Blog Index - March 2017

March, 1, 2017	March flowers
March, 1, 2017	March flowers
March 2, 2017	Blind Daffodils
March 3, 2017	Bouquet of Daffodils
March 4, 2017	Plant stakes from recycled material
March 5, 2017	Old trick measuring with your hand
March 6, 2017	The Lenten Season – This year’s challenges
March 9, 2017	A view from the Kitchen window
March 10, 2017	Choices, choices, choices – but more gardening than anything else. An update on what I have been up to.
March 11, 2017	The World Almanac – oh what memories.
March 12, 2017	The stillness of fallen snow
March 13, 2017	Jerusalem Artichoke Tubers – Sun Chokes or Sunroots and also, French or Canada potato
March 14, 2017	Cardoon research, Cynara cardunculus
March 15, 2017	I espied a Leprechaun . . . and I caught him
March 16, 2017	My French grandmother used to say we are Irish
March 17, 2017	My Favorite St. Patrick’s Day Memory
March 18, 2017	Writing group monthly exercise – color
March 19, 2017	Perspective – mine changes – does yours
March 20, 2017	There’s a Carolina Wren looking at me
March 21, 2017	You have such a nice voice on the phone
March 22, 2017	Talisman – second generation
March 23, 2017	I was academically intimidated, but only for a short time
March 24, 2017	A cheap thrill – Potted violets from your garden
March 25, 2017	Catastrophe Struck – Quick Action?  AH . . . NO . . .
March 26, 2017	“It’s officially Spring” – He’s back
March 27, 2017	Sad report on the 21 to 23 degrees freeze we had a week or two ago
March 28, 2017	I started planting out in the garden today
March 29, 2017	Freeze report on  Bradford Pears
March 30, 2017	The tale of techniques
March 31, 2017	“I’m the CEO of this household . . .”

March 31, 2017 – “I am the CEO of this household . . . .”

          . . .  was the opening line of a letter from my Mom.  I chuckled.

          It was my weekly letter from Mom and I’d just gotten in from work and snatched the letter up from the mail splayed out on the kitchen table and opened it.

          With an opening line like that, I knew this was going to be a good read.  I kicked off my high heels and stretched out on the couch.

          Mom was now retired, and Dad had been retired for a little while.  They’d had a clash on how Mom was washing the kitchen floor.  Dad had never really paid attention to her washing the kitchen floor in her many years of housekeeping as he was either working, or out doing yard work, or gardening.  Now that they were retired he was “underfoot” more often and Dad decided while she was in the middle of floor washing to critique how she could do it more efficiently. [Dad had been a plumber for years, but his last job before retirement was a Janitor at a local school.]

          Between the lines of Mom’s letter I could hear the “snarling and spitting” of my tiny mother of about 5 feet with snapping brown eyes [probably on her hand knees washing the floor as was her custom] and could envision my large framed Dad relaxed in his easy chair next to the archway between the kitchen and living room taking her comments in stride.

          The letter was vague on what Dad had suggested, but her letter spouted off that she’d been washing the kitchen floor for 40+ years and she did it HER WAY and wasn’t going to change now.  She stated in her letter that she ended the little domestic entanglement with her announced to Dad:

          “I am the CEO of this household and the yard and gardens are your business; the household is my domain.”

          I imagine Dad, knowing she had won the battle, silently escaped out the living room by the cellar door, down through the basement, and out into his peaceful gardens, into his domain.

          The letter was of such quality – fire and spit – that I read it out to my husband and we had the best laugh.   At the time I thought, ‘So that is what retirement is going to be like.  Retirement is being so close again that you rub each other the wrong way on occasion.’

          Since that time I have used Mom’s famous line:  “I am the CEO of this household” on more than occasion. I don’t over use it – as my husband knows the origin of the line and knows I am plagiarizing it.   It usually ends a little dispute that is baseless and we both know it as we both smile and remember who coined the phrase and understand its real meaning.     

March 30, 2017 – The tale of techniques

How this all started.

        Last fall when I poured a cup of coffee one morning and I thought it tasted like weak dishwater, I opened the cabinet door, fished out an individual packet of instant coffee, snipped off the top and stirred it into my already poured cup of coffee.  I tasted it and sighed, “AHHH”

        The darling husband happened to notice this action and made a snide remark, “I can never make you happy!”

