GIVING BACK WHILE HAVING FUN

Iris, Elsa and I have been volunteering at the Vernon County Humane Society, and would like to do so once per week, although with such busy lives that is not always possible.

 

This past Thursday we were asked to do the task of walking three adorable new puppies that had just arrived.  As you can imagine both girls were over the top delighted.

 

I thought we'd have to walk them within some kind of enclosure, but Jenni, the manager said, no, walk them anywhere you want.  So leashes tightly grasped we went outdoors.

 



 

Puppies pause to get their bearings....

 

 

 

Iris and Elsa pause to untangle the three.

 

After about 15-20 minutes of 'walking' we went indoors and within a closed room, simply played and socialized with the puppies.

 

 

 

 

Then the girls were ready for some real work, which they did with such eagerness it astounded me.

 

 

 

 

Weeding the flower bed just in front of the building, this task took us about 45  minutes as the media was going to arrive the next day and we wanted it to look beautiful.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Despite the fun the girls take this 'job' seriously and are always eager to do the next task, asking to sweep, to wash windows, and to help out in ways that have no hands on animals at all.

 

Quite honestly, I love spending my time with these girls in this way.





BIKING BUDDIES

Iris has been asking for quite some time to take 'my' bike ride with me.  My route is just a little under 20 miles with part of that being on a busy highway before getting to the Kickapoo Valley Reserve.  The route on the Reserve is 14 miles, and as Iris had not ridden that far at one time before, her dad dropped her and her bike off at the gate where I met them.

 

 

 

 

We are set to begin...

 

 

 

...off she goes, and she was quite the rider.  There are several hills on this route, some more major than others, and she was set to walk her bike up hills if necessary.  As we approached one looooong hill she said, I'll have to walk this one.  But then as she was biking up not far from me she said, no, I'm going to do it. 

 

And she did!!

 

And she did every single one of the hills except the one that goes up from the covered bridge at the point where I turn around.  She waited on the bridge and drank some more water while I went up the hill to the last gate and turned around and came back.

 

 

 

 

A stop at a flowing well to refill the water bottle.  I never drink much while riding, but this young lady drank tons.

 

 

 

Just approaching the last 'leg' of the ride, crossing over Co. P onto the Old Road as it winds towards Rockton.

 

This girl did nearly 15 miles today!!!!

 

I am so proud of her, never a complaint, never I'm tired, just a need to stop for a drink, although one time she insisted I pass her the bottle while we were riding.

 

She did say she was 'starved' and that she sure would sleep well tonight.

 

Fun for me to ride with my nine year old granddaughter.

 



HAPPY FATHER'S DAY, DAD





Bartholomew

Were my father still alive
he would be eighty-nine today.
I wonder what
in the long thirty-one years
since he passed,
would have been...
for him...
for us.

I know he'd still be the
Kitchen God of my youth
who could coax exquisite
tastes-smells,
and sheer amount
from the merest ingredients.

White chef's apron tied high
on his portly frame,
his huge brown eyes missing
not a thing
as he surveyed his Kingdom.

A tall, tall man of short stature
who loved long, sleek Lincolns
though once he brought home
a lowly Nash.

A self-trained musician
bending his alto sax
to high jazz
as we kids eagerly sat
on the scratchy, green parlor sofa...
a rapt audience,
sure he was a star...

and he could belt out a song
in his huge baritone
rich with chestnut notes
that at other times
might send us scurrying.


He was a suitcase kind of Dad-
an on-the-road salesman
hawking kettles--
not just any kettles, either
but STAINLESS STEEL
none of that aluminum for food
he'd eat or serve!


He'd be off for a week at a time
sometimes two
demonstrating his wares
in other people's kitchens...
roast beef, braised with very little water
(that was an important component)
to tender perfection in his largest kettle,

in the smallest one, ruby red beets
that he would later demonstrate
left no stain...
potatoes steamed on low heat
little water
certainly not boiled to death.

Sometimes, to my delight,
we might accompany him,
the clean-up-crew of kids.
He had a tiny office front
in Rochester, NY
where we might stay over night
if the 'dinner party' went late-
and in the morning he'd fix us
salami sandwiches,
not just any salami, mind you,
but hard salami sliced so thin
you could see right through it,
on Italian hard rolls
so crusty that flakes broke off
with every bite.
I loved this breakfast
in that tiny space,
relishing the almost naughtiness of it.

Sometimes
cooking in my kitchen,
Iris, earnest and supremely focused,
stirring by my side,
I know he has come through
(he may never have held her nor
felt the aching sweetness of her arms
around his neck)
but he is there in her,
as he has been in me...
cooking on.

 

 Novemberr 24, 2010

Joanne Adragna Shird

IRIS' RECITAL

This nine year old young lady played her solo during the violin recital last Sunday.  She nailed it!!



