Currently–Monday Musing

It’s the last week of February already! Not possible. . . . My brother, sister, two uncles on my mother’s side of the family, and I have had our birthdays. March will have just as many (my father-in-law, sister-in-law, niece, and son in person; my mother-in-law and my father in heaven). The cherry tree is blooming, the blossoms just opening into white “snow,” as A. E. Housman wrote in his poem. And because it’s the end of the month, it’s time for my monthly “Currently” reflection.

Currently, I’m

loving taking photo walks around the ponds Grampa built so many years ago and exploring the woods off the “beaten trail” I usually take.

eating dark chocolate with sea-salted caramel centers

reading historical novels. The First Ladies is one of my favorite ones so far, but I do love escaping into the nineteenth century.

working with some soft bamboo yarn to make a crocheted blanket

celebrating my sixty-sixth trip around the sun with my family

giving thanks for the life I have and the loves of my life

planning the spring tour of South Carolina’s state parks

feeling sad (a former student, a former principal, and spouses of dear friends have passed) and joyful at the same time.

I have to say that my life at this moment in time is good. I have reconnected with my college roommate, who lives about an hour and a half away in North Carolina now instead of five hours away in Florida. My health is much better, and I am becoming more active in other ways. I am making the most of my retirement!

A Different Take on Thankful Thursday

I joined Kinship several months ago after reading about it in Kim Manley Ort’s newsletter. In January, I joined a practice circle, Making Kin through Photography, a course that highlighted contemplative photography practices. I was familiar with the concept through Kim’s newsletters and courses and the practices from Christine Valter Paintner’s book Eyes of the Heart, which combines Christian contemplative practices with photography.

I am so thankful I joined. I’ve been part of other photography groups, but I have not found a more supportive group of photographers than I found in the Making Kin practice circle. No one judged my images. (If they did, they kept quiet!) Seriously, nearly everyone found something in the images that connected with them.

I don’t always have a lot of faith in myself. I take criticism too personally at times. When I was an impressionable third grader, an artist pretty much told me that I could never be an artist myself. I made do with one dimensional houses and lollipop trees and stick figure humans. No one encouraged me to try to learn how to draw and make “art.” I was a musician, and I was GOOD, so good that I played Chopin’s “Military Polonaise” as my talent for the local Junior Miss competition and my junior recital. A classmate’s father told her that I sounded “professional.” I was elated. At last, I was good at something!

And then I found photography. Shortly after I got married, my husband and I bought a fancy Canon AE1 Program SLR camera. I was hooked. I could burn five or six rolls of 24-frame film in a weekend in the mountains! That camera was my “baby”—until I had babies! Another friend told me I had a good eye for composition, and I even received an honorable mention in a photography contest sponsored by the SC State Parks service.

But that changed a few months ago, I was told I worked too hard to make unphotogenic pictures into good ones. Yes, the image was not well composed. It was “busy” in that there were lots of leaves and branches and “stuff” in the frame. However, the commentor missed the point of the image: I was trying to capture the LIGHT! You see, the sun was in the Western sky at the right angle to shine through the petals of the sasanqua flower. It made an opaque thing transparent. I was mesmerized by that light! Instead, I was told that the image was “unphotogenic.” I stopped sharing in that group. Another group I belong to is so large that I get lost in it.

So, when I joined the Making Kin practice circle, I was reluctant to share, but I put my Brave on, and shared each week but one (because I couldn’t attend; I was having a medical procedure during our time for the the Zoom call). I’ve even shared the technically and compositionally bad photos, and the people in the group got what I was trying to say.

And all this is to say: I am so thankful for this group of men and women who “get” the concept of contemplative photography. Contemplative photographic practices are not about technique or correctness; they are about connecting with the subject that appears in the frame. They are about accepting what is in front of the lens without judgment of what is photogenic or not. Combined with Christian contemplative practices, the act of receiving images is a kind of prayer as well that allows worship and praise.

I will be watching the Kinship site for additional contemplative photography practice circles. I am thankful for that community.

