where are the birds

In 1988 I began to notice the birds were diminishing around my place in Medway. I wrote this poem about it:

Where are the Birds?

What has happened to the sparrows? Oh yes, there are still a few around. I could say at this time of year, spring, that they have all gone into the woods, where it is peaceful and there is plenty of pickings with buds and berries, BUT where were they when the ice covered the tree buds and the goodies, such as they were, on the ground? You would think the sparrows would flock to this yaard where Tommy puts out all kinds of seed, and makes sure the supply is replenished daily. But no, the sparrows, I'm afraid, are thinning out! But we do have other birds around.

First I shall mention our guests uninvited -- the pigeons who leaves our patio blighted; the doves who walk on my car, like the cat, and leave prints on my windshield that I never get at. And now with the big ones, there's always the crow -- but lately he's gone and why, I don't know. And speaking of blackbirds, there are some and then some: We like to see grackles, but then starlings come; and the catbird, the bluebird --? (I'm drifting away) the cowbird (a brown head), I saw
Nuthatches; finches, both purple and gold; that bluejay! We watch her, so wicked and bold; the cardinal is one to be seen and be heard, and we all love the siskin, a sparrow-like bird. But my favorite of all, on the tree or the ground -- the cute, little chickadee, always around. Did I mention the redwings who come when they can; woodpeckers (redheaded, downy, hairy) in Jan (??). Now, springtime, a few have flown up and away, there's a robin -- whose lonesome -- what more can I say?

more photos

Margaret, Thelma, Ernie, Lily:


Margaret:


Jack, Richard, Miriam, my mother, Tommy, Celia, Lily, Eddie, Mary:


Marian and Jimmy:


Tommy, Mary, Margaret, Lily, Thelma:

Wedding Reception

There I was, walking up Haven Street, pass the Smalls where Jimmy Small -out there in the yard, always said a big hello, and Mother Small waved from the porch window. We -- oh, I must have been accompanied by the rest of the "kids," my brothers Richard and Ernie, but I was not aware of them -- crossed the tracks of the New England and Hartford RR, up to the big white house where Margaret, Nellie, Jimmy and --

I'm so mixed up! Was there a Fred Allen? Or was this Fred Tingley, who married Margaret (not this Margaret, but Margaret Small!) Oh, this is getting to be as bad as tracking down the Joneses for my family tree!

Anyway, Jimmie Allen always gave us a big smile with his hello, and then we heard "there goes the little Jones girl, and there's the little boys -- all of them!" (no, they knew it wasn't 'all of them.' They never used the term, "kids," the name we had become used to, at home.

And so we walked, past the other big house on the left, where noone seemed to be at home, and we crossed the main road, Village Street. No cars. We joined the people already gathered at the house "with the open porch." That was our cue so we'd get to the right place. Lots of busy people were there already, moving about the lawn, and lots of music, and noise.

We were collected and grouped together for a momentous shot, but then pushed back a little so that the bride and groom, my brother and his bride Ruth, could have their pictures taken, in a group with Tommy, best man, bridesmaid Avis, Ruth's sister, her father and mother Hardy, Tommy's, and our, mother and father Jones. And then, we were collected for a group shot.

I remember me - with the fat, heavy curls over my shoulders, a huge red ribbon on the top of my head -- don't remember what I wore, except for the black patent leather shoes, strap across the instep .

There was a lot of confusion after that, people moving around, laughing, eating, much confusion and I believe a great deal went on after we -- the kids --crossed Village and walked down Haven Street, with good things to eat in our mouths and hands, past the Allens, past the Smalls, and up our driveway, home.

Chance

When Tommy's dog died, Lily and I were glad. He moved across the floors of the house, dragging his two paralyzed hind legs. It was pitiful to watch. He was a dog that Tommy had bought after our family dog, Buddy, had died of old age. Neither Lily nor I cared much for this new one. I forget his name, but then, I don't think he was too fond of us, either. Anyway, it was a blessing for us when he did die. But Tommy missed him. One day, Tommy decided to go to the kennels and pick out a new dog. He took a little neighbor girl with him. Jeannette was always with Tommy anyway -- he taught her how to paddle a canoe, how to identify trees, by the bark, the leaves; he made her aware of birds by their songs, the names of flowers, shrubs. He taught her how to climb trees by rope and to repel, and they would look at books together outside, or in the "bungalow" on rainy days, feeding biscuits to the dog.

At the kennel, Tommy and Jeanette looked for a new dog. Jeanette fell in love with a big black dog, while Tommy was busy looking for a small dog. And they pondered, and pondered, and pondered. Jeanette said, "this is my dog," Tommy said, "I don't think Lily would.. but if you took him--" and Jeanette said, "I don't think my mother would.. but if you took him--" And they both smiled, said together, "Let's take a chance."

And there they go -- the three of them, in the canoe, Tommy, Jeanette and Chance. I never saw such a happy threesome! Jeanette cared for Chance, fed him, took him home with her. He got to know the old dog, Nicky, made friends with Jeanette's mother. Lily and I got to know Chance. And everybody was happy.

