Calling Home

 

There is no waterfall, no creek or ocean tides;

There is no stunning mountain view or burbling brook, not even an ocean vista,

city skyscape, small town skyline or undulating rows of prairie corn.

I wonder sometimes, what is it about this land,

this particular piece of Planet Earth, 

that has made it my place for forty years or more?

What made me choose this isolated ridge, 

grub out gardens and snake a road down to where

my home is tucked against the side of a hill

Where none can see it without purposeful destination?

I cannot say; I only know that when I am here,

When I sit beneath the fifty-foot tall maple grown from seed,

Or put my jars of summer’s gardens inside the stone cellar 

moved and rebuilt by our hands, one stone at a time;

When I hear the hawk sing, the whippoorwill call

or the hens squawk as they settle for then night;

when I call my dogs and hear my voice echo, echo, echo

against the circling hills,

All I can say is that this is where I am.

This is where I belong.

This is the place that I call home.

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

Anniversary: May 29

I remember the day we married. Both of us divorced, waiting for a day we both had off work so that we could get this legal thing ticked off the to-do list. I remember coming home and tying up tomato plants; that, I suppose was our honeymoon. I remember my two youngest (at the time) sons playing Bloody Knuckles at the back of the church in Pearisburg, VA during our wedding ceremony; they were the only guests at the wedding, and the only celebrants at our wedding supper at the Shoney’s restaurant afterward. Years later we discovered that we had been married in the county seat of the place where many of Larry’s forebears came from but at the time it was just a place to get married quickly when we found an opportunity to do so. My first wedding was of the Catholic variety, much pomp and ceremony, but the glue used for that match did not last nearly as long as this get-it-done-quick variety has held. 

I won’t say it’s been a bed of roses, but I won’t say it’s been a bed of thorns either. The path has been rocky at times, strewn with boulders that seemed insurmountable. Other times it has been as straight and true as a Kansas cornfield with bright blue skies and sunshine. Never would I say it’s been easy (and any wife of a Vietnam vet knows what I’m talking about), but always would I say it’s been worth the years invested.

Sometimes I read posts on Facebook written by the newly in love or newly married, and the sweetness oozes from every word. “You’re my one true love,” or “(Insert name) is so amazing! So happy with him/her/our little family!” I have to admit, I squirm when I read them. Because after 63 years I’ve learned that there really is no such thing as “one true love”; if one is open to it, love is there to be found and comes with all sorts of unexpected, exciting and sometimes unpleasant surprises.  I’ve learned that families can be as messy as they are beautiful and that marriage is not something that can be described in one sentence.

 The other day I was looking for a birthday card for my hubby and even that was difficult. Most were filled with lavish sentimentality and words about unending love. I finally selected one, but had to revise it a bit—where it said “looking forward to the beautiful memories we’ll make in our future” I had to scratch out “beautiful” and write in “interesting” instead. Because, after all, isn’t that more of what love is—interesting? It is not always easy, smooth and beautiful; it’s full of lumps and bumps and anger and laughs and passion and, sometimes, contentment.

I have yet to find an anniversary card. Is there one for people like us who fight probably as often as we sit in quiet companionship, who know each other so well that we can fix each other’s coffee, remind each other about the shoes left where the other will stumble, answer questions before the other asks, and even supply the next line for the other in arguments? Hallmark is all about the blasé, simplified, romance-novel version of love and we are all about the everyday, nitty-gritty, complicated kind of love that I believe is the real story behind most long-lived marriages.

A single person reading this might think marriage is not worth the trouble and I can see where that might be a logical conclusion. Marriage isn’t about the logical, however; it’s more like the roller coaster and living single is like the merry-go-round. While carnival rides have always made my stomach roll and my legs shake, I will say that the roller coaster is well worth the ride. And the merry-go-round, while safe and comfortable, is boring and in the end, lonely. At least the people on the roller coaster grab hold of each other when the going is rough and scream in unison.

So happy anniversary, Larry. Here’s to 28 more years of never knowing what might be coming around the bend. Here’s to the loops and dips and exhilarating thrills of this wild ride we call our marriage. I can't imagine what life would be like without you.

