Category Archives: Flora

Comforts

Note: I began this post the last week of May 2020. I had an idea to write about things that comfort me in, as they say in those T.V. ads, “these uncertain times.” I have been thinking about these uncertain times. I thought about the plagues of Europe I had read about. I thought about the Navajo Nation. I miss being with my children, but I know I am lucky; I just can’t hug them right now.

Then, things fell apart (even further than they ever have since January 2017). How can a pandemic with over 100,000 dead not be first on my list of sorrows this morning? I feel like I am back in the uncertain times of my youth, circa 1967-1968, but worse.

I need comfort even more today and I hope I can offer some respite for a few minutes.

About seven or eight years ago I asked my sister-in-law Judy if she would teach me to knit and she said sure. I have always admired my relatives and friends who could knit, crochet, and do other crafts. I thought I would enjoy knitting while I talked or watched T.V. Lord knows I could use the comfort and calm that such activities are supposed to provide. I bought enough soft brown (mostly) alpaca yarn to knit Tom a scarf. You will see below how far I got on the scarf. I wanted to concentrate on my knit/ purl tasks, but sitting with my family on reunion weekend, I just couldn’t. The words were more important to me than the task, I guess. Back home, I asked my friend Robin to help me back on track a couple of times, but I did not understand. I did not persevere.

my knitting

A couple of years later when my friend Donna heard this story, she offered to teach me to crochet instead. I tried. Donna was very patient. She told me there were YouTube videos I could watch to help me when I forgot–again–what I was supposed to do. You can see how far I got on whatever I was making below.

my crocheting

While I have not yet learned to do calming and lovely crafts–no March sister here knitting socks for the Union Army while waiting for Marmee to come home–I can do some things that comfort me some in these times.

For example:

I love nature and I love writing lists. Related to that, I have–sort of–wanted to be a naturalist for about 50 years. So, I love writing lists that include plants, animals, and specific tidbits about nature. I recently started a list describing the flora and fauna of Hillside Park, a nearby little public park where Tom and I volunteer. Just setting up the table and starting to list the trees helped me feel more relaxed than I had in days. Here is a sample from the list:

Name	Scientific Name	Native?	Notes
Trees/Shrubs
arrowwood viburnum	Viburnum dentatum	yes
beech	Fagus grandifolia	yes
black cherry	Prunus serotina	yes
fragrant sumac	Rhus aromatica	yes
black locust	Robinia pseudoacacia)	yes
catalpa	Catalpa speciosa	yes	blooming now; end of May
hackberry	Celtis occidentalis	yes
kousa dogwood	Cornus kousa	no
mulberry, prob white	Morus alba	no	if this turns out to be red mulberry, it is a welcome native, but not likely, I think

oaks, Hillside Park, Arlington Virginia

Books about trees comfort me. Last week, Among the Ancients: Adventures in the Eastern Old-Growth Forests by Joan Maloof reminded me of old forests I have walked in. Just writing this now, this morning, calms my anxious heart a little.

Like so many others, I have been doing quite a bit of baking these last months. Actually, I have needed to curtail this urge somewhat because a) while we do exercise and take walks, there has been a great deal of sitting while reading, watching T.V. and, for me, compulsive solitaire playing b) we don’t have the metabolisms we had back in the day when I would bake a treat every day.

butter tarts with Michigan cherries and walnuts

Even more than my baking, watching Tom cook old favorites–remembering happy times with family and friends–comforts me. Both my appetite and my heart have been satisfied with Tom’s meals: Lasagna, albondigas soup, chile verde, meatballs and tomato sauce!

I don’t think listening to music calms me down; more like it excites me, makes me cry, and, sometimes gives me the shivers–but those reactions provide their own comfort. Mostly, we listen to classical music, but lately we have also been listening to folk and rock, too. Bob Dylan, Joni Mitchell, Doc Watson, the Beatles, even the Beach Boys (Good Vibrations), have caused that sharp intake of breath.

