Helen Mathey-Horn's Blog, page 27

Summer Evenings

The things that bring back memories of summer evenings are lightning bugs and milkweed.

The milkweed provides a sweet aroma that the nose isn’t immediately aware of. I step out my back door and smell it and think…what is that aroma? Oh, yes, the common milkweed. For such a ‘coarse’ looking plant, it has interesting flowers and such a sweet aroma. I don’t know if there are night pollinators attracted to it or not. Yes, I could ‘google’ it. I’ll just wonder a little longer. I’ve not seen any evidence of monarch butterfly eggs or larvae on it. Last year I didn’t find any until the migration was in it’s southern leg. Right now is still the northern migration.

We didn’t have milkweed in our yard when I was growing up. Heaven forbid…it was a weed after all! Mine is an ‘import’ from my girl friend’s northern Illinois garden. Although I did try and bring some back from my aunt’s garden too. For a ‘plant’ lady she wasn’t above having it growing in her flower beds.

Mine came in handy last year for feeding monarch larvae and will be again later this summer when the butterflies are on their southern migration. It is flowering now and it is so sweet, but the flowers, although at eye height, are not flamboyant. They have a subtle beauty.

The lightning bugs (really beetles) are ‘flashier’, if you get what I mean. I had begun to notice their flashes earlier this week. It’s not summer until you see them flashing as the evening dark settles in. There are several scientific research projects on the meaning of the different flash patterns, how the insects produce the ‘cold’ light and the enzyme used is appropriately named ‘luciferase’. I can’t imagine a better summer evening as a child than catching lightning bugs and putting them in a jar. A couple of this week’s newspaper cartoons involved kids catching lightning bugs.

Both the aroma of milkweed and the twinkling dusk of lightning bugs should be part of everyone’s summer memories. Or perhaps just those ‘free range’ kids that are out after sunset until called home. It’s a gentle memory I could wish for every kid.

The Tree Guys

Our region of Oklahoma is called “Green Country”. It has earned that nickname partly because the grass does remain green most of the year, but because there is enough rainfall we also have trees. Yes, Oklahoma has trees and I’m not talking scrub oaks.

The further west you go the more grassland you run into, but in eastern Oklahoma the rain is enough to produce tall grass (Tall Grass Prairie at Pahuska, Oklahoma) and tall trees.

Our yard has two black gum trees (tupulo), and a wonderfully big sprawling dogwood (bigger now as this picture is several years old) in the front,

and a monstrous oak (don’t know the kind) and 2 Japanese maples and assorted shrubs (a shrubbery!) in the back.

That oak was in poor shape when we moved in. Its root system was being stifled by the house on one side, the old driveway cement on another (it was cracking that cement up to find water) and a brick paved patio on a third which it was also ‘rooting’ under. We tried to feed it our selves, but that wasn’t very good, so call in the tree guys. They have a name, ‘Out on a Limb’. Mr. Hathaway answered my call and came out to assess the situation. I told him I didn’t want the tree removed as it takes a LONNNNNNGGGGG time to grow a tree to that size and it provides great shade, a luxury commodity in Oklahoma. See the shade in the picture.

He agreed and told me about mycorrhizae injections to help the oak absorb more water. Having taught biology and in particular AP Biology, I knew exactly what he was talking about and I think he was a little surprised that I knew what he was talking about and was with him in agreement about ‘woodsman spare that tree’. He gets a lot of work from people that just want ‘the thing gone’.

So began the beginning of a beautiful relationship, all be it, three way. Mr. Hathaway, my oak and I all agreed and the oak began getting ‘injects’, twice a year to start and then once a year after it didn’t need the extra help so badly. Then came a year of ice storms and it was hard to get tree guys to remove damaged limbs, but we had a bond, and Mr. Hathaway is not a slash and burn tree guy. Then another year we discussed making more space for The Oak’s roots. If we could remove a part of the old (useless) broken-up driveway the tree could get more water.

I called around and tried finding a company that dealt with concrete removal. No deal, they were into removing parking lots the size of Walmart’s, they weren’t interested in peanuts. So I told this to Mr. Hathaway.