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

On the Porch, and More Garden Photos

I showed some garden photos the other day; here's some of the porch, pretty much ready for summer, and a few more garden shots:

I am so amused by the funky face thingy. It's just wire and fake grass over styrofoam, but it makes me smile.

The double washtubs have been on the root cellar porch. The idea was to use them to wash veggies from the garden before bringing them inside. What happened instead was they were a catchall for anything Larry didn't want to put away! Tools, wire, weird unidentifiable stuff--you know how it goes. So I am using them as a planter instead.

I painted the yellow chair to sell; it's been waiting for Larry to have time to put a seat in it. But I kinda like it on the porch too. I may still put a seat on it because it really is a nice chair--but I'll need another old porch chair then.

This quilt top says summer to me. I hang it over the back of the swing every year, and it's faded some over time.

I won't show the inside of this cabinet! It's Larry's catchall, everything from dog treats to bird seed to hammers, drills, bug spray. You name it, it's probably in there. The top drawer is full of tools. With no back porch or mud room we have few places for this kind of stuff. I keep thinking I need to move it and put some other cabinet in this corner; maybe one day. A friend gave the cabinet to me years ago, and it's been in several places since then, but longest on the porch.

I haven't planted much in this bed this year, just weeded and mulched it. The bee balm and lemon balm have pretty much taken it over. It's a great bloom bed for the honeybees.

My granddaughters (Jon's girls) decorated this flower pot probably 12-15 years ago. It used to be three tiers tall, with a large saucer on top for a birdbath. Different parts got broken over the years, usually as we moved it in and out of the cellar for safekeeping! I have tried to protect this last remaining piece--such a reminder of them when they were little. The pot just below it had a crack so I Gorilla-glued it and it's as sturdy as can be now. I like the soft green and clay colors.

Some roses are finally blooming, later than usual this year and with not nearly as many blossoms. I lost only one bush, and I am thankful for that.

Let me know if you're posting garden pics on your blog. I'd love to see them.

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

The Wren

photo from wikipedia commons

I painted while she scolded from the safety of green leafy branches. She was concerned, this little brown wren with the perky tail and gravel voice, that I was too near her nest and the as-yet featherless babes within. She did not see that the nest, twelve feet above me in the eaves of my rough-sided house, was out of my reach. She did not trust me, my paint-laden brush or the table I was painting. We had invaded her space and that was enough.

I wondered if she remembered the turkeys of three years ago, and if she was watching as we advanced with murderous intent on the fat, clueless birds that chuckled and waddled in their wire pen. I wonder if she recalled that day of infamy when heads rolled and red blood splattered white feathers and sharp-edged hatchet. I wonder if she remembered the tumult of flapping wings clamped under an upturned washtub and the spilling of guts on the ground.

Perhaps she has reason not to trust the hands that feed her. Those hands fed the turkeys and look what happened to those lumbering birds. She darts from branch to branch and in the nest her children cry for food, for the comfort of their mother yet still she dares not come near. I stodgily continue to paint, ignoring the drama above me as guilt floods through me.

Was it so, I muse, in 1930’s Europe? Did people squawk and cry as the Third Reich claimed victims, splattering country after country with the blood of innocents? Did they feel as helpless as this Carolina wren, flitting about helplessly as the grim march of boots and guns squashed the dreams and futures of thousands in their path?

My brush strokes and strokes, white covering deep maroon mahogany stained from years of use and misuse. When it is finished, I stand back and study my work. The table looks almost new again; where once it had been destined for the trash heap, it has been redeemed and given another life. Just so Europe, I think; the scars of war are covered with new buildings, new governments, and a new life after near death.  I feel absolved, but only for a moment, because there are those turkeys to consider.

The turkeys had no salvation or resurrection unless one counts the neatly wrapped white packages that filled our freezer after butchering day was done. We came, we killed, and we kept the spoils. The wren’s anxiety might not be misplaced for if we did such deeds to one bird, why not to another? Guilt returns. I watch the wren for a moment longer, and then retreat to the shade of the porch. She darts to the nest, her babies’ cries louder as she drops her offering among them. It is a worm, an earthworm with bits of earth clinging to its wet body.