I have been thinking about Leonard Cohen these last several days. The song I am particularly thinking about is Democracy. I hope Leonard is right and that someday (soon) , “Democracy is coming to the USA.” This idea comforts me and I still (mostly) believe it. Please be well. Please be safe. Peace.

Love, Lynda

This May and Others

Trees, Part 2: Photos

Trees

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treehugger, Inyo National Forest, California

I love–and I don’t believe that is hyperbole–many kinds of trees. When I was a small child, I loved the Colorado blue spruce on a nearby street in my Detroit neighborhood. Even as a little kid, I think I knew what an excellent blue spruce it was and at Christmastime there were holiday lights on it.

In my mind, I see the trees of our home on the lake almost as vividly as I see my dad raking the leaves or my mom taking care of the petunias in the window box by the door (later, as the trees grew ever larger, I think she had to put in impatiens). Mostly we had oaks–my Dad said they were black oaks– and hickories. We had a sassafras down by the lake and, for a while, a cherry up by the mailbox.

Once I traveled west in 1970, I loved the ponderosas, pinyons, junipers. aspens, bristlecone pines, and many others. When I moved to Virginia, I fell in love with the tulip poplars.

pinyon pine, Canyonlands National Park

aspens, La Sal Mountains

bristlecone pine, Great Basin National Park

tulip poplar, Arlington National Cemetery, Arlington, Virginia

What I can’t understand is how I failed to focus on sycamores for so many decades. I started noticing them about six years ago in Arizona. Then, back here in Virginia, I finally noticed that sycamores stand sentinel along the Potomac and the Shenandoah Rivers (among others). Wild, ragged, and ghostly: Sycamores make me think about the tangled beauty of this world.

Arizona Sycamore (Platanus wrightii), Ramsey Canyon Preserve, Arizona

sycamore on the banks of the Shenanandoah River

American sycamore (Platanus occidentalis) on the banks of the Shenandoah River, Virginia

The News I Need

Today (EST)

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About thirty minutes ago I gave myself the choice of spending the afternoon finishing Colson Whitehead’s The Underground Railroad, watching an afternoon NFL football game, or–now that summer appears over–putting up some final summer flower photos. I think the novel is wonderful, but it is too emotionally challenging for me today. I love football, but I was in the stands when Michigan beat Maryland yesterday; that is enough. So, I am posting some photos. With them, I send my (still) hopeful wishes for us all.

tulip poplar flower, Arlington National Cemetery, Arlington, Virginia

pitcher plant, Bartholdi Park, Washington, DC

Dutchman’s pipe vine, Mary Livingston Ripley Garden, Washington, DC

bee on phlox, Mt. Cuba Center, Hockessin, Delaware

monarda

unidentified, June 14, 2019

at the National Arboretum, Washington, DC

pickerel weed, Punderson State Park, Ohio

pinkweed, Punderson State Park, Ohio

pussy ears, Mary Livingston Ripley Garden, Washington, DC

toad lilies, Bartholdi Park, Washington, DC

swamp titi (Cyrilla racemiflora), USBG Regional Garden, Washington, DC

Pleasant Peninsula

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Introduction

I have always felt lucky to have grown up in Michigan. I always bought into the state’s motto: “If you seek a pleasant peninsula, look about you.” I spent my childhood looking about me: Higgins Lake, Kensington Park, Lake Erie, Lake Michigan, Lake Huron (I think I only met Lake Superior when I was a bit older). The Detroit Zoo, Belle Isle, Boblo, Greenfield Village, Scotty’s Fish and Chips, Cape’s Ice Cream in Milford: the list is diverse and goes on and on. A few weeks ago, Tom and I were lucky enough to take a trip to the Lower Peninsula. Below are some photos of the trip.

