Reflections on a Cool Clear July 4 Sunday

"Oh, the mind is a fragile thing." I am sure that's a quote by someone more famous than I am. Yesterday, I needed to buy broccoli seeds so I could sprout them. I understand they are some of the healthiest of greens to eat. I picked up my cell phone to look up the phone number for Dodson's Health Food store to ask if they had seeds to buy, while my husband looked down on my July 4th Golf Hat. 

He asked, "What is the Solo Cup on your hat stand for?"

My dear fragile mind heard him and typed in S O L O instead of Dodson's. Before I could regroup he had answered his own question and gone on, leaving me staring at my phone. "Oh, Brother?" I cried as I looked at S O L O. My poor mind has the attention span of a vacuum. 

And then, I looked up "Oh, brother" the idiom, wondering where it came from or what it meant. I thought it sounded rather 'Jane Eyre' of me to use a word showing such frustration.

Warning: Don't look in the Urban dictionary for the meaning.

And that is why I decided to take short notes on memorable things I did this week. 

Ironically, the big news is that I finished reading a novel The Rose Code. I must say it had my attention totally bound to the story line. Reading about code breakers in World War II is intense, but adding the role women played in saving Britain is spellbinding when in the hands of author Kate Quinn. 

The weather this week has been the topic of conversations and news alerts. While the west coast and east coast are baking in the sun, we are building canoes and arks to save us from the  Rains of Rancipour (click to watch a trailer of this 1955 movie), and still managing to play in golf FUNdraisers and conduct a WOGA Jr. Girls State Championship at Oak Tree Country Club. 

Kathy Hines and Jill LeVan

Our FUNdraiser team had exactly. We also experienced some honest frustrations with a par 3 with water on the left and in between, and tree lined on the right side. We just needed one perfect shot. Golf is not a game of perfect, and we managed to play the hole in a bogey and were proud of it. 

Letty, and Holly Hawk

The event to raise money for junior girls scholarships and grants to high schools is in its 7th year. We play in a shamble format meaning that we each tee off, go to the best tee shot and then play our ball into the hole. We played 15 holes before the clouds built up enough moisture to open and drench us. Sadly, we were not able to finish our round, but we did enjoy the day and the company. 

The next two days I volunteered to help shuttle girls from hole 18 to number 1 or to the clubhouse. I can't say I enjoying bouncing and bobbing up down and sideways while driving a golf cart, but I my soul glows when I listen to the stories and the positive attitudes the young girls display. They are amazing young women who exhibit grace and honestly in the face of total frustrations. The rains poured on them Tuesday, and for two holes they steered their push carts and golf balls through the driving sheets of rain. At last play was halted and we raced to the clubhouse. 

The last day of play flew by as nerves rattled instead of lightning. The emotions flowed as they do with all young competitors, and I found joy in watching the girls finish.  We must persevere. Congratulations, Maddi Kamas, our 2021 WOGA Girls Jr. Champion. 

Life is a game

Golf is serious...

The rains continued throughout the week, by Saturday we could smell fresh dry air and watch the fluffy clouds float by rather than build into cumulonimbus storms. 

We celebrated our Nation's Birthday last night, on a cool mosquito biting evening at The Trails Country Club amongst cheerful screaming children of all ages. How fun to sit back and watch the parents of these children, as they suddenly chased a child, put a broken neon necklace back together, held children in their laps when the fireworks began, and carried the sleepy little ones in their arms already laden with ice chest and lawn chairs.  My body often recalls those evenings and smiles. 

My wish for America is that we take the time to listen to each other for understanding and listen with empathy. 

 

Reflections on a Rainy Summer Sunday

Dahlia or a Covid model ?

Something happened to my brain last year during the COVID Restrictions, but I cannot pinpoint the problem. It seems that I have no distinguishing markers as to what happened, when it happened, or did it happen last year. It honestly take a village to recall if we participated in an event, when, where or why. We draw blanks. *

White iris at night, inspire by Linda Hoye's photography.

I follow blogger, Linda Hoye from Western Canada who writes daily. Once a week she reflects with her  Friday's Fave Five . Each week I read that thinking, I need to do that, "but then" I don't.

This week friends, Manon Bradbury and Victor Kubbeh, from La Quinta, California visited us. On Monday we were rained out of our golfing tee time, and much to my delight we chose to visit the National Cowboy and Western Heritage Museum in Oklahoma City. My desire to walk through museums and feel the artwork far outweighs my desire to play golf on rainy or cold days. Today, I realized that I didn't want to forget that day with my friends. I didn't want a year to pass and look back on my memories from 2021 and draw a blank. 

That was one classy stagecoach. 

The Cowboys drew my attention as Victor, Manon, Jack and I roamed our separate directions seeing perspectives, colors, fifty shades of white, shapes, textures, and forms coming to life differently for each of us. 

  As I roamed and wandered I noticed a man standing in the hallway, dressed like a cowboy but not joining the people. I turned to look down the hallway toward the man and his dog when I realized it was a painting. The painting had come to life and the man looked real enough to take the step out of the door. The dog more hesitant,smart dog.

TWO'S COMPANY, oil on canvas by Duane Bryers

I like colorful moments, and mesmerizing memories, the sounds of laughter and birds, the feel of cool spring rains and hot summer days.

My garden is coming back to life, and I am rearranging as it grows. The purple and blue irises planted seven years ago have outgrown their space.  This week I dug them up, weeds and all, and gave them away.  The tree lost to the ice storm took out my shade plants, but new ideas grow there now. My weekly hours in the garden are paying off. 

The older I feel, the more I plant Never-dies and other perennials in my garden. 

The M T place behind the stone is for my Surprise Lilies to return. 

Last year's canvas (from March 17, 2020--May 15, 2021)  is nearly blank, but for the vivid memory of leaving Manon's home and driving to the Palm Springs airport. In downtown Palm Springs we finally found an open restaurant on March 17, 2020. There I also discovered a statue of a friendly mayor, Sonny Bono, sitting by himself. No tourists except three of us. Where had all the people gone? What hijacked our lives? 

Good-bye Sonny Bono, good-bye Covid's blank. 
March 17, 2020, Palm Springs, Ca. 

I am looking forward to weekly reflections and the stories in between. 

* Footnote: To Libby, my friend who does not cuss on the golf course, but instead says "blank" with frustration when she hits a bad shot. "Please use rats or frats instead of blank" because each time I say that my mind is a blank, I think I hear you cuss "blank." Take pity on the brain that does not travel like a driver on the Interstate, but instead loops around the long way....

.