In lieu of having anything even vaguely exciting to blog about lately, I decided to riff on some rocks. This came to mind when my husband and I took at walk around a Falls Church neighborhood one afternoon this week and noticed more than one group of painted rocks. This seems to have become a pandemic pastime far and wide, which even my 95-year old mother expressed interest in trying recently.
This made me think about rocks in general, and the many rocks that I may have encountered in the past year or so. So, naturally, I went to my Google photos and searched “rocks” to see what the algorithm would come up with. Mostly this involved photos of rocks in parks in Pennsylvania, where we spend a lot of time this past year. Pennsylvania, as I have mused in this blog in the past, is full of rocks.
Among the photos on rock themes, however, a few popped up that really reminded me of the sense of loss of the past one year+, some of it having to do with the pandemic, but some of it having to do with some dear friends we lost this year to non-pandemic illnesses.
And so, I offer a small photo essay on rocks, loss, remembrance, and hope for a better rest of the year and years to come.
Easter themed rock garden in Falls Church invites people to take/add a rock (or shell?). Painted rocks are popping up all over the Northern Virginia suburban landscape.Another group of painted rocks at a local park. Not so curated but fitting for the setting!When one has a lot of rocks in one’s garden they must be put to good use. There’s never a dearth of rocks to hold down garden cloth in our Pennsylvania garden. This is the start of last year’s garden. The tomatoes did well but those brussell sprouts never thrived I fear.Travel with buddies was a big loss this year. Arlene and I missed out on a lot of ginseng fieldwork and its associated adventures in the Appalachian mountains, such as this one in the Great Smokey Mountain National Park in summer 2019.I was most saddened by this photo of Steve and our friend Tarik, who passed away suddenly this past year. As a prelude to our trip to Mexico, we visited with him and his family in the L.A. area, including with his daughter Madeeha who lived with us while interning at the Smithsonian. Our families have become fast friends and Tarik’s loss was a real blow for everyone who knew him. I like the idea of being commemorated “on the rocks.” I have no idea who this gentleman was but the location of the plaque is near our cabin in PA at The Pulpit, where hang gliders and parasails launch in good weather. Rock graffiti on the banks of the mighty Potomac, below Chain Bridge. Nuff said.
Since we haven’t been traveling anywhere interesting, or really doing much of anything new and exciting, I have resorted to turning inward for new blog material. Today’s blog, therefore, is all about what our refrigerator in Pennsylvania is sporting these days.
Some of the stuff on the fridge has been there for years, such as the recipe for crepes, and some of the magnets. When our daughter and her friends go up for their annual New Year’s Eve celebration, new items often appear. The ample poetry magnets (two sets, merged) make for an ever-shifting literary experience.
When we visited last week, we hadn’t been there since December. The new items included a blue paper snowflake and the drawing of two cats in cowboy outfits roasting some mice on sticks over a campfire. (Sorry, mice fans.)
What’s on your fridge? Chances are it is full of wild and wonderful magnets, stickers, and works of art. If it isn’t, I’m not sure we can be friends.
This was one of many art snowflakes produced by the snowbound over New Years.Artwork by Steve during a Pictionary type game. This is real artwork by our daughters friend Annie. Though not sure what is going on with that one cat and the happy looking roasted mouse. Annie, can you explain?One of the sets of poetry magnets was a successful bid at a Public Sector Section Auction at our annual American Folklore Society meetings. They are Cowboy Poetry magnets. Crepe recipe. No instructions necessary for us, but if you want to try it: Mix it together, let it set for a little while, mix again, and then pour a little into a flat-bottomed frying pan and swirl around to make it thin and pancake-sized. Cook till light brown on either side. Serve with whatever you like in your crepes such as fruit, cheese, sauted vegetables, etc.
Historic cemetery as tourism destination sounds kind of morbid, but in the case of Savannah’s Bonaventure Cemetery, it’s really a treat. A couple of weeks ago, during our month long stay in South Carolina’s Low Country, my husband and I set off on a cool but sunny day to wander the substantial grounds of this final resting place, made somewhat famous by its mention in the John Berendt book, Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil.
While it’s the home of the remains of some famous people, including popular composer Johnny Mercer and writer Conrad Aiken, there are many other things worth exploring here. These ranged from an area honoring railroad workers, to the origin of the Vulcan “live long and prosper” hand sign (extra research was needed to interpret this and other things, such as the “Cosmos Mariner – Destination Unknown” epitaph in the Aiken plot). The cemetery is situated on the edge of a scenic bluff overlooking the Wilmington River so you get some glimpses of nature in there, too. I’m sure one of the guided tours that staff and volunteers give (which have been somewhat curtailed by COVID) would be beneficial, but we found blundering around with the free map available at the office an interesting challenge.