“Well, I’ve got a small bobcat we can get back there and I know what we’re trying to do to save that tree, let me see if I can’t get it done. We’ll have to wait until the tree is dormant so we do the least damage to the roots.” See why I love his attitude?

So one January day, while we were still overseas, his men came and took out chunks of concrete and hauled them away and then filled the open space over the roots with soil/sand. (All soil in this area of Tulsa is very sandy…old river bottom.) It was done and that tree was off and hasn’t looked back. Oh it’s dropped a limb or two, but it is so much healthier.

Right now it is one of the two black gum trees in front that he is working on saving. About three years back the streets in our neighborhood where redone, curb, utilities and all, not just a quick repave. In the process, the utilities literally went in on either side of one of the gums to run water lines for our house and the neighbor’s, and then parallel to the street behind the tree to run gas lines and then parallel along the edge of the street a new curb. If you cut on four sides of something you’ve pretty much cut a box around it. So far the tree is ‘okay’ and standing but it has not thrived like the other one twenty feet away. So today, it got a ‘trim’ of the dead wood and hopefully it can put it’s energy into the ‘living’.

While he’s here a few trees in the back will get some TLC too.

He’s not cheap, but if you have tall trees in Oklahoma, you know that they are invaluable and worth every penny to keep healthy.

So ‘The Tree Guy’ is on my phone list along with the doctor, plumber, handyman….

And just because it is so darn impressive!

And that ‘grassy’ stuff (mondo grass), should be all the way around the base, like a feather boa, but the dog digs some and well, what the heck, a small sacrifice.

“Dawning”

Excerpt my book “Dawning”.

The thin crescent of the moon gave poor light.  The girl didn’t need it as she trotted after
the siblings.  This was one of their
favorite games, hide and seek.  Her
senses of sight, sound and smell weren’t as good as theirs, but her dream was
strong.  Her bare feet melted tracks in
the faint trace of snow under the trees. 

She paused briefly
as something to the south caught her attention. 
It was human.  She watched for a
while.  This one had more dream then
usual.  It was male.  No there were two of them.  Their dreams were worrying about some human
thing.  Not a threat, she decided losing
interest and turning back to finding the siblings.  Sister was up a tree.  She was too easy to find.  Brother had woven an illusion, while the male
humans had distracted the girl.  He was
harder to find, but she did. 

Then it was her
turn to hide.  She had to be
cleverer.  Not only did she have to mask
herself from their dream, but from their physical senses also.  She rolled in a tangle of herb that should
confuse the siblings’ senses.  Quickly
she found a downed hollow tree and crawled into it.  Then she wove the illusion that should hide
her.  She fell asleep waiting.  A rough tongue on her cheek told her she had
been found.  She stretched and crawled
out of her hiding place. 

The sun was
rising.  She shivered briefly at the
chill in the morning air then dreamed herself warmer.  Since she was naked compared to the siblings,
Mother had showed her this when she could hardly walk.  The only part of her covered with hair was
her head, but unlike the siblings whose hair grew a set length, hers refused to
stop.  It hung down her back in tangled
strands of reddish gold.  She tried to
keep the twigs and leaves out and on occasion Mother made her wash it in the
stream.  It wasn’t much fun, because
unlike the siblings who could lick theirs clean and dry, hers stayed wet and
dripped for a long time.

In the distance a
horn sounded.  The siblings turned their
heads in that direction and tasted the wind. 
She sent her dream searching. 
Hunters.  They were not interested
in them, but it paid to be careful and they had strayed far in their game of
hide and seek. 

‘Let us go,’
dreamed Sister, always the most timid of the three.

She agreed. 

‘Ride,’ dreamed
Brother.

So she climbed on
his back and grabbed his fur.  The two
siblings loped off through the underbrush. 
She turned and sent a dream strand to watch the human hunters.  Their minds were occupied with the hunt. 

Soon the three were
over the hill and back into familiar territory. 
Still the siblings loped on and she rode.  She kept finding her attention pulled to the
humans.  There were twenty.  Only two of them had any dream of
significance.  She was puzzled why they
attracted her attention.  Finally she
dropped them from her thoughts.  She was
hungry and the season of easy food was over. 
She would have to spend more time and energy hunting.  Soon the small things would make their winter
sleep and the supply would be thinner still. 
She didn’t need much, but she also didn’t have the extra layers of fat
like the siblings. 

