If they can do it

I've just nicked the surface in studying the history of Ireland, which I began when I started traveling there in 2005 for work. I know hardly anything. There is a pretty good novel that covers the whole history called Ireland: A Novel, by Frank Delaney, if you're like me and don't know where to begin.

But there are moments in history that I live through, see with my own eyes, that I know send a wave of relief and hope into all the dimensions of life. After 4 1/2 years of the Northern Ireland Assembly not meeting, then coming to an agreement, and then reassembling, I got chills watching Ian Paisley, Martin McGuinness, Gerrie Adams, and others meet, smile, shake hands and move forward together this week.

Ian Paisley, First Minister, and Martin McGuinness, Deputy First Minister, of the Northern Ireland Assembly (photo from the Irish Times)

I'm old enough to have seen events that shatter peace like this in Ireland, in Israel, Kashmir, South Africa, Zimbabwe, wherever. You almost hate to let the sliver of hope in. Where people are, there are not only love and desire for peace. There are also belief and opinion, closed ears, anger, distrust, jealousy, pain, memory, torture, violence. Strange to think about, but even I am capable of these traits, because I am human.

I just want to mark the moment, note the laughter, feel the warm handshakes, hold the hope, for at least this moment and gather it all, fold it up and send it out like a paper airplane to whomever will catch it.

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Old Apple Tree

The spot on our 5 acres where we have found the most Morel Mushrooms this year and last, is by this Old Apple Tree, mostly on the sunny/south side, hidden among the fallen leaves and weeds.

There are many theories on where best to find Morels, and one of them is in an old apple orchard.

When I search the ground around this Tree, she creaks and groans. She is half dead, poor thing, and this crack gets a wee bit bigger every breezy day. In fact, I sometimes fear I might die with her when she creaks especially loudly and I'm on her leaning side.

There have been Racoon babies nesting in the hole at the top of the running crack.

You can see below that she still leafs and flowers in her old age, but only in part.

I wonder what this chicken wire was for. Back in our farm's working days, the area around Old Apple Tree seems to have been a pasture. Maybe this was part of a fence.

Thank you, Dear Old Sister, for the fruit you gave before our time, for the Morels we have found at your feet, for your shade, for sheltering Racoon mama's young ones. And when you fall, I hope I am nearby to hear you, but please, don't take me with you!

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The Band

Aren't they wonderful?

This is my son's band. He's the one on the far right, the guitarist.

They are in the final stages of recording their second CD. And when they release it, they also want to announce their new band name, which they haven't chosen yet!

When they recorded their first CD, it was just Peter and Brian, and their band name is their two last names. Brian is second from the right, in front of Pete, and is the singer.

But then Mark and Mike joined them for a full band. Mark is behind, he's the drummer. Then on the left is Mike, the bass player. They rock!

Soooo, they need a new name. Any suggestions?

A couple they've been throwing around are:

* The Breakup Club - I like this one, because a lot of their songs are heartbreak songs.
* Fisher King - This is cool too.

You can listen to them here, and then come up with suggestions! If you want to leave a comment on my blog here, or on their web site, go for it! :)

Keep in mind that this is their older stuff, with just the two guys. Their new CD is more rock and roll.

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LOVE

I don't know what street this is on, but it pretty well represents my time in NYC on the weekend with Lesley, Bootsie (Ginnie) and Donica. The point being that most of the time I had no idea where I was, but I was happily loving the ones I was with, and being loved by them! Thanks for snapping this one, Donica! (I feel sorry for that woman whose head I'm sitting on. And Bootsie must have been spying another photo op. :)

Lesley at Rockefeller Center

Happy Birthday to my darling daughter! You're surrounded by love! Woe is me, I didn't want to leave you today.

Showing us her office building

Carry on, my sisters, and look well after our little NY girl the rest of the week.

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magic space

Two weekends ago Don and I drove up to northwest Michigan. For a while Sunday, we walked and drove around some old stomping grounds of mine.

For several years, my family spent two weeks a summer at this cottage at Crystal Lake, built by my great great uncle (my mom's great uncle). I was six years old the last summer we went there in 1963, the year my parents got their own cottage much closer to our home town.

I remember walking barefoot across the road to the Crystal Lake beach, and the heat of the blacktop scalding my feet. The sand cool on the other side. I think these are the same stones as the ones we left in 1963. I fell asleep one summer and got the burn of my life. I wonder if that was the source of my melanoma almost 30 years later?

Every day I would walk with some of my siblings a mile away from Crystal Lake to Lake Michigan.

~ ~ ~

We'd walk past the Gwen Frostic house, "Melody in F."

Climb up the little dune and cross over to the big lake beach.The smell of the fine, soft sand is identical today, and it brings all the memories back.

I don't understand how it happened, but this space, this sand, these stones, this house, these smells, this sun in these birch trees, got into my very flesh, mind and heart as a little one, and it's still here.

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Risch farm auction

Our farm community was deeply hurt when Harold Risch, 76, was trampled and killed by one of his bulls last fall. On Saturday at least 1,000 farmers gathered for the auction of his farm equipment and cattle.

That's Don in the burgundy jacket with grey hoody.

It was a frigid spring day, the snow and wind cut through the crowd like a cold blade. But the warmth of the people shone through for Harold and his well loved farm tools and animals.

Don wanted this hay wagon, but we left the auction to warm up our cold faces, toes and fingers, and when he went back later, it had been sold.

I don’t think he could have afforded it. Other hay wagons went for over $500. You have to build bottom and sides to carry the load. Our load would have been people on farm day for a hay ride. Hay rides are something I grew up with in my rural hometown. Load the wagon with hay, then load the hay with young people, and you have a riot of fun . . . and lots and lots of hay stuck down the necks of shirts!

When you want to bid at auction, of course, whether it’s Sotheby’s or Risch’s farm, you have to first register and get a number.

I wonder if this farmer was getting a phone bid?

What’s this?

Most of the farmers wore Carhartt coveralls, lined with quilted flannel. But the man in the second photo below wore a snowmobile suit. Whatever we wore, it had to be WARM.

Harold had a beautiful herd of British white cattle. Each cow went for $1,000-1,500. Our emotions were mixed looking silently at these sweet, powerful animals, which sometimes cause terrible accidents.

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Creativity in Frankfurt

Don and I went up north for the weekend and Sunday wandered from Manistee to Charlevoix. Thanks to my sister Nancy, we stayed in her condo on Portage Lake in Onekama and didn't have far to drive to see the quaint small towns in northwest Michigan.

In Frankfurt, near where my family spent two weeks in the summer when I was little, we found two centers of creativity. These shoe totem sculptures were growing up next to a sidewalk going into town.

The other was a place called Monumental Finds where someone builds these little play houses from found remnants.

I can see us building one of these out behind our barn, by the little woods around the pond. It would be fun for Farm Day, and just for sitting out there on a Sunday morning with coffee, or on a Saturday evening with friends.

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