Writer’s Quote Wednesday: Hobgoblins and Inconsistency

Sometimes a writer needs to break the rules — like when she posts for Writer’s Quote Wednesday on Thursday.

Writer’s Quote Wednesday — Here’s the same quotation, configured differently. Thanks to my daughter Julia for font help in PicMonkey.

In keeping with the Halloween motif, I added a Halloween poem, “Dwelling in His Shadow,” to Poetry Archives. Penned in 1982, the poem was inspired by sleeping outside on Halloween night.  Since I went to college on top of a mountain, it was a quiet evening, far from the cries of trick-or-treaters.

I welcome trick-or-treaters, by the way.  I’ve donned my share of costumes on October 31.  I’ve taken pictures of my children in Halloween costumes for 20 years. But I prefer a kinder, gentler Halloween — if that is not a contradiction in terms.  Even “It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown” is too dark for my taste, aside from Snoopy’s turn as the WWI flying ace. Carving pumpkins, dressing up, greeting neighbors: that’s my definition of Halloween.  Although I dislike ghouls and ghosts, I will confess that I loved the Halloween songs I learned in elementary school. Sung in a mysterious minor key, “Black and Gold” and “Stirring Her Brew” had a strange appeal. And, as you can see from my son’s Ron Weasley costume, we like Harry Potter and his friends at my house. Inconsistent, right? On with the masks and out with the candy!

Capturing Beauty with My Camera?

A camera has become a “beauty essential” for me: if I see something beautiful, I photograph it.  But is my constant use of a camera hindering my appreciation of beauty?

What oft was thought

Twice lately I’ve encountered the disturbing implication that, because an incident wasn’t searchable on the internet or hadn’t been documented in a photograph, the incident had never occurred. I have decided not to share the details of the incidents, both of which I encountered via Facebook links. One link involved a rumor that I don’t wish to feed. The other link had to do with a crime; given the circumstances, the person searching for facts about the murder was understandably distressed that the incident had received little attention. What concerns me is the perception that reality can be determined by a Google search: if there are no results, it just didn’t happen?

To me, it seems absurd to infer that something didn’t happen simply because someone failed to document it. True, artifacts and written records give us valuable clues about the past; we would know little about ancient civilizations without…

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Drive like a Tourist

If you look closely, you can see that the speedometer reads 42 mph. (The speed limit on this part of the parkway is 45 mph.)

Ah, the power of words! Writing about fall photos inspired me to do something I have never done as an Asheville resident: search for fall color along the Blue Ridge Parkway. The last line in A Tale of Two Photos got to me: “Now is the time to capture these golden days–whether with camera or words.” Even though my husband had a long to-do list for his day off, I persuaded him that we should hop in the car and go look for leaves. (He pointed out that there were plenty of leaves in our driveway, but he agreed.)

Instead of listening to his suggestion that we hike down in Brevard or up at Craggy Pinnacle, I insisted that we use the recommendations in the weekly Fall Color Report. At that point, the report was six days old, but surely those experts knew more about fall color than my nose-in-a-book husband. We had a limited amount of time, since I wanted to be back to cook dinner for my daughter, who had too much homework to accompany us. That ruled out the Cullasaja gorge, but we could still try for the Black Balsam area, past Mount Pisgah. We grabbed walking sticks, water bottles, cameras, and Bojangles chicken. Off we set!

Our destination was Black Balsam Knob (elevation: 6, 214 feet), which, according to the report, should offer brilliant colors. Since we were in tourist mode, we turned off at several overlooks as we drove west on the parkway: the Bad Fork Valley Overlook, the Pounding Mill Overlook, the Cherry Cove Overlook. My son got excited about the out-of-state license plates, especially when we saw the same cars at multiple overlooks. Having moved to this area when he was five, my husband found it painful to play the role of a tourist, but David soon was happily pointing out beautiful patches of red or yellow or orange leaves. (Despite the name of my site, I’m no tree expert, but we saw mostly white oaks, red oaks, and maples.)

After eating lunch at the Mount Pisgah picnic area, we drove on, stopping at more overlooks to photograph Looking Glass Rock. Not far past Mount Pisgah, however, we noticed that we were seeing more empty branches and fewer golden and orange leaves. My husband said thoughtfully, “You know, I’ve always heard that the 15th to the 20th is the best time for color.” Today was October 21st.

