Those baby's are FAST!

Caught on the Fly

DH thinks I should leave the better camera at home.

I love my job......really

No joke. I work in insurance, personal lines, writing and maintaining policies for people with their homes, their cars, their toys. My first job was in insurance, I was about 20 years old. I thought, as I sat through the occasional mandatory class, that there could be nothing more boring in this universe. Risk, legal jargon, co-signors - BAH. I went and did other things for the next twenty years.

Then, I was in a situation where I was looking for work. There was a job open in a local agency, they wanted me based on my ancient experience, and because I needed it, I accepted the job. To my surprise, it was all the same, and as I sat down at my desk I found that I really didn't need any training....just to familiarize myself with the new companies underwriting rules and the paper flow of the agency.

But, to my surprise, I found it interesting and challenging. First of all, I like efficient systems and I like to be pressed to a pretty high level - it makes the time pass quickly - and there was plenty of pressure. Even more surprising, I found that I understood the concept of the policies and could connect my empathy and concern for my clients with what I now knew they needed, rather that feel I was providing paper baloney to a captive audience.

None of us like to pay bills, and can get particularly snarky about one that the state or the bank says "YOU MUST" have. I get that, I've been there and I've had difficulty paying bills at one time or another, and I know the freakin insurance bill never stops, and never goes down. But, I've also had losses.

Sometimes, there are losses that are and remain just that. Something that is gone forever. Be it a love affair, a marriage, the death of someone close, a treasured bit of property or heirloom misplaced, it is something or someone never to be back. It leaves a hole in life, a void that eventually fills in, but the knowledge of that loss never leaves. Always, the thought of what could have been, even a feeling of responsibility or guilt remain.

I am lucky enough to be professionally placed to deal with losses that can, if not be fixed, at least be compensated. I comb through my clients policies and make sure, to the best of my ability, that they are getting the most bang for their buck. Raise that deductible, add this coverage, have a better contract. It doesn't mean anything right now, and hopefully it never will. But, if there is a loss, and its covered by that contract, instead of that void there is replacement. I strive to write a contract that will make them whole.

And that's why I forget to make those pesky personal phone calls to the gas company, or the Dr.s office or whatever I may have forgotten today.

Feeling Altruistic

Just to save anyone the span of time I spent looking for the answer, I offer you this net snag:

"Comments re Michigan Lily: This attractive lily is similar to other lilies with orange flowers, including Lilium superbum (Turk's Cap Lily), Lilium michiganense (Michigan Lily), and the introduced Lilium lancifolium (Tiger Lily). Like the flowers of Canada Lily, the flowers of Michigan Lily and Turk's Cap Lily often nod downward. However, the tepal tips of Michigan Lily curve back to the base of the flower, while the tepal tips of Turk's Cap Lily curve back and extend behind the base of the flower. The tepal tips of Canada Lily, in contrast, curve back only a little and remain in front of the base of the flower. The introduced Tiger Lily, in contrast to these native lilies, has dark bulbets in the axils of its leaves along the central stem, and its leaves are alternate (rather than whorled). Other orange-flowered lilies, whether native or introduced, typically have erect flowers. Of these various species, you are most likely to encounter the Michigan Lily in the natural areas of Illinois, although the Tiger Lily has become increasingly common."

And, just when I decided it had to be a Turks Cap Lily I double checked the leaves, and now I think it's a Tiger Lily.

If you build it, they will come

I am the house!

I'm still trying to remember my dreams. The project is not going so well. Sometimes I get a snippet, and it is just as dull and mundane as can be. I think, this is the best you can do? Even in dreams? Sheesh.

But recently I did dream of a house. And because it was a different house, I also recall that through the years I have dreamed of a series of houses. Many I can't recall, but one that stands out was huge. We went in through the basement, and there were a multitude of rooms with old stuff stored in them, probably junk but possibly usable and potentially valuable. Something to go through and sort out sometime.... but so many rooms, so much stuff.

There were about 5 or 6 stories to this structure; it was most like one of those hotels that used to be built in the early 1900's. It was solid, but it had been vacant for a long time. We were able to get the first floor into very good order, beautiful living room, plenty of bedrooms, good kitchen. That is where we lived while contemplating renovation of the rest. I don't think the renovation ever happened. The only other noteworthy part of the house was the roof terrace. The view was grand, it had formerly accommodated a banquet kitchen and sky top dining, but we just occasionally used it as a height to look out from and enjoy. The fact that 75% of the house was a wreck and spooky weighed it all down, but there was beautiful living space on the first floor, and it was enough.

Its Worth the Wait!

Yesterday on my way out to work, I noticed that there is finally a bloom on the Clematis. It grows prolifically every year, foliage only. But it finally bloomed, and I caught it with the camera. I am hoping it will bloom some more, it has such a beautiful and delicate flower. (click on the image to really see it.)

New Growth

I love the garden process, more than the results I think. I like to pull weeds, clear out space, plunk plants in here and there. Every now and again I will sit down and enjoy the garden, but it's not why I mess with it. What I really love is new growth.

Sometime when I get a new plant, I will split off a piece to see if I can make it two. This year in planting the new space, I decided to take bits of my tried and true plants and see if I can get them to take in the new spot. I took some of the rose that is in the header, and they are doing really well. Even John Cabot Jr. is showing me signs of new growth, albeit very slowly.

Sarah is just fine. I went and embarrassed myself by getting panicky about her, when I know perfectly well I don't hear from her as much when she is busy and happy. Ah well, it is what it is.

Digital Black Hole

Good Lord, I get on this thing and then I'm lost. I can lose half a day, and accomplish very little. I got on at about 9 this morning to look for information about feeding pond plants. It has taken me two hours to find out that I should go and buy fertilizer. I was trying to find my way around that!

