Jelisava

What the rabbit knew

A delightful surprise; things have been going on under the piles of snow / New Jersey / March 2010

This is the morning of discovering what the rabbit knew all along: that the cycles of the earth have their own power and the tiger lilies their own drive and determination and schedule.

Adverbly pronouned she verbed

The bright red leaves on the spirit tree frame the new angled porch window / New Jersey / Nov. 2009

When I was in grammar school I had a hard time learning the “parts of speech” (according to a grammar web site there are eight of them: verbs, nouns, pronouns, adverbs, adjectives, prepositions, conjunctions, and interjections). Reading came easily to me. I don't remember having to actually learn to read. One minute I couldn't and the next I could. I remember feeling so empowered — I could read not only books, but signs and billboards and things on the TV and newspapers — and I read voraciously. But I couldn't be bothered with learning the parts of speech and failed a number of tests. I was thinking about this recently after a discussion about school. It occurred to me that reading came so naturally to me that to actually break sentences and thoughts down into “parts of speech” seemed not only unnecessary, but ruined the poetry of the words. It spoiled the beauty of reading for me. Even though my (adjective*) teacher (noun*) railed (verb*) at (preposition*) me (pronoun*), I wasn't going to waste time with it. And all these years later I can say that I've gotten along just fine with words after all.

* According to the dictionary; I can't say for sure.

Macabre

The colorful scarf I've been working on; piecing together a collection of woven fabrics / New Jersey / Oct. 2009

The spiders have been busy in my house. I keep coming across tiny cobwebs, spun like the finest of silk in odd places, usually only when the light happens to hit them right. A cobweb is really a masterpiece of design and weaving — a network of fine threads spun by a spider. I think of some of the beautiful fabrics that I have been working with — all designed then woven, too. At this time of year some people decorate their houses with fake cobwebs. It occurs to me that perhaps my delicate, woven cobwebs are not a sign of insufficient housekeeping, but rather they are “seasonal decoration” not to mention works of art and design. I resolve to leave them undisturbed. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha.

I'm nodding in agreement

Bluestone in the garden / New Jersey / May 2009

“A woman who can't forgive should never have more than a nodding acquaintance with a man.”

~ E. W. Howe

Life is a mystery

Cafes at night in a livable city / Ljubljana, Slovenia / May 2005

Cleaning off my desk trying to make some space in my mind and calm the demons I find a scrap of paper that says: A mystery is not the same as a puzzle.

Slightly scary, and vital

Boats (like postings) on the Adriatic getting ready to voyage / Malinska, Croatia / May 2005

“. . . I often think of my postings as little paper boats. I launch them when I click 'publish,' and then they float off, beyond my control, perhaps to capsize or disintegrate. I find this loss of control only slightly scary, and vital.”
~ Leah Hager Cohen on blogging (NYTimes Book Review)

For me, blogging helps me to “pay attention” to the world and all the little details that might go by unnoticed. It also serves as a meditation of sorts.

I'll remember when the lilacs bloom

A young Mr. D served in WWII in the 3rd Army Anti-Aircraft Coast Artillery / Dec. 2008

I think of the people that come into our lives for a short period of time but leave a lasting impression — both for who they are and for how they make us feel. Mr. D was an older next-door neighbor. He liked to sit on his porch and listen to the radio and nap. He talked about the things he had done in his life including working at a Stetson hat factory in Philadelphia and running his own deli. And in the way of older people, he griped about how the world had changed since he was young. A Jersey boy who loved to get his hands in the dirt, his prize plant was an exotic banana-leaf plant with huge leaves. He loved helping me and would offer his skills, no matter what I was doing. A thriving lilac bush in my yard that he planted and watered faithfully during a dry summer stands as testament to his skills. One year he and his wife helped me plant tomatoes. He would dig a hole exactly the right size, add Miracle Grow and put the plant in. She would compress the dirt around the plant's roots just so, using her hoe. I was awed by their skills. I danced at a party celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary. After several years they moved and we kept in touch only sporadically. A call last week let me know that Mr. D had died at the age of 86. I felt the loss for his family and for myself. He thought I was special. He was always glad to see me. Can we ever have enough people like that in our lives?

What's in a name

Does the Blue Print Co. still make blueprints, I wonder? / Savannah, GA / Aug. 2006

The topic of nicknames came up. It seems they are less common for children today. In the past they were a necessity when children were named after their parents and grandparents and it made no sense to have everyone answer to the same name. I recall teachers who insisted that I would have to use my “real” name rather than my nickname when I was older. Of course I never believed them — nobody was going to tell me what name I could use. Many people don't seem to understand nicknames and how they are often shortened or personalized or ethnic versions of another name. An airline “official” insisted that 'Jack' was a nickname for 'John' but 'Lisa' could not be a nickname for 'Elizabeth'. Her ignorance cost me $50 as I had to have my ticket re-issued in my “real” name.

I have a name for any occasion. The name I use most commonly is a nickname for my second given name (also known as a “middle” name — though I always tried to attach it to my first name since I felt alienated from that name). The bank knows me as first initial, second name. The state knows me as first name, first four letters of second name (old computer programs only allowed a limited number of characters and it's never been fixed). Another government entity knows me as firstnamesecondname all-run-together (I went through a phase where I insisted on always attaching the second name to the first name). A credit card company knows me as first initial, second initial. Let them all call me what they will. I have secrets that they'll never know.

“Does anyone call Titi Merin Esmeralda?”
“Oh sure. People who don't know her well — the government, her boss. We all have our official names, and then our nicknames, which are like secrets that only the people who love us use.”

~ Esmeralda Santiago writing about finding out as a child that: 1. Her "real" name was Esmeralda and the name she was called was her nickname.  2. That she called her aunt by her nickname, "Merin".  3. That she was named after her aunt — they shared the name Esmeralda.

Practice being kind

Mosaic mixture of a Mexican tile, bowl fragments, blue tile, Italian flower pot fragments, and leftover bits of white subway tile with terracotta-colored grout (mixing orange and red paint into antique white grout) / New Jersey / Sept. 2008

I heard a man on the radio say this: we should practice being kind. What a beautiful idea. We practice so may things to "better" ourselves. Why isn't kindness taught in schools the way reading and math are? Acts of kindness can make us better people and impact all the people we touch. Let's resolve to practice being kind.

* kind  1. gentle, considerate, and friendly in nature or behavior; 2. proceeding from or characterized by good-heartedness.

She summered in outdoor spaces

Bakarska Vodica and ice cream sundaes outside on the terrace / Kostrena, Croatia / May 2005

I've been lucky enough to spend time in wonderful outdoor spaces over the past three days. A backyard at night that felt like a European beer garden with big group tables and tiny cafe tables and handmade bird houses and a water pond and lights strung above our heads and candles everywhere. A backyard that sits on a hill on a perfect summer afternoon (comfortable in the shade and warm in the sun) with a wide deck and swimming pool and tiki bar-with-thatched-roof. A spacious, curved side porch on a centuries-old house with the fading light of the sun and the summer evening sounds of children playing and insects humming all around and then a sudden coolness about an hour after sunset. Truly one of the best parts of summer has to be sharing outdoor spaces with each other and the summer environment.