By the time we reached the Black Balsam area, I suspected that we had driven too far: at this elevation, the color had “peaked.” Nonetheless, we parked at the end of Black Balsam Road and started walking down Flat Laurel Creek Trail. Although we saw many red maple leaves on the ground, the limbs of the deciduous trees around us were bare. After hiking a short distance, I looked at my husband and pleaded, “We could hike this trail any time, but I was hoping for a fall-color hike today!”

By now, it was too late to take winding Highway 276 farther down into Pisgah National Forest, where we could have hiked at Pink Beds or Looking Glass Rock. Since we would drive past Fryingpan Mountain Lookout Tower on our way home, my husband suggested that we hike there. I prefer a path through the woods to an old service road, but the weather was so perfect that I couldn’t complain about the rocky, uneven trail.The last time we climbed this 70-foot tower, David had been too little to go up the steep metal stairs. He insisted that he didn’t want to climb the tower, but, by the time we got there, he had changed his mind. It was a windy day but beautifully clear, and we had amazing views at each stage of our climb up the old tower, built in 1941 and listed on the National Historic Lookout Register. If the photo seems a bit crooked, put it down to my shaking hands.

View from the Fryingpan Mountain Lookout Tower (taken with my iPhone 5)

As we walked back to our van, a young couple passed us on their way to climb the tower. We warned them about the wind, and they just smiled. Headed east on the parkway, we stopped at an overlook or two for more photos. Suddenly, I realized that I had failed to get a picture of one of the many stone tunnels along this section of the parkway. My husband began to drive more slowly, looking for a place to pull off near a tunnel so that I could get out and take a picture. His hesitant driving irked the driver of the car behind us, who started following closely and even honking intermittently. As soon as we could, we pulled into a overlook and let him go around us. These locals are in such a hurry!

Enjoy the slideshow of photos, taken with my Nikon CoolPix L320. Believe it or not, I weeded out some pictures.

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Return to Connemara

Refraction

Smooth as silent glass

Water bends beneath webbed feet

Darkness rims the day

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Weekly photo challenge: Refraction

Haiku and photos by Sandi Fleming, October 2014

All photos were taken with an iPhone 5. “Return to Connemara” copyrighted  ©2014 by Sandra Fleming.

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For Irish readers, Connemara is the name of Carl Sandburg’s home in Flat Rock, North Carolina. An American poet and writer, Sandburg won the Pulitzer Prize three times. Today, his house is a National Historic Site, which I wrote about in a September post. On Sunday afternoon, my husband, son, and I went to Connemara for a short hike–short, because it was after 5:00 by the time we arrived and beginning to grow dark. As the light faded, so did my hopes of fall color photos. Even so, I could see why Sandburg found this peaceful setting conducive to his writing.

A Tale of Two Photos

With apologies to Cole Porter’s song, I love Asheville in the fall.

When my sister and I posted fall pictures to Instagram on the same day, I was not surprised. Her New England region is famous for “fall color,” while tourists flock to my part of North Carolina to admire the flagrantly colored leaves. You can even consult a weekly Fall Color Report to find the trees at their most brilliant. As I drive down the Blue Ridge Parkway, I remind myself to be patient with out-of-towners who are ambling down the road. Long-time locals like my husband call this time of year “Leaf Season.”

But it was eerie that my sister and I simultaneously posted an atypical fall picture on our respective Instagram accounts. Within three minutes of one another.

My photo was taken by a gravel sidewalk at a community center.

Scattered Leaves on the Sidewalk

Hers was shot outside an urban grocery store.

Yellow Leaf (Photo by C. M. Dennis)

 

My initial reaction was, “She just one-upped my Instagram picture!” (I’m sorry to say that I posted a snarky comment to that effect.) Then, I realized that: a) she must have been posting her photo at the same time; b) she would never deliberately upstage me; c) her picture wasn’t necessarily better than mine. She does have an architect’s eye, which is why I love following her on Instagram.

Not surprisingly, the two photos reflect our personalities. Too impatient to plan, I went for a wild melange of leaves, twigs, acorns, and–the crowning glory–a prickly ball from an overhanging horse-chestnut tree. Like my approach to life, my view of fall is a glorious mess.

In contrast, her photo cleverly juxtaposes the rough tree bark with smooth tile and speckled concrete. One graceful arc cuts across the vertical panels. Christie’s fall photo has the feel of a carefully composed still life. The leaf is a brave flag of yellow, buoyantly defying the civilized world.