       

        “It was weak . . .” I declared as I went past him and back to my bedroom to curl up and watch the early morning news.

        The next morning I did the same thing.  The coffee was weak and he remarked, “I put 8 scoops in that 12 cup pot.”  My husband’s indignant reaction was much the same as mine.  My big brown eyes flashed at him and were met by his steely hazel eyes that peered over the brim of his newspaper.  I thought, ‘his level scoops compared to my heaping scoops were the real issue behind this.’  I beat a fast track back to my early morning news nest.

        My husband does the majority of the grocery shopping.  He took that over when I was scrambling for extra time to make St. John Title Company profitable and he hasn’t relinquished it.  It is always amusing to me when he asks “What’s for dinner?”

        “I don’t know, what did you buy,” is always my power-play answer.

        The next morning he delivered me a cup of coffee in bed. [He does this often – it is nice being treated like a Queen.]    I took one sip and my eyes popped open.  I said nothing but thought, ‘What, Expresso? It was time for me to DO something about the coffee situation.’

        I immediately went shopping for coffee and as I looked up and down the aisle I realized my husband had gone through them all; Folgers, Maxwell House, Chock full O’Nuts, etc., whatever ground coffee was on sale for that week he bought it.   I felt we needed to switch to fresh ground beans so I grabbed the “Buy 1 Get 1 Free” Eight O’Clock coffee.  I came home and rummaged in the cabinet for our coffee grinder.  It was about 20 years old and worn and had a cracked cover.  I had forgotten its little motor sounded tired, but I left it out on the counter as a big hint for Mr.-coffee-maker husband.

        That was December and it gave me a great gift idea.  After about 4 stores I found a new coffee grinder – stainless steel.   I wrapped that up with two more bags of bean coffee and then my dear brother’s Christmas box arrived and he had sent me two bags of Dunkin Donut bean coffee – a nice treat.

The tale of techniques.

        Coffee improved for the next few months.  Then, my husband had a few bad days and I had to be up early before him to make coffee, feed the birds, cat and dog which is his early morning routine. 

I finally got to use the new grinder and it is very efficient.  I mentally counted the seconds for the grind, but the sound alone told me it was actually done. I dumped the grounds out on a paper plate and gently folded the plate into a funnel and poured the grinds into the cute little square jar with the green lid that my husband had been utilizing.  [It holds about 12 scoops of ground coffee.] I snapped the paper plate in the sink to remove any excess grounds and popped it back on the pile in the cabinet. 

I scooped out 8 HEAPING scoops of coffee into the filter and filled the tank with water to the 12 cup line.   AHHH – robust, grown-hair-on-your-chest coffee the exact way I like it.

A few days later, he again took over the coffee making duties and I watched as he was grinding the coffee one evening for the next morning.

He poured beans into the stainless steel grinder, put the cover on and lifted his left wrist [which caught my attention] and timed the grind. [That is because he can’t hear when the beans have ground – that is how deaf he really is.] Or, maybe he is being “precise” about the timing of the grind. Then, surprisingly he took the coffee scoop and scooped the ‘grind’ into the little square jar. It seemed like endless scooping to me and when he got to the bottom where the grind wheel is, he knocked it gently and tapped the grinding bowl gingerly above the 1 ½ inch diameter of the jar neck spilling coffee grounds on the counter top.

So, that is why I find so many coffee grounds on the countertop I say to myself.

Do I share my technique of the folded paper plate to save him all his trouble?

No.  I’ll tell you why tomorrow.

March 29, 2017 – Freeze report on the Bradford Pears

          Bradford pears often get frost here in North Carolina and usually it is no big deal.  The blooms get that tinge of light brown and then you don’t get that incredible few days when the unfrosted blooms drift down like snow.   The “snowing” of my Bradford pear blooms is something I look forward to each year and I usually sit on my park bench [which is conveniently placed between two of the Bradford pears] to enjoy the moment.  I was cheated out of it this year.

          And, sometimes we have had frosts that burn the tips of the fresh green leaves, but they manage to pull through.