Tommy in the Garden

Tommy, look now -- see him drag
The hose to water his flowers near
the window, where my mother, aged
sees danger
Calls: "racoon out there in a rage
Get someone to handle whatever grade
of rabid animal. -- they/ve got the gear
Tommy, drag it over --squirt it grand
He'll wreck his garden now, oh dear!
There's the truck, their coming -- dang!
Why is he bringing that Great Dane?
Don't go out there --My mother's anger
wasn't like her. Lily's the dean
around here and she's grand
But Tommy! The flowers! How can he earn
a living this way? The phone -- it rang
"There's no Edgar here"
And looking out over the water -seer,
my mother asks "goose or gander?"

Finding G

In High School, I chummed with 3 friends and had very little to do with any others. I think this was an effort on my part to reject the friends of my older sister, perhaps to stir her up somewhat. My 3 friends were M (Polish), F (Jewish) and C (Armenian). These girls were about a year younger than I was, having caught up to me in the 6th grade. In that grade, the second time around, I lost a half a roomfull of classmates to Junior High, physically located in the High School building, including my friend N. N lived in the last house on Charles Street with her older brother B, her father and grandmother. They had a barn with a loft full of hay, cows, and a bull. My brother Ernie and I used to go there and jump down into the hay, play Uncle Wiggley together in the house. I liked B and he like me too. He would take my side in any scraps, and Ernie would side with N, N and I entered the first grade together, but by the time we were in the 6th grade, she grew away from me, and I had a new friend V, whose father owned a garage next to M's house on Lincoln Street.

Both beautiful girls, N and V would come down to my house, but mostly I think to flirt with my brothers. Not only was I jealous, I was diminished. And when one day they stood peering into the window when I was having a violin lesson with my brother Leo, they became my enemies. I quit the lessons abruptly, must to the dismay of Leo,who quit teaching me altogether after that. The girls were out to get boys, anyway, and I was not. I liked boys, especially the ones in my classroom and I know they liked me, the way they smiled and touched me, in passing -- nothing sensuous, just friendly-like. Especially G. I think most of the boys in high school were a bit on the shy side too, except for W who knew it all, E who always smiled knowingly but kept pretty much to himself, and A who was left alone pretty much because he was going to become a priest (and he did). Yes, I liked the boys but tried not to show it. The shy ones I left alone and avoided the others as I could. I could not avoid S who walked my way. He was a bit more aggressive, but even with his boldness, he would back off from me and my 3 friends, and say, "I was only kidding." And J, who also walked our way, keeping up a non-threatening conversation. I liked J, and I had the feeling he liked me too -- and it was around this time I was thinking: I wonder who I'll end up marrying? But I knew I wasn't ready yet. Of course there were glances and feelings that were sloughed off and frustrations abated somehow or other by re-directing our conversations and activities. Even at the high school prom I danced only with my brothers and Mr. C our teacher, never with classmates. But they danced anyway with non-shy girls who pretty much led them on. And those boys who were more brazen selected girls whom they had dated before or were still dating.

I could hardly wait to graduate, but at graduation I found myself thinking who? And in my mind, choosing someone I'd want to marry. G, I thought, he'd be the one. And I know he liked me more than anyone else. And so we graduated. Said our goodbyes. And where did he go? Where was he headed? I never asked. And thought to myself -- if it's to be, it will be and I don't have to move anything.

G was brought up on a farm. He'd of course be a farmer. Would he go to college? What college, I wondered. What would he study. He was extremely smart in school. But they called him "Farmer B" I didn't like that name but it didn't bother him in the least. So, where are you now, G? Did you graduate from college? Are you married? I picture you, in charge of a huge farm enterprise somewhere, with a very intelligent wife, raising a grand houseful of children -- all happy. Of course they'd be grown up now, having given you grandchildren. And if they turn out to be like their old happy grandfather I'm sure you'd be, the world would benefit.

So where are you, grandfather G? Just let me know, so I can find you, and we'll have a long, long conversation about those happy but awful high school days.

my secret

I was in the sixth grade, for the second time around. Just a strange turn of events, which I blame on the shallowness of the teacher. My teacher used to sit at her desk, with a hand mirror. We were supposed to think she was occupied with herself -- her eye makeup, her lipstick, even her brilliant fingernails scraping her beautifully white teeth, and even her slender white fingers manipulating a strap and rearranging the fit of her magnificent breasts in her blouse. --and our eyes were supposedly downward on our assignment and not on her.

Anyway, she was the grownup in that classroom, so we weren't, yet. Although in the sixth grade, this year I felt grownup. I thought some of my classmates acted a bit childish, and I did want to fit in, so I started acting like them in some ways, like defying the teacher, not closing the book when told, dropping a pencil, just to disturb an awfully quiet moment. In my own little way, I was going to be ungrownup, just like the others.

Alas, one day, this beautiful woman, our teacher, had half the class march right into the small "book and supply room, where she quizzed us, name by name: Did you use chalk on the road out there? Do you know who did? What does it say? You do know what it says -- nowwe were quizzed, one by one.

You do know what it says-- now, did you write it? Who did? Of course she got no answer from me. It was the end of the school year, what did I care? We were soon to be students at the High School (Junior High was now housed in the High School building.) We were excited about joining the big kids in high school. Really a big excitement for us. But no, it was not going to happen. When we received our report cards for the year, About twenty students learned they would be repeating the sixth grade another year. I was one of these students.