It’s not a contest, but her picture wins. Hands down.

Unless I continue The Tale of Two Cities analogy: in that scenario, disheveled Sydney Carton ultimately triumphs over disciplined Charles Darnay. Yes, Darnay is chivalrous, but Carton gives up his life for the girl he loves. Is it cheating to cast my picture as Dickens’ noblest hero?

Regardless of who posted the better photo, I love the fleeting season of fall. Too soon, the short-lived show put on by the trees will end. Now is the time to capture these golden days–whether with camera or words.

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3:10 to Lucca

A recent post on Italy caught my eye: “A day in Lucca.” Even before I finished reading, memories of Lucca came back sharply–memories more than 10 years old that still contain the pang of disappointment and the hope of consolation. Flavia describes Lucca’s charms: the 400-year-old wall; the cathedral and museum; the tower from which the entire town can be viewed. But, for seven American tourists, Lucca was the town where a small dream died.

Our series of unfortunate events had its climax at Lucca. (Photo by C. M. Dennis)

 

Photo by C. M. Dennis

Our day had gone well at first; we’d encountered minor problems like missing tickets and mystifying directions but nothing insurmountable. While visiting Florence, we had decided to give the children a respite from art galleries with a day trip to the tower that, by virtue of its architectural failings, has become one of Italy’s most recognizable landmarks: the Campanile di Santa Maria, commonly called the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Because my daughter was younger than the minimum age of eight required by the tour, we bought tickets to climb the tower in two separate groups. After a lunch of sandwiches and pizza at a cheap place in the university district, my sister, older daughter, and I began our self-guided tour of the Torre di Pisa.

Photo by C. M. Dennis

Not only were the 600-year-old marble stairs slippery and uneven, but there were no handrails for the safety-conscious Americans. In the words of my daughter, who was 10 at the time, the bell tower was “really high and really leaning.” The amazing views of Pisa and the surrounding countryside more than repaid our efforts on the precarious ascent. Emily was impressed with her glimpse of a soccer field!

Emily’s photo of a soccer field

 

My lovely sister (Photo by Emily)

Photo by C. M. Dennis

Photo by C. M. Dennis

By the time we had carefully wound our way down nearly 300 slanting steps, I was apprehensive about how safe the climb would be for my adventurous eight-year-old son. His father had the same thought and kept him under close surveillance while they took their turn. Meanwhile, we took a quick peek in the Baptistry.

Brave little Julia waits while her father and brothers climb the tower. (Photo by C. M. Dennis)

Halfway up the tower, my husband and sons wave to us.

The day began to go awry when we spent too much time in the Baptistry and the Duomo. Italy has a tendency to trip up inexperienced travelers (especially those who hope to learn all there is to know about Italian art in 12 days). Despite my sister’s efforts to whisk us past less important paintings and frescos, we left the Piazza del Duomo later than planned. Next, we just missed hailing a taxi large enough for all seven of us. Then, we discovered that all the tobacco shops were closed due to siesta, making it impossible to get bus tickets for a ride to the train station. Weary from our climb, we trudged back to the train station in the rain.

Duomo di Santa Maria Assunta

Beautiful detail on the Duomo

 

All day long, I had kept in the back of my mind a special plan for the return trip: a visit to Pinocchio Park, which I had read about in Italy with Kids. This would be especially nice for Julia, who had been so sweet about not getting to climb the tower. Located in the mountain village of Collodi, this sculpture garden inspired by the classic children’s book seemed a lovely place to conclude our tour of Tuscany.

We passed the Arno River on our walks to and from the Pisa train station.

While the guidebook noted that Pinocchio Park was more easily reached by car, we could take a bus to Collodi from Lucca, which was a 25-minute train ride away from Pisa. Optimistically, we bought tickets for Lucca at the train station (wisely, my husband also bought tickets to Florence). As we munched on snacks, we discovered that the train left 20 minutes later than we had thought. The clock was ticking.

