Monday, July 31, 2006

Recommendation (Good Stuff)--Sunscreen

This Aveeno lotion is just wonderful on my sensitive skin. I have to be careful because so many complexion products will irritate my very fair skin, even those marketed for sensitive skin. Not only does this stuff block sun but it moisturizes without being heavy or greasy. I began to use it as my daily face cream this summer. I can go out on the boat all day and come home without a hint of sun burn.

Good stuff!

Monday, July 24, 2006

Tuesday, July 18, 2006

I Only Know That Summer Sang In Me

...Thus in the winter stands the lonely tree,
Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one,
Yet knows its boughs more silent than before:
I cannot say what loves have come and gone,
I only know that summer sang in me
A little while, that in me sings no more.

--Edna St. Vincent Millay

The swallows are gone.

It took me a while to notice; the magpies and crows were making a fair ruckus. But then I looked up and noticed how empty the sky was.

Just yesterday I watched the fledglings stretch their wings. A family was perched under the eaves in front of the shop. The youngsters have duller breasts than the adults--that seemed the only distinguishing feature from ground level. Above them swirled the cloud of swallows we have played host to this summer, diving and swerving, filling the air with their merry cries.

Then, overnight, the sky is silent and still.

What primal pulse beat across the midnight sky to call them away from summer's pastures and fields? It boggles the mind. It is a month past the equinox and now they have launched themselves out onto the wave of time, riding the crest of summer to the south as our days shorten and the wildflowers go to seed. They live in an eternal summer.

As the flush of high summer starts--imperceptibly--to fade, I await the evitable autumn and wish our swallows well until next year.

Friday, July 14, 2006

Howdy, Stranger

Well, I'm glad to see that no one has panicked, thinking the bears got me, when in truth I have just been busy, busy busy with the frantic-ness that springs from living in a clime where it's too cold/wet/windy/nasty to do any outdoor projects for a good portion of the year.

I have been trying to keep abreast of my friends-list and have been jotting notes for possible journal entries on the odd scrap of paper. So I hope soon this entry will seem out-of-place, nestled among typically chatty, mundane records of my daily life. When that happens, I may just delete this entry, as it will have served its purpose.

Sunday, July 02, 2006


My dear, departed Grandma has been on my mind even more than usual these past few days. Yesterday marked the twentieth anniversary of her death, and despite the passing years, the sense of loss continues to be close to my heart.

A couple of weeks ago, I was leafing through the scrapbook of poetry clippings that she had compiled--a collection that spanned most of her adult life. My eye was caught by this poem--because of lilacs. Because the lilacs I tenderly coax into bloom each spring are in memory of the lilac bush that stood in the corner of her front lawn, where it blooms forever in my memory. Because lilacs speak to me of her.

Remembered Spring

As I arrange my lilacs in a vase today,
Their sweet scent of beauty sweeps the years away.
I hear my mother speaking in another spring...
"These lilacs are so lovely that they almost sing!"
Together we recited the bit we could recall:
"Come down to Kew in lilac-time"...we didn't know it all.
Gently to the purple plumes I sigh nostalgia's note
While memory of the one I loved catches at my throat.
--Shirley Guerci

I wonder what made her clip this poem from a magazine so long ago. I wonder who it was that she thought of, when she read this poem?