Playing All Weekend

This weekend was another fun-filled one that went by way too quickly. Saturday, after crunching as many farm chores into the day as I could, I cleaned up and headed to join friends at a party to renew their wedding vows. The night before, I had received a text from one of my friends, suggesting that I bring my guitar along. I did, and, to my surprise, I was drafted into playing with the talented singers of Irish music, Celtastrophe!

Did I know the music? No. Did I have sheet music to read? No. Was there a talented guitarist playing, whose fingers I could watch and mimic? Yes! And, who needs to know the words to unfamiliar tunes in order to sing harmony? Ha! We had a good time! Of course, I had to retune my E string after every song, because the silly thing kept slipping, but that just added to the general fun. And we did actually sing one song that was not an Irish ditty. We played an impromptu “I Can’t Help Falling In Love With You.” Everyone joined in the singing, and it was wonderful.

Sunday, after church I made the drive to Ft. Monroe, where my son and his wife were having a cookout for family and friends. I had a lot of fun catching up with people I had not seen in ages, including some I had not seen in 20 years! We talked and ate and talked some more. The kids played and the grownups kept an eye on them. Some even ventured to the beach and took a dip, cooling off from the hot muggy weather that has defined the Tidewater, VA area this week.

I realized only when people started leaving, that I had not taken pictures, I had been so busy gabbing! So, I took a few, just to have a record of the event. I’m sure there were people who came and left before I arrived, so I will just have to catch them next time.

All, in all, it was a good weekend. We did have a sad end of the day today, however, when one of the latest six hatched chicks passed away. He had never eaten on his own, and only drank a little water.

The mother hen shunned him after the first three days during which he cried constantly if not allowed to simply hide under her and feel her warmth. It was clear from the beginning that he was probably not going to make it, but it is always sad when any of the little ones die. So, as of today, our total count of surviving chicks hatched this summer, stands at 21. So, we will count our blessings, and look forward to watching them grow.

Japanese Beetles - A Chicken Treat

I hold the bright red plastic bowl in my hand as I move slowly along the grapevines. At my feet, a couple of hens follow, eager to take advantage of the “ones that got away.” My eyesight has never been anything to write home about, but the coppery gleam in the setting sun allows me to spy my quarry easily. At this time in the evening, approximately an hour before nightfall, they are more sluggish than they are in the beating heat of the overhead sun at midday. Still, with the temperatures in the high 90’s and the humidity approaching 80%, I battle the need to mop the sweat from my face, as I grab a leaf upon which a pair or a gang of them is having an orgy. With a quick flick of my wrist, at least 50% of the coppery interlopers find themselves doing the elementary backstroke in my red bowl of water.

My combing of the grapevines and fruit trees each evening this time of year, takes about 30-45 minutes. When my bowl is wall-to-wall copper and green, I make my way into the chicken yards. There, just before taking to their roosts for the night, the chickens enjoy a bed-time snack of Japanese Beetles.

Now, I won’t pretend I love the idea of picking bugs off the grapevines. I won’t pretend I am crazy about the one or two that fail to fall into my red bowl, but somehow happen to find their way into my shirt, where I feel their pinching little legs as they try to find another of their kind so they can continue their orgy. But I do like the idea that I can get free chicken treats, while allowing the grapevines to retain at least a few of their leaves until harvest.

Tonight, after feeding the older chicks their helping of these chicken delicacies, I took the red bowl into the coop of the brand new babies (born Wednesday and Thursday). I put the bowl on the ground to see if Mama wanted any. I was surprised to watch as she picked the bugs out of the bowl and tossed them to the chicks, who immediately fought for them. They worked the bugs into manageable pieces, and gobbled them up.

Farm chores come in all varieties. This one has definite rewards, and I find myself actually looking forward to “going japping,” as we refer to it.

Oh, and for the record, our upstairs AC unit is on the blink, and the AC guy who said he’d come by or call today did neither. So, we keep cool downstairs, when we aren’t sweating outside working or sweating upstairs working and sleeping.