Once in Lucca, we splurged on taxis to the bus station, but we arrived after 4:00, and Pinocchio Park closed at 6:00. At the bus station a helpful girl, whose spoken English was no better than our Italian, wrote out for us which bus we needed to catch for Collodi. At last, we grasped the sad news: the bus wouldn’t get to Collodi until 5:42–and Pinocchio Park was a mile from the bus stop! At this point, two of us were in tears. Later, my eight-year-old wrote in his journal, “After Pisa we were going to go to Pinocchio park but we were to [sic] late. Julia Emily and I were sad. Mom cried.” My sister tried to alleviate the situation by buying drinks for everyone from a vending machine in the bus station. Clearly, the time had come to salvage what we could from the day. Outside the dark little station, we began to look around at Lucca itself.

Photo by C. M. Dennis

What we saw was delightful. My younger son had discovered a pedestrian path running along the top of the old city wall, which was at least 60 feet wide and 40 feet high. Despite the cold, many residents were out jogging or walking their dogs in the late afternoon sunshine. On our way back to the train station, we found a playground where the children went down the slides and swung. Was it Pinocchio Park? No. Was Lucca a far less touristy Italian city than any we had yet seen? Yes. We didn’t have time to explore the attractions that Flavia describes in her post, but we boarded the train for Florence with a desire to return to Lucca and its medieval beauty.

Lucca’s San Pietro Gate (Photo by C. M. Dennis)

The arrival of a fifth child, the purchase of a larger house, costly home repairs, economic slowdown, college tuition, and busy schedules have prevented a return trip to Italy. Time has softened my perspective on the ill-conceived attempt to squeeze yet one more thing into an already full day. The words “Pinocchio Park” have become a family byword, a symbol of that elusive extra goody just beyond one’s grasp. Lucca itself has become synonymous with a glimmer of light in a dark hour.

One day, I hope that Julia will have an opportunity to ascend those winding marble stairs for a splendid view of the city of Pisa and the Italian countryside.

View of Pisa from the Campanile

Note to the Reader: this post was written in response to a Blogging 101 assignment. All photos in this post were taken by my daughter Emily, my sister Christie, and myself. Please do not use them without permission. Special thanks to Christie for generously giving me access to her photos of Pisa and Lucca–and for being such a wonderful traveling companion in March 2004.

The Liebster Award: Who Are the Bloggers in Your Neighborhood?

Last week, I was surprised to find a nomination for the Liebster Award from canaf, who blogs about her rural lifestyle at Faithful Homesteader. “I’ll wait until my son’s fall break is over,” I decided. Two days later, I received a Liebster nomination from Lucile, whose delightful, thought-provoking posts can be read at lucile de godoy, on life. To both authors, thank you–not only for your recognition but also for your contributions to the community!

On this rainy afternoon, I watched my son ride away in his roommate’s car. Since my daughter’s fall break doesn’t start for a few days, I have a window in which to accept the Liebster, a word of German origin that means “dearest, sweetest, kindest, nicest, beloved, lovely, kind, pleasant, valued, cute, endearing, welcome, sweetheart and boyfriend” (from Lucile’s post). The purpose of the Liebster is to recognize and encourage relatively new bloggers–specifically, those with fewer than 200 followers. I decided to participate in passing on this award because reading “award” posts has helped me find blogs to follow, including the blogs of my two nominators.

My kids watched a lot of “Sesame Street.” As a consequence, “Oh, who are the people in your neighborhood?” started playing in my head as soon as I came up with the title for this post.  (“The Sesame Street Songbook”)

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As outlined in canaf’s post, here are the rules:

• Post the award on your blog.
• Thank the blogger who presented this award and link back to his or her blog.
• Write 11 random facts about yourself.
• Nominate 11 bloggers who you feel deserve this award and who have less than 200 followers.
• Answer 11 questions posted by the presenter and ask your nominees 11 questions.

This is not an “official rule,” but it’s a good idea to go to your nominees’ blogs and tell them about your nomination, with a link to your post.

This is not my neighborhood–it’s not even in the South–but I did take this picture.

Eleven random facts about the author of sappy as a tree:

• 1. I have worn glasses since I was 8.
• 2. I have always lived in the southern part of the United States.
• 3. I like cooking (but not shopping for groceries).
• 4. I am allergic to poison ivy and dust mites.
• 5. I once ordered a leather sofa over the phone: as you might expect, it is attractive but not particularly comfortable.
• 6. I own two different patterns of Christmas china.
• 7. When I was 7 years old, my mother found me sobbing because I thought I might get a “B” in music.
• 8. I have three sisters.
• 9. I also have two brothers.
• 10. Although I am not a runner, Chariots of Fire is one of my favorite movies.
• 11. I own all three seasons of the original “Star Trek” television show.

