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F*** U-TURNS

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 5 Comments

Next time you see one of those “No U Turns” signs on someone’s driveway, think about their side of the story and the audacity of some of the public.

We know an old farm in Maine that has a driveway connecting to both the busy highway in front of the house and a country road to the side. It gets plenty of “summer people” congestion at the traffic light, along with drivers who try to beat it by driving taking the driveway – or worse, just driving through the yard.

Recently, during a sudden storm, one SUV dodged in under the tree in the front yard to deflect hail, in the process mowing down hostas and other flowers before then backing hard into the parked pickup truck on the way out, and gunning it down the road.

Later, when one of the residents of the house was turning up the driveway from the side road, another car, crowded with tourists, came the other direction – and gave her the finger when she refused to back out so they could pull on through. Look, it’s her home, not theirs!

Their New York plates did nothing to soften the reputation.

WALNUT ASSAULT

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 4 Comments

Among the mature trees surrounding our house are several black walnuts, including one that hangs over the 1928 one-story addition where our kitchen sits. Its open ceiling allows us to hang pots, pans, and stemware from the joists – shall we just call it a rustic look? – and I’ve sometimes considered installing a skylight or two.

On the other side of that roof, squirrels strip the nuts from the trees early in the season of a typical year. Watching their frantic action can be quite amusing, first as the leaves on a branch shake furiously and then as a squirrel bounds away with a large ball in its mouth.

A few nuts might actually survive into autumn. More likely, we find them buried the next spring as we prepare the new garden and sift compost. Having lived here for a decade-and-a-half, we think we know what to anticipate as the seasons advance.

Not this year, to our surprise, at least as far as the walnuts go.

Our awareness that something was amiss began in the middle of the night. Was somebody trying to break into the house?

The next morning, though, as wind whipped around the house, the noise really picked up. Imagine someone hitting the kitchen roof with a baseball bat. Repeatedly, sometimes three or four a minute. The whack was enough to make us jump.

I moved one car further from the house – we’d seen what large hail did to a friend’s pickup truck and the damage wasn’t pretty. These nuts were larger and heavier, after all, and ones that fell on that side of the roof were bouncing into the driveway.

The tree still has a few nuts left on the branches, but the racket has slowed considerably. Instead, some of the pathways leading to the garden are now covered in walnuts. As my wife observed, it’s like trying to walk on marbles.

Between that and the noise, it’s enough to drive anyone nuts.

Or squirrelly.

WHERE SMALL TOUCHES ADD UP TO DELIGHT AND PLEASURE

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 2 Comments

My wife is big on “quality of life” touches that affect our sense of living. They don’t have to be big expenses, either, as many of her yard-sale finds demonstrate.

The concept hit me while changing the bed the other day in my gratitude regarding a new set of striped flannel sheets, unlike the old floral patterns.

Just wait till we slip in, I thought. Oh, the sweet anticipation!

IN THE FLITTING MOMENT

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

The delight of watching from our dining room as a hummingbird goes from one bloom to the next in a tithonia beside the window – observing the balanced hovering of what looks like giving each one an injection of a special nectar and then moving on, to repeat the dance figure. And then, it’s gone.

It’s the joy of embracing a rare moment before it’s gone. And then? It’s a lesson in appreciating life itself.

DWELLING WITH A GHOST

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

New Englanders – at least those living in old houses – will occasionally speak of ghosts, and their stories can be compelling, no matter how skeptical the listener.

Of course, the specifics can differ. A dark apparition moving silently through dark hallways – or, in other modes, clumping loudly up and down the staircase. Leave empty junk food wrappers and soda cans and bottles on the counters and coffee table and even in the unmade sheets. Laugh eerily at midnight. Slide in front of you at the bathroom door, close it, lock it.

Drain the wi-fi bandwidth.

Expect steak and lobster and cheese while ignoring lettuce or eggs or peas.

But have you ever heard of a trail of stench that follows its movement? Oh, that detail is so telling. The fear of taking a shower, as well – the soap and washcloth remaining untouched.

They speak of the chill you feel, more than the dense smoky cloud. Or the echoing conversation as it’s twisted with a chortle and thrown back.

One version, in fact, has every intimate conversation accompanied by a Hollywood laugh track. And that, I’ll contend, is the most annoying.

A SIGNATURE FLOURISH

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 2 Comments

They’ve become a kind of signature for our place every summer, even though it’s been a number of years since we’ve planted any. The neighbors tell us how much they enjoy the sunflowers. They’ve become self-seeded, no doubt enhanced by our bird feeders.

As for all of the goldfinches, now that’s another matter! Just look at that bright yellow on bright yellow …

ADAPTING TO THE MODERN FAMILY

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

Finding adequate terms to define someone in a contemporary family relationship can be elusive.

I don’t mean the euphemistic police blotter application of “live-in girlfriend” to the mother of the suspect’s latest child or its transformation to “his fiancee” after the birth of their second or third.

What I’m thinking would fit situations like “my wife’s ex-father-in-law” when he’s still on very good terms, unlike his son, the ex. While still roundabout, calling him “my kids’ grandfather” turns into the most direct description, though it takes a few seconds to register.

Then there are the extensions. Consider the favorite sister-in-law of a favorite brother-in-law, when she’s part of the active scene you share. Have we ever had terms that fit there? Now try “my ex-brother-in-law’s ex-wife” before twisting it further into “ex-wife’s new husband.”

When families scatter across today’s continent or the world, keeping track of even first-cousins can be vaporous. That’s largely ancient history.

Genealogists have charts to assist in determining third-cousins from fourth- or fifth-, along with the “times removed.” Anyone ready to tackle something similar for today’s all-too-fluid familial connections?

THERE WENT THE WEEK

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

A call to my cell phone the other Monday threw me for a loop. I was on the way back from my daily swim when I got the news that the first round of three cords of stove wood was on the way.

What it meant was that one end of our driveway would soon be buried in cut and split wood and my plans for the rest of the week would drastically change. Except for one day of thunderstorms and rain, I’d be stacking – always a lesson in the process of writing and revising, actually, including its exercises in structure and observation. Do it right, and it’s solid for seasoning into several winters. Sloppy, and it all falls apart.

Among my other thoughts was the question of how many more years I might be doing this. The wood felt heavier than I remembered. Even with my new routine of daily exercise, achy muscles and joints started appearing. At least I had the perspective of knowing how long you just have to keep plugging away before you notice any progress – and then, somewhere in a sensation of futility, you might experience that flash of realizing you’re making progress. The second half usually seems to go faster than the first half, too, unless you get overly anxious.

Now I sit back and admire that wall of stacked fuel – the one I’ll take down, piece by piece, all too quickly some winter.

A LITTLE TRASH TALK

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 2 Comments

The SUV pulls out from in front of a neighbor’s house and tosses a plastic iced-coffee cup, straw, and lid onto the elderly woman’s driveway across from me as I’m weeding.

I retrieve it, put it in our recycling bin.

So they want a clean interior?

It’s not their vehicle that needs purging.

Oh, Lord, help us!