Monday Musings–Memories and the Land

That’s a holly tree growing between the house and the wood-burning furnace that heats our house in winter and hot water year-round. It’s a survivor; its partner tree had to be cut down after our house burned in 2011. It’s had to have a trim or two and some pruning, but it is growing. I know it’s been there for more than forty years.

About this time forty years ago, I drove to this piece of land that has been home to me since 1984. My then-fiance and his father were cutting trees and clearing space where our home would be. Grampa “Hub” Fulmer was there, too, “supervising” from his perch on his old, faded Ford tractor. He was dressed in his usual overalls, lined denim coat, and a blue hat with the earflaps pulled down over his ears. He motioned to me to come next to him. He had his cane with him and pointed at several small trees. “Don’t let Grady cut down those holly berry trees,” he told me. In just a few weeks, Grampa would leave us in March. It saddens me that I didn’t have long to get to know him except through the stories that are told about him.

The hollies are only one of the reminders of Grampa. Grady bought our property from Grampa before we married. In fact, he had purchased one tract before we met with the intention of setting up his home there. He bought a second small tract for $500.00 (well below market value) right after he proposed. And then, when Granny’s estate was settled later than fall, he bought the rest of our nearly ten-acre tract. After Grampa retired, he constructed seven ponds to raise minnows. Fishermen stopped at his minnow house on their way to Lake Murray. The two ponds on our tract form another connection to this man I did not have time to get to know.

I’ve been photographing the land recently while participating in the Kinship practice circle, Making Kin through Photography. This class focuses on contemplative photography practices and some somatic practices as preparation for receiving the images. As I walk around with my “big girl camera,” I think about the story I might tell through my images. I feel connected with the land and the people who have lived and worked it when it was farmland. I know that I want to keep this land in the family as part of my sons’ heritage and legacy, even though they now live more than an hour away (but still in South Carolina and a short drive away).

Today, the land connects me to family.

Oops! I slipped up–Monday Musing on a Tuesday: Currently

I started a “listing” practice in June when I retired from teaching. I joined Liz’s Here: Five Things and have participated in those classes each time she’s offered them. There is another one coming up in two days. I also started doing “Currently” lists. I’ve decided to do a Currently list once a month–at the end of the month as a kind of reflection on what I’ve been doing. I even found a free printable that I put in my planner to keep it as a “memory piece” along with the other parts of the month. I include printed photos I’ve taken during the week as well as the usual planner stuff. I may even start keeping other kinds of ephemera of my life in the planner as well.

So, CURRENTLY: I am

loving the wide variety of winter clouds. I’ve noticed how different they are from summer clouds. Winter clouds are wispier, thinner, unlike the mountainous clouds of summer.

eathing fresh baked sour dough bread. I used to make sourdough bread before the children were born. I’ve started back. I “cheat.” I do use a bread machine for the mixing and the baking. I think today, though, I may bake a plain yeast breat for a change.

drinking lots of hot tea. My favorite this winter is Harney and Sons’ Hot Cinnamon Spice. There is enough sinnamon for the little bit of burn. Of course, I do like other teas as well. A good cup of chai latte is always welcome.

watching Masterpiece Mysteries on our local PBS station. My favorite is “Miss Scarlet and the Duke.” The fact that it is set in the Victorian period is certainly a draw, but so is the fact that its protagonist is a strong female who is trying to “make it” in the men’s world of private detecting. Eliza’s relationship with “the Duke,” Inspector William Wellington, is interesting to watch as it develops.

reading The First Ladies, a novel about the friendship between Eleanor Roosevelt and Mary McLeod Bethune. The novel focuses on their work as civil rights activists during the Depression and probably beyond (I’m only half way through it). So many of the issues these women faced are still with us. Reading this novel reminds that, though we have come a long way in the civil rights department, we still have a long way to go to achieve perfect equality.

working on my writing practice, probably not as consistently as I would like. I’m a work in progress.

listening to the music of Ludivico Einaudi, composer and pianist. This is my go-to playlist when I’m reading or writing.

buying too many craft supplies and books! I’ve started making my own stickers using templates and clip art I find on Etsy. I have decided that Etsy is addictive.

planning so many things: photography projects, excursions and day trips, new pieces of writing and art. . .

feeling content. I am doing the things I truly want to do. Only one thing would make me happier–to be able to see my adorable grandson daily, but until they move here or we move there, it’s not going to happen. Still, I will enjoy seeing the images his mother posts on Facebook.

