Ain't No Cure for the Summertime Blues

Happy Mid-Summer's Day

It's the summer solstice, the longest day of the year. From this point all our days will shorten until we reach the Winter Solstice six months from now. Animals will begin growing their winter coats after today, and already the harvest is ripening. This is the best time of the year, lazy hot days that remind us of childhood and time spent staring into azure skies filled with puffy white pillows.

Who doesn't love summer, especially as a child? Days when everything was possible and our future was limited only by imagination. Time was spent chasing the wind and climbing trees, exploring the universe until the streetlights came on and the fireflies went to bed. Then you dragged yourself into the tub and scrubbed dirt from half of the county off your skin and avowed to your mother of having no idea how that hole got in the seat of your shorts.

Days watching the fields grow, the baby animals of spring become the children of summer, and for one brief moment it seems possible that August will never arrive, that you will be allowed to stay in this land of sunshine and honeysuckle. Evenings you churn fresh ice cream with berries from the vines in the back yard, and debate the day's activities with gravitas and humor. Night is only to recharge and to dream of new adventures in distant lands, usually the neighboring woods and pastures.

Summer is the season of growth for of nature, flora and fauna, the season of preparation. No matter what, this is when we must get ready, stretch and grow, tend to the harvest to come. As the days grow shorter a sense of urgency comes over us, to gather, to store, to get ready for the lean times of winter. That still applies, even in this age of devices and connections to the ether.

So get your nose out of your laptop, grab some water, your sunglasses, and some sunscreen and head outside. Grow something, can something, make jelly, or just cut the grass, but enjoy the lazy days of abundance. Before your winter coat starts growing...

Life Happened...

I looked at my blog to see what my last post was about and realized, I've let the whole summer go by without keeping up. That happens sometimes. I have a habit of letting life interrupt my writing. I wish I were as prolific as some of my friends. They can turn out a book a month, while my current pace is one a year.

I wish I didn't judge myself against other writers, but I think that is human nature. We start looking at others to inspire ourselves, and then allow their accomplishments to sink our own ambitions instead of driving us to work harder.

Summer is almost gone, and I've written very little since May. Sure I've edited a couple of books for friends, and we've had three family members pass away, but nothing new on paper for several weeks. In short, I feel empty.

The people are still in my head, the stories are still percolating but opening the file never seems to happen. Even now, as I complain about me I'm watching the Olympics and surfing You Tube. The icon for my word processor mocks me every time I stare at the screen.

Am I being too hard on myself? After all it's hard to write in the summer, what with the longer days making everyone miserable. Or am I letting dissatisfaction in other areas of my life to take control. Maybe my mid-life crisis is starting now, since people are living longer it's a thought.

One I thing I do know is I cannot force myself to write. The children do not like to be forced. The last time that happened, I killed off one of my favorite characters. I buried that chapter and promised everyone I'd never fail them again. But here I go, failing.

Everyone has a pity party once in a while, and this appears to be mine. I promise not to let it last too long. There's the promo to gear up for my next release - "Welcome to the Family", and sequels to write and new characters to explore.

I just think I'll wait until the temps drop below 80.

Wait..What..Not Again!

As June progressed, I finally got all the turnip greens out of my garden, and it seemed things were well on their way to a fabulous summer. I peeled and chopped and canned zucchini and summer squash while dreams of mountains of beans, rivers of sweet peas and bushels of tomatoes danced him my head. Once again, Mother Nature had other plans.

That's right - we have another drought on our hands. Just as my corn was tasseling and the bean pods were plumping, the rains went away. For more than three weeks, not a drop fell from the heavens. When the grass starts crunching under your feet, then you know it's dry out there.

So, I harvested my cucumbers (apparently they like it hot!), and squash and monitored the damages. Both my helpful hubby and my father-in-law pronounced my garden dead on more than one occasion, only to see me harvest baskets of potential pickles. My corn popped inside the husks but the beans popped out in full force, leading to a basket so full I had to have my son carry it to the house.