History

          Our Bradford Pears flank the driveway in an allée.  I planted them one wet-ground Sunday in 1998 after our lot was graded for the driveway and house location.  Armed with a shovel, ball of string, measuring tape, two metal stakes and 5 beautiful specimens of Bradford Pears with 1 ½ to 2 inch diameter trunks in 5 gallon pots, I set to work.

          I plunked the pots down in a straight line about 8 feet above the grade of the sloping garden along the drive starting at the street and ending past the house location which is about 6 car lengths long.  I carefully measured equal space between them. I then walked up and down the street to assess the view of them as you approached our soon to be built house.  Then I circled the property and verified I had the small trees in the right place compared to the rest of the proposed landscaping in my mind.

          I put in two stakes and ran the straight line so that when I planted the trees they would create a perfectly straight allée [at maturity] down the driveway.

          I then proceeded to dig the holes, one by one and was interrupted by a very nosey, friendly neighbor who came by to gave me his two-cents’ worth of unsolicited advice.   After I admired his home’s signage “Halcyon” which I mentioned was a lovely [happy, golden, idyllic, peaceful, or joyful] name for his home I commented that one of the best Hosta varieties is also called Halcyon of which I have a few and I prize them. 

I thought we had gotten the conversation off to a nice start, yet it quickly tanked when he told me I was planting the trees too close together.  He didn’t get my concept that I knew the trees’ limbs would eventually touch and intermingle which was my intent for my allée.  And, then he made the fatal comment that I should not plant them in a straight line either.

Well, this Baroness of her land, Queen of her castle, and Supreme architect of her landscape and gardens unpoetically told him to take a hike back to his Halcyon loft in pretty certain terms.

My allée of Bradford pears were the first in the neighborhood and GOSH, the rest of the neighbors have copied me as new homes were built and more and more Bradford pears have been planted.   In fact, at the end of the development there is a double allée of Bradford pears that is breathtaking in the spring.

Back to the present

So, my precious Bradford Pear allée blossoms got frozen while the blooms were being pollinated.

Yesterday after my morning walk I sat on my park bench under the Bradford pears and what I found both curious and concerning was the ground beneath the canopy of trees is covered with little stems.  Most of the blossom stems that froze have fallen off.  The tree has purged itself by dropping those frozen blossoms and is retaining very few that will set fruit.

What concerns me greatly is my birds seem to love the little fruits the Bradford pears develop.   Next fall and winter my birds are going to be hungry without their Bradford pear fruit and will possibly move on to a better food supply.  I hope not.

I can only hope that some of the blossoms successfully pollinated and manage to develop into fruit.  

March 28, 2017 - Sad report on the 21 to 23 degrees freeze we had a week or two ago.

          Of course the burgundy pansies and the two tone blue Johnny Jump up type pansies survived through the drastic drop in temperatures of a few weeks ago.   The Henbit, that pernicious ground weed with the royalty pretext of purple flowers looks as if it relished it.  Sadly, nothing kills it.

          Meanwhile the blooms of my forsythia, flowering quince and Bradford pears got annihilated. The tips of all my hostas that were up about 3 inches with leaves starting to unfurl now have mushy frozen tips.  That will set them back a bit.   I just have too many to cover when we have drastic drops in temperature.

          There is a difference between a frost or drop to the freezing point compared to 21 degrees which is FROZEN.  Often the 32 down to 30 degrees there is not that much damage. 

But, my newest spring bulbs planted last fall along the entrance walk to the house were my biggest disappointment.  I planted Delft Blue Hyacinths – 4 clumps of 5 each. All were looking grand and standing tall with their flower stems up and their little blossoms ready to open and perfume the spring air along the back patio and WHAM – nailed by the 23 degree and 21 degree freeze.

 The blossoms turned black and then the actual flower stems plopped over to the ground.  Never in all my years of gardening have I witnessed hyacinths with full size flower stems desiccated by a killing freeze.  The leave look a little rough, but hopefully they’ll continue to nourish the bulbs with enough energy to rebuild strength so they will bloom next year. I cut the dead stems off to improve the look of the garden.

But what grieves me the most about the hyacinths – they were planted with the intent that their incredible fragrance would surround us as we sat on the patio in early spring.  I’ll have to patiently wait until next year for that intoxicating perfume on the soft spring breeze.

