early to rise...

In the Blink of an Eye

This morning I ran to the grocers to get milk, fresh fruit, and some apple boxes. Next Monday I travel to Iowa City to help Ev move out of the house he shares with three other college students. He has to be out the 26th of July, but he is leaving on a two-week vacation with family and won't be back until the 29th of July. He can't move into his new digs until Aug. 1st, so we rented a storage unit for the month of July. We will move out, clean his share of the house - his bedroom, one bath, and the kitchen - then walk out and close the door on another chapter of his life.

When I returned home from the grocers, I decided to CLEAN the Mini. It was filthy. I can't remember the last time I vacuumed, or washed windows, or scrubbed the mats. I usually just run it thru the carwash, but even that had been awhile. I gathered the soap, a bucket, some towels, the hose and the shop vac. I cranked the music and hit the shop-vac's 'on' button. It ran for about 30 seconds, then turned off. I extracted myself from the backseat to find the neighbor's 2 year-old standing with her finger hovering above the switch, and a big grin on her face.

"Hey, Greta," I said.
"I vacoom," she said.
"Do you want to help?"
"In the car." she said.
"Do you want to sit in the Mini?"
"Yah,yah,yah!" she sang as she danced around the shop-vac.
"Go ask your mom first."
So she pranced off, through the bushes, "Mommy, mommy, can I help Miss Deb vacoom?"

She insisted she sit in the backseat, buckled in with Dewey by her side, while I vacuumed. After we finished, we got out the bucket and filled it with water and bubbles to wash the rims and tires. She loved that. When I turned around, she had shed her PJ's and was standing there barefoot, in her diaper. O-kay. We worked on the outside mirrors and washed the bug debris off the grill. I was hunched over scrubbing away when I heard this sinister giggle behind me. She had figured out if she thoroughly soaked her washcloth in the bucket, it would explode with water and bubbles when she threw it against the garage door. I had forgotten how busy a 2 year-old can be.

She decided she wanted to see the fish in the pond, so we got the fish food and fed them a couple sprinkles. Then we were back to cleaning the car. We climbed into the backseat again and wiped down the upholstery, the moldings, and the door trim. She found the tire and rim brush and wanted to scrub the paint, so I directed her over to the mats that needed cleaning. That kept her busy for a good 4 minutes! We rinsed them, then carried them over to a sunny spot on the drive. That's when Mom appeared, carrying a couple of glasses of icy, cold limeade. We sat in the shade, admired our work, and drank our drinks. Well, she drank her drink and then mine, too.

I am so glad to be done with those days of entertaining/chasing a 2 year-old, although I seem to have more patience now because I can take the child home to mom when I get tired. But over the years, as my kids have grown, I've missed those hours of silly play. I have a picture of Ev when he is 2 years old, sitting in his little rocker, wearing a diaper and a pair of my high heels. His white blond hair is sticking straight up from his head. He has his legs casually crossed and he is studying his favorite Richard Scarry book.

Kids grow up and are gone in the blink of an eye. Next week I will be moving my son for his final year of college. This morning when I glanced into the Mini's rear view mirror as I was polishing it, I saw Greta in the back seat, with her legs casually crossed, wearing only a diaper, studying Dewey's nose. But just for a moment, I saw Ev sitting there. They're gone before you know it and 20 years have passed by. I pray that my son Evan will always embrace that same sense of play and exploration that a 2 year-old possesses, as he makes his way from college student to man of the world.

Early Morning in the Garden

The Ordinary is Cause for Celebration!

Today, I was heading up the driveway after my walk and off in the distance, I could hear the little campanile at Reiman Gardens playing its tinkly version of God Bless America. I had to laugh because it sounded so laborious. At first, I wasn't sure what I was hearing, but when I stopped to really listen, sure enough, it was God Bless America. Why was I hearing that song? Then, aha!, it was the 4th of July. Why not that song?

Several years ago, I was taking a course at Iowa State, and as I was walking across campus, I heard a playful, and vaguely familiar, tune coming from the campanile. This is the real campanile on Central Campus, the one in which a professor from the School of Music climbs the stairs daily at 11:45 AM to hammer out a recital for all to hear. I was struggling to name that tune and when I looked around, everyone seemed to be listening, walking just a bit slower with head cocked, trying to identify this song.