Walking with My Camera: Contemplative Photography and Writing

I stood in the backyard next to the Big Pond in my black rain boots with the rainbow-colored polka dots, feeling my feet sink into the rain-soaked dirt under the winter-brown grass. I push my sleeves up above my elbows. Today, it is spring-like. (Last week, the highs were in the mid-thirties.) The breeze is gentle with just a hint of coolness. The rain frogs sing from the woods in front of me. Tomorrow may be a washout. Today, I take advantage of the sun, blue skies, and intermittent clouds. Surely, “this is the day the Lord has made, and I will rejoice and be glad in it.”

There are signs of spring even though we are not halfway through winter—the seventy-degree day, tiny buds of new leaves on the willow beside Gramps’s pond, thistles growing out of the grass, yellow dandelions in the front yard, the winter-blooming camellia, and gladiola stalks between the camellia and the rose bush—all harbingers of the spring to come.

And amidst these signs of new growth, there is still winter—the bare trees, wet brown leaves underfoot, golden broom straw, the dormant winter grass. There is beauty here in this winter world, too. Some of these trees and plants will be green and blooming in a few short months. And we will begin another cycle of life, death, hibernation, and rebirth.

As I walk down the powerline right-of-way from Gramps’s pond to my front yard, the ground gets wetter and soggier. Puddles of water invite me to step into them. After all, I am wearing my rain boots. I spot another gladiolus pushing its solitary way through the earth—and a giant ant hill growing into an ant mountain beside the rose bush. In the middle of the front yard are two bright yellow dandelions.

Up ahead, my husband stacks newly split wood into the racks to season. Work crews bury fiber optic cable along the side of the road. The mail carrier brings deliveries to the back steps, her tires crunching the gravel. I take the boxes inside and end my walk with a check of my phone and the need to pick up my pen and write.

Dreary Weather, but Thankful Thursday

It’s hard to be thankful for dreary weather. The fog, mist, drizzle, and rain settled in on Wednesday. Although the outside temperature was in the mid-60s most of the day, there was a “chill” in the air. That meant I had several cups of hot tea and a cup of the new-to-me McCafe horchata latte, to which I added just a little bit of half-and-half. It also meant that I did not get out for any photo walks.

Still, there is much to be thankful for:

  1. Good books. I just finished Alex Michaelides’s book The Fury, and started The First Ladies about the friendship of Eleanor Roosevelt and Mary McLeod Bethune. The latter is giving me much to think about.
  2. Hot beverages. The English believe that a cuppa can make just about anything better, and I believe it. I am not a big coffee drinker, but the occasional cup of some kind of “flavored” coffee is also comforting on chilly days.
  3. Music. “They” say it soothes the soul, and I do believe it. Listening to music can pick up my spirits and change my mood. Of course, there is something to be said for the silence as well. There is a Facebook meme that says something to the effect that music is the silence between the notes.
  4. The sounds of the birds outside the window. This morning, I heard the cooing of a mourning dove, probably sitting on the powerline that runs across our front yard. I couldn’t see it, but I definitely heard it over the hum of the machinery burying a new fiber optic cable in front of the house. (I’ll be even more thankful when that machinery goes silent! It has been rumbling and humming ALL. DAY. LONG.)

There was a popular book among the Christian community several years ago entitled One Thousand Gifts. The author made it a goal to list at least three things from her day that she perceived to be “gifts.” This book introduced me to the idea of the gratitude journal. Keeping a list of gifts in the ordinary does help put a positive spin even on those dreary, wet, miserable days. I will end with the psalmist’s words, which my brother-in-law greets our church with whenever he speaks: “This is the day the Lord has made; I will rejoice and be glad in it.”