March 27, 2017 – I started planting out in the garden today – the ground is warm enough to sit on, therefore, it is really warm enough to plant in.

          We had a deep soaking rain last night.  

Satellite Dish Garden Status:

          Believe it or not – the red and green romaine lettuce transplants I put in a few weeks back walked through the 21 and 23 degree weather in an open topped cold frame.  I am truly amazed.  They sure looked perked up and beautiful after the deep soaking rain.  They are actually large enough that I could snip some leaves for a salad and leave the plants to continue on.

The spring onion sets which surround the cold frame are about 3 to 4 inches tall.  The double row of Sweet Peas [flowers] is up about ½ inch in that garden.  They are taking their “sweet time”.  I have never been successful growing sweet pea flowers here in the South – so this is again a valiant try after many years of zilch.

          The thyme and the mint wintered over just fine and I have a wonder crop of self-seeding Claytonia – called miner’s lettuce which is ready for the picking.  Photos below if you are not familiar with this spring green that needs absolutely NO care during the winter and self-seeds readily [more than you want it to so you have to be careful when it starts to bloom and set seed.]  I had never experienced it until I read Eliot Coleman’s book about the back side of the calendar planting.

          I fluffed up the soil in a 5 foot wide by 5 foot patch in the middle of the Dish Garden that was vacant and waiting on various spring crops.  I divided it in half – I can only reach a little over 2 ¼ feet into the bed from both sides so I left a six inch strip in the middle where I seeded with cosmos which will be “long term”.

          On the lawn side I put in a variety of seed.   Short little 2 ¼ foot rows of a couple varieties of arugula, three types of white turnips, two types of red lettuce, and a loose leaf lettuce.    On the house side I placed the wire racks that come from the inside of a small standing greenhouse.  They serve two purposes.  They keep critters away while my seeds sprout and they are perfect for spacing.

          The green racks have 1 inch by 1 inch spacing and I set those on top of loosen soil that has been raked smooth.  I take a chop stick and make a small indentation in the center of each square and then go back and drop a single seed into the hole.  I come back and nudge the side of the hole for soil to cover them.  I have done this for several years and I get great stands of radishes and beets due to the spacing.  I don’t want to “thin” – I’d rather take the time to space my seed than to go back and destroy most of the plants with my poor thinning techniques.  I leave the racks in place until I get the second set of leaves and then gently coax the racks off for plant spacing somewhere else.

          I put in spinach, [may be too late because of heat], two types of beets and then a row of Cilantro.  The next rack I dedicated to Rover radish which I have had much luck with and a new one, Rivoli, which is supposed to be new and extra easy – we will see.  Both radish seed varities are from Vermont Seed.   Then the next 3 rows I put in one each of three types of water cress, Cresso, Upland and then one simply called “watercress” with no variety designation.   The last row is Oak Leaf Lettuce.  That is my favorite along with red lettuce.

When I had finished planting, I lifted the racks off, tamped the seed bed down with the back of a metal rake and then watered it in with my Haws watering can.  I put the racks back on to keep those critters off, especially feral cats.   I have one more rack covering unplanted soil waiting for the first set of radishes to be up 2 weeks, then I will plant that rack area with more radishes and maybe some dill or chives.   We will see once I look through my seed box and my master plan.

There is a lot of bending and stretching but I love the way it feels; you feel alive as you are optimistically planting tiny seeds. The soil is warm to the touch and the sun is warming your back as you carefully open packets and poke holes and drop seeds into the inviting soil.  These are rites of spring I look forward to every year.

And, God blessed us with another drenching rain tonight.

March 26, 2017 – “It’s Officially Spring” – He’s back

          My darling husband who was out sitting in the sun just came in and came to my office and said.

          “It’s officially spring,” and then leaned on the desk to get my full attention.

          “And,” I answered knowing he was holding back something.

          “Mr. Snake – about 4 feet long – thin . . .” he started.

          I cut him off, “Where?”

          “Came out from under the shed and went past me sitting on the bench then toward the property line near the wheel barrow and down into the creek.”

          He had silently watched him travel a long way. That is approximately 7 car lengths I mentally calculated.