If any brave souls are still reading, I will now answer 11 questions from canaf AND 11 questions from Lucile. ( I’m becoming uncomfortable under the glare of the spotlight.) Here are canaf’s fun-to-answer questions with my responses:

1. Do you prefer sweet or salty foods? I like both: this is probably why I’m slightly overweight.
2. Are you urban, suburban, or rural?  Suburban.
3. Do you have a favorite reality TV show? My current favorite is Lifetime’s “The Kim of Queens.”
4. What is your favorite genre of music? Classical.
5. Do you have pets? if so, what do you have? No pets: our goldfish, Aragorn, died last month.
6. Dark or milk chocolate? I prefer dark.
7. If you could live in another time, when would you chose? As a child, I wanted to live in the 19th century. Now, I know enough history to realize that every era has its drawbacks.
8. What is your favorite color? Green.
9. Do you have a favorite sport? If so, what is it? I like playing tennis, but I am not a very good player.
10. Do you prefer a hot or cold climate? Cold.
11. What is your favorite movie genre? Hard question: drama, but I also like non-slapstick comedy and suspense.

Here are my responses to Lucile’s probing questions, for the intrepid readers who are still with me:

• 1. Are you afraid of the dark? Not any more, but strange noises in the dark unnerve me.
• 2. Do you care about recycling garbage? We faithfully recycle newspaper–a newspaper is delivered to our house each morning (my kids like the comics)–but we are not good about recycling other types of trash.
• 3. Are you happy?  I am happy with a tinge of guilt and anxiety.
• 4. If you had to say the truth or protect a friend, which one would you choose?  Eventually, I would say the truth, but I would agonize over it.
• 5. Are you addicted to social media? Yes, I fear that I am: my new WordPress addiction is overtaking my old Facebook habit: this might be better, since I am reading more?
• 6. Do you have a dream? I have a dream that every room in my house would be clean at the same time.
• 7. Have you ever been in love with a friend and never told him? Maybe long ago?
• 8. Tell us the funniest thing that has happened to you.  I am usually the source of my own comedy: at the age of 11, I was told to grease the bottom of a muffin pan; unthinkingly, I turned the pan over and–yes, this actually happened–I greased the bottom of it. I don’t always connect the dots when I am given oral instructions.
• 9. If you could choose another place, where would you live? I live in a beautiful place, but it would be nice to live in a less hilly location so that I could ride my bike more. The beach?
• 10. Don’t you like gossiping? I am ashamed to say that I like reading celebrity gossip: I won’t buy People, but I will read it in waiting rooms. When I do pass on “interesting” tidbits about one person to another, I regret it later.
• 11. Would you let me know if you would rather not be awarded and why?  I accepted, but I was daunted by the thought of coming up with 11 blogs to recommend. I recently nominated 15 blogs for the “One Lovely Blog” Award, and I tried to come up with different blogs for the Liebster Award.

At last: my eclectic list of nominees! I have been impressed by the honesty or eloquence of each of the bloggers below. (With the exception of #2 on my list, I tried to choose people who–as best I could judge–had not already been nominated for this award, but I could have goofed or something could have changed since I wrote this.)  Nominees, please do not feel any obligation to accept the Liebster Award. Like me, each of you has responsibilities outside the self-imposed writing that we do in our blogs. You are the best judge of whether you have time to participate in this. No worries, if you don’t. If you do, I know you will find it time-consuming, but I hope that you will ultimately find it to be rewarding. (I did.)

My nominees (in no particular order):

1. Perspectives On . .  work, life, and leisure
2. Write Out of the Darkness (I’m cheating, since Lucile nominated Terri; if you accept, skip my questions.)
3. LESSONS LE@RNED (I’m cheating again, since I did nominate Beth’s blog for the OLB Award.)
4. Family, peace, travel & fiction
5. Flavia Lozano
6. River of Life Flows
7. glasgowmango
8. Betzcee Rambles
9. our sacred breath
10. From My Plan to His
11. April’s Perspective

And here are my 11 questions, with this caveat: if any question seems too personal or makes you uncomfortable, please substitute one of Lucile’s or canaf’s questions instead.

