the viewing

So Frank's viewing was last night and his funeral is today. I walked right up and gave him a look see, told him I was glad to have known him though I suspect whatever might be left of Frank was already with Dorothy. We went to Dorothy's funeral and it was the first catholic funeral we had ever been to. I had expected to see her body at the viewing, which I did, but was not expecting to walk into the small lobby of the church and see her there where everyone was crowded in. And I thought the whole communion thing around the casket was weird but I guess most ritual is weird.

This looking at a dead body thing is new to me. For all my life I had avoided looking at a dead person. The funerals I went to with open caskets, I would avert my gaze. I'm not really sure where this aversion came from. Probably my dad. He was a pathologist albeit a reluctant one. He wanted to be a surgeon but then he got TB during the war. Afterwards when he was well, he let others convince him it would be too strenuous for a survivor of TB and so he became a pathologist. Someone who dealt with the dead and with the diseases that killed them.

My father hated death, hated funerals, didn't want to have a funeral, hated black. We were not allowed to wear black in my house. He had a few black suits, of course, but he also had and wore a peacock blue suit, a canary yellow suit, an emerald green suit, a burnt orange suit. I loved his colorful suits. He wore red socks with his tuxedo.

Anyway, he didn't want us, his family, to see his body after he had died. His father had died when he was 13 and he claimed that that final image of his dead father was the only image he could conjure up and he didn't want his children to remember him that way. So when he died of a massive stroke in the middle of the night and when I got to the hospital which was an hour's drive away and the nurse asked me if I wanted to see him and spend a few moments with him, I told her no. Judging by the look on her face, she didn't think much of that but that was his wish. And so I continued to decline to view the bodies of family and friends.

Then my brother-in-law was dying* and in hospice care at home and I was helping my sister and being there and figured it was time for me to experience death, dying, and dead bodies. It was imminent, my sister's girls who he had mostly raised had arrived and I went home for a brief spell and hadn't been home 10 minutes when they called, it was time, it was happening. He passed before I got back so I missed the actual dying. But I got a good long look at his dead body. And you know what? There wasn't anything icky or scary or terrible about it. And it's not the only way I remember my brother-in-law.

So back to Frank. Talking with his son Allen, we learned that Frank did not, as I had thought, die in his sleep. He actually had a pretty good day, even was outside in a wheelchair for part of the day. Allen had been over to visit, Frank ate a good meal, went back to bed. Zaide went in to check on him and Frank was awake, he reached out and took her hands and breathed his last.

I think that's how I want to go. Quietly, easy, in old age, but awake.

* I wrote about it extensively here, here, here, here, here, here, here, and here.

Frank of the Bountiful Garden

Some of you might remember me writing about my neighbor Frank, Frank and his wife Dorothy. Frank and Dorothy were our neighbors on the west side. Were. I'm sad to report that Frank died Monday night, at home. He was 88.

Frank built the house that he and Dorothy lived in and the greenhouses where they ran their nursery business for most of their lives, there on their acre. They were already in their 80s, or nearly, when we met them, when we bought the country house. Dorothy already had the cancer that killed her a few years later. When we first started coming for the weekends and then longer weekends they were both still out there in the yard and garden every day doing stuff. Frank was still climbing up on the roofs of the greenhouses and their house making repairs. Dorothy had a large garden cart that she pulled along behind her for the carrying of stuff.

Their yard was always meticulously kept with flowers planted per season, mowed and tidy and free of weeds front and back...flower beds and hanging baskets and planters. And the garden and fruit trees...apple, pear, figs, peaches, blackberry vines, and two satsuma orange trees that produced literally thousands of oranges.

Frank was out there every day no matter how hot or cold. Hardly a week went by that he wasn't knocking on the back door with oranges or peaches or figs or long beans or carrots or broccoli or turnips or whatever. When my daughter would come out, he would load her up as well.

I liked to go over there and check out his garden, see what he was doing. It was always so abundant. Mine was, mine was definitely a beginner garden.

But then Dorothy's hip broke and her spine started to collapse and Frank was caring for her and then about 3 1/2 years ago she died and Frank sort of slowly lost his mooring. He still planted the garden though his son, Allen, was helping more and more but he'd forget to harvest with no one to cook or put up the food. A grandson lived with him for awhile but then Frank was living alone again and his mind was starting to deteriorate and he would forget to take his meds. Eventually his son and daughter arranged for 24 hour live-in care. And that has been the way of it for about a year and a half. We would see Frank out with his caretaker and go over and say hello or Zaide would bring him over if he saw us in the yard.

