A Magnolia Rain

This year, the opening magnolias were the lushest, thickest, fullest and most perfect I’ve ever seen. When they were still in early bud, Keith said that it is rare for the magnolia blossoms to survive. “Rain,” he said, glumly, “usually comes and destroys them.” Yesterday I walked and cycled around admiring the magnolias. They were almost completely open. Gorgeous. Today, they would have reached the apex of perfection. Last night, it rained. Not a nurturing, nourishing female rain, but a raging male rain with lightning and thunder. Downpours. This morning, the sky is black and the magnolias ragged.

Did someone already say this? Probably. It seems like everything has been said before.

But--would a "Magnolia Rain" be a soft female rain that allowed the magnolias to survive? Or was it this male rain that tortured them?

Mary Stebbins

For Keith

Rachel playing in the ivy earlier tonight. 

Rachel with Grandpa Keith at our house tonight. 

Rachel in the ivy tonight. 

"The Rest of the Story"

I was upset earlier today because we were expecting company--Neil, Laura and Rachel--at 6:00 PM. I did not know if we were supposed to serve them dinner and I did not understand why they had not called to accept or decline our invitation and did not know what to do. It turned out that they had called twice to accept and both times had given messages to Graham and he had neglected to pass them on and as a result, I had to run around attempting to create a dinner for company AFTER they arrived. I thought I did a reasonably good job (made shrimp (yum) and Italian friend zucchini (yum) and molasses cookies, but it was obvious we were unprepared. And because of this, I missed much of the company and was unable to play with Rachel who then shunned me and refused me kisses. I did not want her to be forced to kiss me because I hated that when I was a child. No one should force kisses on anyone.

Here are a couple of other opinions: people who wash their driveways have no lives and are wasting precious resources and probably should be shot (except that would be a waste of a good bullet).

Here is the poster that goes with the haiku I wrote. The artist's name is Neva Austew. Here is a link to her website: http://www.nevaaustrew.com/index.html . I love this piece of art and hope you will visit Neva's website and support her and her work.

Peregrine

I hate sitting inside looking out at the sunshine and for no good reason. Except that there is one delay after another. Right now, I am waiting for Graham to come home. I won't go into all the earlier delays--they aren't worth the effort. It included laundry issues and computer issues and various wrong numbers and just plain stupid stuff.

While I was waiting for one issue to resolve, I did a little ego surfing, don't ask me why. I encountered this link: http://www.nevaaustrew.com/peregrinepage.html. And there is the peregrine poster with one of my haiku. Cool. I do have to worry because links are not always permanent. I may put it in my weblog only to find later that it is gone. But for now, hurray!!

I like peregrines. I have been lucky enough to encounter a few in the wild. I like hawks in general. One time, when Bruce and I were out in Idaho doing horse research, we camped under a tree with a redtailed hawk nest at the top and a yellow warbler next at the bottom of the same tree.

I don't generally talk much about Bruce because I am with Keith and Bruce is with Debbie and n'er the twain shall meet. But Keith has pictures of Susan all over the house. And all her books and clothes and perfume and hair curlers and credit cards and cards he has given her. She's been dead well over two years. So if I want to mention Bruce occasionally, I guess that's OK.

Here is the haiku I wrote that is posted on the website:

Under tumbled black,

Liquid pigeons pour through sky,

Chased by peregrine.

In case the website disappears, I will also include the visual.

So, Graham finally arrives home--with a friend. He did not ASK if he could bring a friend. Now what? I wanted to OUT and walk because we are having company tonight and I won't be able to. Grrr!

That's some powerful pepperoni! 

The Hard-Luck Dove Nest

The Hard-Luck Dove Nest

Hard-Luck Dove Nest

The doves abandoned the nest in the back bedroom window today. This morning they were working feverishly to add to the nest and save the eggs, bringing grass and twigs, but their efforts were feeble compared to the increasing slump of the nest. I was sad to see them go—they've been sitting on those eggs for weeks already.

Additionally sadly (forgive the double adverbs), the object at the bottom of the picture is a baby bird from last year that got tangled in the grapevines and was unable to free itself and died there—this after I had watched them being fed and cared for. I was away when the sad event happened.

Once, there were two nests in the two back bedroom windows, the north one being a robins’ nest and the south one belonging to a pair of cardinals. Both were used for years until the doves took them over. The heavy ex-robins’ nest with its baby doves was the first to go down, blown out of the protecting vines in a windstorm. Now the other is going, and it is two late for the eggs, some of which have already tumbled to the ground. Two remain but must be chilled by now.