Mackinac Island

Lake Huron

milkweed pod

rocks, trees, steps, Mackinac Island

Sleeping Bear

Lake Michigan

pine needles and fungus

shore, Sleeping Bear National Lakeshore

Pierce Stocking Scenic Drive

Detroit

at the Rouge Plant, Dearborn

from Diego Rivera’s Detroit Industry Murals, Detroit Institute of Art

Cotswold Cottage, Greenfield Village, Dearborn

at Scotty’s Fish and Chips

Coat, Hats, and Words

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I am still here. However, it has been 82 days since I last wrote in this space.

First, some words about clothes, and then some other words.

Clothes:

In the winter, especially when I wear my pink coat and my little aqua hat (rimmed with pink), people sometimes offer me their seats on the Metro. Some of the people who offer me seats seem pretty old themselves. Most of the people who offer me a seat are immigrants. I am learning to either politely accept or politely decline. It’s difficult, but I am what I am–older than I used to be. It’s just that I wish that that fact wasn’t so apparent to everyone on the train.

pink coat, aqua hat

In the summer, I mostly wear two hats. I say mostly because my daughter gave me a third lovely broad-brimmed summer straw, but I almost lost it to the wind walking across Key Bridge, so I hesitate to wear it much. Instead, I wear a Michigan ball cap and when I wear it I look like Michael Moore. I like Michael Moore, but perhaps it is not my best look. The other hat I wear is a loose, rustic straw hat. When I wear this hat, I feel like Ma Kettle. Now, I just googled Ma Kettle and I see that she wore a variety of hats. In any case, I feel like a rube and I can only hope to emulate Ma’s good sense.

broad-brimmed straw hat

Michigan ball cap

country straw hat

Other words:

I have had a good spring and summer, so far. I have walked with my beloved one in many lovely gardens. Actually, we have also walked in the same gardens many times over and watched the plants change week by week. I have visited with many friends and family here in Washington, D.C. and Virginia and also in Ohio and Michigan. Tom has been on a cooking spree from Francis Lam’s kimchi and Spam fried rice and Jacques Pepin’s paella to Ruth Reichl’s chocolate jewel cake. It’s good that we spend so much time walking and going to the gym.
And yet, there is a pall on my heart and in my mind. I feel like I am wandering in Minas Tirith when the darkness from Mordor starts to roll in. Let me see if I can explain. Every day on Facebook, I click furiously on angry and sad emojis: destruction of our lands-click; rampant racism-click; women’s (and everyone else’s) health and well-being assaulted-click; children ripped from their parents and put in cages-click, click, click; mass murders of innocents-click, click, click, click. You get the idea. I pray–and that is hard for an agnostic–for the light to come in the morning, I want to be as brave, cheerful, and effective as a hobbit. I am not, but I try.
Some are sick and some are well. I am not the only one growing older. A friend dies unexpectedly and a sweet baby girl is born.
Some days my glass half-full mantra irritates even me. That my close to the ground cheerful wishes could stand up against all the lies and the forces of hate? Do I really believe that? Well, yes, much of the time. I believe in kindness, generosity, earnestness, hard work, bravery and good humor. I see it in my life and I hope to die before I give up on such ideals.
Beauty helps me, so I will end with that. See you in the gardens, mountains, lakes, and deserts and at the marches and maybe on the ramparts. Maybe I will be wearing a hat.

in the Mary Livingston Ripley Garden

Natural Bridge, Virginia

robin’s eggshell and plants

bee on phlox, Mt. Cuba Center, Delaware

in the gazebo, Gotelli Collection, National Arboretum

Spring 2019

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Although it has been 74 days since I lasted posted an article, I have not been hibernating. It was more like being in a fitful sleep full of bad dreams: children in cages, floods in the countryside, the demise of civil discourse, and lies, lies, lies. That’s in the night and also when I compulsively check the latest news throughout the day. Otherwise, Tom and I take lots of walks.

A Good Sign Every day for the last four days I have caught myself sounding like my mother. When she was happily focused on a task, my mother sometimes vocalized a low, mostly tuneless, hum. It seemed to be the sound of contentment. I have been humming as I work around the condo and as I pull up invasive weeds in the nearby parks.

