Saying yes...

Guerrilla Tulips!!

Our yard is under attack this year, but by something stealthier than the usual thistle or Buckthorn. This year, we're experiencing random attacks by Tulips. Yes, you heard me, Tulips!
The one in the photo to the left seemed like a not-too-unusual surprise. It came up by a large Lilac bush that Grizzled had thinned this last summer.  There was a good chance it had been there all along and merely needed some sun and air to push forth. Or, maybe when digging up some of the roots, Grizzled loosened up the pre-existing bulb.
We have plenty of red tulips in the yard, some that came with the place, some that we planted. We admired this Tulips contributed and moved on...

Until... attack of Tulip #2... Tulip #2 wasn't even any of the colors of Tulips we had in our yard. This Tulip, as you can see, is more of a Chiclet purple... a color that looks intriguing and is fun and filled with promise and yet really doesn't look good on much other than a flower, Fruit Loops or the afore mentioned Chiclet. This baby showed up under a front bush where no other Tulips are planted. It's next to some Daffodils and the Bleeding Heart which looked fabulous this year. Maybe the Tulip just sensed a good time and wanted to join in.

The last guerrilla Tulip was sighted right in the middle of our swing set (please ignore all volunteer Buckthorns, Maples and Creeping Charlie... it's been busy and I haven't been able to go into full weed attack-mode yet). You can sit on the swings without stepping on it, but will swing right over it. There is no way, no how, that we would plant a Tulip in this spot. It would not be practical, but then maybe Tulips don't want to be practical, maybe we're the ones who are being too practical and the Tulips are showing us otherwise.

One thing I noticed is that the renegade Tulips showed up only in areas that had wood chips. The wood chips came from the village from the communal pile. Do you think there's a chance that some Tulip bulbs got mixed in and then were still covered enough to survive a wicked winter?

I'm guessing it might be a pesky squirrel. I'm guessing a pesky  squirrel probably broke into various neighbors' gardens and then buried the bulbs back in our "easy to dig in" wood chips which are located right next to our "easy to eat out of" bird feeders.

I've experienced plenty of volunteer flowers before and am hip to how they are spread, but I think this is the first year I've had volunteer Tulips. I'm guessing it was the squirrels and then the conditions were just right for the Tulips to survive. I'd like to think though that while we're asleep, Tulips are just running willy nilly through the neighborhood and when the sun shines and the people come out, they dive for cover wherever they might be.

I am a product of Indiana...

Yes... I am...  a state I remember fondly, a state I also wanted to leave and not because it was terrible, but because I heard life's call elsewhere. Every time I hear someone bash on Indiana I think of all of the opportunities I was given there. Every time I think of Indiana, I think of a state where my eyes were opened and I was allowed to see the world outside while given the safety and comfort to explore.

By all accounts I should have been raised in a narrow fashion. My parents, both from Indiana, raised their family there, but, my parents, both of inquiring minds, realized there was a world beyond. My parents, of humble beginnings, eventually became a surgical nurse and an art dealer with both traveling the world and expecting the most from their children whether raised in Indiana or not. Indiana was not an excuse to set our sights low. Indiana was a beautiful place to rest in between mental and physical travels.

My parents worked hard and we had many comforts and luxuries. We could have been happy where we were, but we were also taught about the world at large... . The world came to us in the form of many exchange students and business colleagues, but also in the form of trips over the border.

I also attended a state school! Yes, I was ambivalent about colleges when the time for my enrollment came so I went to Indiana University. It was a beautiful campus, but it was also there that I found my world view enlarged even more! Yes, a college in Indiana was capable of teaching diversity and complexity... more so than I had even touched in my diverse and complex home... Indiana raised and educated an open-minded and diverse person.

I am grateful to Indiana... always will be. It was where I got my start... a safe place where I was able to slowly checkout the world at large. Indiana has some large, ugly spots as well, don't we all... but I won't deny her. She is a part of what made me what I am and I am forever grateful.