Monday Musings–Remembering My Grandparents’ House

Every once in a while, a question on Facebook triggers something. Today, it was a question about what we remember about our grandparents’ house. I could write a chapter of a book about each of my grandparents’ homes.

Grandma and Granddaddy Wessinger lived in a “small” house. Granddaddy built the house for Grandma and custom-made certain parts of it just for her. Grandma was tiny, just barely five feet tall. Her kitchen was scaled just for her. It was a cozy kitchen. There was a wood-burning kitchen “warming” stove. That stove heated the kitchen in winter as well as cooked things like vegetables. The kitchen was also where the children ate. I can remember my oldest cousin being invited to eat in the dining room with the grown-ups. She was engaged to be married, and her fiance had come to eat with the family. Ginny declined the invitation. She and Wade ate in the kitchen with the rest of the cousins.

Naturally, the kitchen opened into the dining room and to the screened-in back porch. There was a bench on the porch where we often sat and played on rainy days. There was a sink on the porch as well. Granddaddy hung a metal dipper over the sink, and we all drank water from the dipper at some time or another. Uncle Lee’s room opened off the porch, too. We were not allowed to go into Uncle Lee’s room without his permission.

Another special room room was the “front room.” It was the formal living room or the parlor. Grandma had a Duncan-Fife sofa, a love seat, and an upright piano in that room, as well as her glass knick-knacks. She had a set of ceramic roosters. When we visited on most Sunday afternoons, we stayed in the den. We only visited as a family in the front room on Christmas. Grandma put her Christmas tree up in that front room. She had the most magical tree. Some of her ornaments bubbled. Granddaddy would roll dollar bills in Christmas paper and hang them on the tree. We thought we were rich when we took our rolls off the tree. (By the way, the “we” refers to my cousins, brother, sister, and me.)

This house burned in the fall of 1979 as a result of a chimney fire in the den. Although they rebuilt on the same sight, the new house was never quite the same as the one my Granddaddy built for his bride fifty years before (they were married in January 1930). When I remember going to see my grandparents, that white frame house is the one that I remember.

Monday Musing

Have you ever had a good idea and started writing it, but realized where you were writing was the wrong place and deleted it?

That happened to me this morning. I was writing a post for a Facebook group I’m in and got off on a tangent that would make a really great Monday Musing piece. I deleted it.

Now, I can’t remember what I was thinking and writing. . . .

Memory. If I were in my middle school classroom, I’d laugh and tell my students that I’m having a senior moment. My father would tell me that, if it was important, I’ll remember it in time. I imagine that both of these are true.

But I’ve got another thought. Technology. You see, when I deleted those really wonderful thoughts, I imagined I could just open up this space, hit Control-V to paste the sentences in, and, voila!, I would have the first part written.

It didn’t work that way this morning. Or WordPress didn’t work that way. Robert Burn once wrote, “The best laid plans of mice and men often go astray” (I’ve Americanized Burns’s Scots!). My plans went astray this morning, at least in terms of of my expectations for technology.

So now, I’m thinking about how much I’ve begun to rely on technology for many things. I lost my recipe books in a house fire some fifteen years ago. I had a whole cabinet full of those recipe books various organizations publish with the favorites of its members–churches, schools, civic organizations. Some of them were absolutely gorgeously printed edited that I enjoyed reading even if I didn’t cook any of the recipes. They were “inspiration.” Now, if I need a recipe, I “google” it.

Last night, I wanted to make potato cakes from the leftover mashed potatoes from Saturday night’s supper. Now, my mother made potato cakes all the time–leftover mashed potatoes, egg, a little flour, some baking powder, chopped onion, salt and pepper–no recipe. Then she fried them. Boy, could those cakes soak up some grease! I have an air fryer, and I use it to make french fries, cook bacon and sausages, occasionally hamburgers, etc. But something from a batter? I found several recipes online, borrowed some ideas from each, and made air-fried potato cakes, and they were delicious. I can’t give you my recipe because I just “added” whatever I thought it needed. I learned a trick or two as well. When you make something like a fritter or potato cake, line the fryer basket with a sheet of “tin foil” sprayed with cooking spray or wipe a layer of olive oil or some other cooking oil to keep the batter from sticking. I cooked the cakes for 15 minutes at 400 degrees, flipping them during the last five minutes to brown on both sides and get that crispy outside crust.

