Leave Taking

I love fall. I haven’t actually ever sat down and analyzed why. I just do. Some see it as a harbinger of the long, dark dreary winter. Those are the people who don’t like winter.
I don’t like winter. I don’t like the lack of sunlight, the icy roads and slippery sidewalks. It reminds me of my high school years in Beavercreek, Ohio. The freezing rain left a thin quarter-inch coating of crystal clear ice on everything. Every sign, every road, every car. I swore I would never be warm again. Then I went on to BYU. Because I worked as a secretary on campus, I had to wear a dress to work (those dress code rules are long since over), and thus wore dressy shoes. No such thing as cross trainers, except maybe some ugly grandma hushpuppies or something. Being the fashion plate that I was, I wore high heels – with leather soles – which would soak up the water and as soon as they hit the linoleum floors in the JKB, so did I. I seem to spend as much time on the floor in the hall as I did on my chair.

Enough about winter, I am not crazy about summer either. Here in Utah everyone says the heat is OK because it is a dry heat. When it is a 104 in the shade, wet or dry, it doesn’t matter, it still feels like living in Hell. Now Salt Lake is not as bad as my Arizona friends, but it is still bad. One September, Bob and I went to a conference in Phoenix. I was not sure whose bright idea that was, because it was like going to Hell on a vacation. It was 110, too hot to even sit by the pool. I stayed in my room most of the time, except when I could run to my air conditioned rental car and then to an air-conditioned museum. So you can see, summer is not great either. And spring, while lovely, is simply too short.

Fall is by far my favorite time of year. The cool evening lend themselves to lazing about on the new patio. The mosquitos and yellow jackets are fewer in number and the crickets start to sing at dusk. Turning off the air-conditioner in September is a wonderful experience. The nights are cool enough that you can open the window and put another blanket on the bed. An acquaintance of mine called this "good sleeping weather." I just don’t get over heated. At my stage of life, overheating is sometimes a problem, so I appreciate the weather cooperating with me a little bit. Also, with MS, I find that I feel better when it is not so hot. I need all the good days I can get. I’m a little more energetic in the fall.

Mother nature brings out all her best colors in the fall. On Labor Day Weekend, as we drove over Trapper’s loop from Huntsville, there was just the ever so slight change in color. A little touch of red that could only be seen if you squinted up your eyes and looked ever so hard. This last Saturday, there was a significant change. All the coolness of the green leaves are turning to the warm reds and oranges and yellows I just love – I love warm colors, not warm temperatures. In another week, due to the drought, I read, the colors may be gone. I was going to take the opportunity to take a little side trip up Ogden Canyon and back over Trappers’ went to Ogden to file my property tax appeal (another story for another day) but found that I could file my mail. The rest of the week was pretty awful and by Thursday I didn’t have a car (again a story for another day) and was scheduled to help with the office move. Anyway, my wonderful Sarah suggested that we spend the night in Huntsville and then drive back over Trappers in the morning (another thing I can do now that Kathleen drives) and take these beautiful pictures. I have rambled enough. Just look at this fabulous site.

I agree with John Donne, "No Spring nor Summer Beauty hath such grace As I have seen in one Autumnal face. "

The leaves can’t wait, and neither can I.

Pandora's Box

Everyone remembers the story of Pandora’s box. At least every culturally literate person. You know the one – In Greek mythology, Pandora was the first woman. Zeus created her as a punishment for mankind, in retaliation for Prometheus' having stolen fire and then giving it to humans for their use–apparently not women, however. She had a box with all the world’s ills and evils. Curiosity gets the better of her and she opens the box and all the evils, ills, bad things, rap music, etc., escape. She slams the lid down just in time to keep hope from breaking loose. Thus, while we have bad things thrust upon us, hope is still present. I’m not sure that a box is the best place for hope, but that’s how the story goes.

Anyway, we had this very ugly wooden deck in our back yard. Just outside the back door, you would step up onto it. It had rows of wooden benches on each side, making the deck just a smidge too small for a table. We first painted the deck when we moved into this house 14 years ago and actually only used it when the kids needed to get up on the trampoline (which we no longer have). Otto, the devil dog, used the benches to look over at the cute dog next door. I was always afraid that he might jump over and that we would have a neighborhood incident on our hands. So, the wood rotted away until it was only good for putting splinters into your hind quarters. In the middle of July, we received a notice of the neighborhood cleanup. This made me think. We could get rid of the deck and pour a nice cement patio. I couldn’t get the thought out of my mind. I remembered that Paul, our friend who uses our pool more than we do, had offered to help out with any big yard project we might have as thanks for the use of the pool. How could I turn down such a generous offer. The next week, Paul came with the boys from the Capitol Hill 2nd ward to tear down the deck. Give teen-aged boys sledge hammers and tell them to get to work and they are in heaven. Great at demolition, not so great at putting things back together. You have to work to their strengths. And this was the beginning of Pandora’s box.