My husband says my experience was the exception and not the rule. He's probably accurate... but you know what? We exceptions exist and if there are exceptions, the place can't be all that bad.

And the Drama Cloud Passes...

It's been a funky few weeks lately. I've not been in sync with the life around me on any number of levels and I've probably taken responsibility for too much or have taken too much personally.

I'm not the only one, others seem to be coming out of a funk, rising out of a dismal haze. Maybe it's just the lengthening of the days. Maybe it's just focusing on what's important and not sweating the small, petty stuff. Maybe it's just realizing that this too shall pass so you better hunker down and enjoy the good as well, because it's not guaranteed either.

Things feel good right now. I was getting there, but the warmth outside, the emerging daffodils and the commonsense words of friends made it all the more clear and for that, I am grateful.

Have a good weekend everyone... and now, a song I've put up before, but it needs to be played again.

Certain things just shouldn't be dissected

Grizzled, the lamblets and I went to see the Homer/Hopper exhibit yesterday. I have been waiting for this for almost a year. While I respect and love Homer, Hopper was the part of the duo that had me all in a tizzy. I was going to see Hopper upon Hopper upon Hopper all in one small area.

The exhibit started off with Homer. I knew it would. Homer was going to be the vegetable you needed to eat before you got to the dessert. Homer's portion of the exhibit consisted mainly of watercolors. They were fabulous, they were breathtaking, there were many. I really tried to give them my full focus, but was fully conscious of the Hopper carrot that was dangling at the end of the stick. I wanted that carrot. Still, the Homer exhibit was enlightening. I knew some about Homer, but there was still plenty left to glean. There were some oils interspersed with the watercolors and seeing The Herring Net is always a treat. I tried to keep my mind where I was, tried to not get ahead of myself and take it all in... but still... a bounty of Hoppers was a mere room away.

In between the Homer and Hopper exhibits was a vestibule where you could take a break and cleanse your visual palate so to speak. The lamblets wanted to sit on the benches for a bit. Grizzled wanted to check in with work. He had taken the day off, but it was a crazed day and his office was slightly understaffed. I didn't want to wait... I could see the self-portraits of Hopper peaking out through the entryway, but I paced. I looked at the large blow-ups of Hopper and his studio and I waited.

After what seemed like an eternity, I couldn't stand it anymore. I said they could catch up with me, but damn it, I was going in! The entry was filled with many Hopper watercolors, but by the time I hit the first oil done in classic Hopper colors, I was a goner. I did not read anything, having read most of this before. I rarely looked at the titles, having known those too. I merely stood before them and took them in.

I am one of those people who loves Hopper. I know he is far from the best, I know many consider him trite, but there is something in his work that for me, transcends all of that and here I was, standing in the middle of room after room of works I had only seen before on the printed page. Nothing can top seeing an oil painting in person and then to see so many of them. I was speechless. I did not want to talk. I did not want to dissect. I did not care about the method. I just wanted to soak them in. It was an unending display of famous Hopper after famous Hopper... when walking into one room that held 4 of my favorites right next to each other, I gasped. Grizzled asked me what was up and I said I felt like I was watching the finale of a fireworks show, one huge display followed by another followed by another. It was heaven and my insides were singing. I could have stayed there all day. Ideally, I would have been able to stay all night as well with no other people milling about. Frankly, I was surprised there was so much milling. I felt frozen on the outside while my insides were buzzing. It was that beautiful and elusive combo of feeling completely still while also feeling incredibly alive and alert... but I really don't want to dissect it. I just want it to be what it is and what it is, is fabulous.

If anyone is a Hopper fan, I highly suggest seeing trying to see this exhibit as it tours.

Outside my window...

This little guy just came to visit. He hung out in the bush that's right outside my window (the window that still has a screen on it hence the dark photo). Looks like he scored some tasty seed.

I keep thinking they should be leaving soon. They're breeding territory is way up north. Our other bird populations seem to be making their seasonal switch, but the ol' red-breasted nuthatch, my new bird crush, is still hanging on.

There's a light at the end of this viral tunnel...