I left for the long walk home, disappointed, but feeling a little bit guilty too. Why did I feel guilty? And I was angry about feeling guilty -- I didn't do anything. Yes, I was angry at the teacher, just as my friends walking with me were angry. By the time I arrived home, there was no anger, no disappointment,. I was grown up enough then. wasn't I, to accept whatever and go on from there?

I arrived home. The feeling of guilt was there. How was I going to tell them I didn't pass, was not going into the seventh grade? I thought perhaps I would just walk in, nonchalantly, and noone would ask. It didn't really matter, did it? Summertime was here. I was certainly ready to forget my problems. and did.

It was August -- Have I grown up during these summer months? No, Richard died. Who am I now? Without Richard?

And everyone came. Charlie was there, Tommy and Lily came home, The dining room table was cleared of lunch and everyone was everywhere. I don't know where I was -- probably sitting on the steps of Eddie's house next door. What was I thinking?

[I'm not done yet -- stay tuned]

horse and wagon

Truly it's been an honor
for me to learn from you and grown
among so many special ones
who paved the road I traveled, gone
are they, and I awash
with sentimental thoughts, or worse
no thoughts at all. Myself I drag
along the shore
goose or gander throughout the ages
come and go, feathers shorn.
Me? I hear not, see not -- where's the sage
now to rescue me? Blow your horn
I'm not asleep. I am aware

horse and wagon

Walking along the sidewalk, in an older section of S.Carolina, Carol and I are looking at the mansions, many rooms to accommodate large families and servants (probably slaves then?), large and ostensious porches, brick steps and walkways, gardens we stop to study and sniff, to touch the ornate fences and walls. Now, we see a wagon in front of us, filled with tourists, pulled by two large, lazy horses. Oh well, they have to go so slow -- and the day is so beautiful -- why shouldn't they be lazy? And they clap, clap, clap along the road. And Carol asks, are you with me? She notices the blankness on my face and the lackadaisical reponses to her questions, and says, "you must be tired."

No, not tired. I was somewhere in the West, crossing a prairie in a covered wagon, the horses, were not really clap, clap, clapping, but slap, slap, slapping and the wagon was covered. Two people riding in the front of the wagon, several walking alongside, and they were singing --psalms, I think. And then the rains came down. A lot of scrambling and shouting, and the horses were excited, and a wheel suddenly broke, and there was havoc and I gasped!

You're really tired, Carol said. And I'm sure I looked at her blankly and said, "I'm okay."

Write! right

Sunday again. The days go by fast. Are they going by me, or with me?

I fall asleep in my chair early in the evening and wake up to go to bed, still early. The routines are, well, routine -- come and go without concerted effort on my part, and the breakfast, an interesting blend of egg and vegetables, red, green, yellow and the color of fried potato --that too! Toasted Carol-made fruit and nut bread, spread with all-fruit jam, and all this after I take my vitamins, red, green, yellow and white that slide dow with no effort at all on my part -- it's the fruit smoothie that first appears at my place that takes them down.

Breakfast over, I sit awhile with my hot cup of tea in a blue mug -- mm! Except to write, don't lift a hand or I should say, dish. Just relax. Look out over the marsh. A large egret just flew up and disappeared behind the tree in the neighbor's yard.

And now to Mass at The Church of the Divinity. Carol will drive.

a walk on the beach

A walk on Folly Beach this morning, early, before the sun was too strong, before too many people there. Carol, Mike and I. The waves nearly caught me once. I want to close in to see what Carol has discovered out there.-- she walks barefoot so goes further out than I do. I have rubber shoes on, what does it matter that I get my feet wet? Mike has on regular sneakers and is not about to get them soaked. Now, what is she looking at?

The water is warm, she said. I move closer and look down at the round blob in the water. It's about 16 inches across the bottom, which looks like a straw-woven garden hat, the base of a large "gelatin mold" I called it. It was inside that took our attention now and the "mold" was transparent so that we could see there. It took a bit of studying -- and when the tidal wave moved the jellyfish toward me, I ran. Going back, I could see that there was a yellowish substance, lumpy, around the soft inside blob. We are looking for and counting eyes, appendages. We continue our walk.

Carol handed me a rock to look at. Strange looking, seems to have flat shells imbedded in one side.

Soon Carol stopped us to look at what I thought was a turtle shell, seeing the pointy little tail, about 5" long. I found out it was the shell of the largest crab I had ever seen. Carol turned it over so we could see the inside body parts which were moist from the washing of the tidal waves. She lifted the claws. A little girl about l0 came over and listened to Carol describe what we were looking at. Carol flipped the shell over and we looked for eyes, more than two, she said. We found two, then were on our way back.

Looking up, as I walked (not too smart, walking over shells and rocks) I spied in the distance an extremely colorful bird which I studied intently. I moved ahead of Mike and Carol. I continued watching. Not a pelican, and certainly not a hawk... but large, and wings, orange, reddish in the sun, dipping down, up and down again...what can it be? I hear nothing from Mike, nor Carol. They are very quiet behind me. Of course they must know, but I don't ask. We walked closer. There, it has landed. Oh! The man pulled the string to straighten it out, and away again it flew, up, up, down, up.