Here are some highlights. Enjoy the snaps and visit if you are ever in Savannah!
Entrance to the cemetery. Turn right from here to get to the parking lot, if you keep going left you end up in a totally different cemetery.The cemetery has a large Jewish component and a Holocaust Memorial. My friend Arlene explained that stones are left on graves to basically say, “I was here and honored your grave.” Many graves had at least a handful of stones of various shapes and sizes.See link for above for an article explaining how Leonard Nimoy borrowed from his Jewish heritage to create the Vulcan greeting. I never knew this before noticing this on one of the Bonaventure gravestones. Did you?A view of the Wilmington River flanking this huge impressive memorial.Lots of angels here. This one was sort of creepy but the carving is amazing.Is this a memorial to the Order of Railway Conductors or just their guests??A list of some of Johnny Mercers most famous tunes is carved into this bench in his family plot. Try to get some of these out of your head after remembering how they go! Elaborately carved stones are all well and good, but…Flip-flops and pink flamingoes, now that’s my kind of memorial.
Well, it’s that time of year again when I debate whether it’s worth it to send out holiday cards and also to include some sort of holiday letter. I did compile one of these, and I hate for it to go to waste. And, I do appreciate reading the (more concise) versions sent by my friends.
But our printer has been giving me trouble, from non-connectivity to low ink reserves, and I hate to keep bothering my poor husband (and resident Tech Support Person) with these problems. (For one thing, he likes to recycle the ink cartridges himself and this usually results in pools or smears of various colors from magenta to cyan all over the dining room table, and his fingers, and anything else within striking distance.)
I used to send out photos of our darling daughter when she was younger, necessitating getting her to pose in some vaguely holiday themed way next to a pine tree or something, and then getting the photos printed (remember printed photos?) by whatever arcane means we had back when she was a child. This was before cell phone cameras or even separate digital cameras were prevalent (and she isn’t even 30 yet!).
Then I went to a family newsletter sort of thing, invariably criticized by husband and daughter about which photos I had chosen and what I said about their activities. Everyone’s a critic!
So, this year, having decided that I will send out cards to those people who are still on my card exchange list, do I just write nice handwritten notes to everyone, and if they really want to know more, suggest they connect to my blog? This works for the more computer savvy among them, but not that handful of Luddites or older folks who don’t do computers. Or just don’t like blogs.
I think I will just attach my letter thing here and hope for the best. If you want to go the extra mile and download it, please give that a try. If not, don’t. Apologies to those who don’t read my blog and to those who don’t want to click on the link as it’s the only way I could figure to add it. But since you are not reading this, I will have to apologize to you via written note. I am pretty familiar with that technology!
NOTE ON FEATURED IMAGE: We finally got to view the holiday lights at the Mormon Temple last year, which were very cool! Happy holidays to all!
During the second part of my vacation, I joined my old high school buddies, Debi, Debbie and Chris on an Adirondack adventure. (Not that this was really “roughing it”, but tent camping in your 60s is an adventure in and of itself. No matter how soft your camp mattress is, you wake up stiff and fold yourself out of the cocoon of the sleeping bag slowly and ungracefully. Groaning.) Lots of fresh air and space for distancing, especially after Labor Day.
We met up at lovely Rollins Pond. Why are some of the innumerable bodies of water up there are called ponds and some lakes? Apparently it has to do with the depth. But anyhow, Rollins is a pretty big pond and most camping sites are situated a short distance from the shore. Perfect for kayaking or taking a swim right from your “back door.”
Water-based activities by day, roaring campfire by night. This was our “routine” for three days.
The first full day there we set off in kayaks after breakfast and encountered one of the famous northern loons and her chick swimming placidly along. I regret the decision not to bring my phone with me to snap some shots, because I got close enough to stare into the mom’s beady red eye and to scare the chick into keeping close by her side. During various parts of the day, especially around dusk and dawn, we heard their haunting call.
I was hoping to see another loon or two when we took a sunset paddle, but alas we only crossed paths with a large group of hooded mergansers. I was prepared with my camera this time, though.
After dinner, Chris chopped a couple of humongous logs into oblivion, and the dry wood Debi and I had purchased along the way kept the stockpile going. Toasted on our front sides and chilled on the back sides, mesmerized by the glowing coals, we sipped wine and gossiped for hours about our acquaintances.
Our family always took camping trips when I was a kid, so this form of vacation always brings back childhood memories. I recalled how my mom would save up waxed half gallon milk cartons for the trips, and each night when bedtime approached, she would bring them out, one for me and one for my sister. She set them on the back of the fire pit and set them on fire. When they had burned down to ashes, we had to go to bed, no whining or cajoling for more time in front of the warm campfire allowed!
We didn’t have any such time restrictions on this trip, but by ten p.m. we were ready to call it a night and climb into our cocoons, lungs full of fresh pine-scented air, lulled to sleep by the loons.