The wren completed her work and flew off, presumably to fetch more food. I return to my painting, thinking about that worm being torn to pieces by young beaks. Such it is, and such it has always been. One kills to survive—worm or turkey, the motive and the end are the same.  The war in Europe had no such reason; it was not survival but the need for power and control that fueled the bloodbath we call World War II. I know my reasoning is simplified and that the issues of war are more complex than this.

photo from wikipedia commons

My thoughts are interrupted by a squawk and fluttering wings. The wren has returned. I pick up my paint and brush and leave the porch to her. She is the victor on this field of battle today, and I am happy to let her win. The table is finished, or nearly so, and the babies above me need to be fed.

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

Memorial Day Flowers

These are not what you might be thinking from my post title; these are pictures from around my flowerbeds at home. The past week we really got focused on getting the place cleaned up in time for Memorial Day, and we almost finished. A half-truck of mulch still to spread, a few more weeds to cut, and a little more cleaning up and we'll be done.

 This metal rocker frame was one of those plastic "wicker" rockers someone tossed in the trash. We removed the plastic, and ended up with a nice frame for the garden. I've planted morning glories around it. We'll see how they do.

My gardens are always a mishmash of whatever comes up. Here the vervain is crowded by the oregano that planted itself and an ever-spreading grape hyacinth that came from who knows where. Behind them, the dead stalk is actually a small cherry tree that Larry accidentally broke off--it had come up from seed, and is now sprouting new growth. I am curious to see what kind of cherry it is, a wildling or a seedling from my sour cherry.

Young apple trees survived the winter in fine shape, but a black cherry sadly did not.

The newest of the flowerbeds is now at least 10 years old, I'd guess. It's doing very well after all the dirt, manure and mulch we've added over the years.

One spot in the "new" bed: when I find something that does well here, I plant more of it. Our spring weather is great, but summer can be tricky because our sandy clay loam soil can dry out quickly and we get a lot of sun. So if a plant can thrive in those conditions, those are the ones for me. Coreopsis, daylilies, stevia, coneflower, vervain, and some hostas seem very happy here.

The far end of the new bed has been taken over by pink poppies, and I don't mind one bit. Wild yarrow has also made itself at home here, and coneflower has seeded in all of my beds.

Another view of the rocker frame, and you can also see the windchime made by my nephew Josh Mathias, who has started an etsy shop of his creations. I'll be writing a post about Josh's work soon.

The peonies are finally recovering from being moved a few years back. I planted a red one two years ago but no blooms yet, mainly because my old dog Jeb (who passed away a month ago; we sure miss him) was always digging it up.

I am doing a lot more container flowers this year because of the dogs. The new ones are learning not to lie in my beds, but if the flowers are in pots they're safer, and by placing the pots strategically in the flowerbeds I can protect some areas from being mashed by dogs. It's a trade-off: I know my flowerbeds are attractive places for them because the mulch is cool, and I know some plants will be damaged by the dogs whatever I do. In exchange, the dogs keep groundhogs, possums, most of the deer and other varmints away. I cannot imagine trying to have gardens here without dogs to help protect them.

The herb garden was a jungle. I made the mistake of allowing a goldenrod plant to stay in the garden and bloom last year. I was rewarded with goldenrod coming up everywhere and strong roots that were a bear to remove. That little succulent groundcover I call sedum was also taking over, along with my arch enemy gill-over-the-ground. I filled two big wheelbarrows cleaning up this little patch, but it's looking good now. I'll need to be vigilant with the hoe this summer

That's a tour of most of the gardens in the yard. They will probably not look as good for long, as summer will descend on us, weeds will try to take over again and I get too busy with storytelling. But for this one moment, I am enjoying the peacefulness and beauty around me. I hope your gardens are doing well, and that you will have time this weekend to enjoy the fruits of your labors too.

As for me, this day will be spent on the porch, reading, listening to the birds and petting the dogs.

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

The Comings and Goings of a Month

This month is one of celebrations, company and cutting.

Celebrations: two nephews graduated from college with Masters' degrees in their respective fields; one granddaughter graduated from college, three family members including two grandchildren are graduating from high school, and a young neighbor was married over the weekend. We missed the wedding because we were at my family reunion.

We'll also be celebrating the life of my late uncle, a man whose smile lit up a sunshiny day, and who was always (don't tell anyone) my favorite of my father's brothers--probably because we knew there would be singing and laughter when he came to visit. There will be tears, but also smiles and many memories shared for this good, gentle man.