Brother slowed
down as they reached the area they had left when they started their game the
night before.  Mother was waiting.  She was anxious, which was unusual.

‘Didn’t you feel
the hunters?’ Mother dreamed.

‘She kept looking
at them,’ Sister answered.

She kept
silent.  She wasn’t sure why it was wrong
to dream look at the hunters.  They
couldn’t find her. 

Mother turned her
furry head to look at her.  ‘The two of
you go,’ Mother dreamed at the siblings. 
They scooted off up the hill.

‘Did they call to
you?’ asked Mother.

‘No.  I was just curious,’ she said.  ‘Did I do wrong to watch them?’

‘Most of the
Earthkind cannot feel us,’ answered Mother. 
‘For them it doesn’t not hurt to watch, but there are a few.  The ones like you, who can hear our
dreams.  Those we do not care to bring
any closer than we can.’

‘None of them
heard me,’ assured the girl.

‘I know you are
careful,’ comforted Mother, ‘but they call to you even when they do not try.’

‘Why is that?’
asked the girl.

‘Because they are
your kind,’ answered Mother. 

‘I know they are
my kind,’ dreamed the girl, ‘but why do they pull on my attention.’

‘Especially the
males?’ asked Mother.

The girl was
silent for a moment then agreed. 

‘You are
mature.  It is the time to find your
mate.  That is why your attention
wavers.’

‘But I am not
interested in a mate,’ replied the girl.

‘Your mind, no,
but your body, yes,’ answered Mother. 
‘You are mature and your body seeks your dreamer mate.’

The girl was
silent, thinking.  Mother let her. 

‘I have to leave,
don’t I?’ she asked.

‘Yes,’ said Mother. ‘Even if you fought your body’s desire to find your mate, your mate would coming looking for you.  Your time with us is done, but I am not sure if you are ready for the company of humans.’

The girl was
quiet.  ‘I need a second skin,’ she
dreamed picturing the clothes of men.

‘Yes, but that is
the easy part,’ said her mother.  ‘You also
need a second skin around your inner self. 
I’m afraid you will not see things the way they do and…most of them do
not dream.  They will not understand if
you tell them.  It will be best if you do
not tell them.’  The bear lifted her head
and looked at the girl.  ‘There will be
some who would will be afraid of your ability and others would have you use the
dream for their ends.  It is hard to
understand the reasons among humans. 
There are no rules I can give you.’ 
The Bear moved away after the two siblings.  ‘Come, we will talk, but with the hunters out
it is best if we move away from the area they think theirs.

‘You’ve been as
good as any cub to me,’ continued the Bear. 
‘I would keep you here, but the dreams will call you away and I cannot
see your path.’

The girl felt the
sadness in her foster mother so she responded, ‘You have done what you
could.  You are right.  I cannot stay.  Should I look for my mate?’

The Bear turned to
look at her as they walked.  ‘It will be
easier, I think, when you find your mate, but no.  For now I think you will need to be a human
and find a way to fit into their patterns. 
We will have to think of story to explain why you have been gone all
these years,’ said the sow.

‘Will they not
understand that I am an orphan?’ asked the girl.

‘Yes, but among
the furry ones, no.’  They walked.  Finally Mother said, ‘There was on the
northern side of the ridge a small group of them that died recently when one of
their kind brought sickness.  Perhaps you
can say you have been there.’

‘Is that a lie?’
asked the girl her amber eyes looking at the bear.

‘If you walk from
there to the next habitation and say you came from there, it will be true.  This is one thing about humans, cub, the
humans’ own words are ambiguous enough that truth can be said and not
understood.’

‘Is that not still
a lie?’ 

‘You will do
yourself more harm if you give them the full truth and they will not believe it
half as much as part of the truth.  It is
never good with humans to say all that you are thinking.  They are not used to that idea.  Look to see how much of an answer they want,’
said the bear.  ‘They are usually not
clever enough to ask the right questions. 
Since they cannot hear dreams they never know all the truth.  Their minds are clouded with ideas they
create.  It is difficult to change their
thinking and not usually worth the effort.’