We crossed over and went up the wooden stairs, heading for our car and home, Mike, Carol and I, still looking at the rock and wondering if they knew all along it was a kite.

clapper rails

What? Can't get with it this morning. With an itchy nose. Did it get sunburned yesterday while I sat on the docki. listening? Mostly listening to grackles, but I imagined the sounds of young clapper rails in the grasses beside the dock where I sat. I turned slowly peered into the long strands of wet grass, flattened by the water and tangled. Why would even a rail want to nest there? No, I suppose she wouldn't . At least after my body objected, the stiffness had to be relieved and I turned myself around and sat as any normal person would, for awhile. Then my legs had to be up, with support, My hat had to be adjusted down to shield my eyes already with dark glasses on them. My eyes, very sensitive to light, especially after staring for long periods.

And I never saw the mother rail, nor any littles ones, nor the nest for that matter. But I did hear her, loud and clear and I know she was right across the water from me --distinct from the grackle's loud cracking voice, she clapped, and clapped, and clapped. I should have clapped when I heard the concert given by the many birds when I was sitting on the porch the other day. Next time.

One day, when Carol and I were on the dock, we did see a rail, long legs lifting to find a good footing on the edge of the water.

It's very quiet now -- no, listen! . It's the little wren (my favorite), back again. Carolina wren.

Bye, you evasive clapper rail. I'll be back, will you?

answers to my quiz

1. asparagus
2. lemon pie
3. fried egg
4. peanut butter
5. raspberry
6. jelly beans
7. beef stew (sorry, I had to throw in fish too)
8. shrimp

What Do They Drink?

The Japanese are
a people humble, shrewd
appear shy, but are not really that,
look at you out of the corner of their eye
would like you to look at them that way
They will bow their head and extend their hand
to greet you, they are gracious and will
invite you to their home for tea.

Their home? Modest, there is no
spread of lawn, or fancy driveways
and walkways -- they have squeezed
a small area without mountain, to
build their modest house. They do not
measure their land in acres.

But their hospitality is unmatched
and their food good and plentiful,
for guests

Rice and fish are their stable foods. They
are great fishermen.

What do they drink in Japan? I asked

They now have foods they mix,
especially for their guests, now
that they have supermarkets
and the women are great cooks.

What do they drink? Someone offers "saki"

Oh yes. The men drink
and the women put up with it. Seldom
do they leave their men. I think
there are few if any divorces in Japan

If someone is faulted, or thinks he has faulted
he will commit suicide to "save face."
A Japanese man will not be humiliated,
and stay around.

But, I asked, what do they drink?

w a s t e b a s k e t

Wondering this morning what it was
thinking to myself, what a waste
these "treasures" over which we stew
and mine, confusing me, the task
still lying there ahead; ideas I saw
up over my head, every bat
flying helter-skelter while I sat
dipping down, dumbfounded in my seat
nameless people dumped in a basket
how they laugh and tease
me in my coldness, in my sweat
all my clothes now soaking wet
I burn, as in the sun to bask
night creatures, they, so why? I ask
do my photos now they eat?

the first time

It's the first time I've seen the marsh turn into an ocean, surf tumbling in the wind. That was last night. This morning, it's all gone. Low tide. No ocean, not even the small "river" running by our dock.

It's the first time I've ever seen anyone actually on the marsh, except in a rowboat or cayak. Today a man walked a good distance across the wet grass -- I followed him with binoculars -- he had red pants on but I couldn't tell if he wore boots. I imagined them on his feet. He carried a bucket and a net was swung over his shoulder. Was he going after oysters? Now, there he stands, places his bucket on the floor of the marsh where he was going to -- fish? He threw his net into the shallow water, as the pelicans, 3 of them swooped down, dipped their beaks into the water, up, away, back down, dip, a quick low, swirling flight over the man's head and up into the sky, circling and back down again. It was fun to watch.

But my eye moved over and saw another man walking the same path through the marsh. He was under a red hat. He soon joined the first man, and together they peered into the water, had a discussion, stood pondering for awhile. Soon the man in the red hat, carrying the bucket offered him, went further along the marsh and further out of my sight. Yes, he completely disappeared, but the pelicans could see him and swooped down where I guessed he was, then. I watched the pelicans up, down, up, down and again and back over to where the first man was "fishing" with his net.

Carol just walked out on the dock and snapped a picture. "Too far away," she said and returned to the house. She brought me in out of the noonday sun. I was loving it out there but she said it was too hot.

I found a spot on the porch and with binoculars, looked out again over the marsh. Then is when it flew overhead, It was the first time I had ever seen the GoodYear blimp fly over the marsh. But no great thrill! Give me pelicans anytime, or herons. And a hawk will leave me breathless anytime, but not a Goodyear blimp.

Now, the red hat is moving further away , judging by the gulls now (pelicans having left, flying to distances out of my sight). The first man is now standing knee deep in the shallow water and peering down into it. Not very active in the water or out. No pelicans, a few gulls. Oh, here they come! One, two, three pelicans back again, swooping down, an occasional quick dip into the water, up and over. Are they finding what the fisherman can't find? He apparently doesn't like the pelicans to come too close and tries to scare them with his net, then flings it across the water. What is he after? Crabs probably, Carol said. I think the man is thinking about quitting -- the pelicans aren't, not yet.

The second man (in the red hat) with the first man's bucket, is now moving back to where the first man is standing, without action now. And the pelicans are leaving. He puts the bucket down and the first man comes out of the water. The two are standing there, discussing what? The catch, probably, or no catch. I watch two immobile individuals, with the red hat, with the red pants, until my eyes tire and I put down the binoculars. What do they expect.? Do they think I'm taking their picture?