And company! We were the company early in the month, spending a few days with Tipper and then enjoying a cookout with the Migration Celebration staff at the Three Rivers Avian Center. We'll be having visitors ourselves later this week when my oldest son and family come for granddaughter Haley's graduation, and my brother Tom will be stopping by too. Next week we'll be the visitors ourselves, attending grandson Clayton's graduation. And the week after that we'll have a couple grandchildren for a weekend.

What do you think I meant by "cutting"? If you thought grass, you're right. It's never-ending, isn't it? Larry does his best but with so much going on (not even talking about the booths, gardens, and other projects!) that he's had all he can do to keep up. It will be a good hay year, I think, and I know that will make the farmers and the cattle happy. Some places had frost this week--which prompted a friend to note the old wives' tale that a freeze on February 19 means a frost on May 19.

So, did it frost where you are? Several neighbors reported it, but said it did no harm. Thank goodness.

Back to the gardens I go--I am almost finished planting herbs and flowers (very late this year, so odd the weather has been) and hope to get it done before it rains. Wish me luck!

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

Remembering Uncle Barney

Uncle Barney with his sons at the 2010 family reunion

I am thinking about my Uncle Barney tonight; he passed away this week at the age of 86. Barney (actually Bernard) Connelly was my father's younger brother and the last of that generation of my father's side of the family. He was our patriarch, a man with a beautiful singing voice and brilliant mind, a man who became a chemist, later owned a Radio Shack store and moved on to learn about and install computers before most of us realized the electronic age was upon us.

Barney was still in high school when my father shipped out to England during World War II. He was still living at home when my mother, a young bride, came from England to live with my grandparents in the first years of her marriage. Barney was her friend, someone her age she could talk to, and she loved his company and later that of his girlfriend and eventually wife, Georgette.

My father and his siblings grew up in New Orleans, and Dad had many stories of their time in that city--tales of camping trips, of swimming in rivers where they sometimes saw cottonmouths, of catching eels and going on banana boats. The above photo was taken during those years. (From top left and clockwise: Uncle Bud, Dad, Grandma, Aunt Ellen, Uncle Barney and Uncle Cincy.)

Uncle Barney with his mother (my grandmother) on top of what I think is Cranny Crow, a mountain in Lost River State Park, WV, where we now have our family reunions. My grandparents visited the park regularly in the 1940's and 50's, and Uncle Barney and Aunt Georgette honeymooned there.

I remember my uncle telling me about one time when he was home from college, I think, and helping my Dad put an addition on the tiny house we lived in then in Centreville, VA. Dad and Uncle Barney were up on the roof when they heard a little voice say "Hi, Daddy." They looked around and there I was at the top of the ladder--and I was only a year and a half old.

Barney was the one who nicknamed me "Bunky." I never knew where the name came from and he was the only one to call me that; I remember how delighted I was to hear him calling me whenever he came to see us. We looked forward to his visits because he usually brought with him his young and growing family of mainly boy cousins. We'd mess with our chemistry set, play cowboys and Indians and have the very best time. After my uncle moved to West Virginia we saw them less often but looked forward to every visit because we knew our house would be filled with laughter and even more noise than usual.

My uncle loved jokes. He often called my father just to share a good one, and Dad usually had one to share back. In the days of typewriters my Dad's family would type jokes and mail them to each other.

Uncle Barney was quite a storyteller, a lover of jokes and riddles, a man with a gentle smile and loving eyes. His health deteriorated slowly over the last few years, and while we knew he was not well, it seems one is never prepared when the time to say goodbye suddenly arrives.

We will surely miss him.

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

Some Recent Finds

The last three weeks have been a blur of work and play--working like crazy for a few days, then off to play for a few. Even so it seems like I will never catch up on everything that needs to be done, but I do see progress. I am caught up, for this moment, on paperwork. I've sorted some files and continue to fill trash cans with paper, to Larry's dismay. My summer reading program for libraries is ready. The flower beds are half-weeded and the vegetable garden is half planted. My craft supplies have been sorted from 5 totes down to 3 and the extras will be taken to a small but active library while I'm on the way to my family reunion this weekend. Progress--sometimes we have to stop and look back to feel that sense of accomplishment that makes it all worthwhile, don't we? There is still much to do, but I can take some satisfaction in what has been done so far.