I'd Rather Be 59

The year I was turning ten I was determined to have a birthday party. Being number two in a family of six kids, I was not accustomed to having birthday parties. Mom was not particularly excited about spending a lot of money to entertain a lot of kids, only to then have problems getting them to go home (or so went the story...I think this happened ONCE when the girl next door outstayed her welcome, but I suppose, now, more than 40 years later, that point is moot.) Still, I wanted a birthday party and since Mom wasn't going to give me one, I opted to give one for myself.

Of course, Mom had to give permission for me to invite friends, make a cake, decorate the room, make party hats for everyone etc., etc. But she did NOT participate in the planning. That was all ME. I was detailed in my preparation and pleased as punch when my birthday guests started arriving. I remember proudly instructing everyone to don their homemade party hats. I suppose the party was a success, but I remember it more as a lot of work! Still, I got my birthday party and that cured me for ever wanting one again... thanks Mom.

Today, as I worked in my small, but perfectly comfortable home office, I smiled a lot to myself. I am no longer that 10 year old kid wanting a party. I am perfectly thrilled that my children and their families chose to celebrate my birthday two days early, joining me for church and then lunch afterward. No planning on my part, and I got the best gift any parent of grown children could ask for... the gift of their time and company.

And tonight, when Joe and I made our way in, after dark and after squeezing as much farm work as we possibly could into the day, I discovered I had missed a call from Jenn. I listened to the voicemail she, Ben and the lovely Miss Eloise and her insanely adorable brother Luca left for me. Eloise led the singing of the tradition Happy Birthday and the others sang along... and when they had finished, they each wished me as. "Happy Birthday Gakki." Well, Luca's was more like, "Hay Biday Gakki, Hay Buday Gakki."

A more perfect birthday, I cannot imagine. 59 beats 10 any day of the week... another year closer to retirement.

Being Gakki

Last month I had the delight of hosting my two grandchildren for the weekend. They arrived Friday at noon and I carried them back home Sunday afternoon.

I have "grown up" as a grandmother (Gakki) with the lovely Miss Eloise, who has always been an easy-to-bedder at night, providing her favorite routine of feed the animals, eat supper, take a bath, play some music and sing with Gakki and Joe, brush teeth, listen to Gakki read a story in bed, was followed. A kiss goodnight and she has always been off to dreamland.

Her brother, the amazing young Luca, at 2.5 years old, is a different story. He is literally full speed ahead until he crashes. He will fall asleep anywhere, but only when he is tired. This makes bedtime an interesting experience when hosting both of the dynamic duo.

Our routine properly followed, we all headed to the small room we call the kid's room to read their bedtime story, that Saturday night. They both loved the story. They both loved the pictures. They both gave me kisses goodnight, and we affirmed our love for each other. Eloise closed her eyes for sleep. Luca did not.

I watched those big blue eyes watching me as I headed for the door, and I had barely passed the threshold when the blue eyes, and the little cherub sporting them, were beside me, wanting me to lie down with him. Luca is not a huge fan of the stuffed, cuddly animals generally appointed the duty of soothing restless children to sleep. Luca prefers the rather large, warm blooded human, uncomfortably scrunched onto the tiny bed...he likes to touch the face and the neck and the hair of his human as he settles in for the night.

Because Eloise was already drifting off to sleep a couple of feet away in her own bed, I did not want to disturb her. I scrunched myself in beside Luca and started singing softly to him. He calmed right down. I sang the same song, over and over again... "sleep my child and peace attend thee, all through the night...". I sang until my eyes were tired and my back was screaming at my uncomfortable choice of positions. I closed my eyes and sang some more.... and then, as I began to fear I would never be able to rise from this ridiculous position, if the child ever did fall asleep, I heard the soft voice, singing my words, gently, a fraction of an instant in delay....

