Karen's Journey

I still have a couple of posts to finish composing about our exploits in Lake Placid, but I've come to the conclusion that 48-hour days are still too short. In the meantime, I thought I would post a photo of our renovated flower garden. We completely overhauled it this spring in order to improve the curb appeal of our house. It took out my knees, but we've received many compliments, so maybe it was somewhat worth it. There is still more to do, but isn't there always? We had our first frost last night. It was very light, and the ornamental grass and zinnias didn't seem to mind. That ornamental grass comes from some hardy stock. It arrived mail order appearing dried out and lifeless. I stuck it in the ground anyway and figured it would either grow or not. I wanted ornamental grass in memory of Blackjack, whose favorite game in the world was to escape outside, where he would immediately stop to chew the grass. Forget happy hunting grounds for that cat; here's ...

Thursday, August 2, 2012 Just below treeline on Algonquin, April 30, 1999.   For my 40th birthday, I climbed Algonquin, New York's second highest mountain and the only other one that tops out at more than 5,000 feet. Forty might have arrived, but I wasn't going to let it conquer me. I was prepared for my forties to be a strong decade of running PRs and mountain conquests. One week prior to that birthday I had set my official mile PR. A couple of weeks later, I set an official PR for the 5K. Yes, my forties were going to be great! Little did I know that my forty-year-old body had other thoughts. I spent most of that decade limping around with plantar fasciitis -- an inflammation of the large tendon that runs along the bottom of the foot -- four years in my left foot, and then, after four months of blessed relief, another four years in my right foot. When I was 49, I "cured" it by running a 200 meter race all out and tearing it, and in the process breaking ...

These are my neighbor's flowers that I snuck (sneaked? I never know which word to use any more -- I grew up saying snuck, not sneaked; and dove, not dived; and now these words just don't seem to exist -- did they never exist? Snuck is in the dictionary, but shows up here as a misspelling and you never hear it or read it in the media....but I digress) over to take photos of. Because they're so pretty. I would plant some along my gazebo so they would adorn it each year, but the gazebo is falling apart. Until we decide what to do about that, the gazebo gets annual morning glories. Which  I hope to have photos of soon. They've been blooming, but I just haven't gotten out there with the camera. . These were my front stoop flowers. Until T stopped remembering them in his daily watering rounds, which I have to admit, grew exponentially from a few plants to dozens. Now this is a container of brown sticks and leaves, probably irritating the neighbors to no end. Oh ...

I got my long-awaited lilac bush for Mother's Day as a gift from my husband and my step-daughters the year before T arrived. It bloomed that year. The next year, no blossoms. No lovely lilac fragrance. I chalked it up to the severe winter and assumed we'd get blooms the following year -- in the spring of 2011. 2011 arrived and blossom buds appeared. Hooray! We were going to get flowers. But then they started disappearing. From the ground up. Bunnies. Our bunny-friendly yard was attracting lilac-eating bunnies. So we caged the shrub until the flowers had a chance to bloom. Bunnies have to eat, but they can find something other than my lilacs! How about the greens from the hundreds of dandelions that grow in our yard, much to the delight of our neighbors, I'm sure? I'm the neighborhood whack job who refuses to poison my yard, my family, and the wildlife for the sake of a dandelion-free yard. My inside bunnies have always loved dandelion greens as much as I love c...

The summer after we lost Blackjack -- a cat I will always consider to be one of the best friends I could  ever have hoped for -- I planted a garden to memorialize him. Ornamental grass because his favorite past time was to escape out a door far enough to hit a patch of grass where he would hunker down and start grazing. Catnip because, well, he was a cat. Black-eyed Susans because they are the color of his golden yellow eyes. And I wanted tulips. Black tulips.  There is no such thing as a black tulip, but if you research them, you will be directed to the variety known as the Queen of Sheba. They are supposedly so purple as to be almost black. When they are not in direct sunlight, I suppose that's somewhat true. To me, they still look purple. But they are still special to me. I call them "Blackjack's tulips," and I look forward to them blooming every year. It's a nice way to remember him by. He was One. Special. Cat.  And in this journey where the road...

I knew we were going to be OK after the first two months of struggling when my little boy got so excited to see the fee-lauers poking up through the ground and finally bursting forth in color. His original language doesn't have  blended consonants, so we got words like 'suh-no' (snow) and 'e-top' (stop) and 'fee-lauers' (flowers). You cannot find joy in beautiful flowers and want to share your discoveries with your mommy without being reachable. Somewhere in those angry depths was a child who could find joy. I don't think the purple irises bloomed that year, but this year they did. And now I am sharing them with you. Because it makes my heart sing to see the fee-lauers blooming too! This year he has planted sunflower seeds on his own, and he is carefully tending to them without any help or direction from me. I hope they grow, and I hope the squirrels and bunnies leave them alone!