          He continued, “Out probably looking for mice under the shed.  He was thin about that big around.”  He made a circumference with his thumb and first finger.

          “Four feet long – is not a little snake – black snake?”  I countered his gesture.  The goosebumps come up my arms instantly as I am putting this all into perspective.  He nodded his head in the affirmative.

          Me, I had so much more work to do down along the property line and the snakes are out and about . . . I will have to now pull on my knee high rubber boots in order to work along the back property line and make a lot of noise and keep a sharp eye out.

          It seems Mr. Snake has already created his route for his midday prowl in and around where I am going to be working and resting in the sun on my bench.

          When I had come in from my walk the other morning, I already spotted a skink [little black and blue stripped lizard about 3 inches long] basking in the sun on the back brick steps.  He gave me a start and then I recognized him and smiled knowing it was officially spring. 

It is our country delight to observe all of God’s creatures and life renewing as we come out of cold winter into soft spring. I suppose that was what all the loud bird chatter was about earlier today. Mr. Snake was out looking for birds’ nests and the birds were talking about it between their species.

          In the future, when Mr. Snake of 4 feet long catches my eye, I doubt I will enjoy observing him whether it is spring renewal or not.    

         

          

March 25, 2017 – Catastrophe struck – quick action?  AH, . . . NO . . .

          I drink coffee at my computer desk all the time – I have for years.  However, today – I knocked my full cup of hot black coffee over somehow.  I don’t know if I was reaching for something, or pulling my mouse closer to start work or what – WHAM – Coffee cup simply turned over onto the keyboard and rolled to a stop by its handle.

          Quick action on my part I snatched the coffee cup upright not allowing it to pour out any more coffee but it was just about empty. I instantly turned the key board over draining the black liquid out of the key board panel.  I then turned it upside down while I went “hunting” for towels to clean up the mess.

Quick action getting towels to clean it up? - That’s a giant “NO”.

          OH MY – black coffee travels a long way in all directions when a desk is relatively flat.  I ran to the cleaning closet and grabbed a handful of cleaning towels and came back and started mopping up.  So, my quick action took much longer than I had anticipated.

          OH MY – under the phone, under the calculator, under the speakers, under the label printer and getting close to the opening where ALL the cords go down to the electricity – GASP.  I made dams out of towels so the liquid could spread no further and then started the cleanup process.

          I almost created as much damage cleaning the little mess up than it actually got a chance to create.

          I left the key board upside down to dry out and went for my morning walk. 

          Now, several hours later it smells like a bistro here at the keyboard – which surprisingly is still functioning.  And, the biggest Catastrophe is the brilliant thought I had when I sat down to write a blog got swept up with the spilled coffee.  Not a shadow of it remains in my mind.  Not a glimmer of a hint remains.   POUF, it is gone.

At least the keyboard still works, that is a good thing.

March 24, 2017 – A cheap thrill – Potted violets from your garden

         

          Often I am amazed at something so simple and so inexpensive that gives one a “cheap thrill”.  It took me less than 3 minutes to accomplish it.

          The common violet that has waltzed through these last weeks of late winter into early spring without being damaged by the killing freezes is a perfect example of a tough little plant.  It is a sweet little plant with over 2000 years of cultivation history. Not all gardeners notice their subtle beauty. 

Violets pop up in unusual places in semi-shade through the spraying of the seed capsule catapulting seed or via underground stolon.  Often many consider them a “weed”.  I don’t. I consider them a little treat that you don’t have to pander to. If you’ve got too many, pull a few out.  Need more, go to the trouble of collecting seed or simply dig one or two up and plunk them where you want more.

          Violets were the first plant I dealt with as a young child in my Mom’s flower garden.  In early spring I would be down on all fours as I would weed them under her direction and then was allowed to pick my tiny bouquet of the flowers with a few of the heart shaped leaves to hold them upright in a tiny vessel.  I still delight in the fleeting fragrance of them as well as their heart shaped leaves. [You show me a plant that has heart shaped leaves and it gets added to my collection.]

          A violet specimen had encroached into the main stream of the garden path between the shed where the birdseed is and the white birch tree garden where the bird feeders are hung.  As I noticed it coming to life this spring it really did turn out to be a prime specimen and yesterday after a drenching night rain I saved it from its possible “death” under by husband’s feet who is the one who feeds the birds.