1. If you walked into a Starbucks, what would you order?
2. Read a good book lately? Please divulge its title and author.
3. How do you feel about rainy days (or Mondays)?
4. Camping: do you like it or loathe it?
5. Name one of your favorite desserts.
6. When you travel from one place to another–via public transportation or personal vehicle–do you listen to news, music, audiobooks, or your own thoughts?
7. What is your favorite holiday?
8. Which section of a newspaper do you turn to first–news? editorials? comics? entertainment? crossword? sports? living? classifieds? realty? business?
9. For a date night, would you prefer a concert or a movie?
10. How long have you been authoring a blog?
11. Jane Austen’s character Lady Catherine de Bourgh famously said about the piano, “If I had ever learnt, I should have been a great proficient.” Is there a talent or skill that you wish you’d had the opportunity to develop? What might you have become a “great proficient” at, if you had had the opportunity to learn?

Up a Road Slowly: Lagging Behind in Blogging 101

It’s not quite the upward path I envisioned, but it is a road. (Photo by Julia Fleming)

When I was in the sixth grade, I read Irene Hunt’s Up a Road Slowly. Hunt’s best-known children’s book is Across Five Aprils, which I missed in my own childhood and discovered when my children and I were studying the Civil War. As a child, I didn’t particularly enjoy Up a Road Slowly, so I didn’t seek out Hunt’s other books. The visual image created by Hunt’s title–of climbing up a steep path, one step at  a time–is what I remembered ruefully this morning, after paying a visit to the Blogging 101 Commons with its busy chatter about today’s assignment. I felt so far behind most of the other bloggers. How can I reconcile completion of the Blogging 101 assignments with the demands of my real life (as opposed to my virtual life)?

Is my voluntary commitment to Blogging 101 barring me from the beauty of fall in the mountains? (This photo was taken by an iPhone 5 with no filters or HDR.)

Thanks to being out of town the last two weekends in September, I got woefully behind on the assignments. Two days ago, I made a feeble stab at “Start Personalizing,” but what I am longing to work on is the assignment that the other bloggers are doing–which changes from day to day! My rate of doing assignments seems to be two a week, at best. My true dilemma: do I press on to the next assignment, even when I feel that I didn’t master the skill taught by a previous assignment?

For 24 hours, I erroneously believed that Blogging 101 had ended, after I misunderstood this assignment. Thanks to the entertaining, nostalgic, evocative, witty, and lovely responses to various community challenges posted by other Blogging 101ers, I realized that I was wrong. Nope, the powers-that-be are still posting assignments for the blogging novice; it’s not time to post that “Elegy for Blogging 101” just yet. I’ve gone back to following the Commons: sure, my Reader is overflowing, but at least I know that assignments are still forthcoming.

Weekly Photo Challenge: Signs

I’ve tried jumping ahead with the assignments–this post is partly in response to the Nature Photo Challenge but primarily a response to the Daily Post’s Photo Challenge, which was to photograph and write about a sign. The words “Patient Entrance” not only had a literal meaning for me, as I walked into the shot clinic, but they also spoke to me as a new blogger who loves the exchange of ideas that she finds here at WPW (WordPress World) but finds the balance of responsibility and creativity difficult to manage. Yesterday, my college son, who is home on Fall Break, expressed his concern at finding me on my laptop 24/7: “You’re like a teenager, Mom. You’re always on the computer!” As I explained, I didn’t own a computer when I was in college or grad school: shouldn’t I get some catch-up time for the years that I missed? He pointed out that I was using a logical fallacy to justify my excessive computer time. (At least he’s learning something at college.)

If I am to enter successfully into the blogosphere, my family will need to be patient with me. Even my husband’s stoic silence may crack under the strain of unwashed dishes and cluttered countertops. But a double measure of patience is needed here: I need to be patient with myself as the latest assignments on Blogging 101 blow temptingly past me. Maybe I should even make a written list as the assignments come up, so that–if I decide to jump ahead–I could cross that one off the list?

The color of this maple tree’s leaves changed with my perspective.

The light also made a difference.

