Change of season...

October is putting on a show in New England this year. The light on the foliage is breathtaking, and I find myself gasping as I run mundane errands. Just driving to the grocery store or the transfer station is a celebration for my eyes. 

I pulled summer foliage out of most of the planters and window boxes. Then I laid some hay on top of each and got a little whimsical with pumpkins. The grands were thrilled to see my efforts. 

One of the ancient lilac bushes got a good pruning, and I hauled the pulled plants and trimmed branches out to the goats for a sumptuous smorgasbord. They make short work of such "waste." 

Every year I treat the house to having its windows professionally washed. There are several reasons for this. First, I am a terrible window washer, leaving streaks and smears despite my best efforts. Also, since we have a two-story house, climbing on the roof and using tall ladders is necessary to reach the second story. Third, wrestling with our old windows and screens takes strength and talent I just can't seem to muster. Oh, and the windows always have a lot of spiders hiding around the edges. Way too many legs for me to cope with. All of these factors make it much easier to save up, write a check, and have the job done perfectly.

Maine winters are long, dark, and often dreary, so it feels important to me to have sparkly clean windows that let in every speck of sunlight possible. 

I always take down all my curtains before the washing crew arrives. This makes it easier for them, and gives me time to wash all that fabric. I had a moment this year as I took the fragrant curtains from the washing machine... re-hanging them has always been a "Chris job." He was so tall it was an easy chore for him to go from room to room and place the rods in their holders. I miss him in a thousand ways. Sweet Rachel understood that and took the job on as her own. She had to scramble around on a stool, but she kindly did it for me to help save a little sorrow. 

This time of year we normally make many quarts of tomato sauce, capturing the flavor of summer to enjoy for the rest of the year. I didn't think I had it in me to do it this year, but Rachel pulled a quart from last fall out of the freezer to make pasta for us for work lunch one day, and it was so delicious I had to rouse myself to tackle the coring, chopping, seasoning, stirring, and packaging. Rachel helped, of course, and we are so glad we did it. The scent of it cooking was indescribably delicious, and the flavor of this year's efforts is excellent. We are all looking forward to enjoying the bounty. 

After my sweet friend Angel did me the great kindness of cleaning up Chris's office, I gave the room a hard look. Before we ever bought this house, someone had covered the ceiling in some sort of wallpaper and then painted over it. The seams were gaping in spots. There was peeling paint on a lot of the woodwork, and damage to the drywall that needed skills I do not possess to repair. The nice men who built our deck last year came and got to work scraping, sanding, mudding, sanding some more, and priming. It was a bigger project than I realized; they spent many hours making everything smooth and paint-ready. I'll use the space as an additional guest room and homeschool space for the Owlet and Cygnet. Just as autumn arrives with glorious color, flavor, and predictability, it is time for this room to have a new season, too. 

Weekend adventures...

 Sister Deb came for the weekend, which is always a treat. She decided that we should do something a little different and signed us up for a glass mosaic class. Rachel joined us, and it was so nice to learn a new skill. The instructor showed us how to use some simple tools, and in no time we were scoring and cutting glass. I found it fascinating that I could cut shapes and make the fragile stuff do my bidding.  I only gained a few tiny scrapes for my efforts. The instructor was gifted and kind, the other class members pleasant and interesting. Some of the attendees arrived with designs they wanted to create. One woman made an intricate sugar skull; one made a sensational lobster. In my typical fashion, I just jumped in and made stuff up as I went along. 

My finished product, which I titled "Broken Heart," is now reflecting light through my kitchen window, a happy memory of creative time spent with two of my favorite people. 

We had hot fudge sundaes for lunch. No regrets! 

My friend Susan took my puppy for the day so I could be gone for an extended period without worry, and Fae had a terrific time, arriving home exhausted and well-entertained. 

When we got home, I got a message from another friend: "Want some apples?" Of course I did! He arrived moments later in his beautiful vintage Mustang and handed me a huge sack of fresh-picked autumn goodness. What a treat! 

On Sunday, we worked together to further reclaim Chris's office and turn it into a homeschool space for the Owlet and Cygnet. Deb brought some more curriculum and organized it beautifully on a bookcase we emptied out. The Owlet was very enthusiastic about our efforts. 