          I unceremoniously grabbed my trowel and poked it under the violet and popped it out of the ground, folded its soggy clay clinging roots into a roundish ball and stuffed the roots of it into a littler ceramic flower pot and brought it into the house.  I rinsed off the muddy leaves and left it on kitchen Island.  When the flowers fade I will take it off to a new home in my garden, where I need violets.

          But, until then I will enjoy a cheap thrill – up close and personal which is also cost free. What can be better than that?

March 23, 2017 – I was academically intimidated, but only for a short time

          When I arrived in the county, I was forced into a sabbatical for a few years as I was the wife of the Plant Manager at the new plastic manufacturing plant.  Upper management cautioned all of the families that moved to the county to run the new plant, that the underlying purpose of the owner was to “bring jobs to the county – not have your wives steal jobs away from people in the county.”

History:

Back in high school I could have tried for scholarships because my grades were good, [often on the honor roll], but my parents pointed out that I would need “a car” in order to get to those scholarship colleges and they didn’t have the money for that.   So, I picked up all the secretarial and office procedures classes I could in high school and landed a job the day after graduation at a surveying and engineering firm. [I car pooled to work with my parents for a year until I earned enough money to buy my first car.]

          I basically had the same skills that many of my friends received from the two-year secretarial colleges, yet I had gotten them all in high school, i.e., shorthand, typing, accounting, office machines, and business English, to name a few.  So, I was on my career path two years ahead of my contemporaries and had advanced from secretary to office manager in a matter of only a few years without a college degree.

Back to Rutherford County

Once I unpacked the moving boxes, made drapes, decorated the house, and put in my massive gardens, I mentioned going to college to my husband and he said, “Yeah, good idea.” 

So, the forced sabbatical at age 35 gave me the incredible opportunity to go to college as the tuition and books were reasonable.

I signed up for the entrance exam and took it.   When I got the results I was academically intimidated.  My scores were awful and I was more than embarrassed. I basically shelved the idea for several months until I had the gumption to mention my stale, low entrance exam results to a friend.

 

“You’ve been out of school for years. When was the last time you actually took a test?  Don’t worry, it’s a community college – they have special classes to bring you up to college level in English and Math, and whatever.  You take those and then you just jump in.”    She was upbeat, optimistic, and adamant about it.  I borrowed her optimism and spunk and welcomed her pushing my back as I moved forward in my college education quest.

 I took the entrance exam again, which was slightly better, as I wasn’t as nervous and then I plowed ahead.  I am not sure if it was my scores were low  or that I was an “older student” that they assigned me to one of the physical education teachers, but that is who my “advisor” was.  I told him about my wanting an AA degree on my resume even though I had already held the jobs that usually required it in the past.  [In hindsight, he actually was the perfect advisor for me.]

I also told him that I needed to take all the “bring me up to standard classes”.  He felt I didn’t need them all and I said, “Oh YES, I haven’t been in a classroom in a dozen years, I don’t remember how to study.”  So, we made a plan of action and during the summer session I took all the update classes and began my journey through college.

It was a good move, doing the “update classes” because the first day in the Math Lab I sat down at a round table nearest the door and a fellow older student, a blonde took a seat at the table.  Then another older student, a brunette, sat down at our table.  We immediately introduced ourselves.  Then, an older student, a Vietnam Vet, joined us. Suddenly we were not alone in our quest to get a college education at our “older than the traditional college age”.  Just that first day we gained great strength knowing we were not alone.

Eventually we became close friends and study partners.   We surpassed our goals as we destroyed the grading curve in all the classes we were in and we had a wonderful time with the extracurricular activities as well.

The moral to this story?

          A year or two later my backdoor neighbor and still close friend, went off to college to become a Nurse.   She mentioned I had inspired her to “go for it.”

          I did it, she did – you can do it too.  It doesn’t matter what age you are – you can do it.

March 22, 2017 – Talisman – second generation

          When I told my mother about going to college at the interesting age of 35 she sent me a talisman for good luck at my studies.