After a short rest for my eyes, I pick up the binoculars.

What are they finding to talk about? The tide, whether it's worthwhile to wait until it starts to come in? If they waited for dusk, are they safe here? Personally, I think they had better think about getting out of there. How does it go? Time and Tide wait for no man?

A little wren is sitting there on the porch raill post. I move closer. She sings Ooh! That's a bit loud, isn't it? I sat -- still -- and she continued her shrill song -- that for me?

There they go -- the man in the red pants and the man under the red hat. They're headed, homeward, with net and bucket -- any luck? crabs?

my week

I like SUNDAY. Nobody has to go anywhere. Oh yes, I do have to go to Mass and Mike or Carol have to drive me there (have to! what a harsh, commanding term that is) --they don't think I should get a bicycle). But the rest of the day: Oh, I can do anything I want to. Have I written today? Read? Or maybe I should get on with my photo albums. Today, though, is a day of rest.

MONDAY comes and goes. Now, after breakfast, we hope to start our mornng walk -- should be a nice, cool breeze. If I don't get a sweater, my arms will freeze. Those arms! The only part of me that feels cold with a summer breeze. But that's all right, let's get on our way and listen to the birds along the way, even though I can't look up into the trees, without losing my footing.

When TUESDAY comes along, we have another plan after breakfast. I am not sure what it is so I'll just write until I find out. Easy enough. Just grab my socks, my glasses and my hat and we're off -- oh, oh, the water? Now it's suppertime already and I have to look out at the Marsh. No big birds -- the water is too high now. Maybe tomorrow.

Tomorrow already -- WEDNESDAY. This is the "hump" day I think they call it. After today, we're headed for the wonderful weekend. So what am I going to do today. I will, of course, write, even type my writing -- now, that will use up a good part of the day. It's nice and I think the porch will be a nice place to read. And it is -- but llisten: just like an orchestra practicing for an evening symphony. The oboe strings, now the shuffling of chairs, the drum feathers, symbles, now "C, C, C, C" the instructor calls out, and someone's finger touched D with A flat and it reverberated. And what has happened? Seems, the violinist is upset and the girl at the harp not sure.

THURSDAY came up fast. Breakfast, oh, bacon! Write, let's sit on the porch today and read. First, the walk. Then a shower. Oh, this room. I must clean it up a bit -- what to do with, what? My photos. Will take all the people out of my albums, away from scenery, and put them in a separate album... oh, oh, it's suppertime already. But.

It's already FRIDAY? will definitely sit on the porch today and read. After breakfast. And here I am, settled here with a book, and .. can't get away from the birds. Look, there's that beautiful little wren, singing just to me. I move closer and she doesn't fly away but sings, sings, CHE CHE CHE

SATURDAY is a nice day -- everybody liked to work outside on this day, and fix whatever needs fixing, water the lawn, plant the bush, and away we go -- the day is over before we know it. Oh, no interest in albums, writing, reading -- just look at that marsh -- no, it's more like a large lake. My eyes are getting tired. Oh well.

it seems to me

that doctors, dentists, electricians, plumbers and who have you, tend to believe that their time, and only theirs, is precious. Maybe there should be a different approach:

Say, the doctor's office: Tell the "girl" that you would like to see the doctor at 2:30 p.m. on Thursday, October 8, or if that is not convenient, then at 1:00 p.m. on Friday, October 9th and that he can call back to confirm the date and time.

Or, the dentist: I need to see you very soon -- how about Friday or Saturday of this week? You can't? Well, that's okay, I'll call someone else. Oh, you can! Oh great -- jot the date down, and I'll see you then.

The plumber: My kitchen sink is leaking, I can't live with this -- can you fix it for me? Oh, that's too far away. How about this afternoon, or tomorrow morning? Oh you can't -- no, never mind. I'm sure I can

The painter: My dining room is all ready for a new paint job. All it needs is a painter and the paint. I have samples of paint that you can look at -- when can you come? Oh I wasn't planning to wait that long. Oh, you have people who work for you? Okay, when can they come? You need how much notice? Well, never mind.get someone else.

Or the furniture store: I was in your store yesterday and I told you I would call today. after I took some measurements at home. Oh, it was the blue leather one, right near the large window... oh, yes I have the details you gave me right here. I'll read them to you. Oh, great! Yes, I can pay for it on delivery -- when will that be? I really don't want to wait that long-- Can't you make it by the end of next week? You can't -- well never mind. No I don't want the sofa. Thank you anyway.

what foods are these?

l. This is good for you, I think. It grows in soft stalks and is delicious with cheese. A green and yellow, warm dish -- but lift it whole into the mouth. Don't try to cut it. The knife will have nothing to do with it; a struggle with a knife ensues and the food may end up in your lap.

2.It's not so much the base that tasty, it's more the texture of what it made with, and part of this texture is soft to eat and rather tasteless without the flavor of a certain fruit juice.

3. Soft, and your first gentle touch makes it run, yellow into white; and you know it's there even with your eyes shut, because it's that time of day.

4. It's not usually eaten by itself. It's a bit on the unmanageable side if you're not careful. It's soft, gummy with a nice taste. It is sometimes prepared with nuts and eaten with another food for the sake of convenience.