I don't have any photos to illustrate this next bit, so please try to use your imagination. I had a busy day off planned. I was to meet a lovely friend for coffee in Camden, then get my hair trimmed, go to the bank, and to the grocery store. Since I was going out in public, I made a little extra effort with my outfit, hair, and makeup, exercised the puppy, and got her settled in with a long-lasting chew stick, then went out to get in my truck. 

In the back of my truck was a very large dog kennel. The plastic kind, big enough to fit the tallest Great Dane. I got it for free years ago and have used it to transport goats. I rarely use it anymore, and I offered it to my friend Cheryl, who borrows it from time to time to move her goats from point A to point B. I planned to take it to her, but I didn't want to deliver it if she didn't want it. I also didn't want to be driving around with it in my truck, so I decided to leave it in the driveway for the day. 

There I stood, ready to go be social, and I grabbed the crate and pulled it towards me. Remember the Ice Bucket Challenge they did a few years ago to raise money for awareness of Lou Gehrig's disease? Well, I hadn't signed up for the challenge, but suddenly a couple of gallons of very cold rainwater rolled off the top of that crate and dumped on top of my head, drenching me. If someone had managed to get the scene on video, I can guarantee it would have gone viral. 

After a hurried wardrobe change (I was soaked to the skin), I tried to patch up my hair and makeup, then got back on my way. 

I was on my road, about twenty feet from taking a left onto a major street, when I depressed my clutch to downshift. When I did, the clutch pedal went straight to the floorboards and stayed there. Suddenly and unexpectedly, I lost control of my transmission. I managed to let the truck roll a little out of the way and onto the shoulder. I quickly called the friend I was supposed to meet, hoping to catch her before she got too far from home. Then I called my mechanic and my daughter. My sweet daughter came to get me. A passing neighbor stopped to see if we needed help and pointed out that my transmission fluid was leaking all over the road. 

The friend I was supposed to have coffee with pulled up with to-go cups of coffee and hot breakfast biscuits and kept us company while we waited for the tow truck. Despite the broken car and scrambled plans, we had a jolly visit! 

Then my daughter let me use her car, and I was able to run most of my errands, have my hair trimmed, and get groceries laid in for the week. 

It was an eventful several days, all told. Visits, new skills, ice cream, gasp-worthy water episodes, automotive strandings, and nice people. In the end, it's the people who are most memorable. 

A first...

 When you lose a spouse, you know that the "firsts" are going to be tough. The first wedding anniversary without them. The first Thanksgiving, Christmas, etc. I hadn't thought about the first time I got sick and was alone. 

I'm pretty healthy, but I do succumb to the occasional virus. Late last week I got hit with the flu. It came on fast, starting with just a little cough, but quickly progressing to full-blown misery. I knew exactly what Chris would have done. He'd have gone to the store and come back with two boxes of Puff's Plus tissues with lotion. One for upstairs, one for downstairs. He would also have procured a bottle of NyQuil (original flavor, not that gross cherry stuff) and DayQuil. There would be a few cans of Campbell's Tomato Soup and a bag of Fritos, because that is comfort food for me, and a pint or two of Ben and Jerry's Chunky Monkey ice cream. He might even have added a glossy magazine for me to enjoy while I was under the weather. And he'd wait on me, bringing me ice water, heating up soup and garnishing it with Fritos, and he'd take care of all the animals so I could just rest. Most of all, he'd care. "You should take a nap," he'd grin. "I'll come with you and be a calming influence." The man loved a nap, even if it meant I'd be breathing germs on him. He didn't like it when I was sick and had an overly optimistic view of my recovery. No matter how awful I looked and felt he'd quip, "You look MUCH better! You will be good as new tomorrow." 

Poor Fae has been bored out of her skull for the past few days. I've provided extra chewy treats to entertain her and tried to get her outside often, but it has not been enough stimulation for an active puppy. She's been very good (though she did destroy one stuffed toy), but she has clearly thought our existence was much too dull. 

 I felt a little better this afternoon, so I took a shower, put on some real clothes and boots, and took her out in the pasture. It seemed like an awful lot of exertion to me to take this simple stroll, but her joy made it worthwhile. The goats joined us, and she ran gleeful circles around them, moving so fast she wiped out more than once while cutting close corners. 

We are back on the comfy sofa, and she looks more content than she has in a while. As for me, I've filled my own water and will heat up my own soup. I've survived another first. 

Changes...