Although jumping ahead is permissible in Blogging 101–almost anything is permissible in Blogging 101, aside from disrespect, theft, or violation of blogger etiquette (a crime that I have inadvertently committed more than once)–I know myself to be a sequential learner. I like the contents of anthologies to be arranged chronologically. I am not a fan of unit studies (a common approach in homeschools), because I prefer to learn about events in the order that they occurred, not through a common theme. If I’m starting to read a new series, I prefer to start with the first book. Using my trusty Blogging 101: Zero to Hero bookmark on my toolbar, I shall look to see what assignment comes next for me personally–after my son has returned to college!  (I’m only able to type this post because he stayed up late rewatching the first movie in the Bourne trilogy, but I hear him walking around upstairs now. Time to get off the computer and cook him the nice breakfast that he doesn’t get at school.) Meanwhile, onward and upward, as I patiently enter the blogging world.

This was an interesting sign, but it inspires thoughts of the Jazz Age as opposed to the Blogging Age.

Note: All photos in this post were taken on an iPhone 5s.

 

No Blogger Is An Island: The “One Lovely Blog” Award

“No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main.”–John Donne, XVII. Meditation

I am indebted to Deborah Drucker for nominating my site for the “One Lovely Blog” Award. While I am usually opposed to chain tags–and am something of a hypocrite for accepting this nomination–it does help us newbie bloggers to feel that, yes, there is someone out there reading our posts. If this award helps any blog to gain readers, then it has done its job. While I was flattered to be nominated by Deborah, whose Notes Tied on the Sagebrush is always worth a read, I also accepted the “One Lovely Blog” Award because I had fun coming up with seven facts about myself.

Seven Facts about Sandi:

1. The first time my husband called to ask me out, he wanted me to be his “back-up date.” (Long story short: we had a When-Harry-Met-Sally friendship.) After his first and second choices turned him down, it was the beginning of a beautiful relationship, to tweak a phrase from Casablanca.

2. My “Forrest Gump” moment: at the age of 18, I got to shake Nancy Reagan’s hand. I was supposed to shake President Reagan’s hand, but he was unable to attend the ceremony on the White House lawn due to a last-minute conflict.

3. Also at the age of 18: I fell into a fountain at the Chattanooga Choo-Choo. I was not inebriated–just clumsy (drinking alcohol was against the rules at the private Christian college I attended). My espadrilles were ruined.

4. I spent two months in Pakistan’s North-West Frontier Province during the Gulf War.

5. During the week that we spent in the UK following our sojourn in Pakistan, my husband and I ate at Pizza Hut three times.

6. I have been a Suzuki mom since 1997. At least one of my children has been studying a musical instrument using the method outlined in Dr. Shinichi Suzuki’s book, Nurtured by Love, for 17 consecutive years.

7. The summer after my freshman year of college, I started playing the violin–mostly because there wasn’t much going on in my hometown. Eventually, I became proficient enough to play in the orchestra of the state university where I went to grad school (an adjunct professor was kind enough to teach me violin). True, I was last chair, second violin, but I got to play the second movement of Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 2 in C minor.  (My parents’ LP of Rachmaninoff’s Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini was the first classical music that I loved. My younger brother used to call the Rachmaninoff piano concerti “Rocky I,” “Rocky II,” and “Rocky III”–possibly not original but amusing.)

Here are the rules (nominees will follow). Nominees, if you wish to decline or ignore this nomination, I will completely understand. Should you choose to accept this award, here are the daunting rules, which I copied from Deborah’s post:

The One Lovely Blog Award nominations are chosen by fellow bloggers for those newer and up-and-coming bloggers. The goal is to help give recognition and also to help the new blogger to reach more viewers. It also recognizes blogs that are considered to be “lovely” by the fellow bloggers who choose them. This award recognizes bloggers who share their story or thoughts in a beautiful manner to connect with viewers and followers. In order to “accept” the award the nominated blogger must follow several guidelines:

* Thank the person who nominated you for the award.

* Add the One Lovely Blog logo to your post.

* Share 7 facts/or things about yourself

* Nominate 15 bloggers you admire and inform the nominees by commenting on their blog.

Here are my nominations. Each of these authors has written a post or posts that has, in some way, “connected” with me. The 16 blogs below represent the work of 15 authors (the same professor writes #3 and #4).

1. LESS@NS LEARNED
2. The Metamorphosis of a Wallflower
3. The Professor & Her Garden
4. My Year Away
5. Aileen Hunt
6. Cow Pasture Chronicles
7. Are We “Making You Think”
8. Redbuds and Rose Rocks
9. The Courtney Diaries
10. My Worst Advice
11. Fill Your Own Glass
12. Coolbreezeinthemountains
13. A Will for Will: The Shakespeare Project
14. gracespattern
15. A Hobbit’s Holidays
16. Gelatinous

From Theme to Shining Theme

This LEGO sculpture was part of a Sean Kenney exhibit at the Arboretum last November. All other pictures were taken October 2, 2014. Kenney takes LEGO creativity to a new level.