At last I relented and pronounced the harvest done. Some seeds were extra prolific (Squash of all kinds, cucumbers, pole beans) while others never ever popped through (carrots, peppers, peas). But for what did come up I reaped gold.

My final tally for the first Reece garden is: 20 quarts of beans, 15 pints of pickles and pickle relish, 5 quarts of summer squash and onions, 10 pints of lemon honey jelly, 8 pints of zucchini pickles, and 3 quarts of pickled butternut squash. All in all not a bad haul.

The tomatoes came in slow and never in any great quantities, so I just shared them with friends and co-workers. We got 5 full grown pumpkins, which were ready by the end of July. I am saving mine for Halloween. The biggest failure was no watermelons. I love watermelon in the summer. This year I had to resort to grocery store melon. Boo.

I gathered seeds from all the produce that I could and I intend to try again next year. No winter garden, I'm not ready to fight another battle against turnip greens. No, we are going to plow, rake, plow, rake, and hope for cleaner dirt next spring. I had a lot of fun, recalled a lot of good times with my father, and I wouldn't trade a callous or twinge in my carpal tunnel for anything else. Good times from the simplest thing - a new memory to join the many from childhood.

Thanks for listening to my summer saga. It might not sound like all that much fun, but trust me. It was a blast.

Spring Showers Bring...Road Trips

Once the great Turnip Green disaster of 2012 was averted, I thought for sure my garden was on its way. Seedlings were popping up, squash and cucumber vines began sending out their first runners, and my pumpkins appeared to have been set into pure fertilizer. Visions of fresh vegetables danced through my head at night, and on Sunday mornings I couldn't wait to be on the road to measure the week's progress. Then - another crisis.

From Mother's Day until Father's Day, I was out of town. Not for business, not for fun, but for family issues. First, my 92 year old mother lives with my brother and his family. My sister-in-law was getting a well deserved break and would be gone for two weeks. Since my brother has odd hours (he's a doctor), my sister and I decided to split the assignment between the two of us. So for ten day I 'baby sat' my mother. It was wonderful.

I had always been a Daddy's girl,. My mother and I get along, but I'm a strange child (it says so in my baby book). Only when my dad died early did Mother and I finally come to a mutual place from which to base our adult relationship. When she could no longer drive herself around, my brother moved her into his house in South Carolina. It was the best thing (did I mention she is 92?) and we all agreed it was time, but afterward I discovered it hurt.

Spending ten days sitting with my mom, talking, working crossword puzzles, watching every game show on television, fixing her meals - it was glorious. For really the first time in my adult life we related and bonded and discussed past history which cannot be undone. When Memorial Day weekend rolled around and it was time to go home, I was so sad I didn't even listen to the radio the entire three hour drive. I wanted to just savor the moment.

Well, the next day I returned to my little slice of vegetable heaven, only to discover nothing had been done in 10 days. Okay, in gardening terms, ten days is an entire season. The weeds were taking over. I lost my carrots, my lettuce, my peppers, everything that wasn't a squash, pumpkin, cucumber or beans had simply been overwhelmed. For five hours I pulled and grunted and cursed (again) my city-slicker hubby, but as the sun began to sink over the horizon there was a semblance of order in my plot.

Then, less than a week later, my aunt died. Back out of town I go, knowing that when I returned there would be more weeds to wrangle, plus they were cutting hay that week. I prayed no one would run over the pumpkins, which by this time had already started to bloom. Returning six days later, I raced up the expressway only to discover - more zucchini and summer squash than Carter has Little Pills (obscure 60's reference - look it up!).

When I say zucchini, I mean green blimps! These monsters were at least 7 pounds a piece and as long as my arm. Nothing close to the grocery store zucchini. My first thought was: did I plant the wrong seeds? But then I looked at summer squash and they were enormous yellow pillows! You think I am kidding? One summer squash made a casserole that fed three people for four days! My hubby asked if I bought the seeds from some mutant source. They were huge and they didn't stop coming for weeks. Even my usually eager town friends were saying no thanks, we've had enough.