I ventured a quick peek from beneath my almost closed eyes, and the beautiful, intense concentration on my tiny grandson's face, as in the dim glow of the night light he concentrated to mimic my song, amazed and humbled me. My back would recover. My patience would hold. For this teaching moment came unexpectedly, and exactly when the child needed it.

I and my sweet mimic singer sang the song through twice more. Then, as a test, and still watching him through fake-closed eyes, I started to hum the song. And, sure enough, Luca switched to mimic my humming, all the while, his hand flitting across my face, neck and hair. Before we got through the second humming round, the flitting hand slowed and the soft voice wavered, as the boy drifted off to sleep. I managed to extricate myself from the floor level bed, and exit stage left, as my co-star finally succumbed to sleep.

Being a Gakki is truly a learning experience for me. Each child is so unique and has so much to teach me. I am looking forward with much excitement to the birth of my third grandchild, expected to arrive in December. I'm looking forward to learning new and wonderful things from the new grandchild, just as I have from his/her cousins.

And They're Off

So, yesterday, in a fit of compassion and idiocy, I took the perimeter collars off the dogs and encouraged them out of their more than ample yard to enjoy a romp in the back pond. They came, hesitantly, but were soon frolicking with the goats, chickens and ducks, while Joe and I sat in their midst, enjoying the bucolic scene from the vantage of our picnic table ...

The scene was lovely, but the temperature and humidity were high, so Joe went inside to get us some lemonade. In the 5 or so minutes he was gone, Ruby sidled off down the path, sniffing at squirrel trails, but mindful when called to return to the pond. Again she meandered off, and as if by some silent cue, Scotty took a notion to head in the other direction, following the drainage ditch that separates properties in the county, and which serves to maintain some water drainage control over what would otherwise be swampland.

With dogs heading in opposite directions, goats spying the willow trees as yummy snacks, and ducks wanting to follow me wherever I went, it comes as a surprise to nobody that the dogs were long gone before we could get either to respond to commands to return home.
For the next 10 hours, every horn that honked, and dog that barked, we imagined to be in direct response to our AWOL dogs. We walked all of the trails (there are many) on our property, but it was a fruitless effort.

Just before midnight I looked out the back door and spied a set of dog ears, presumably attached to a dog... upright and alert. I stepped outside and called both by name, and both came sheepishly up too me, whimpering at the horrors they surely encountered on their free-ranging escapade.
I scolded them, but mostly I recoiled at the unmistakable prefume of an unhappy skunk they were wearing. I replaced their perimeter collars, fed them minimal helpings of supper, without treats, and banished them to the time-out kennel for the night.

They are still sleeping off their adventure, and everyone is avoiding "skunk Corner" for the moment.

Thoughts on Father's Day

Father's Day. Dad always shunned this day as one made up to sell greeting cards. But I don't mind saying that I certainly believe Dads should get at least one day of recognition for the hard work they put into being a father...and my Dad certainly is deserving of such recognition. Some thoughts came to me today as I went about my normal Saturday business.

Me (6-7 years old, at the Pond House in New Bedford, MA, in the row boat, "the Checkerberry"): Dad, I'm afraid to swim.
Dad: Just jump in and you will float…you can get to the shore.
Me: Dad, I'm afraid.
Dad: Just jump in... you'll be fine. See, Jeannie is doing it.
Me: OK... but I don't think I can do it.....

As I struggled to make my way to the shore, crying the whole way, swallowing water as I went, I was sure I would drown. But I made it to the shore and, once on shore I let out a HUGE belch and was instantly proud of my accomplishment.

Jeannie, my sister one year older, laughed and asked why I didn't just walk in..... apparently, the water was pretty shallow....it never occurred to me to try to touch my feet to the bottom... I did learn to swim, albeit doggy style, that day.