The girl thought
about this as they walked.  ‘So I should
go to this dead human place and find some skin to wear and then walk to a place
where humans still dwell.’

‘Yes, they would
never believe you lived fifteen years with us. 
Let them create their own ideas. 
The less you say, the less you will need to say.’

‘I don’t want to
leave, Mother.’

‘I would not let
you go, but…’

‘If I have a mate,
it is with the humans?’

‘Everyone deserves
a chance, little one.’

‘Your idea is a
good one,’ she said at last.  ‘How soon
should I leave?’

The Bear turned to
look at her.  ‘What does your dream tell
you?’

The girl was sad
and her steps slowed. ‘Now.’

‘Yes,’ said the
Bear.  ‘We will go with you to the dead
place.’

The girl nodded.

            ‘You
will need a name.’

            The
girl looked at the Bear with surprise. 
‘But I’m me!’

            ‘Humans
cannot see the dream that is you, so they need names.  You should choose one.’

            ‘Did
my mother have a name for me?’ asked the girl.

            The
Bear sighed, ‘She had no time to give you anything but life.’

            The
girl looked around at the morning sky and the new crescent moon that was fading
in the light.  ‘Dawning?’

            The Bear’s dream was mirthful, ‘A good choice, my third cub.  One I think your own mother would have chosen.’

Find the ‘rest of the story’ at Dawning. Follow the link to find paperback or ebook on Amazon. If you read the rest of the book, I would appreciate a review on Goodreads or Amazon. Thank you.

“God willin’ and ….”

Well, May is almost over. Memorial Day has come and gone…at least the “Monday” it is observed on, the actual “old” date is still coming up this week. We put flowers on the graves and already collected them up because of the weather forecast.

That has been the most defining thing about this month of May…the weather.

We were up until 2AM one night this past week, watching the weather come through Oklahoma on a tear. Don commented that he is ‘tired’ of one of the weathermen’s voice. Not the guy’s fault, just that he was on the air for about eight hours straight.

And storm chasers…watching the little icons on the big weather map to see where Von and Brandon and JD and crews are. Yes, we’re on a first name basis.

Should we head to the basement? Or will this pass south or north of our location?

Tulsa, Arkansas River looking towards downtown, normal flow, see the sand bars.

And how about all that rain? It has to go somewhere and right now that is the Arkansas River which is about four streets west of us. I’m not hugely worried about our location, we’re on top of a ‘hill’, but the river is just about out of its banks here in Tulsa. If you drive down Riverside Drive and look at the Riverside Park system, you’ll see that the bike and pedestrian trails are underwater in many places. They’ve had to release water from the Keystone Dam upriver and it is flowing past in a boiling, chocolate swirl.

Growing up in an area that was a headwaters, I didn’t see much ‘river’ flooding so I’m always in awe when I do. The Fox River would flood but I wasn’t near enough to be aware of it.

The first flooding I saw where I finally got the scope of what it meant was the Nueces River in South Texas, near Corpus Christi. You mean this got high enough to completely cover the bridge over it???? What?

Also in Germany, the Main through Wuerzburg, where we went into a tavern built in the levee wall to look out a face high window with water at the same level on the other side…whoa.

Now the Arkansas.

Not the same view, but you get the picture.

I guess the simple answer is ‘Don’t build on a flood plain.’ But then we, as a species, are suckers for riverside views aren’t we. And we never think anything is going to happen to ‘us’.

And those sand bars? They say the river has scoured a new ‘bottom’. I can believe it.

It was supposed to be “April showers” and “May flowers”.

Book Reviews

First let me start with…If you have ever read one of my books and taken your time to write a review of it (on Amazon or Goodreads)…THANKYOU!

I just fell down a rabbit hole following a link posted first by The Bloggess on how not to respond to a book review.

I’m new to the ‘published author’ bit, but I know what I’ve written is not great literature. I’m thrilled to be published (thanks dil). AND those who have read any of my books and taken time to write a review…THANKYOU!

Have I agreed with all my reviews? Well, not entirely. Did readers miss something? Perhaps. Will I stay up nights thinking of ‘witty things to cut the reviewers down’? I doubt it. I have felt that each of the reviews had something truthful to say and were written with sincerity.