Harvesting everything that was ready took two extra large storage tubs from Wal Mart. After some more weeding (those turnip greens were stubborn little twits), I left knowing that upcoming weekend I would again be out of town - this time for a family wedding in Ohio!

Well, the gardening fun didn't stop there. Next time, we will discuss who knows more: my city boy husband, or me?

Spring Planting (Or Replanting?)

Once we decided to do a garden this year, the decision on what to plant was left up to me with hubby's stamp of approval. Corn, beans, peas, tomatoes, watermelons - all standard Georgia garden fare. With the ground prepared and the seeds ready we set out the rows and off to the races we went. All the squashes, beans, peas, melons, in three short hours we had seeded an area more than 1000 square feet. Happy and pleased with a job well done, we headed off for our first week of waiting.

Anxiously I watched the weather report, glad when radar showed rain heading in our general direction. The weekend took forever to come around again. Sunday morning arrived at last and I bounced in the car like a kid on the way to see Santa. Just when I could wait no more, we turned down the street, up the long winding driveway, then past the garden. I could see little green shoots beginning to poke through as we headed to the main house.

Church seemed to drag that morning, and lunch was forever. Just when I thought I would burst from anticipation, we arrived back at the farm. Changing into work clothes I race out to my little slice of heaven to find...

Turnip greens. That's right, turnip greens popping up all over my nicely plotted garden.

Imagine my surprise. Covering the entire garden, in my neat straight rows and in between, anywhere there was a spare inch of fertilized earth, were little turnip green leaves. Apparently the previous fall, for a winter garden, one of the helpers on my father-in-law's farm had planted turnips, harvested the greens but left the turnips themselves in the ground. With the warmer weather and the fertile spring rains, those little suckers just popped right out, heedless to the fact they are winter crops that cannot survive the hot Georgia summers.

So my first full Sunday as a gardener was spent identifying and pulling little turnip greens while trying to not pull up actual seedlings that were wanted. This is when I discovered what a non-outdoors man I married. He couldn't identify weeds from plants, didn't like having to pull so many wrong plants, and within 45 minutes had abandoned me completely to sit on the front porch drinking ice tea while I sweat and pulled and cursed turnips with my every fiber.

I was not amused.

Welcome To My Mid-Life Crisis

This fall I will turn fifty, a point of dread for me since my mother turned fifty. Of course I was only 8 at the time and thought my mother would shrivel up and die. I mean, really - half a century seemed ANCIENT! Of course, as the magic age has steadily approached my opinion has changed. I know I won't shrivel up once my birthday arrives. Or at least I hope not.

But in preparation for this momentous occasion I decided to learn new skills, or resurrect skills not used since my childhood. First up on the list: plant a garden for the purpose of canning and freezing food for the winter.

My father's family were farmers and every year, no matter where we lived, there was always a garden. Fresh tomatoes, cucumbers, peppers, not to mention trips to the big farmer's market would provide plenty of fresh vegetables for the months when good produce was hard to find. While it isn't such a necessity to have a personal garden any more, nothing can beat the taste of good, fresh produce.

Helpful hubby promised to be of assistance and my father-in-law plowed the garden up at his farm, about an hour north of where we live. After carefully searching the Internet for heirloom seeds (plants which can produce seeds for replanting) I made my selections and off we went to create our first garden together in 25 years of marriage.

Little did I know that I have married the only man in North Georgia to never have spent any time in a garden!

Join me for my series: So... You Want to Plant a Garden! as I provide a play-by-play commentary on my summer project. It will make you laugh. I promise!

Rain, Sunshine, Warm and Cold - Welcome to Georgia

Having lived in Georgia a majority of my life, I am never surprised by the weather. There is no true 'normal' when it comes to our weather, especially at this time of year. One day it is raining and 65 degrees and the breeze is from the South. Then the wind will blow harder from the North followed closed by sunshine and freezing temps. Take this pattern and repeat for three months and you have Georgia in the winter.