5. This food travels up into your ears. Some like its taste and some don't. It speaks to you and to some it says "yummy. However, some people just hear "oh, sorry!" It requires another type of food to be eaten with it and, even then, its seeds never leave your mouth.

6. If you like sugar, this food will more than satisfy your sweettooth. You can, and probably will, keep eating and eating -- a variety of color. When you've tried them all, you will look for another food, not quite so sweet, which you are tired of by now.

7. This food, tasty and hot, is very good for you. It's a mixture of several delicious foods from the vegetable and herb gardens, and something very special from the farmlands. Sometimes, especially on a camping trip, this is a delicious food to eat outdoors and you substitute what you picked up on the farm, with something of your own doing -- catch of the day, if you're lucky.

8. If you really want something to "tickle the cockles of your heart," try this food: It's a pleasing color, its skin is delicate and easy to remove so that you can right away get to the white meaty stuff that you love to eat.

9. This food is best fried, and even better, burnt a little at the edges. When it's really crisp and hot, there's nothing like it and its taste lingers as long as you permit it to linger. And you will always look ahead to the next time.

the marsh at noon today

See the men out there fishing?


Looking west from our dock:

people flight

-Here, look at this. Notice the feet-- well, you can only see one. No toes, sort of tannish, with black strreaks, no, more like wide bands across the upper part. No toes. And the head -- can't see the eyes -- the head is very large and rather rounded, and white. The feathers must be very soft and smooth, the way they blow so much in the wind. Oh, look! He, or I should say she (there's probably a nest nearby, she's been here quite awhile).

There, she moved. Rather tall, huh? Seems she has more appendages -- two I think, with dangling smaller appendages, many of them -- see them swinging as she moves along, rather rapidly -- oh, now I see the other one. It's hard to see much, looking down through the trees like this.

the marsh

We looked out and saw an ocean-- the marsh was gone. Where are we? Well, it looked like an ocean, the turbulent winds blowing across, encouraging the surf and rearranging it. The channel of the marsh, which runs along just in front of our dock, was undefinable, merging with the marsh's high waters. This was the first time since we arrived in S.Carolina that we had ever seen such an amazing view from the house. And the winds blew -- across our porch and we stared, and stared, and stared.

Just for comparison, here's a picture we took while Margaret was here. It shows how the marsh looks halfway between low and high tide on a normal day:


This Morning

The marsh! Seemed it got a really good scrubbing last night. The wash water has not yet been emptied, giving us back our "channel" by the dock here, like a small river -- I can hear it rippling in the wind. Looking out over our freshly cleaned marsh, there's a rowboat and there is no doubt that the man is fishing -- there are the pelicans, 3 of them, following along -- do they expect oyster scraps, small fish or whatever the man in the boat throws out, or drops? He motored around the bend. The pelicans fly up and over. I've lost them. It's very quiet here, and the marsh is so very, very clean.

Mary and Margaret at the park

View of the marsh:


Tiny crabs:


Fishing pier and willet:


Can anyone name this fella?

Echos

Margaret was here from Kississimmee, Florida, visiting for a few days. We enjoyed having her with us and on one of our many car trips with Carol took us into Charleston, where we visited the Museum there. The Museum was unbelievably raucous: Was it my new ear? I was awed at first, when we went in -- it was so large -- the first thing we looked at was the large round tank with fish swimming whirling around and around -- was the tank moving? Was the water whirling around? Carol said it was only the fish moving in a circle in the large tank. That and echos -- what was echoing? Something besides voices. Was it water running? Maybe workmen at the tanks or at other places there? A slight dizziness came over me. We went up an escalator, looked at more fish, some like the bass, the pickerel, (trout?) we have in the river at home, only much larger. And then a turtle with his underside toward the glass while he swam, snakes, a huge rat snake, an octopus which squiggled down from the rocks where he was wedged, with a leg or two and a portion of his head and eyes showig. I especially enjoyed watching him and his legs and his over-abundant head and popping eyes moving here and there. I don't remember having seen an octopus before, although I may have. I am sure my sister Mabel or brother Leo brought me to Boston to the museum, and in later years, I worked in a building next to a new museum at the edge of Boston Harbor. Did the octopus not interest me then? Was he not there? Or hidden behind rocks? Anyway, to get back to S.Carolina and the museum in Charleston. We saw a small tank, seemed not much there, except we spied two eyes peeping out from the dark rocks. Studying the eyes for awhile, we thought -- these are frog's eyes, and immediately imagined the frog and saw him -- this was not rock, it was dark frog! My highlight of the trip. Then we saw otters, moved close through the teenagers and up to where two little guys were pressing their faces against the glass. Then came the otters swimming, then maneuvering up and over a large heavy open circle which was a fat ring of moss, I think. then down into the water -- about five or six of them -- swam and put their noses right against the glass, where the little faces of the boys quickly withdrew with a gasp. This was fun to watch.

About to wander further in the museum, we were approached by an elderly man holding a baby aligator, about 24 or 30 inches long He talked at length about aligators which I won't go into here (even what I regall) except why they eat humans -- thinking they are the food because humans bring food and the aligator thinks (he thinks?) they are part of the food, there for them. They have no taste buds but double teeth, and when one breaks or rots, the inside tooth comes down and replaces the missing one. The man holding the aligator firmly but gently at the neck, with his hand, lets us feel the scales of the back and tail, and the stomach of the baby aligator. This was interesting, but at that point, I was a bit queasy, and somewhat dizzy. We asked for a restroom and one of the workmen dropped his tools, left his cart and walked us partway to a restroom. Timely! I lost my lunch. The echos were almost maddening -- voices, water running, and I don't know what else but it was overwhelming. Stayed with me several days -- nausea, dizziness -- the fish swimming round and round.