Home away from home. (That was the name of our pop-up camper when we were kids by the way; Debbie and Chris have not named their small RV.)The merganser group takes in the sunset.Even a non-spectacular sunset is worth a paddle. Can’t complain about the one we got.Second day paddle started in Rollins, through a stream to Floodwater Pond and through more channels like this one ending eventually in Fish Creek Pond.
We’ve been spending the majority of our time during the pandemic and work from home experience in south central Pennsylvania, but occasionally we do need to dip back into our usual domain of Arlington, Virginia. One one of these occasions a couple of weeks ago, I decided to take a “walk on the wild side” on the Windy Run Trail.
This trail is only a short distance from our home, but offers a semi-wilderness-like tangle of trees and underbrush arrayed along a babbling stream (Windy Run, obviously). Although as you progress toward my usual goal, a dramatic bluff over-looking the Potomac River, the rushing sound of the stream gives way to the steam of rush-hour on the George Washington Memorial Parkway, which you cross under.
The day I sojourned along the trail, there were few other people astir, just a few dog walkers on close to the trail head. As I went deeper into the woods and up and down the steep portions on this muggy day, the air felt heavy and instead of feeling energized by the nature all around me, I began to feel slightly uneasy. I came for a short escape to nature, but the trees and the atmosphere started pressing down on me.
When I reached the underpass, the feeling accelerated. Graffiti referencing the killing of George Floyd was writ large along the metal beams. I caught my own breath as the full weight of the message “I can’t breathe” brought me back to the reality of our troubled country.
There is no escaping the news, the angry division of people, the fear and uncertainty. Nor should there be. It is the time and space we live in and must all confront daily. We live side by side with nature and human history, both at times beautiful but often ugly and disheartening.
I passed under the bridge with the traffic roaring above me and got to the other side. I stood on the high bluff gazing at the muddy waters of the Potomac. I felt a mix of emotions – awe at how untamed nature can still appear but cognizant of the fact that humans still fight so hard to control it, and each other.
Roll on, mighty river. Bring us some hope for better days.
The intersection of nature and human construction.Out of the suburbs and into the woods.Reality check.A view perhaps similar to what the early Patawomeks, on whose land I stood, might have encountered?
Getting creative is necessary in our “new normal.” Connecting creatively. Cooking creatively. Protesting creatively.
Along those lines, I have dusted off the sewing machine, tried new recipes, and – maybe most fun of all – started collaging with my friend Martha. I will admit, when Martha asked me if I wanted to “collage with her” via Skype, I said, “Huh?”
Collage seemed like something that went out with macrame (though I hear that is coming back, too?). But, since there are many old magazines around our premises just begging to be cut up and then recycled, I agreed to give it a try.
So, every couple of weeks, we call each other and chat while gluing little pieces of cut up magazines and other paper and even maybe fabric scraps onto pieces of paper to create some kind of artistic thing. The last two times I made cards, which to me seemed more useful than a potential wall hanging.
I am practical-minded, obviously, but the product is not the point. Its the companionship, the chat we have about whatever comes to mind or happened that day or week, which comes simultaneously with the art-making, that is the real exchange here.
In other creative endeavors, I have made some face masks out of old sewing projects for family and friends. I realized that some of the material in my scrap drawer is over 30 years old, but fabric doesn’t expire and it’s good to work it into something everyone is using everyday now (or should be use, but that is another story we won’t get into here).
As for cooking creatively, this can mean using whatever is in your pantry, or even engaging in a little friendly competition. My buddies (who I used to eat lunch with in the office) and I decided to stage a “pie baking competition” over July 4 weekend. Their’s were a lot prettier and more creatively crusted than mine, but we declared everyone a winner anyhow.
I just wish we had been able to share the pies with one another. Some day soon, we can all still hope. Meanwhile, we do what we can to stay connected.
Rainbow card collage. I sent it to my mom who likes rainbows.Sort of a sunrise or sunset type of feel. It’s all in the interpretation, right?Masks for my mom and sister. I can’t even recall what I originally made out of these cotton fabrics !Sweet potato pie which I tried to make prettier by photographing with day lilies! It tasted good at least even if it wasn’t really that pretty!
As I pulled up to the parking lot nearest the tiny beach of Cowans Gap Lake for an evening swim, I thought I heard bagpipes. In nearly thirty years of coming to the lake to walk, swim, boat, surreptitiously pick apples, and otherwise commune with nature, that was a first.
Cowans Gap is our default Pennsylvania State Park. Located about six miles from our cabin atop Tuscarora Summit, it offers year-round recreation. Sandy beach without jellyfish and sharks – though maybe a few stray Canada geese – boat launch and rental, and, most used of all by our family, a one-mile trail circumnavigating the lake.