The only good part of winter here? It brings about a glorious spring. When the dogwoods pop out and the azaleas bloom and the breeze from the South bring a hint of warmer days to come there is not a place in the world I would rather be then here. Living for a while in South Florida, I grew inured to the blooming of flowers and the leaves on the trees. Then we were transferred to Atlanta.

We arrived here in the heart of summer, July I believe it was, so the heat and humidity were familiar. Then came fall and the glorious colors I had never experienced before. The crispness in the air and the smell of campfires competed with deep blue sky and a touch of chill in the air from the north. The winds began to blow again, removing the last of the now brown leaves from their perches and reminding us that winter would soon be here again.

Don't get me wrong. I love the beach. I love the touch of a tropical sun on my skin. But I love the change of seasons too, especially the way my city changes along with the seasons. I lived here and there and I've visited around and about but when push comes to shove, North Georgia is my home. Always.

Random Thoughts As Labor Day Approaches

It is the first of September and summer is officially over, at least in our neck of the woods. School has been in session for a month, the children have settled into their routines of school, homework, activities. Soon the leaves will start changing on the trees and (hopefully) cooler temperatures will invade North Georgia. Oh, Fall - Nature's Paint Explosion. How I love the crisp air and clear smells that define my favorite season.

Soon it will be Apple Festival time, and the Fair will come to town. We will take part in traditions born long ago and carried on today for reasons vastly different from their original meanings. The Fall Fair was a time to come together, to celebrate a success harvest to provide food during the coming winter and to fellowship before the cold and snow kept everyone confined and apart. Today we go to the fair to eat cotton candy and ride the rides. Oh how the times have changed.

This summer went by faster than anticipated. I can barely remember the Fourth of July, it seems more than just two months ago. Helpful Hubby and I didn't take a formal vacation, preferring to steal days here and there along the way to run off to the lake or just hand around the house. That, I have decided was the wrong thing. The act of booking a vacation and planning where to go and what to do is cathartic. Without that wholesale clearance process that accompanies a vacation our brains begin to clog with useless, out-dated information.

Europeans as a whole take the entire month of August as vacation. Why can't Americans get away with the same thing? Because after ten days the men would drive us all crazy! Maybe the better policy would be three vacations a year - one with your family, one by yourself or with friends and one with your significant other only.

Sounds like a plan to me!

Who am I and Where Did I Come From?

I had dinner the other night with three of my closest female friends. Due to schedule conflicts we hadn't been together in almost a year, and the conversation was fast and varied. One is expecting to become a grandmother for the first time while another will have both children in college. Two were going back to work as teachers of children with learning disabilities. After all these great and life changing events, it was my turn.

When I mentioned I had a publisher interested in my book I also mentioned this blog. Linda asked me, "What is your blog about?" and I had to stop for a moment. What is this blog about and for? So, after spending several days pondering the topic, I finally came to a decision.

This blog is my journal, my take on things around me and the way I see the world. It isn't about what I wore on a particular day, or great places to eat around town where I live. It isn't about my children in general or anything in particular. This is what I think, feel, experience, write or hear within a defined period of time.

So this is me, being me, for the first time in a long time. There will be posts on my books and writing, my family and friends, triumphs and tragedies. According to the rules of conversation as handed down by my father, I will blog on everything except politics, religion and the Great Pumpkin. Well, maybe politics if I can't hold the irritation inside any longer.

Northern born, Southern raised, youngest child, biggest mouth - all terms used to describe this child of the 70's. My father was an aeronautic engineer and my mother a librarian. Personally I can't add without a calculator but I do have a passion for books. And I usually have an opinion on everything.

Grab a cup of coffee and come along with me, I have a wealth of topics I want to cover. Tomorrow I think I'll cover something totally different - like the new weather patterns or the lack of good network television during summer months. But whatever it is, I know it will be all me.

Summertime and the Living isn't Easy

The dog days of summer are here. Temperatures are hovering in the upper 90s, the humidity is 110% and the heat index is around 110. It's days like this make me miss living at the beach. But that poses its only set of problems. (LIST TIME!)