I hadn't seen Frank outside much since late last summer and Monday Marc saw Zaide out and went to talk with her. She told him that Frank mostly just ate and slept now, that the end was pretty near. And then he died that very night.

I'll miss Frank. I miss Dorothy. I miss our early years out here when they were both still alive and their place was full and abundant. Things will change now though as Allen thinks they will sell the property.

Fly high Frank.

overheard at the country house last night

Today was a good day, I said, sitting on the couch.

Why, asked Marc, because you got to dig?

He knows me well.

That wasn't what I was thinking specifically but it is true. I did get to dig today and that always makes me happy. I like to dig, I like to break up the soil and crumble it with my hands. I like to add compost and mix it in. I like to plant stuff and though I am not always gentle I always have the plants' interest at heart. Sometimes things are so root bound that for the plant to have any hope of surviving, you basically have to tear away most of it's root system away so it can start over.

But today was spring here and is supposed to be all week. It will get cold again but today I had to return my grandson to the city so I had time before and after to just be outside. I had bought a few annuals Friday when I was in the city picking him up so I had plenty to occupy me today, though I didn't get everything in. 

The grandboy wanted to come spend the weekend because he wanted to work on the truck that he is buying from his dad who collects old Ford trucks to work on as a hobby.

I wanted him to spend the weekend because I had a project outdoors I wanted him to help me with. My neighbor Alan, Frank's son, on one side between us and Frank Of The Bountiful Garden has a bunch of storage buildings on the back part of his half acre and he sprays herbicide twice a year back there to keep the weeds down on the packed dirt ground. If you know me at all, you know that this is anathema to me. In the city, my yard was a no kill zone and most especially no poisons and I practice the same here. Alan has been encroaching with the poison by a few inches to a foot over the property line so Saturday, I got the grandboy to help me erect 4 sections of wrought iron fencing back there. It doesn't extend all the way to the native pecan tree yet as I didn't have enough sections but I'll fill it in eventually. The plan is to plant flowering vines on the fencing or large flowering shrubs in the space between the fencing and the long day lily bed.

I have a full day of work ahead today and it's not yard work. Well, I do have several full days of yard work but today is work work. The castings are coming out today.

filling boxes and molds

While I have not been posting about work stuff, I have been working on work stuff. I got all the botanicas packed up and shipped out to Morgan Contemporary Glass Gallery in Pittsburgh. They are going to install them on a front wall in time for their opening tonight.

In the meantime, I've been trying to get these last ones done. Marc got all the molds made and I got them cleaned up and inspected and did all the volume measures of the individual molds so I know how much weight of glass it takes to fill it.

The first three new botanicas, plus a little shell composition for the gallery in Florida, are in the kiln.

Speaking of the gallery in Florida, I haven't received a response from her about the pieces I have available to send so I'm not sure what exactly I'll be sending...the two finished bowls for sure (still haven't done anymore work on the oleander bowl)... 

(The oleander bowl has some issues that you can't see here, like half the bug is missing and the forehead of the little face peeking out from the flower bottom right is missing and there is a hole in the flower on the other side...all casting defects. It is definitely less than perfect but I may send it anyway. I won't be doing another one, that's for sure.)

...and the two framed pieces from the open house and perhaps all three of the small plain sky bowls and the cluster of shells and I have to send her my stuff the middle of next week. 

Yikes! Gettin' down to the wire though I should have enough time to get the last two things done...the shells and the oleander bowl...even with my grandson here for the weekend.

I'm driving to Houston today to pick him up after school so he can help me with an outdoor project on Saturday.

little bird

That little red and black bird showed up again yesterday and this time I managed to get quite a few pictures...with the zoom. It was perched on the far side of the shrub where I had seen it the first time.

From my previous verbal description, my resident bird expert had offered up the orchard oriole as a contender since it was highly unlikely to be a red-breasted blackbird this far north of it's territory though I was pretty sure it wan't an oriole.

Left: red-breasted blackbird                               Right: orchard oriole

As you can see, the two birds are very similar...about the same size, red breast (though the oriole is more rust than red), black head. I didn't see any white on the wings like the oriole but then I only saw it briefly from the front.

Here is my visitor...

My local bird expert has identified it as a male painted bunting even though with the exception of it's brilliant red breast, it's colors are quite dulled, the head appearing black instead of blue though, this day, it was not looking quite so black as before and you can see a hint of the yellow/green patch on it's upper wing now. It's also smaller than I had guessed at first. One FB friend where I posted the pictures guessed that perhaps it had been caged and escaped or turned loose as their plumage typically fades in captivity from lack of the right kinds of insects and UV light.