B-I-N-G-O! That was the tune, B-I-N-G-O. After a few refrains, there was this collective realization, a true Aha Moment!, where it clicked for all of us standing there on Central Campus. Something so ordinary and familiar from our childhood changed our demeanor as we continued on our way to class. We allowed our silly grins to show on our faces and we stepped a little brighter in celebration of this much beloved music.

With that moment of recogntion in my driveway this morning, I also realized something that I heard Garrison Keillor say the other night on "Prairie Home Companion". As he walked through the crowd in the closing moments of the show, he commented that he loved this country. At first I thought it kind of hokey, but then realized what he was really saying. It didn't have anything to do with politics, or religion, or flag-waving, or patriotism. It had everything to do with the people sitting there in his audience, listening to him spin his stories about Lake Wobegon. It had to do with the good people who live on the farms, in the cities, and everywhere in between.

For me, it has to do with the people we meet at the Highlandville Dance on a beautiful summer's evening in NE Iowa, or at the church service on Sunday morning at the Presbyterian Church Camp next to Lakeside Lab in NW Iowa. I love this country because of the people listening to the Nadas perform on this 4th of July in Bandshell Park in Ames, IA. It has everything to do with my family, friends, and neighbors who play such an important role in my daily existence here on Friley Road.

When the neighbors all got together tonight to drink beer and fresh strawberry margaritas!, to roast weenies, then watch the fireworks explode over our heads in celebration of the 4th of July, I sat back and relished how we all clicked, having been together just like this many times over the years. When I (the oldest) was holding the baby (the newest) so Mom and Dad could sit down to eat their food, I realized how good it felt to be part of something as simple as sharing food, drink, and stories. I also realized how important something as ordinary as B-I-N-G-O, or God Bless America is always and truly cause for celebration.

out of the office....washing windows today

The Highlandville Waltz

Last night our neighbor, who had been wringing his hands for days over successfully making home-made ice cream, finally gave in to his 2-yr old and whipped up some extraordinary strawberry ice cream. And he shared with us!

That first spoonful of fresh strawberry flavor was um,um good. It brought back some special memories of Highlandville, a little hamlet in NE Iowa, the summer dances, and the Big Canoe Lutheran Church Strawberry Festival and Ice Cream Social. Several days back in a post about the Sattre General Store, I promised a story about strawberries. This seems like a good post for today since people are again sharing fotos of their fresh harvest.

When I lived in Decorah, every Saturday night during the summer, there was a dance at the old Highlandville country school. The youngest band member was in his late 60's and the oldest, the fiddler, was pushing 90. The Highlandville Players had entertained those attending these dances for years. I had the time of my life, dancing with strangers and with friends, with my doctor, my dentist, and my accountant, all in one night! All that dancing generated a lot of heat, so cold beer from the coolers strapped in the pickup beds and moonshine passed in quart jars were welcomed refreshments during the stroll outside to cool off.

In late June, Big Canoe Lutheran Church would hold its annual Strawberry Festival and Ice Cream Social. Again, there was music from the Highlandville Players. There were beautiful white tents set up in the gardens around the church. And there was strawblicious home-made ice cream, strawberry shortcake (with home-baked biscuit cakes), strawberry angel food cake, strawberry-rhubarb pie, big bowls of fresh, whole strawberries, and strawberry pop from Spring Grove Bottlers.

Those church ladies sure knew a thing or two about fresh, home-grown food and how to throw a party. People came from far and wide to this little church out in the middle of nowhere to celebrate the goodness of this earth.

I checked the church calendar this year, hoping maybe to catch the festival when I journeyed up to NE Iowa for BioBlitz 2009. They still have their ice cream social, but no mention of strawberries. I caught a note on their website that the membership numbers are at their lowest ever. It seems that all those church ladies are no longer in their strawberry patches, or in the church kitchen serving up their strawberry-rhubarb pie, but perhaps out back in the cemetery, watching over all those who came to socialize and eat their bowls of plain old vanilla ice cream.

Happy Birthday, July Babies!