I’ve also experimented with some of the AI apps out there. I needed some “inspiration” to push through a tricky part of the novel I’m writing. I wanted a backstory, a myth or a legend, to explain the importance of an object–a mysterious and rare black sapphire. I asked ChatGPT to write that legend. Of course, I had to do some tweaking to make it fit my story, but it sparked some new directions. for me.

Technology can be a great help, but I think it can hurt as well when we become too reliant on it. I don’t think I’ll see technology take over the world in my life time. I don’t think AI will replace human intelligence and free thinking unless we rely on it without learning to think critically.

And, as you can see, my Monday Musing has been a Monday Meandering. Writing does that to me–one thought leads to another, and another, and another!

Have a great week!

Thankful Thursday–Quiet

It’s late; I haven’t written anything but notes to myself all day. I’ve spent some time learning new things: lectio divina, examen prayer, sabbath rituals, starting a photo project. . . . . It’s been “a week.”

It started with a migraine. Can I say how thankful I am for migraine rescue meds? Monday was a killer with an aural migraine accompanied by the pain (or was it the other way around?). Anyway, I couldn’t see anything clearly.

Then Tuesday, it was storms all day, rain so heavy I could not see past the back steps and winds that seemed as though they could push my small home over on its side, or perhaps pick it up and take me to Oz. I am thankful for safety through those storms. And then, that evening, while I was heating some leftovers for supper, I looked out the kitchen window and saw this:

I am thankful for the rain; we needed it, and the ponds have more water in them than they have had in quite a while. I am thankful for these blue skies and the light on the clouds.

I am thankful for those leftovers! It’s hard to cook for just two after cooking for two growing boys and one husband who grew up as a member of the “clean plate club”–which meant that there were no leftovers! (Tonight we are have a smorgasborg of leftovers from this week.)

Small things, I know. Still I am thankful.

Currently–Monday Musing

Currently, in January–

READING: The Way of the Fearless Writer by Beth Kempton and Fingerpainting on the Moon by Peter Levitt. These two books are part getting back into a consistent writing habit.

LISTENING: the sounds of silence–not the song so much as just the sound of being quiet so that I actually hear and listen to “the world”. Right now, it’s traffic noise on the road in front of the house, but earlier today, I heard the birds, welcome sounds that spring is around the corner.

BAKING: bread in my bread machine. This weekend, I made two loaves, one each of sourdough and German Christmas bread. I think the Christmas bread will be a year-long addition to the bread recipes. It’s filled with cinnamon, golden raisins, walnuts, and brandy. It’s delicious for breakfast with my cup of Harney and Sons Hot Cinnamon Spice Tea.

LOVING: the freedom of being retired. I thought I would miss the daily routines of planning lessons, preparing materials, researching and reading new texts, and teaching; however, I don’t miss the administrative parts of the job. I do miss the energy of the students. Middle-schoolers are a special breed, and I loved teaching them the past four years.

PLANNING: Projects! I joined the One Little Word year-long class and have started my album. I chose a “big” word this year–manifest. It’s one of those words that can be a “good word”–something I can still hear former students Brice Obermeyer and Chris Hunter saying in those English III and IV Honors classes, lo!, those many years ago. I’m thinking of ways that word will set my intentions for this year. Another project I’m planning is the Ultimate Outsider challenge to visit all the state parks at least once. I may not see them all this year, but it’s on the bucket list! Mama wants to go with me!

WATCHING: Miss Scarlet and the Duke on PBS/SCETV. I know, it sounds like a Regency romance title, doesn’t it? It is a Victorian mystery series, part of the PBS Masterpiece Mystery series. I love the characters and the relationship between Miss Scarlet, a lady detective, and Liam Wellington, a detective for Scotland Yard.

FEELING: thankful. My family is, for the most part, healthy and doing well. I have a good home and a good life. I am surrounded by people whom I love and who love me. I can’t ask for more, can I?