New camera is very fine, it was a gift. I ran right out and bought a camera case, pink, so I can see it. The picture on the header was one of my first taken with it. It is a bloom from Therese Bugnet that has managed to survive for several years.

Have to go....there are 842 shots left!

Synchronicity

I'm don't remember my dreams. I wake up clear headed (most times) and after coffee I'm ready to go. I'd like to take a look at what goes on in the other 40% of my life, so lately, when I open my eyes I try to remember to think about where I might have been. Usually nowhere.

But, the other morning, I was in my garden, and I remembered! Dr. Darling was in my dream. I was disappointed when I could dig up no more than just that, but.....I was definitely feeling better. Interestingly enough, that day's entry in 'My Year with Rumi" by Coleman Barks went as follows:

The Doctor Who Comes

In his dream an old man appeared,
Good King, I have news.

Tomorrow a stranger will come, I have sent him.
He is a physician you can trust.
Listen to him.

As dawn rose, the king was sitting in the belvedere on his roof.
He saw someone coming, a person like the dawn.
He ran to meet this guest. Like swimmers
who love the water, theit souls knit together
without being sewn, no seam.

The king opened his arms
and held the saintly doctor to him.
He led him to the head table.

At last I have found what patience can bring.
This one whose face answers any question,
who simply by looking can loosen
the knot of intellectual discussion.

Now Husam touches my arm.
He wants me to say more about Shams.

Sarah has landed safe and sound, and is still recovering from the long trip. Pictures to follow.

Fabulous Friday

Sarah called, she's landed in Dubai, 2/3rds of her trip done. She sounded tired, but OK. I am a bit until unsettled she gets where she's going. Soon, mama, soon.

I was in the yard this morning. The baby hummingbirds are out. There were three of them on the clothesline, smaller than the clothespins they sat next to. The were testing the world for tastiness. NG on the pink lidded bird feeder that holds sunflower seeds, but the red roses were tasted, as well as a lavender flower I don't know the name of right now. Of course, the hummingbird feeders were well attended.

I hope to have a new camera soon, but don't have one yet.....type and cost is being decided. But, the above is a picture of a hummingbird rescue from last year. The little darling fell off the feeder, I think after loosing a battle with another hummingbird. Les picked him up, held him for a minute, and then put him into a box. He rested for a while, and then took off.

Sarah's Trip

It will begin shortly. She's going half way across the world, more or less on a whim. One time I met someone who interpreted me with some Latin words that meant "As the spirit moves you". I thought it apt. Sarah could be described the same way, except my spirit seems much more geographically fixed.

Via con Dios amiga!

John Cabot new shoot transplant

Garden for Kendall

It has come around again. Years ago, I worked on a garden and lost myself in it. Then I got sad, and then I got sick. The garden grew without me. The weeds encroached and only the most hardy and aggressive flowers made it through the cold hard winters and summers of neglect. Only a few roses of the many survived.

There was some poking around in there before, but I have decided to name my new space the Kendall Garden. There are new roses in there. I am wiser now, and there will be no more tea roses planted in what is demonstrated to be a hostile environment. Maybe the floribunda rose Trumpeter will manage better. I moved a shoot from....I think it is John Cabot over to the new space. The shoot was new this year. Shortly after I noticed it growing well out of place, it fell victim to the lawn mower. Despite this, it regrouped, put out a few leaves and emerged again. It is in a much safer location now.

I Grieve

I was a private person on Monday, getting along, keeping most things to myself. I really don't know why, lots of reasons I suppose. I don't like to infringe on anyone, my opinion is just one of many. I'll share if asked, but mostly I just get along.

I was a reasonably happy person on Monday. I got scruffy in the garden, planted some tomatoes, pulled out some weeds, and then later had a back yard barbeque with friends. It was a good three day weekend.

See all these "I"s in here? They make me uncomfortable.

I got a call from my nephew on Tuesday morning. Can you come here? Can you come now? It was about 7:15, I wasn't dressed for work yet. I had only just begun my morning meditation. When you get a call like that, you go. I threw on some clothes, the first pair of pants my hand touched, the red turtleneck on the top of the pile. The first shoes were orange crocs that I had worn Monday evening. I ran back for red ones.

My nephew, son of my youngest sister, my best friend. We've shared holidays, talks, personal relationships, pets and relationships within our family, most significantly we my sister, Kendall.

He had a hard way to go, but he's landed on his feet solidly. Sometimes we talked about his mom, she also had a hard way to go, and struggled from very early on to get her own feet on the ground.

I tried to help her. It seems so arrogant to me now, the presumption that I could. She tried to help me too, but her method was simple. One time I was sad. She knew, and she was there for me. Every Sunday. As my sad lifted, we continued, every Sunday. Mostly we sewed. We made quilts. We made gifts. We had fun.

Then some of life's complications set in. For her and for me. We didn't get together every Sunday. I went to church, she didn't. We talked on the phone some, but neither of us was very good at that. There was alot she didn't, wouldn't or couldn't talk about. Her terrors didn't lift. My help was only temporary it seemed, a band-aid.

I didn't give up, but in truth, I asked her to try to help herself. It was getting heavy for me, and all that I had to offer didn't seem to lighten anything for her. She wanted to see things the way I did, she wanted to be free and easy, but when she opened her eyes what she saw frightened her.

Everything was so extreme for Kendall. I grieve that what I saw as an interlude, a rest, may have appeared to her as the end. I grieve and acknowledge that, if only in this one instance, she was correct.

Rest in peace, sister. I love you.