I am not the next “Great American Writer”, not even in my head. I wrote, and write, for entertainment or to get ideas out of my head. Do you have to like them? It’s not your head, so, no, no, you don’t.

Would I like you to enjoy, like my books? Of course I do! They are like my ‘children’. But as my father was often want to say about many things, “Don’t give up the day job.” I’m not counting on making my living on what I write and there are probably people out there who would say, “That’s a good thing.”

I would like you to be involved enough in my characters and situations that you want to keep turning the page. That would be enough.

So I’ll plug my books here and if you should decide to read one, I would appreciate it if you would write a review. What you write is of course up to you. Thank you.

https://www.etsy.com/listing/95444228/heinrich-mann-book-sculpture-altered?show_sold_out_detail=1

Where Did I (We) Go?

Last week my husband and I made a flying (figurative…we drove) trip up to Northern Illinois. The reason? My aunt and uncle had left money to the county museum and the museum used part of the funds to open a new hall which they named in their honor. So as family (3 siblings on my aunt’s side and one on my uncle’s side) we were invited for the opening.

My aunt had worked in personnel for IRS for many years. When she retired she looked for something to do and after volunteering with Easter Seals for a few years, she found a niche at the local county museum accessioning items.

What does accessioning involve? Measuring, describing, recording everything you can about a given object. What are its physical measurements? What materials is it made of? Who did it belong to? Who gave it to the museum? All the minutia that easily gets lost, but could be invaluable someday to someone who needs that object’s history as part of another project.

Every object that comes into a museum’s possession needs to be catalogued in such a way. And it is not something everyone is good at.

My aunt was very good at it. Attention to detail probably helped and dedication to showing up regularly so you could be counted on to do this particular job so the regular staff could get on with their jobs, trusting you to help in this way.

So although the dedication of a hall was because of a financial bequest my aunt and uncle had made in their will, I think the real reason was to honor my aunt for the countless hours she spent puzzling out the pieces of Americana that people gave to the museum. If the Smithsonian thinks of themselves and museums as the nation’s attics, you have to think about the fact someone has to figure out what the attic contains.

And on a lighter note. This is the backdrop for a ‘line-up’/’mug shot’ board. And I hate to point out that someone did not get their inches (“) correct on this board. My aunt would not be amused! She would have had it right. lol

“We’ll take a break from our scheduled programing.”

I was determined to do the “A to Z” posting, and I managed it, plus one (May 1). I’m going to take a break and return sometime in May. Hope your April showers are bringing May flowers.

Happy May Day!

No, this is not an SOS type “May Day”, but a tradition in my family of gifting flowers on May 1st.

“Well, that seems kind of lame,” I hear you say.

Au contraire. In my mother’s family this day had evolved into a highly honed act of ‘one-ups-man-ship’ long before I was born.

I believe it all started when my mother and her older sister were still in school, living in their small community of Greenwood. The teacher (there may have been two but for all my life only this one was ever referred to and in differential tones) Mrs. Dietzenberg started a tradition that my family has kept up long past those days.

She would have the children cut flowers and make small bouquets which the children would deliver to the women in the village on May 1st, May Day. Usually there was some card or note included. And the trick was to leave the ‘basket’ of flowers on the step and not be seen doing it.

Move ahead to where my mother and aunt are grown women and they and my grandmother (maternal) were still setting May Baskets out for each other and ideally, you don’t get ‘caught’!

I remember leaving them on my Grandmother’s doorstep, ringing the bell and running like mad to hide around a corner.

After my grandmother died, my mother and aunt still kept up the tradition and it became a competitive event with one trying to out do the other in ‘sneakiness’. Flowers came from the garden, whatever was up and flowering, so it wasn’t the ‘cost’ that was escalated, it was the delivery.

One year my mother managed to get to my aunt’s and back home before my aunt got to her. In fact she was enjoying the morning air and caught my aunt as she was stealthily approaching the backdoor and asked her, “And what do you think you’re doing?” Point, Norine.