1 - When summer is this hot, no water is cold. Not the lake, unless you can find the lower current where the rivers are still moving under the surface. Not any pools, they all feel similar to a hot tub, all chlorine and floating dead bugs. Even the water park cannot cool the water enough to make paying the small fortune it takes to get in worth while.

2 - Watering bans in preparation for another drought are already making their presence felt in this area. That means no watering your lawn except between midnight and 5am. This makes it rather difficult to play in the sprinklers. Another favorite memory of my childhood gives way to modern reality.

3 - Even the beaches in the Southeast are not centers of cool relaxation. The water is too warm, sharks are prowling just of the coasts, we are in the middle of a jelltfish explosion not to mention the still lurking spectre of the oil spill from 2010. There might not be any oil on the beaches themselves but we all know it is just off shore, ready to leap upon our Wal-Mart bathing suits and ruin our summer vacations.

4 - The mountains are cooler, but not by much. The only respite one can gather in the upper elevations of the South is the sun goes down earlier because of the hills and the streams and rivers are ice cold but every other person in a 100 mile radius has the same idea. The congestion and exhaust fumes contribute to the name "Smokey Mountains".

SO how does the 21st century Southerner keep cool? Thank God for central air conditioning and sweet tea. As long as we have these staples of our civilization life will remain bearable until Fall can roll around with his cooler temperatures and brilliant blue skies.

Writer's Block

It finally has hit me hard. Writer's Block, the common name for being stuck up a plot with no contrivance, is keeping forward progress in any of my stories from occurring. However there is a small difference - it isn't that I can't write anything, I can't write anything I need to write. In other words, the right story is stuck and others are now pressing their own plot lines individual advantages.

Most days I try to keep two or three characters rolling around in my head for story development. Which is interesting while trying to work a full time job because I must admit sometimes the noise is quite deafening. After completing 'Catalyst' I began two other projects not remotely similar to each other: 'January Frost' a story for my daughter and her friends and 'Nishamora' an adventure novel.

The second in the Guardian Series has a working title as well, 'Piaculum - The Price of Redemption'. So, that makes three main stories in my head with a dozen or so major story arcs. Which makes more personalities in my head than 'All About Eve'! This much inspiration keeps my spare attention span close to zero, which does not make my husband very happy.

Currently my house is in a state somewhere between cluttered and "omg my mother is a closet hoarder!" This does not make me a happy camper. So, with this being the last week of school I have decided no matter how long it takes me I will clean up my house, work my job, be a mom, take care of my horses and still find time to write every day. I never thought I would lose my patience but I sense the end approaching.

My Loving Mother managed to accomplish all those things and much more, so I have the genetic makeup to follow in her footsteps and yet, I feel less than worthy of her apron. Were the truth of things to be told I despise cleaning. Until recent events conspired to overwhelm me my house was neat. Now though the beginnings of clutter are starting to arise.

The dining room table is covered with items that have no immediate home. The trouble always starts with items that have no immediate home. The living room is the object of my Dearest Daughter's possessions: lunchbox, jackets, clothing, blankets, anything she comes through the door carrying end ups on my couch and spills down to the floor and surround grounds.

The steps to the second floor are lined with Helpful Hubby and Dearest Daughter's shoes, soldiers of inattention neglected until searched for in panic when they are needed. The upstairs bannister has become a resting zone for items which need to go downstairs or into the laundry.

The three bedrooms are all in states of stacking up. However, I will give Dearest Daughter props, her room is much neater than any room in the house with the exception of dishes that don't always make it back to the kitchen in a timely fashion. And her laundry sometimes exists in two piles: 'dirty' and 'known only to her'. She obviously has more of her grandmother in her than I do.

My room is the worst, and I think it's because a man lives in there. Actually it is worse because I have always kept the mess out of public view. So the ironing has piled up on the cedar chest from lack of time. I need to take clothes to the thrift box which makes another pile to be cleared out. If I work on the missing sock table and reorder the DVD stack that makes five stacks I could clean out of my bedroom today!

Which brings me back to...

Writer's Block has a friend whose name is "Indecision". So unable to decide which project to tackle first I have made the first step toward planning my last week before school starts.