As any child who has ever built a LEGO set under my roof knows, I have compulsive tendencies. Woe to the child who skips a step in building his X-Wing fighter or–unthinkable–attempts to make his own design without first assembling the figure as laid out in the instruction booklet. I have even gone so far as to order missing pieces from the LEGO company. Once the prepackaged creation–an oxymoron, I admit–has been assembled, I accept that I must allow the toy to function as a toy. On principle, though, I prefer to follow steps in the correct order (a preference that has resulted in conflict with my husband, who turns to the directions when all else fails).

Quilt garden at the Arboretum

And so, in my dilatory but determined progress through Blogging 101, I came to Assignment 5 and felt compelled to complete this exercise if for no other reason than that it was the next step in the plan. I felt unenthusiastic because this assignment involved change: experimenting with three different “themes.” For the non-blogging reader, a blogger chooses the header, page layout, menus, and so on when she sets up the blog. There are over 290 themes here at WordPress. Not all themes are free, and, given that I was unsure how long I’d stick with this gig, “free” was my prime consideration when I became a blogger.

Anxious to get my blog set up, I had settled quickly on Twenty Ten, which allowed me to upload a header image; the title’s white default font, however, did not show up well over the photo, making my quotation hard to read. I had headed back to the theme showcase and chosen the first theme I found that would give me both a custom header and a visible title. Big Brother did the job, although the title font seemed a bit utilitarian.  After a week or so, I was used to it, but I had been bothered by my inability to use a featured image. Still, playing with different themes takes time. Was tweaking something that wasn’t broken worth the effort? On the Commons, I had read about bloggers trying to go back to their original themes and having to start from scratch. This worried me.

But the theme assignment was before me, with no way around it: I had to go through it. I was emboldened because of another blogger’s explanation of how to restore a theme. Counting Big Brother as my first experiment, I had to try only two more. So–deep breath–I set off to find a theme. By filtering the themes according to features that I wanted, I narrowed down the field to 78. I still had some browsing to do. Finally, I got out a notebook, archaic though it felt, and wrote down a few themes to try. It did take time, and I had to backtrack from activation more than once. After Twenty Twelve, Simplicity, and Widely all let me down, I was on the verge of restoring Big Brother, when I spied Able. I liked the preview well enough to activate it and have decided to keep it.

Once again, it seems that the folks writing the Blogging 101 assignments know what they are doing. Able is working far better for me than Big Brother did. I like the way my title looks. I can customize my header and my font color. I can feature an image when I publish my posts. While noticeable to me, the changes probably seem insignificant to others, but maybe that is the easiest way to approach change: one step at a time–one shade darker here, one shade lighter there.

With the assignment done, I felt so light-hearted that I proposed a walk at the Arboretum to my husband and son. There, the gradual move into autumn is changing the look of things.  The color changes are subtle in the woods, but, slowly, the greens are giving way to reds, oranges, and yellows.  Since it was late on a week day, we had the place almost to ourselves and could enjoy a quiet walk, drenched in the afternoon sunlight.

One incidental felicity of our visit to the Arboretum was an indoor exhibit on deep-sea exploration that my fourth grader found fascinating. He and his father had fun trying to pick up a sponge with a robotic arm like the one recently attached to Alvin, a submersible that helped to photograph the Titanic. Science lesson for the day? Check!

Although the Arboretum grounds are open until 7, the exhibits close at 5, so I had time for only one bonsai photo.

Although David would have happily remained at the Extreme Deep exhibit for another hour, I welcomed the time when the curator ushered us out of the building and back into the sunshine. My husband and I are going to enjoy our year’s membership at the Arboretum, an anniversary gift from our children. Nothing clears away the cobwebs like a walk in the woods.

One challenge down–for the moment, at any rate. In the wonderful world of WordPress, nothing is set in stone. Who can say that I won’t find a theme that I like better next month? For now, I can stroll past the reddening leaves of the dogwood and take cheer from the yellow daisies, knowing that today’s decision is behind me.

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Note to the Reader: as of late October 2014, Able no longer appears to support a Featured Image.