Spring has come to the Washington, DC area. Everywhere I walk, I see extravagant and exuberant beauty. I see the beauty not only in the flowers, but also in the commuters, the joggers, the protesters, the school groups, and other visitors to the capital city.

I try to look at the glass as half full. Some days and weeks–especially in our current social and political climate–that is difficult for me. Thinking about my mother and walking through the springtime helps restore my optimism. Below are some photos from recent walks. Happy Spring.

purple pansies

Spring, U.S. Botanic Gardens

Four Mile Run, Arlington, Virginia

REDress Project, National Museum of the American Indian*

hillside, Belvedere Park, Arlington, Virginia

pink tulips

American hollies, Rosslyn

early azaelas

Mary Livingston Ripley Garden

hellebore, Mary Livingston Ripley Garden

redbud, U.S. Botanic Garden

Smithsonian Arts and Industries Building

dwarf fothergilla

tulips and a dandelion

Virginia Bluebells, U.S. Botanic Garden

in the neighborhood

You can find more information about the REDress Project here.

Winter 2019: Polar Vortex

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Right now here in Arlington, VA, Accuweather claims it is 34 degrees (feeling like 22) with maybe some flurries in a bit. It’s windy, too and I don’t think I will make it outside today. Still, that’s nothing like the Polar Vortex millions are experiencing in the Midwest and Great Lakes states.

I am thinking of my dear ones in Michigan, Wisconsin, Ohio, and Pennsylvania. I wish I could make them soup and bread and send them flowers. Please stay warm and safe.

Soup I have loved making soup ever since I learned to make my mother’s vegetable beef soup many decades ago. Then came the back-of-the-bag split pea soup, Julia Child’s French onion soup (back when I could get cheap beef bones for stock), chicken noodle soup with homemade noodles, spicy lentil soup, and many more. One of our favorite soups is Diana Kennedy’s recipe for sopa de albondigas (meatball soup). This recipe comes from Kennedy’s The Art of Mexican Cooking: Traditional Mexican Cooking for Aficionados (Bantam Books, 1989). This soup is fragrant, flavorful, and somehow light and hearty at the same time. I looked online and saw several adaptations of this recipe. I prefer the original recipe for the directions on making the soup broth, but I think the online recipes should also be okay. Bon appetit.

sopa de albondigas (Mexican Meatball Soup)

The Art of Mexican Cooking

Bread I have always loved making bread. I think bread making was part of my brief attempt to be an earth mother. I never really fit that description, but I have made dozens of kinds of bread. Earth mother style, I guess, because I never use the stand mixer or a bread machine. I like to knead by hand. Many loaves have been successful, some have not. My current favorite bread recipe is entire whole wheat bread from the 1984 edition of The Fannie Farmer Baking Book by (the nonpareil baker) Marion Cunningham. This bread takes some time, but, if one follows the directions, the bread is delicious and cuts well. Again, except in a used book store, I think it might be a challenge to find this vintage recipe, However, there are many similar Fannie Farmer wheat bread recipes online. Note: I made this bread a couple of hours ago. I am promising myself a piece of toast and butter when I finish this post!

whole wheat bread

Fannie Farmer Baking Book

Flowers The flurries have started outside. With all the wind, the snow is flying almost horizontally: a tiny taste of what those in the northland are experiencing. The flowers below are to remind you of the spring and summer to come. Love, Lynda

water lily, Scenic Lake, Michigan

butterfly with black-eyed and verbena bonariensis

coleus and ivy-leaved geranium

Pontederia cordata (pickerelweed)

tulips near the Netherlands Carillon

butterfly and coneflowers

Close to the Ground: Living Inductively

Lynda Terrill

Category Archives: Flora

Comforts

This May and Others

Trees, Part 2: Photos

Trees

The News I Need

Today (EST)

Pleasant Peninsula

Coat, Hats, and Words

Spring 2019

Winter 2019: Polar Vortex