Me (age 9): Dad, I want to play the violin. Will you sign the permission slip so I can?
Dad (after inquiring of my sister why she hadn't asked to play a musical instrument in fourth grade): Yes, you can learn to play the violin.
Me: Will I get my own violin?
Dad: Not yet. You will need to show promise before we buy a violin...we will rent one for you for the first year
Me: OK, but why does Jeannie get her own flute?
Dad: Because Jeannie will practice. We need to see if you will practice before we buy a violin...they are very expensive.
6 months later, at the violin shop to get my bow re-haired.
Dad to Mr. Gault: How much would you charge me to make a violin for Judy?
Mr. Gault: For $100, I’ll provide you the wood and teach you how to make the violin.

For the next two-three months, Dad and I worked on that violin under Mr. Gault’s direction, every Saturday, and for my 10th birthday, I got my violin… I guess I “showed promise” after all.

Me (14 years old on Christmas Day upon watching my sister open her gift of a brand spanking new sewing machine): Dad, Can I get a sewing machine?
Dad: Jeannie will share with you. If you show promise, you can get your own sewing machine.

For the next three years, I sewed nearly every day, on my mother’s ancient, knee-controlled Singer, paying my sister 10 cents a button hole for her to do my button holes on her machine… that’s sharing, right?

Me (17 years old, Christmas morning, as I am presented the last gift – an envelope from the tree): Dad! An IOU for a sewing machine when they go on sale after Christmas!!!! Thank you!
Dad: We’ll go shopping when the sales start.

Me (22 years old, as I met Dad on the driveway when he arrived home from work, my little Chevy Monza packed and ready for a road trip.): Dad, James and I have decided we are going to move to Florida.
Dad: I’m not sure this is the smartest move you could make.
Me: Dad, since when did you ever accuse me of making the smartest moves?
Dad: I don’t think I gave you a birthday present. I’d like you to get new tires on the car before you go.
Me: Thank you Dad!

Yes, I learned lessons every step of the way from you Dad, and through all of it I knew you were always there, ready to help me be the best I could be, and letting me learn to survive, when I was determined to do things my way. For these and so many other things, I thank you Dad…today and every day!


Judy Singing With Dad

Fun on The Farm

We had a great time this weekend with the lovely Miss Eloise and her insanely hilarious brother Luca. Ben brought them to the farm on Friday around noon, and for the next couple of days we just had fun.

Our number two broody hen, Princess, hatched her eight chicks that morning, and the kiddos were eager to meet the newest members of the farm community. We fed ducks and goats, dogs and rabbits, and picked strawberries and raspberries.

The kids decided the gravel pile was a fabulous place to burn up energy, and spent an hour just charging up and down the gravel, slipping and sliding and yodeling with glee…. I was sure they would be torn up from the rock, but they appeared to survive just fine. As dusk descended, Eloise delighted in catching lightning bugs.

Back inside, Eloise declared the afghan Mom made us last year, and which I had put on her bed for fun, was the most beautiful blanket she ever saw! Those two kiddos love the tiny room that is their room when they visit. They love exploring the toys in the toy box, and rearranging the big doll house, and "cooking" in the strawberry shortcake stove. Sleeping quarters are tight in there, but they don't seem to mind. In a couple of years I imagine they will camp out in the fold out beds in the music room, but for now, this room is kid central.

Saturday morning after breakfast, we spent another good hour and a half feeding all the critters before heading off to Smithfield to attend an outdoor shindig with friends. The kids all enjoyed the sunny, warm weather, playing games, skipping rope, blowing bubbles and eating ice cream sundaes and s’mores. The adults all enjoyed catching up, visiting and eating ice cream sundaes and s’mores. A good time was had by all.

We arrived home in time to do evening feedings, after eating a pizza supper….can we say that Gakki is NOT following good nutritional guidance in feeding these youngsters? Ah well, they are only young once, and they did have a “normal” breakfast. Between eating and evening feedings, Eloise wanted me to put curlers in her hair so she could have curly hair. The entire time I was playing hair stylist, Luca was hugging me.