The male painted bunting in his full color:

I saw the little bunting again today briefly on the tea cup from a different window and when I called to Marc about it, he must have heard me because he flitted away.

super what Sunday?

This is what I did Sunday...

Surfed the web and spent a lot of time trying to get pictures of the birds as they visited the tea cup as I had my coffee. Have several pictures of just the tea cup.

Strolled around the yard and took pictures.

Ate breakfast which my husband cooked.

Posted on the blog.

Went outside and fished out as much of the string algae, which has migrated from the water lily pond probably on my fingertips, out of the turtle pond as I could get to and then cleaned the filter which hadn't been done since fall. It was really nasty.

Got the hose from the pump to the filter of the water lily pond cleaned out and unstopped (string algae again).

Strolled around the yard taking more pictures.

Cut back dead foliage (couldn't resist) and it all looks much better now.

Had a small late lunch of stuffed bacon wrapped jalapenos that my husband the cook whipped up and this time they didn't try to kill me.

Strolled around the yard, listening to the mockingbird and took more pictures.

Participated in making stuffed cabbage rolls for dinner and then cleaned up the totally trashed kitchen.

Settled down on the couch with my current read and a tequila sunrise.

Ate dinner and more couch time with my book before bed.

It was a super Sunday.

small mindedness, casual racism, and incorrect weather predictions

I woke up with a headache this morning. That's usually when I get them, I wake up with them although when I went to bed last night I could feel it coming on and I should have taken some ibuprofen then but I didn't. I always have this unrealistic hope that it will go away before morning. My morning headaches are always on the left side and when they are really bad, they throb. I haven't had a real pounder though in many many years. These days they just make me feel nauseated and achey besides the pain in my head. Sometimes I'll try and wait it out til after breakfast because I don't like taking pain meds on an empty stomach but this morning I caved and took some between my two cups of coffee. The good thing though is, once I take some ibuprofen, it generally goes away within about half an hour. I'm already feeling better.

So I did something last night I don't do very often. I went out and socialized. Well, we went out and socialized since I made Marc come with me. There's a couple here who bought the building next to the antique store and they have been working on repairing and restoring the old building for the last three years with an eye to opening a little cafe but they aren't getting any support from most of the other people on the square or the business council. There's a lot of small town small-mindedness involved. Their ideas for the place have been fluid. The original idea of a restaurant (the building used to contain a restaurant but all the kitchen equipment needs to be replaced besides all the general repairs) has morphed into a wine bar and bistro/cafe, something this town really needs. They've already refurbished both bathrooms and rebuilt the front exterior wall with two new gorgeous 9' doors. They built a stage in the back Garden Room for the music venue and they are renting out the space for parties and events towards getting the new kitchen equipment. Last night they had a little party for their supporters with musical entertainment and dinner and wine. Caroline and Wesley have been swimming upstream for three years so I wanted to show my support for them. They are really nice down to earth people who have been facing a smear campaign almost from the get go. It pisses me off and I don't let comments I hear in the antique store or elsewhere go by unchallenged.

Speaking of small town small-mindedness I had two women in the store yesterday, sisters who live in different towns having a day out together and 'away from the husbands' as they put it. At one point they were bashing some members of their family as being worthless lazy takers who were bleeding their aunt dry and then realized I was hearing their conversation and remarked that they probably shouldn't be saying those things. I just shrugged and said true is true. “Well, they're half-Mexican” she says to me as if that explains it. That's another thing I can't let slide...casual racism. I told her that I had to argue with her there, that being Mexican didn't have anything to do with it, that Mexicans were some of the hardest working people I knew and that there were lazy people across the board. She agreed and went on to say that their (white) mother hadn't demanded much of their children either. The white mother was just as poor a parent as the Mexican father but it was the Mexican part that they attributed the bad behavior to. I don't know these women and I don't know if they are truly racist, surely they must know or interact with lots of latinos and they may not have realized how that sounded. Maybe since I pointed it out they will be a little more thoughtful.

So the cold rainy weekend the weather predictors had predicted did not materialize. It didn't rain and it's not cold. It's feeling like spring and I have noticed new growth beginning to emerge. I'm wanting to get out there and start cutting back dead foliage but it's still only February 1^st and February can go either way. My grandson was going to come out and help me with an outdoor project this weekend but because of the bad weather predicted I postponed it til next weekend which is my regular Saturday off. Just as well, I guess since his mom told me yesterday that he was sick and I wouldn't have wanted him out here anyway. She's right about that. Although I believe I have a strong immune system, I try to stay away from sick people.

Well, my headache is well and truly gone now and the sunny day is beckoning and my wonderful husband is cooking breakfast. If anyone needs me later, I'll be outside.