 It is technically summer, of course, but the season has begun to change. A few trees are showing early flashesk of autumn foliage, mostly because the drought has stressed them, but more trees will follow soon. Mornings and evenings are cool; many of the summer birds have migrated to warmer climes, crickets are singing their end-of-summer songs, and goldenrod is rioting along the roadsides. 

We have had a little welcome rain; one spectacular drencher blew in yesterday during a picnic lunch I attended. Dark clouds came suddenly, trees danced and swayed, and then the skies opened up. Oddly, it was delightful. The picnic moved inside, and we dined with dogs rollicking on the floor and conversation flowing. 

Something about this time of year makes me want to bring out the brass and copper. It is always tarnished and dull from being stored, but a bit of buffing with Brasso brings it back to life. 

The scent of the metal polish transports me back in time to my mother's kitchen. I can see her, in a woolen skirt and pumps, an apron around her waist. My grandmother would be there, too. It was an autumn ritual, fall cleaning and polishing to welcome in the new season. When they were done, the house would smell of beeswax and metal polish, and every room would seem to glow with the lamps reflecting off all the freshly shined furniture and decorations. I loved the way the house felt, and especially how happy my mother was as she surveyed all they had accomplished. 

I did a little fall sprucing today. Polished a copper lamp and some candlesticks, bought a few pumpkins, gourds, and chrysanthemums, and felt a little of that long-ago satisfaction seep in. 

 

A couple of years back, we took the coffee and snack bar in the grooming studio down to make room for the kids' play area. We missed it, so we set it back up this weekend. I baked some brownies to put out for our customers. I'm happy to have it back. I'll be interested to see how our guests respond to its return. 

A neighbor stopped by unexpectedly today and brought me a huge bag full of ripe peaches. It's an embarrassment of riches. 

Another area of richness is my front flowerbed. I didn't have the energy to garden this spring, but thankfully last year's Cosmos helped me out and filled most of the bed with 5-foot-tall plants covered in shades of pink blossoms. A sweet customer brought me a flat of seedlings in May, and I did manage to get them planted. Marigolds and zinnias, all blooming riotously just now. I filled up a little vase with blossoms today, and they delight me. 

I've had some complaints about my lack of posts lately. It's not that I have nothing to write about; it's that there are so many big things I just can't find the words for. Here is an example. My sweet friend came to visit from out of state. She did the kindest thing... cleaned Chris's office for me, dealing with things I didn't want to face and didn't know what to do with. She spent days of her vacation solving huge, emotional problems for me. Then she enlisted her husband and tackled our messy garage. How can I find words to express what this sort of kindness means? How it improved my life. It's an impossible task. 

There are so many big changes in my life right now. I find focusing on small things helps prevent me from feeling overwhelmed. Shiny candlesticks, riotous flowers, juicy peaches, and surprise downpours. 

Summer guests...

 Maine is known as "Vacationland," and my guest room can attest that this rocky edge of the country is a nice place to be in the summer. For starters, three Jersey cows and one sweet Hereford were here grazing the pasture for several weeks. They didn't make use of the guest room, but they did fancy up the place with their good looks. They left recently, and I am sad to gaze out at the pasture and not see them. They were lovely to look at, and they did a fine job of mowing and fertilizing the field. Of course, I can still admire my own sleek little goats frolicking about. I'm not sure they'd admit it, but I think they miss the bovine beauties, too. 

My cousin Chris and my sister Deb have been here. My childhood pal, Melanie, visited, as did my sweet dog training friend, Sumac. Chris's beloved sisters came from Texas in July. It felt so strange that Chris was not here with them. 

Niece Aimee came next, with her handsome and pleasant beau, and they oh-so-kindly noticed my sad, unplanted window boxes. They went right out and bought lovely flowers and got them put in. It was one of the many jobs I have been oddly apathetic about in my grief, but having them planted makes me smile. 

They also cooked lobsters, painstakingly cleaned every speck of meat from the shells, and created the hands-down best lobster roll I have ever had the pleasure of savoring. I'm still thinking about it. 

Oh... and splendid margaritas, too. 

More visitors are slated to arrive this month; I'm looking forward to all of them! 