The critters seemed intrigued by Eloise’s curlers, the dogs thinking they were toys, and the goats thinking they looked like food. Eloise took it in stride. She is a natural with the critters, though some of them are significantly bigger than she is, and none of them are graced with good manners. Still, she is the dog-goat-cat-rabbit-chicken-duck whisperer, and is completely happy doing the feedings. Luca can take it or leave it. He likes feeding the ducks today, and isn’t the least bit interested in them tomorrow. He does like to bark commands at the critters... ”sit!!!” Most of the time the critters just carry on with whatever they were already doing and he seems fine with that.

Sunday morning was another opportunity to feed the critters, pick strawberries and play hide and seek, and cover your mouth with stickers, in Gakki’s eBay apartment, while Gakki prepared her Monday shipments. And then, after packing up all of their gear, we were on the road, back to Rochelle, to take the little cherubs home.

The kiddos were excited and happy to see Mama and Papa, but promised to come visit Gakki and Joe at the farm again soon. I then headed on to National Harbor, MD, where I am attending a conference all week. Busy, busy, busy! And exhausting. But FUN!

Thank You For the Opportunity

Thank you Dad and Lynne,

This was a special weekend for me. Lynne was scheduled to attend a college reunion out of town and Dad, feeling the normal diminished capabilities of aging, does better when he has a trusted companion in the house. So, this weekend I was offered the opportunity to be Dad’s companion.

I have written before about the amazing gift Dad bestowed on his children – the gift of music. I have shared memories of how six children, ages 5-12 engaged fellow tourists on a cruise down the Firth of Clyde, en route to the Isle of Arran, with their impromptu joining with the string quartet to sing all of the songs from The Sound of Music. I have shared before, my earliest memories of singing in my four brothers’ room, my sister and I perched on one of their beds, all lights extinguished, learning and learning to love making harmony with Dad and each other.

This weekend I learned again that connecting with Dad, when he is bewildered, or anxious or just plain tired but cannot seem to sleep, is possible through the gift he gave us so long ago. Yesterday, I pulled out my guitar, and started singing the tunes I remember from those early days. I did not ask Dad to join in. In all honesty, I did it as sort of a distraction, as he had become somewhat focused on the clock and the time, and wondering when Lynne would return. As I have for years, when I play and sing those songs, I do so with my eyes closed….like in the dark room of my childhood, using my ears to provide all of the sensory input.

Within the first couple of bars of the song, I heard Dad’s voice….softly singing with me. I dared to embark on harmony, and he held fast the melody. And we sang. Red River Valley, Don’t Fence Me In, Edelweiss, Danny Boy, Over in Killarney, Down in the Valley, and so on. Songs my children know because I raised them on those songs, and songs for which I was once certain I would never forget the lyrics. And yet, at almost 59 years old, I did forget some of the words…. And Dad filled them in. At almost 83, he still has those songs solidly in his memory.

Even more interesting and rewarding to me was that after singing a song, Dad and I engaged in some discussion of where we were when we sang that particular song, and the memories of the importance of the song. One such song was “Two Little Boys,” which Rolf Harris made into a top of the charts hit in 1969 when we were living in England. One was “Leaving On A Jet Plane,” and the discussion of John Denver, one of my favorites from my 15 year old self, and one that my Dad accepted as a good one, despite the generational difference.

For two hours on Saturday, and then for another hour today, we sang and talked and sang some more. Ever the researcher, Dad offered, on numerous occasions, to go down to the basement and look through the LP’s to find the name of a song or an artist that was escaping both of our memories. I laughed and suggested we could just sing something else, and the answer would, ”come to us.” Dad suggested that we could also just look it up on the phone. Usually, while trying to look it up, it just came to us, but it was such a fun mix of the old and the new, the memories and the current.

In truth, most of us would prefer to not have to see our parents aging and losing some of the vigor they enjoyed all of their lives, but I can honestly say that this gift of music is a gift that continues to give, and allows me to continue to connect to the man who gave us that gift.

Thank you Dad and Lynne for the opportunity.