This morning is the first morning since 3/14 where I have woken up and actually felt like health might be my co-pilot. It's been an up and down route for the past 10 or so days. Some days were a total loss, some days gave the illusion of wellness being around the corner. But today... today I feel like I might actually have oxygen circulating in my brain again and although I'm far from being springy, I don't feel quite as much like death on a soda cracker.

One should never underestimate the benefits of oxygen and health for clear thinking. Oh sure, I may have thought I was constructing normal sentences over the past week or so, but looking back with a newly clear mind, I realize the light may have been on, but no one was home.

I'm guilty of poor thinking when distracted, tired, or sick. Grizzled has been a witness to many mind-boggling comments to come out of my mouth when in these situations. They kind of scare him since he believes he married a capable, thinking person.

This past week only added to my cache of "Oh no... did I say that out loud?!?" comments and while they made perfect sense to me at the time, I know they'll be used to tease me for some time to come.

These thoughts rank right up there with the dreaded time I asked aloud in the car which gas station had a shell for a logo. Hey, I was distracted... and tired...

This week, topping the list of insane comments caused by the viral plague are, me telling Grizzled not to throw out the Sunday paper (I was in bed for most of Sunday ) because Easter fell on a Sunday this year and I wanted to see what was in it!

The other topper of the week would have been when I was slumped on the couch, trying to watch something with Grizzled, when an ad for Two and a Half Men came on with a very busty woman and a leering Charlie Sheen and I said something to the effect of, "I wonder if men liked breasts before advertising became so overt or if advertising caused it... I mean, I wonder it there was any interest in them before boobs were put in our faces!?!"

Grizzled calmly responded... "Oh no... men have never been interested in breasts in their faces before advertising told them to be. For centuries, men haven't cared the least about breasts... only recently...".

I'm feeling better though and think I can actually think. If any nonsensical comments were left at any of your places over the past 10 days, I was not myself... I do believe though that logic and oxygen have returned.

That's not a bird... THIS is a bird!

What is it with men and size?? The relatively scarce Billy Pilgrim has surfaced long enough to send me a photo of the bird that alit on one of his limbs (and I mean his own, not his tree's) and apparently his bird is bigger! It's also more colorful. It's beautiful. It ain't no nuthatch though. It didn't randomly show up in his backyard and swoop down for an early morning chat. No, he said it's obviously some kind of *parrot-y* type of bird. At least it's not dead! I know a dead parrot when I see one!  He also had to go to the San Diego Wild Animal Park to find this one... and then lure it with sugar water. I lured my nuthatches with the pure sugar of my being...

Still, what an awesome shot. If I flinched when my cute little nuthatch came down on my hand, I might have screamed and flailed when this big-beaked-baby decided to perch.

FYI- I have it on good authority that that is really BP's arm! Funny... when I first saw it, I thought it was Michael McDonald's.

Thanks for the bird picture, BP! Thanks for the gratuitous arm shot!

Bird Nirvana!!!

Updated below:

As was mentioned a few weeks ago, a new bird had been hanging around our place. At first I thought it was a Chickadee or some variety of Junco, but it turned out to be a Red-Breasted Nuthatch. I had never seen a Nuthatch before, but apparently they're in our area in record numbers since 1989.

It seems as though Nuthatches are also a calm bird, the only bird that will stay at the feeder while squirrels and/or people are around. Our area newspaper ran an article stating that it was fairly easy to get one to eat from your hand! I so wanted to try, but of course didn't have many Nuthatch sightings after the one where I realized what it was.

Well today, today while reading, I looked up from the Sunday paper and saw not one, but two in our back tree. I ran to the basement (it's garden-level) to get a better look at them, you can see the feeder from this spot. I noticed the two frolicking on the tree. They are indeed tree-clingers and were much smaller than I originally thought.