One of the things I try to do when I'm traveling is to buy stock for the booths (along with a few things for myself, of course!). My goal is to buy enough that my profits on the items will cover the cost of the trip. I usually manage to make this goal, but not always. Larry isn't as willing as I am to stop and browse, and sometimes the pickings are just lean. I have found some good stuff recently, though. Here's a few of them:

 I found these jadeite bowls in a local shop. If I find jadeite under $10, I buy.

This one is in the yellow "custard" color, which I like as well or better than the green. Yellow is my favorite color, actually.

I found two of these multicolor crackled glass vases or candle holders. I know they're new but the colors just glow in the light. These will be on my table this fall for sure.

We found two old, solid coat trees at ReStore. Larry stripped and restained them because they were water-stained. I think they're really nice.

This cabinet was probably the best find of the past 2 weeks--or two months. A great primitive cabinet that needed a leg repaired and the shelves replaced (someone put in plywood ones) but the price was unbelievably low. It's headed to a booth as soon as we finish with it.

Don't you love this handle? Someone was upcycling a long time ago!

Larry's "willbarr," as he calls it, is now at our Marietta booth. He made a few repairs, and added the iron wheel. I love it, but don't need anything else to plant flowers in so off it goes.

The little folding rocker is mine to keep, I think. I'd like to take it storytelling with me.

There are two of these beautiful lamps--I took one to Spencer and forgot the other, so it will be packed up soon and rejoined with its mate. they have such a classic look. I have managed somehow to end up with 4 of those "hand" vases you can see in this photo. I see another collection coming on. Is there an antidote I can take?

A friend who does some buying and selling on Facebook rescued this metal, porcelain-topped cabinet from a house that was being torn down. She told me there were porcelain countertop/sinks and steel kitchen cabinets, mantels and all sorts of old woodwork in two houses that were about to be bulldozed. Doesn't that just make you sad? Some people have no idea of the beauty and value of old things.

I never can resist a crystal decanter. I know crystal is out of fashion now, but it is so beautiful and I don't understand why it's low on the decorating radar these days, especially with he popularity of Downton Abbey.

This West Bend bean pot is mine to keep! I had one without the heater base and had been looking for the base. I'll sell my other pot.

Gorgeous pale aqua centerpiece bowl was a flea market find in western North Carolina. 

Cookie jars--who can resist them?

Mugs and more mugs, and

nifty navy and white polka dot salad plates, another flea market find in North Carolina.

And last but not least, a sweet Springtime angel with a bird on her shoulder, so she just had to go in the center of my plateful of glass birds.

That's a little of what we found. I'll be on the road again soon, and coming home, no doubt with more to show you.

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

More Time in the Gardens

I am slowly catching up on my flowerbeds, but there is so much more work to be done. I keep find more casualties of the winter's cold: my winter savory, most of the thyme, and the lilac are now added to the rosemary, Peace rose and other plants that did not survive. More replanting to be done.

Speaking of planting, I am finding it so difficult to be comfortable with late planting of our summer vegetables. My reason for deciding to plant later this year is because I will be away for two full weeks in mid July and beginning of August, teaching creative writing and Appalachian storytelling for the Augusta Heritage series. I know I will not be able to put up food during that time so I am trying to delay the veggies to come in later in August. But it sure goes against my grain! We have the spring gardens planted and I believe Larry put out some squash and cucumbers and we have a couple "cheater" tomatoes out (cheaters because they already had blooms when I bought them!). But beans, corn, and the main tomato crop have to wait.

This morning I worked on reclaiming the herb garden. What a mess. Last year I left a goldenrod plant right in the middle because I thought it would be pretty in the fall. Big mistake. That plant came back a hundredfold and this morning I wrestled with getting them all pulled up. I will have to go back and dig out the roots. That little green sedum groundcover took over that garden too, so all of it had to be pulled--and the garlic is going totally wild all over the place. I've got all the weeds pulled and now when the ground dries--we had torrential rain last night which made for easy weeding--I will hoe it, turn the soil, and replant. I think, though, that I am going to continue to have major weed problems in this plot and might have to relocate it next year.

Here are a few more garden photos from yesterday.

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.