My friend Cheryl had two stunning horses visit her yesterday, with their handsome carriage in tow. I benefited because I was invited to join in for a jolly ride. The sound of the horses' hooves on the pavement, accompanied by the clear, high jingle of harness bells, was memorable music. The weather was perfect, and it was a delightful treat to roll down a scenic country road perched on a carriage seat. The horses seemed to enjoy themselves, trotting along merrily with their ears perked forward, surveying the new surroundings. 

No matter what form they arrive in,  summer guests make life richer. 

Independence Day...

 This day in 1983, I spent camping at Acadia National Park with a college friend and my dog, Drummer, a blond Cocker Spaniel. My grandmother slipped us $25 to go out to supper, and we did, then wandered down the main street of Bar Harbor, stopping to get ice cream cones. While I was enjoying my cone, I noticed two young men walking towards me. There was a Navy ship in the harbor for the holiday, and I could tell by the swagger that these guys were sailors. They stopped when they reached me, and the taller of the two said, "Nice dog. Ever wash him?" I was righteously offended; I kept my dog's coat in lovely shape.  However, after introductions were made, we soon started chatting, and I threw caution to the wind and invited them to ride with us to the top of Cadillac Mountain to watch the sunset. They agreed without hesitation, and when we reached my little two-door Subaru, I looked them both over and said to the chatty one, "You, sit in front." 

He did, and my dog climbed into his lap. My friend and his squeezed into the back seat and we were off. About halfway up the mountain, Chris began to sniffle and sneeze. "You wouldn't happen to be allergic to dogs, would you?" I asked. "I am," he replied. I figured that was the end of any flirtations between us, because my dog had top billing in my life. He didn't complain, however, and soon we were perched on granite expanses, sipping a wee bottle of wine and watching a magnificent sunset over the ocean. We shared a delicious kiss or two, and didn't run out of things to talk about. On the way down the mountain, he asked, "Will you marry me?" I said, "Not tonight." 

And that is the story of how I met the love of my life. This is my first Independence Day without him in 43 years, and I ache with loss. Tonight the table will be surrounded by family and friends. I'll cook burgers and hot dogs. There will be green salad, potato salad, and s'mores cooked over the fire pit. His big personality, compelling laugh, loud music, and enormous presence will be missed. But I will be aware that the daughter and son-in-love and precious grandchildren are all here because of him. That this house we made a home and this place we cherished is something we manifested together. All because he stopped to talk to a girl sharing an ice cream with her Cocker on a street in Bar Harbor, a long, sweet time ago. 

Teenager...

 Fae has been a pretty much perfect puppy. I've raised many a dog in my life, and she has been by far the easiest. She's calm and confident and was easy to housebreak, with very few accidents (and all of those in the grooming studio, where, despite rigorous cleaning, it must smell like dog to a dog). She has consistently slept through the night since the beginning, and even though she is only 5 months old, she can be left alone in the house for an hour or two without any problems. She has not chewed on shoes or furniture, either. Other than struggling with car sickness, she has been a breeze to live with. She walks politely on a leash and knows all the basic obedience commands, as well as a few fun tricks. 

Yesterday, a friend told me that Hannaford grocery store had lobster rolls for $9.99 at their deli counter. I was on my way to grocery shop right after she told me that, so I looked for them, and sure enough, a large roll stuffed with lobster found its way into my cart. I happily anticipated enjoying it for lunch, walking up and down the aisles, and driving home. After I had put all the food away, I sat down to see if the bargain-priced crustacean tasted as good as I expected. 

Just as I was ready to take the first bite, a friend stopped by. I went out to chat with him. When I returned, practically drooling about my lunch, I found a perfectly empty plate. I had stupidly left the treat in easy reach of a dog. Despite her practical perfection, Fae took full advantage of the unexpected delight. 

Not only was I terribly sad about this, but I was worried that my dog might experience gastric distress. I considered forcing her to vomit, but decided against it. I braced myself for a night of being woken up to take her out. But no, she slept peacefully, apparently happily digesting my treat.  

This afternoon I was enjoying time on the deck. Fae was outside with me, and I watched her doing all her typical things. Then I couldn't see her but could hear a funny sound. I looked over the side of the railing, and there was my puppy, digging with gusto in a planter that was full of dirt and weeds because I had not planted any flowers in it this year. She dug like she was looking for the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, scattering dirt in every direction and apparently having a marvelous time. She looked up at me, her long snout and previously white feet covered in soil. I swear she was smiling. 

My wonder puppy is a teenager.