I’m giving the squirrels fresh water and an occasional ice cube. The squirrels splay out across the big rocks trying to cool off in the afternoon. I think I’ve included this little tidbit in another Sunday Snippets post.

Every time I look out there, a wasp is usually hovering over those bowls of water.

Mystic River:

I’m currently reading a book that came out years ago. It’s by Dennis Lehane. It’s called “Mystic River.”

I remember seeing bits of the movie that was based on this book. Don’t think I ever saw it all the way through. Starring in this movie was Sean Penn, Tim Robbins, and Kevin Bacon.

This was some years ago.

And I recall the intensity of Sean Penn, though I can’t remember what role he played. After I read the book, I may just try to find a way to watch the movie again. Sean Penn is always pretty intense in his acting roles.

The writing of this book, first published in 2001, is quite good. So I’ve ordered a few more used books through Amazon that Dennis Lehane authored.

Dennis Lehane’s descriptive narrative is spellbinding. I’ll read a sentence that is quite compelling, and I’ll say to myself:

Could I have ever thought to put the words about what’s happening quite that way? Be able to string the words together like beads on a necklace?

It’s one hell of a book. The main characters are male. It’s about three boys who grow up to be men.

Did you know you can order used books through Amazon? You just click on See all formats and editions on the right hand side of the page when you’re viewing a book. Scroll down the list.

When The Three Boys Have All Grown Up:

All grew in very different directions. One is a cop, one an ex-con, and one so damaged you pity him.

This might be like a chicken or the egg question. If a boy is damaged in childhood, what are the odds that he might inflict pain upon someone else?

His hate and deep-seated anger settles over him like a cloak. He doesn’t want it, but it wants him. So who or what do you blame?

The perpetrators who caused the damage? That obviously shifted the gears that caused it all to come about in the first place.

Those men who hurt him won’t get out of his head, though they’re both dead by the time he’s an adult.

Their faces and laughter loom over him and the images won’t go away. He can’t overcome the memories. Can’t stop hating the world for making him vulnerable to begin with.

He wonders why his friends don’t live in vulnerable and shaky circumstances like he does. And he wonders why he’s singled out for this kind of life.

An Excerpt:

This is an excerpt from page 305…

Jimmy’s firstborn teenage daughter, not quite twenty, has been murdered. And he’s at the funeral home making arrangements for her funeral.

“And the notice?”

Jimmy met the kid’s eyes for the first time. “The notice?”

“Yes,” the kid said, and looked down at his clipboard. “How the notice should read in the paper. We can take care of it if you’ll just give me the basic information on how you’d like it to read. If you’d like donations in lieu of flowers, things like that.”

Jimmy turned away from the kid’s comforting eyes and looked down at the floor. Below them, somewhere in the basement of this white Victorian, Katie lay in the embalming room. She’d be naked before Bruce Reed and this boy and his two brothers as they went to work on her.

Cleaning her, touching her up, preserving her. Their cool manicured hands would run over her body. They’d lift parts of it. They’d take her chin between thumb and index finger and turn it. They’d run combs through her hair.

He thought of his child naked and exposed with the color drained from her flesh as she waited to be touched one last time by these strangers. With care, possibly, but a callous care, a clinical one.

And then satin cushions would be propped behind her head in the casket, and she’d be wheeled into the viewing room with a doll’s frozen face and her favorite blue dress.

She’d be peered at and prayed over and commented on and grieved, and then, ultimately, she’d be entombed. She would descend into an ugly hole dug by men who hadn’t known her either, and Jimmy could hear the dirt thudding distantly, as though he were inside of the coffin with her.

And she would lie in the dark with the dirt packed above her for six feet until it gave way to grass and open air she’d never see or feel or smell or sense.

She would lie there for a thousand years, unable to hear the footfalls of the people who came to visit her headstone, unable to hear anything of the world she’d left because all that dirt was packed in between.

***

Now that probably seems awfully depressing to read. But the writing is exquisite. So detailed that you feel as though you’re in that room with Jimmy.

My Oldest Grandson Visited Me:

I don’t think I told you last week that my oldest grandson came to have supper with me one night just over a week ago. It was so nice to see him.

He’s acquired the respectful phrase of “yes, ma’am” when I talk to him. I’m not sure where it came from. He worked at Urban Outfitters all summer. Maybe he picked it up there.

Now he’s off to college for his sophomore year. And he seems much more mature than this time last year.

He was asking me about my sleep patterns and when I go to sleep at night. And he surprised me when he said: “Well, you’ll probably scoff. But I often don’t go to bed until 4 a.m.”

Scoff. How many teenagers have you heard utter than word? It pleased me. Maybe he has the same love of words that this grandma has.

Remembering Him Years Ago:

While in my mind’s eye I can still see him as a toddler. Me sitting on their porch swing in the growing darkness and rocking him until his mother got home from work.

Such a sweet memory of his soft little body and shining inquisitive eyes that seemed to take in everything around him.

Now he’s over 6 feet tall and paving his way to adulthood. Hard to believe sometimes. I’m sure many of you feel the same way about your grandchildren.

So that’s all for Sunday Snippets 8/27/23.

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