          During World War II, my mother rode the train into Boston to attend Burdette College.  She was given two Chinese coins for good luck in her studies.  I don’t know who gave them to her and I doubt she can remember now either, but she said they had brought her good luck while in college and she sent them on to me to carry while I was going to college.

          I immediately slipped them on my key ring as one has a hole in the center and the other has a square in the center.  One is silver tone and the other is bronze tone and they are well worn and smooth to the touch.

          All through college they were a subtle reminder from my Mom to “do well”.   Just touching them daily as I left the house locking the door and then later at the college tossing them securely in a pocket of my book bag, she was with me every step of the way, even though she was hundreds of miles away.

          They did the trick – I graduated with 4.0 average and I am proud of my AA, two year degree because I worked hard and had a lot of fun at the local college.  It might not be as impressive as a 4 year degree or a Ph.D. but my mother had a wonderful saying when we were kids:

“No one can take your education away from you.”

          It is part of me and I don’t kowtow to anyone when I let my education show.  Others feel that is a case of pride instead of humility and should be considered a sin.  Me, I think it is a sign of self-confidence and I hold my head high.

          Upon waking this morning the thought of those coins just popped into my head.  I went and pulled them out of the drawer.  They are tied to the key of my Mom’s house with red plaid, grosgrain ribbon.  The same house key that was given to me on my sixteen birthday which was my parents’ permission to start dating.   Two of the biggest milestones in a woman’s life – college and dating and mine were unusually reversed in chronological order.

It’s amazing the unknown stories your everyday objects hold.

March 21, 2017 –  “You have such a nice voice on the phone.”

The other day someone was looking at one wall in my office, now my writer’s office, previously my St. John Title Insurance office. This wall has all my diplomas, certificates and licenses which summarized the years of study that were underlying my St. John Title Company, LLC entity.  In essence, the “bragging wall” I had created after attending a Women’s Empowerment Seminar.  I am not sure it empowered me; more like it gave me an excuse to clutter up a wall with all the credentials that had been shoved in closets and attics along the path of my life.

Aelbert Cuyp - Cowherd with Cows by the River

She was scrutinizing most of the items on one wall [the other wall has Audubon bird prints on it] when she asked about the above captioned print which was or is currently hung in the National Gallery in London.

“What’s with the cows?”  She asked.

I had to laugh and then smile.  The copy of the above Aelbert Cyup painting is in an elegant gold frame with beige linen inset and hung in the middle of the wall at eye level.  It has absolutely nothing to do with anything other than it is a calming scene. It is a mid 1600s scene of bovines wading in the river under the watch of a cowherd with an incredible sky of pink and golden lights along with sail boats and fishermen adding a curious twist to the pastoral scene.  Usually when you see animals grazing in a pastoral scene you don’t get the added bonus of sailboats and fishermen.  It is sort of a two-for-the-price-of-one painting.

One of the first stress management seminars I went to after I had attained the rank of Office Manager suggested you locate a painting and hang it directly in front of your phone so that you could step into the calm of the painting to control the stress in your life and portray a calm, cool and collected voice in your business telephoning.

The “cow picture” as she had asked about is my “calm voice” telephone picture that has traveled with me from job to job to job for many years.   When I make or answer calls that are stressful I look at this picture and transport myself to the waters’ edge imagining myself lifting my 16^th century linen skirts to cool my feet and look out at the cowherd and the industry of the fisherman out in the river.  Then I can tackle any call.

But, what is more curious about this, I didn't have to look for a peaceful scene, I'd kept one for many years that was perfect. When I was a teenager I received a complimentary copy of some sort of Art magazine and it captivated me.  I kept the magazine for years and eventually tore out page 15-16 and saved it for years in my "memoir papers" box. [I was probably about 17 at the time, but I thought I would have a rich life filled with interesting papers from an interesting life and this started my collection.]

“So, you going to tell me?” she asked again.

“I look at it when I am on the phone,” I answered not certain if I should tell her the rest.

“That’s why you have such a nice telephone voice.” She stated. 

Eventually I told her about the Stress Management class and the peaceful picture [of course editing out the memoirs bit – she didn’t need to know that much, yet]. She admitted she’d heard that theory about the peaceful scene picture, too.

I never tire of new friends asking me what something I own is or means as it always gives me a new perspective on my life.