Last night, Carol, Mike, Margaret and I went to a neighbors meeting and it was very interesting and enjoyable; I was pleased I could hear the speaker at the meeting and the questions and answers, even chat a bit afterwards with neighbors I was meeting for the first time, until the room became raucus with the many voices and echos. The echos! Reeling, my stomach jerking -- I was again in the vast museum, fish swimming round and round..

family photos

My parents:


My family:


My brother Eddie:


Eddie with his wife, Celia, and his two sons, Donald and Jimmy:

achoo!

To all of you who haven't heard from me lately, achoo!

The weather here has been beautiful with cool evenings and a lot of breezes from the marsh. And the marsh is turbulent like an ocean, achoo!

Margaret is here from Kissimmee, Florida for a few days.

Today we went to the aquarium, achoo! We saw an octopus which I had never seen before except in a picture. It was a young octopus. It was fascinating. Then we saw eels and snakes and a beautiful little frog. We couldn't make him out at first until we discovered his eyes and then we found his whole body. Achoo! What we really enjoyed were the otters. A man was out there feeding them and several of them came out and did a few acrobats and dived into the water. They were fascinating to watch, came right up close to the glass. A couple of little boys had their faces at the glass and they pulled them back suddenly when the otter came kissing them. One of the attendants, an elderly man, brought a baby alligator over, holding him by the throat, told us about the alligator's hollow teeth that had other teeth inside of them. When an alligator loses a tooth, he uses the other one -- it grows down. He has no taste buds but when he sees people coming toward him, people who probably have fed him, he would think that the people were the food. That's why people got eaten. He let me feel the scales on the alligator. Achoo!

I took a little Aricept to help my memory and I don't take it any more after the first pill because I think I'm allergic to it.

Margaret, Carol, and Mike say hello to all. Love, Mary

Sunday

It's Sunday afternoon. Carol suggested I go out on the dock and sit awhile -- I'm a bit restless and onery today. Been thinking of the house in Medway and even after getting away from it and going to Mass, I was still unable to concentrate on anything else. I walked a bit up and down the driveway but it didn't help. The dock helped, I think. Sitting there by myself in the warm sun and cool, I waited for the Clapper Rail to come out of the maize of marsh pilings along the rising channel. She screeches and rails and sometimes sounds like the bird she is, sometimes clucks like a chicken. She is, yes, very loud, but also very shy.

I didn't see the Rail today, but I did see her one day when she stepped out of the marsh and walked toward the water -- only for a second, because she quickly turned and disappeared into the brush. I think she looked like a small chicken but her extremely long yellow beak tell you she's not. Her legs are long and yellow, big chicken-like feet move very quickly. She is rather brownish, somewhat striped and her round, brownish eyes are set in a gray head.

While I sat there on the dock, two pelicans flew overhead, then a couple of egrets flew over. One dipped quickly down into the water, circled and then dipped down again, this time disappearing into the Marsh. I saw two pelicans fly overhead, very close. I then saw a small white bird with a black head fly over, dip into the channel's water, fly up, circle and then dip again -- just as the egrets did. I learned this bird was a forster tern (I think I got that right).

It was tempting for me to stay on the dock but if I had my hat like a sail would have taken me, windblown, along the channel.

Carol came out then and as we left the dock, two hawks circled overhead, frustrating the little birds in the sky over our heads.

I hear

I hear music
I hear my own voice
I hear there's a sale at
I hear you live near here
I hear ringing in my ears
I hear carolers out there
I hear but don't always listen
I hear bacon frying
I hear the bird but can't identify it
I hear water running
I hear noises down there
I hear it's a great place to eat
I hear bells chiming
I hear you're involved in
I hear it's crowded and noisy
I hear better now, with the hearing aid
I hear he's a terrific cook
I hear nothing -- what is it?
I hear she's taking piano lessons
I hear the kids outside
I hear it's not all it cracked up to be
I hear they make them fresh
I hear the choir, but
I hear cats out there
I hear you made it yourself
I hear the words but they don't make sense
I hear it was just a lot of nonsense
I hear violins
I hear my own voice
I hear someone who sounds familiar
I hear nothing
I hear you like your new job
I hear you were there
I hear you have a new car
I hear the wind
I hear you have a new job
I hear it isn't worth it
I hear several voices
I hear the speaker well but
I hear it isn't worth it
I hear she bought a house there
I hear there's a concert tonight
I hear but I don't believe what
I hear
I hear them all too clearly
I hear what you're saying, but
I hear something
I hear she's no longer there
I hear it's not what it's cracked up to be
I hear you had an exciting day here
I hear a cardinal
I hear the rattling of dishes
I hear something drop
I hear a piece of silver hit
I hear silence in the kitchen, and then
I hear a banging and
I hear rattling of dishes, silver?
I hear a cabinet door shut
I hear a lot of noise
I hear something drop against something
I hear a pan echo in the sink
I hear metal touching metal
I hear the pen writing
I hear myself move in the chair
I hear the clunk of the foot of the chair
I hear my breathing

how would you like it?