Let's Go Shopping.

Summer's End

In one more week my daughter will start high school. This is a momentous time in my life. In four more years she will head off to college, leaving the hubby and me empty-nesters. More important, over the next four years I will be handling problems my own parents dealt with as the parent of a high school teenage female. Here are some of the issues I brought to the table as an adolescent that I dread being on the receiving end of:

1 - Boy friend drama. I consider myself fortunate in that my daughter is not currently that interested in boys. She has had one brief relationship that she ended when he became too clingy. Here's to hoping that trend continues.

2 - School Work. Darling Daughter is very bright and wants to go to vet school. She also wants to go out of state. To get a scholarship, which is necessary for out of state tuition, she needs excellent grades. That's never been a problem, but this is high school.

3 - Sleeping. High school starts around 7:30am. That means the bus comes at the unearthly time of 6:25. What teenager voluntarily gets up at 5:45am to get on a bus to go to school??!?! I foresee four years of torment attempting to get her on the bus, or with a ride. Why our high school starts an hour ahead of every other school in the county has been the subject of much debate, but hasn't changed anything. I bet none of the school board has teenagers.

4 - Parties. Need I say anything else?

5 - Taxi Service. My child is only thirteen. With the current driving regulations, it will be at least four years before she can move herself around town. Four more years of Mom's Taxi Service - glad we downsized the car this year.

6 - Teenage Attitude. Angst, surliness, sarcasm, crying, laughing, yelling, whining, cone of silence, bratty, adventurous, fear, anxiety - yep that about covers it. If I don't like the mood, just wait a few moments. Change is guaranteed.

So I intend to spent this last week of vacation with my daughter. Enjoying the last few minutes of days with my child. The next time she shows up might be a long time coming.

What A Bummer...

This summer hasn't exactly been the greatest summer of my life. My ninety year old mother had to be moved quickly into my brother's house and we have been coming to grips with a life that will be ending sooner than later. Others in our family have been dealing with equally life changing issues and it has brought me to the following realization:

No matter where we are on the timeline, there is no rewind button.

As I watch my children growing, I am flooded with memories of myself at their ages (23 and 14). At 14 I was in high school, dealing with acne and boys and Algebra. At 23 I was working for a living, dealing with boys and acne and COBOL. No matter how old I get those memories are just as vivid now as they were then.

Which brings me to our recent loss, an employee of more than 12 years succumbed to rapidly advancing cancer. He was diagnosed on 2/15/11 and died 7/3/11. While I have known and seen many people go through various forms of cancer, this was the fastest downhill slide I have ever personally witnessed. And the real bummer... this was a wonderful man.

A true Christian, devoted to his church and his family. A good man on all accounts, but mortal, just like the rest of us. But the peace he and his wife exhibited during that last month was unlike most. With the security of knowing they would meet each other again for eternity both husband and wife met death head up, unlike most of us who run kicking, screaming and bargaining with God for more time.

If life had a rewind button here are a few days I would like to either relive as they were or have an option for a re-do:

1 - The day I spent extra time on the beach before driving home to Atlanta from Destin with first degree burns on my body. I then got stopped by the police 10 minutes from my home and almost got thrown in jail for being 'mouthy'. Of course my body temp was over 100 degrees! You be all nice and polite when your body is on fire.

2 - The night my dad died. My husband and I had gone out with friends and when the phone call came in the wee hours of the morning I didn't answer the first two times they called. It wouldn't have made any difference in terms of being there when he dies, but I wish we had gone to the hospital instead of going out. Wisdom though, only comes with age and experience.

3 - The birth of my son. I was too scared to enjoy the 'wonders of childbirth'. First children get the short end of the stick on this matter - their mothers aren't overprotective, just panicked they will do something wrong and their mother-in-law will get the chance to snark on them.

4 - My 48th birthday. My husband forgot my birthday.

5 - Our last family vacation. No explanation at this time required.

Unfortunately there isn't a rewind button, so all we can do is make the best of the days before is. Too much looking back isn't good for our futures.