This tiny little beauty pokes her little head up right next to the garage foundation every spring. She usually beats the daffodils, but this year they beat her. I have no idea what type of flower she is, but she has so often been my first harbinger of spring, bringing joy to my heart that winter is on its way out. Her location is rather odd; I think maybe she survived the construction of the garage, which would account for the fact that she pops up out of the ground a mere inch or two away. I'm not sure I could transplant her to a prettier location -- I think I might destroy the bulb trying to dig it up. But at any rate, I would like to know what type of flower she is. So anyone who can help, please let me know!

We never see our daffodils until after Easter. Ever. Until this year. We had a spell of 80-plus degree weather back in March, so out they came. Now that it's April, we're back down into below freezing temps during the overnights, but they're gamely holding on. Tulips are not far behind. We never see our tulips before May. What a year.

Last year at this time, the snow pack was up to the top of the pool. This was February's last feeble attempt at a real snowfall. I love the black squirrel between the tree and the gazebo. He wasn't sure whether to stick around to grab few more seeds or scamper off into the shrubberies. He opted for the latter. But he was back later.

I should be taking down the Christmas tree. Yes, seriously. We've swung past Valentine's Day and are on our way to St. Patty's, but our tree still stands in the opening between the living room and the dining room. I was going to work on it today, but got enmeshed in the project of moving one step-daughter's clothes out of a dresser she won't be using any more, and moving in clothes for T that are still too big for him, thus clearing out our own bedroom a bit. The clothes were piled so high they were stacked rather precariously and kept falling over onto the floor. So now they are out of my room, and stored for next fall. And at this late hour, why bother trying to take down the tree? I won't finish it before it's time to make dinner and then it's all downhill from there. So instead I sit in front of my computer wondering where my Huntington Beach photos got to -- will have to give that old Compaq another peek -- and poking around on my blog. To date,...

I have to go spend some time playing with my child after sitting at the computer paying bills and going through several week's worth of mail and kindergarten papers for the past three hours. As the attachment therapist says, "You can't attach from another room." So despite all the words running through my head -- enough for a month's worth of postings at least -- this will have to be a quick one. A photo that lowers my cortisol levels whenever I need a little stress relief. Hopefully it does the same for you! Long Beach, Rockport, Mass. on an August afternoon. Wish I could step into this photo.

This was our Christmas morning sunrise. And if you look closely, you can a little snow on the roofs. We had a white Christmas for a good part of the morning. 

This was the scene last year at about this time at our house. Tomorrow we're predicted for sunshine and 50+ degrees. I think I'm liking this year's weather better. The one drawback is that T is free on Sundays at our local ski area as long as he's five. He's got about six more weeks on that deal. I was hoping we'd get several outings in before he turned six, but it's a no-go until we get some snow. So I guess either way works. Snow, no snow...either way it's a plus, I guess.

A lot of people are posting daily "what I'm thankful for" posts on Facebook this month. I'm not sure I'm up to that task, but I am thankful that we had some nice days this autumn to enjoy the annual leaf show -- and that our wind storm was kind enough to leave some leaves for us to enjoy. I wanted to share this photo from our apple/pumpkin picking outing a couple of weeks ago before we make the final turn into winter. My goal this year will be to somehow find beauty in November -- I find it a difficult month for nature photos with its predominately gun-metal grays, but I will be looking this year for whatever nuggets it may have to offer.

T at the cottage on Cape Cod in June. I'm wondering if it will be beachfront property come Monday. Some of the houses across the street seemingly teeter on the edge of the cliff. We thought it would be hundreds of years before they would ever fall into the bay, but with global warming, we very well might see it in our lifetime. The increase in water level is evident in the lack of beach at high tide. We are keeping our family and many friends along the eastern seaboard in our thoughts as Irene approaches. In the meantime, dang, isn't he cute? He loves that house. He wants to live in it forever. Would be nice...

Cape Cod Rose I love the beautiful pink roses that climb the weathered wooden fences on the Cape. Unfortunately, the blooms are usually mostly gone by at the time I'm there. I managed to find one that was still opening its delicate petals to the sunlight. The beach plum blossoms, alas, had all been scattered by the winds.

Raindrops on roses...