How would you like it if someone pulled
on your hair and removed your warm
covering and said "oh, you're not ready yet"
and just when you're trying to get comfortable
again, having to fight off those fat white
creatures that were just disturbed and now
blame you? And how would you like it if a
tractor's noise kept you awake all day and
then came in deep enough to pick you up
and toss you helter-skelter into a bed of briars,
against a big fat watermelon or a wire fence,
or even not that far but just out in the open,
in the burning hot sun that eventually makes
you wrinkled and worthless? And think of this,
if you think my life is a bowl of mashed
potatoes -- oh, what am I saying? -- That's
another thing, being mashed. Or how would
you like it if someone pulled you from a
oven, where you are trying to get warm and
comfortable, like under the ground, and told
by some potato head (oh,oh!) , "you're just perfect"
and when you are lifted out you feel so imperfect?
And another thing:How about someone nice,
or at least you thought at first, comes toward you with
a bread knife and you look around and see
no bread -- what can you expect? After all,
you're just a potato!

one sentence

Outside I found myself because the day was
so perfect but what I wanted to do was
out of the question since I no longer drive
and besides I don't even have a car anymore,
but my choices of things to do while I was out
on such a beautiful morning were unlimited,
making me turn to something beside drivingn
somewhere, spending money on something
I really didn't need, or even or something I did
need but not just now and spending money
nonetheless and in addition wasting good time
that could be spent on other things like
getting the gardens raked up and the soil
there readied for planting so that the yard
would look beautiful the way it used to look
when Tommy and Lily brought the plants
now in the greenhouse after having been
earlier brought up from the cellar where they
had been sleeping all winter and now about
ready for the gardens which are close to the
patio and house and which my mother enjoyed
and which never seemed to be without a
variety of color, adding to the morning glories,
the climatis, and the colorful blossoms of our
Japanese Cherry tree and Dogwoods, and the
green lawn which Tommy and later Carl kept
mowed and nourished, or if I chose, I could still
get out and wield it against those small trunks
of the unseemly bushes have died but where the
roots are still deep in the ground and beyond my
feeble strength and where they make an unseemly
border between my yard and that of my close
neighbor and cousin who has never complained
being the nice person she is -- or if I feel so
inclined, I could always sweep out the "bungalow"
or with the large broom, give the garage a good
sweeping.

Great Blue Heron

There she was in the debris of grasses piled up on the edge of the Marsh's channel, near our house in South Carolina. Her long yellow beak pointing the way, she high-stepped toward the almost dry channel, lifting one yellowish leg after the other so as not to get entangled in the mixed up grasses. She stopped and started to preen, her beak becoming almost lost in her greenish feathers and she looked no more like the bird she was, than an undefinable work of art, and I was no longer looking at the Great Blue Heron.

Later in the evening, she was preening atop the green post on our dock, very close. Standing on one leg, beak, almost invisible again, busy inside with her feathers. I watched and watched, with binoculars. Again, standing on one leg, she lost her beak and the other leg, and again became a sculpture --still as the post she stood on.

Things I never tire of

A soft breeze in the summer
Rain falling, anytime
Birds singing, especially in spring
Ducks on the river, without Canada geese
Poetry (not especially Irish or Scotch)
Crackers and peanut butter
Trees --all of them
Silence
Chimes if far enough away
Water to drink, or just water
Chocolate


Things I do tire of

Conversation I can't hear (I can now!)
My own voice running endlessly
My own voice with a frog in my throat
Doves and their constant cooing
Stopped traffic and no red light visible
Dressing and undressing, especially shoes
Undated photos and unrecognized people in photos
Computer's reaction to my wrong choice
Speakers who look into their own writing instead of up
Questions I don't know the answer to
Puzzles that trick me

June and Love

You told me love was in the air
I looked at you, then asked you "where?"
It's all around, just look and see
There's someone for you someone for me

A slip of a boy, you talked so free
to a slip of a girl behind a tree
You talked, I listened, shy, I heard
My heart picked up your every word

Someone nearby will hold you dear
You'll find him soon -- he's very near
"How will I know his love is real?
"How can I tell him what I feel?"

I saw him coming all the while
Open your heart, he said, and smile
"How do you know he'll be here soon?
I have this feeling of love. It's June

Sunday

There he is, my father, in his white shirt, nicely pressed pants, standing beside my mother who is seated, her best dress on, and smiling. He's smiling too, under his soft hat. They are photo'd against the not-yet picture window of the kitchen, that reflects a lot of shrubbery. I cannot make out from here just what kind of bushes are there, and a little bird is sitting on a stalk of some kind. But the photo is black and white, so I'm missing a lot.

And there is another window and I believe morning glories, her favorite flower, are climbing up and over and reflected in the window, and I wish I could identify the heavy foliage here which of course is black in the photo. I do believe it is a reflection of the old apple tree which grew at the corner of the garage, and which has long since been cut down to make way for the white dogwood.

I see what appears to be steps in the background too, roughly laid. Was there a door there once, or did the steps lead to a screened-in porch, now only a cement floor and the ramp made to accommodate my mother's wheelchair. Of course this was long before the photo -- you note that she is sitting in a kitchen chair. I don't think there were lawn chairs in our yard then. Well, maybe.

It does appear to be Sunday. And they both look happy.