When the deck was gone, all the ills and evils of home ownership were apparent. There was a gas line to be moved, electrical lines to be moved, sprinklers to be moved, along with busting out the 200 lb. cement footings under the deck. Sod needed to be laid, the fence needed to be painted, and you can’t have a new patio without patio furniture. $$$$$$$. I found a plumber to move the gas line. He found that our gas meter shut off valve was buried below grade – a serious out-of-code issue. So the gas company needed to be called. There was also a leak at the meter. The gas company came and went, only digging out the valve and repairing the leak, and I found out later, disconnecting the line to our gas fireplace. Anyway, we did get the gas line buried and the leak fixed. Next came electricians. What was going to be a simple move of the line, became an all day project. We added new outlets, replaced light fixtures, mapped out the electrical schematic in the entire house, and I think that was it. All I know is that it added up to a whole heap of dollars. This is when you wish you were renters. Sprinkler Bob has been up here several times just trying to rewire the sprinkler system. It is finally done, though that devil dog Otto has eaten a few sprinkler heads. We laid sod, relaid it after Otto dug it up. Had the fence repaired and painted, planted some flowers in the pots, bought tables and chairs and yellow-jacket traps, and now have the most pleasant spot to spend my evenings.

I’m not sure I’ll ever go back inside. Maybe Pandora did us a favor after all.

RIP - no pictures 'cause my kids have my cameras!

Today officially marks the demise of the book group. Many of my friends and neighbors met on the first Tuesday of each month to discuss a book that we had chosen. Someone was the discussion leader – that person also picked the book. Someone else was the hostess; this lucky woman had us all over to our house for a lovely luncheon. These were golden times. None of us worked. Well, we worked, just not for money. We all had children at home and that was our job. We often laughed as much as we actually discussed the book. Like the time someone said that the lemon Jell-o salad with the maraschino cherry on top looked somewhat similar to breast implants. I have no idea what book we actually read that month, but I do remember the Jell-o salad. Several people suggested that I write a book about the group. It would be great. It could be one of those pink-covered paperback books you pick up in the airport. You know the ones, about society women, bored, spenders; except we weren’t society ladies – just middle class moms. No one was particularly bored, and I am pretty sure that none of us were big shoppers. A book just wouldn’t have been a good idea, however. I am not sure that any of us wanted funny stories told about us to strangers, even if the names had been changed to protect the innocent/guilty.

Anyway, over the past 16 years, the demographics of the group changed. Children grew up, sometimes there was a divorce, and a group member went back to work. It was like sending a child off to college, only you were sure that they would never come back. Once gone, it seemed that it was true that you couldn’t go home to book group again. The next change came when we began to invite others to fill in the blanks. We chose women like us, whose children had grown up and maybe didn’t have enough to do. For a while, we powered on again until people began to move to smaller houses or travel because they were no longer encumbered with school-age children. We were never again able to bring more than 5 or 6 of us together at one time. We even stopped going to each other’s homes so it wouldn’t be a burden on anyone. We tried to choose an interesting new restaurant each month. I even suggested that we give up the intellectual pretense of being a book group and just be a lunch group.

For me, I think the beginning of the end came when we read The Life of Pi. Most of the group thought it was a great, deep, even profound book. I just thought it was silly and perhaps I am showing a little shallowness, but I just really didn’t get it nor did I want to. I tried to read it and got about 3 chapters into it and said, "Enough!!" Sort of when I tried to read The Hobbit and only got to page 60 (3 times). So last month, Lani and I went to lunch all by ourselves. We didn’t have a book to read and no one else around to discuss it. It was a little sad that there were not more of us there, but I did have a great time visiting with Lani, catching up on her family. It’s funny how we are neighbors and go to church together, but sometimes have no idea of what it happening with our friends. That was the best part of book group. I shall miss it.
I never felt compelled to read something I really wasn’t interested in, but did read some things that I might not have chosen for myself and loved them. Here are some of the things we read over 16 years. It is only a short list. There is not enough room on the internet for the complete list:

The Known World. Letters from a Woman Homesteader. Follow the River. Angle of Repose. The Kite Runner. Reading Lolita in Tehran. Lincoln by Gore Vidal. The Woman in White. Crocodile on the Sandbank. A Morbid Taste for Bones. Northanger Abbey. The Three Musketeers. The Count of Monte Cristo. Eight Cousins. The Scarlet Pimpernel. The Deep End of the Ocean. Cold Mountain. Snow Falling on Cedars. A Lesson Before Dying. Ellen Foster. The Road to Coorain. Tuesdays With Morrie. Birdsong. Possession. Interpreter of Maladies. Man’s Search for Meaning. Leave it to Psmith. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone.

Book Group, Rest in Peace.