I love this look of utter concentration that takes over her face while playing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

This is a child who loves music and I have heard her say that music changes everything.  I love how deeply she feels music.  And I agree, music does change everything.

 

I am so proud of her.



A BIRTHDAY TRIBUTE

Forty-four years ago today at just about this time of day, noonish, I was vigorously walking around Vermillion, S.D., doctor's instructions, trying to advance the minor, beginning contractions of birth.  And it wasn't until much later that day that Jonel made her appearance at the Yankton hospital...and as all mothers know, it was and has been, a life changing experience.

 

Only a few days home, and we are resting well.  I can still feel this warm, sweet little girl on my chest.

 

 

 

The photo for family.





 

Jonel today, a mother of her own with daughters Elsa and Iris.  My daughter now knows the sweetness, pains, heartache, overwhelming love, worry, care and concern of motherhood.

 

No matter how old my daughter, I almost daily know the sweetness, pain, heartache, overwhelming love, worry, care and concern of being a mother.

 

 

 

 

 

Taken on Easter Sunday.

 

I cannot express in words how she has embellished my life.  I am so proud of this woman: strong and determined; a patient and loving parent; a solid, giving and loving partner and wife; a woman who not only holds the earth in high regard but follows through in all ways to respect it; a master of the written word; a compassionate and empathetic being who is generous in all

ways;  a lover of the outdoors;  and a deeply spiritual being. 

 

I love you, Jonel, and am thankful for your being.

 





ELSA, THE BIRTHDAY GIRL

Pool Party

 

 Elsa decided she wanted a 'Pool Party' for her 7th birthday, and she requested a Pool birthday cake....She loved it....especially the cookie people/heads which she kept trying to 'steal' unnoticed.

 

...lounging along....

 

 

 

...lots of children, lots of water, and no one except the adults noticed the overwhelming chlorine smell.

 

...three little beauties...

 

 

 

It is hard to believe that Elsa has turned seven already.  I know that time plays tricks, collapsing years into moments, but seven???  This little 'quick-as-a-minute' child, filled with love and wonder, gratitude and a good measure of silliness has reached seven in what seems only days to me. I am deeply grateful to have been so involved in those seven years and look forward with love for all of the years to come.



FOR MY MOTHER

It has been many years now since my mother's death.  I miss her daily...I think of her daily....I rue all that she has missed, too.

 





 

My mother holds Corky, one of our childhood dogs.  I'd have to guess, but I think she was in her 40's here.  She had already had ovarian cancer by this time.  I was too young to really know the depth of fear that accompanies cancer.  She spent time at Rosewell Hospital undergoing radiation.  I remember her coming home, I remember her 'browned' stomach.  She recovered, only to have cancer two more times in her life.  She was a strong role model for me.



This is one of the later photos of her, still a lovely woman.

And here a favorite.  She came to visit one Easter, maybe 15 years ago.  How I see myself in my mother.

 

 

I remember how special I felt one day, I think I was about seven or eight, when she and I, no siblings, walked hand in hand to town.  It was about a mile and a half walk, and I had my mother just to myself.  I remember how sweet it felt, her hand and mine together.  We lived with my grandmother, an aunt, and I have two sisters and a brother...we were a busy household, so a stroll with my mother was very special.

Despite being of advanced age myself, I miss a mother in my life, I miss my mother.  There is an emptiness in me, an ache that never goes away.  It subsides, but is never gone.  It rears up boldly when, for example, I want to call her and tell her something of Iris and Elsa.  I wish she had known them, I wish they had known her. 

Today when I look in the mirror, I see my mother.  I have grown to look so much like her, it seems uncanny. 

My mother taught me so much, inspired so much in me, gave me so much, and expected much as well.  I took dance lessons from the age of six through twelve.  My mother sewed all of my dance costumes on our old Singer treadle machine.  I recall my dance teacher always pointing out the costumes my mother made as being so well done.

Although my father was the Artist at cooking, my mother was a wonderful cook.  I learned so much from her about day-long cooking, fresh ingredients, 'organic' before it was organic, and the simple love of feeding family.

I know my mother lives on in me, in my very flesh and blood and bones.  I feel her strongly at times, even as I feel the grandmothers of old surrounding me.  Although my mother died what seems a long time ago, she has really never left me alone.

  She

 

She fills my days unseen

     yet everywhere,

permeates my life with

     a love that caresses

and carries me forward,

     even as it reaches

as far back as my birth.

 

‘Mother’, you so far exceed the

     bounds of that word,

the entire lexicon fails

     to capture you…

and it is this, my life,

     my beating heart,

the flow of my blood,

     the strength of my bones,

that holds and honors you…

 

and even now, so long after

     your passing,

you fill me with your love.

3/22/15