They flew off so I figured it would be a good time to fill up the feeder. Two slacker squirrels had just had their way with it and it appeared to be empty. I filled up a container with bird feed and went out back into our icy tundra. I was paying more attention to all of the ice and doggie land mines and not so much on the tree so wasn't I surprised when I got to the feeder and there were my nuthatches, literally inches from my face. They danced, they swung upside down on branches, they flitted to the feeder as I was thinking about filling it. I was just frozen with the excitement of these teeny-tiny, cute little birds taking care of business right in front of me. Did I say RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME? I did, but I had to say it again because I've never had birds just hang out in front of my face. Sure, I've had plenty of Seagulls try to attack my grocery bags in the parking lot. I've spent my fair share of time wading through pigeons in the park, but something about these birds was different. I expected them to fly away the minute they heard me clomping over the ice. BUT THEY DIDN'T! They were inches from me!

And then... then the best thing happened... I remembered the article had said they'll eat out of your hand. I didn't have any peanuts handy (how they can eat peanuts is beyond me, these are tiny! Smaller than a Peep!), but I was holding the container of bird seed. I poured some into one of my hands and held it out. The male spied it and kept tilting his head way to one side to get a look and then way back the other way to look at the feeder. The next thing I knew, he swooped into my hand. I flinched a tad and he hopped off and went for the feeder. He was still much less than a foot away.

I wanted to stay and see if I could get one of them to land in my hand again, a bird in the hand and all, but I knew the lamblets would love this. I went inside, made them get dressed asap and hauled them out on a cold Sunday morning. The birds did not disappoint. While none landed in our open hands, they did do their bit of prancing, dancing and scurrying right in front of us. They also regaled us with their gentle chirps and their crazy lady calls. You're right Lance, they do sound like a crazy woman locked up in the attic and yes, I was able to differentiate from my own cackles. :)

The birds even humored us long enough for the eldest lamblet to run in and get her camera. She got a photo of the female (her breast is just tinged with the slightest bit of rust whereas the male is much redder) clinging to the tree. Credit for the above photo goes to her.

Update: Anyone with nuthatch experience please feel free to chime in. As I mentioned above, I had never actually seen one of these birds until this winter. The ones I have seen have definitely had a very rusty breast and would fall into the Red-breasted Nuthatch category. After looking at more images today, the one in my daughter's photo almost looks more like a White-breasted Nuthatch. Would a white and red hang out together? The other bird of the pair I saw today was definitely had a red breast and was a more intense blue which led me to believe the one above was the female.

I'll be out back tomorrow with my salt-free, non-roasted peanuts. My neighbors will probably start to think I'm a scarecrow.

For H.o.p.

ATPCT: Saying no edition

As most of you know, I started teaching an adult (adult in my class's case being anyone between 67-83) painting class back in September. When I was first offered the class it sounded intriguing. It sounded like another way to get out of the house doing something I love. It was to be a simple once a week thing with other people who love painting, but few things are ever really simple.

As time went on, it became clear that "learning at your own pace with individual instruction" would mean I was going to have to plan 5 different levels of activities. I would also have to set up a still life for those who didn't feel like participating. Of course I'd also have to listen to those who didn't want to participate at all no matter what I had done, but who would let me know all through class that I had let them down.

As time went on not only was I spending lots of extra time trying to come up with the magic plan, I was spending extra amounts of time worrying about their reactions, their contentment, their creative development. Most of all I wanted this class to be a fun place to be where creativity was thriving. Some were very on board, but some had to drag their feet the entire way. I tried to ignore, I tried to thicken my skin, but as time went on, I noticed I didn't even want to be around my own easel. If I were working on something for myself, I felt like I should be using the time for the class. Eventually, enough was enough. This was not how I wanted to spend my time. This was not the point of my journey so... I called the cultural affairs director and told her that after this next session was over, I would be going on my way.

This blog is entitled Saying yes... because that rule was ingrained in me during my couple of years in the Second City training center. You said yes so that forward motion would not be stopped. You said, "Yes and..." and you built on what had come before. Well, sometimes you have to say no in order to move forward. I have approximately 10 more weeks before I am officially through, but at least I have said my official no. I feel like I can look at my easel again.