Another year they had been to a flea market earlier in April. Both had a good eye, so when my mother found my aunt digging through a box of rather pedestrian glassware, she asked my aunt what she was doing? My aunt told her that she had seen a very nice cut glass dish in the box, but now couldn’t seem to locate it. My mother reached into her purse and pulled out a dish and asked coyly, “Like this?” They both had a laugh and my aunt’s comment was it was a diamond in the dishwater. Jump ahead to May 1st and my mother included ‘the dish’ with her May Basket of posies, with a warning note, “Handle with Care!” as she was afraid my aunt wouldn’t see the glass dish immediately. Point, Norine.

Mom came home from work to find a May Basket that included a wax taper, a rabbit and the requisite bouquet of flowers and a note that said, “Candle with Hare!” Double Points, Norma.

So I’m ending my month of flowers with that. Find some flowers, best from your own yard, wrap them in paper or place in water in an empty glass jar and set them on someone’s doorstep where they will be found. This is fun to involve children in, especially if you have them push the door bell and run and hide. Better than hunting for Easter eggs.

So “April Showers bring May Flowers”. And what do Mayflowers bring? Scroll to the bottom.

Pilgrims, of course.

Okay, bad pun.

Happy May Day!

The Power of Words

May 1 question – What was an early experience where you learned that language had power?
The awesome co-hosts for the May 1 posting of the IWSG are Lee Lowery, Juneta Key, Yvonne Ventresca, and T. Powell Coltrin!

Again I’m doubling up on posts…my blog, my rules.

word[wərd]NOUNwords (plural noun) a single distinct meaningful element of speech or writing, used with others (or sometimes alone) to form a sentence and typically shown with a space on either side when written or printed.synonyms:term · · expression · designation · locution · turn of phrase · [more]

I had a father who was very parsimonious with his words, but when he spoke we did listen. Story of his babysitting us on a Saturday that my mother had to work and he was serving us lunch. I guess we were playing around and finally he said, “Eat your soup or you are going to get a potch!” (Sorry I don’t even know how to spell it and neither does the computer. Make it rhyme with botch.)

My bother in all innocence asked, “What’s a potch?”

Whap, he got smacked. We all dug into our soup with no more questions. Sounds kind of mean in the retelling but it has been a family joke for years. Poor exasperated father and the hard way to learn words.

My mother’s family reveled in words and knew how to use them and knew when the wrong word was in use.

My mother said she barely kept from laughing in my neighbor’s face when they were discussing the neighbor’s having sold their house and some good luck that went with it. The neighbor said that it was, “Some constellation.” My mother swallowed that laugh so hard, she saw stars.

Mom’s family was famous, or perhaps that should be infamous, for puns. At the spring garden series at the ‘Opera House’ that my mother and aunt attended, at some point the speaker was talking about ferns. My aunt said to my mother, “With fronds like that, who needs anemones.”

And don’t start the puns in a family group, it becomes a master class in how long can people keep riffing off the first pun.

My take on the ‘power of words’ is centered around the playful use. Well, mostly, except the potch. Don’t ask.

word[wərd]NOUNwords (plural noun) a single distinct meaningful element of speech or writing, used with others (or sometimes alone) to form a sentence and typically shown with a space on either side when written or printed.synonyms:term · · expression · designation · locution · turn of phrase · [more]

Z is for aZalea

This is the last day for the A to Z blog posts and as I approached this day I decided I would use azalea. I thought about using zinnias, but I’ve not had a lot of success with zinnias here in spite of the fact they started out as plants from Mexico. You would think this would be the perfect climate, but no. I could have used Azaleas for Day A if I hadn’t had something else in mind for April Fools Day. And I like the idea of ending the last post with an ‘AZ’ beginning word. And my blog…my rules.

Azaleas are definitely a ‘southern’ thing. They don’t grow (outside of the grocery store offerings) in northern Illinois. Those hothouse offerings often don’t last very well as they either get over-watered, or underwatered and dry up. Trust me…I’ve been there and killed my share during the Easter season.

So living somewhere that has the possibility of having them in the yard is so exciting! We have them in four places in the yard. I planted two of those places. The ones by the front walk were put in by the woman who lived here before us and although they are in a very sunny place she credits their survival and thriving to mounds of coffee grounds that she mixed into the ground around them. I think she is probably right. The other three spots are shaded most if not all of the day and in Oklahoma heat a little shade is very desirable.

So azaleas and A to Z is complete. Or is it?