We started coming to the park when visiting my (then boyfriend, now husband’s) friend John Small, who lived nearby. I recall, though he doesn’t, talking about our future on the one occasion I talked him into renting a paddle boat. (He’s not a boat person, and I now know it must have only been true love which drove him to acquiesce.)
Several years later, we introduced our baby daughter to the joys of walking around the lake on a cold February day. Not sure she was convinced then, but when she got older and we had built our cabin, many more weekends included a walk around the lake. We formed a ritual which included: 1. Always turn right from the parking lot and walk across the dam first. 2. Pitch a good sized rock off the dam aiming at the stream below. 3. Stop to walk out on the small fishing pier to look for fish or other wild life (salamanders, newts, etc.) 4. Skip stones at the shallow spot near the island. 5. Have a stick race at the bridge.
Over the years, we encountered many wonders walking around the lake. The eerie sound of ice cracking in a spring thaw. Exploring the contours of the lake bed the year they drained it for dredging. And once, while walking around the lake after dark (which they don’t let you do anymore now), a perfect luna moth glowing green in the moonlight.
But, I had never heard anyone playing the bagpipes before, and thought I might be imagining those faint but distinct notes of Scotland the Brave and Amazing Grace. To make sure I wasn’t going crazy, I asked some other beach-goers, and they heard it too. The music brought back memories of my one and only trip to Scotland in 1988, and another bagpiper playing the same tunes when we visited Loch Ness.
When I got home, I looked up the events page of the park to see if they had scheduled a program of bagpipe playing that evening. But all I found was an upcoming program celebrating Big Wet Rodent Day. The wonders of Cowans Gap never cease.
M.E. does not look all that thrilled at her first walk around the lake.When Steve’s cousins visited, a walk around the lake was mandatory.A few years ago, our friends Alex and Anastasia got married in the lakeside pavillion.Fall glory, looking down on the beach from the overlook.Even the starkness of winter brings its own beauty.I guess not!Moonrise. Nuff said.
My Google photo feed sends me down memory lane with “revisit this day x years ago” and it is painful. The photos this week were all of past Smithsonian Folklife Festivals, where I would have been this year.. except that didn’t work out, right?
For over thirty years, until last year, I’ve been on the National Mall on July 4. It was just another work day, albeit one usually with even more people than usual especially toward the end of the day. And a staff barbecue and fireworks at the end.
This year we went digital, Beyond the Mall, on Facebook Live and YouTube, schedule here. (if you missed the live programs you can watch the recorded versions.) Our team worked on the June 24, July 2 and July 5 programs. It was a lot of work, but nothing compared to the intense planning and execution of doing the Festival on the Mall.
Several members of the Festival staff commented that they didn’t miss the triple H weather (hazy, hot and humid) and the pop-up thunderstorms. But that was all part of the package that came with in-person camaraderie with staff, volunteers, interns, participants, visitors. Hugs and handshakes and sharing good food and laughs.
Will we be back on the Mall next year? We really hope so. And if we are, we will complain about the heat and humidity just as much as always. But if we can gather together and do what we do best, it will be worth it.
Here are some of my photos from past Festivals. Visit us online and keep wishing and hoping for a better next year!
In 2018, we had our Bengali visitors in DC during the Festival. Here they shared our July 4 staff barbecue with a couple of our interns.2017 “Circus Science” tent with our clown educator friends from the Sarasota, Florida Circus Academy. 2016 Basque program kid’s area, the Txiki Txoko. How many times did we grouse about being swamped by summer day camps in their matching t-shirts? Bring ’em on!
Blogging in the time of the pandemic is, well, sort of boring. Not much really happens, so there’s not much to write about. And, people are so sick of screens that I’m not sure they need any more reading-on-a-screen.
But, still, what is a blog for anyhow? Mine, because I have relatively few readers, is as much a chronicle of where I’ve been and what I’ve been doing than something I think will ever go viral or have hundreds, much less thousands, of readers.
And, so, as usual I go through my latest photos to see what I’ve found interesting or important to document. Much of them had to do with getting outside in our portion of rural PA. Enjoy if you have not been able to do so yourself and stay safe!
We”ve been taking a lot of long walks in the woods. Finding new parks and new trails.I take a lot of photos of plants, sort of a digital herbarium. Then you can check their identity with a Google i.d. tool. This is mayapple which I should have known!)Revamp of garden previously mostly rocks and weeds! Thanks to our landscaping buddy, Tim, and his marvelous little digger.The late spring has meant more time to appreciate cherry blossoms. These were on the campus of the Mercersburg Academy.Driving around rural Pennsylvania you inevidibly come across some interesting industrial history like these old coke ovens that fed the steel industry in earlier times. Now a good place for wildflowers to grow.and theres this on nights when it’s clear…
