Decorating the Garden

It's been a brutal spring--wet, cold, restraining. My garden is finally in bloom, but having peonies in flower when it's almost July is topsy-turvey crazy. Except for the potatoes in my square foot garden and my potted tomatoes, even my vegetables seem to be intimidated by their weather experience.

Thank God for garden art. Katz and I have enjoyed "decorating" our yard for many years, and each year something new moves in. A local metal/welding artist we've admired for years recently had a sale at prices we could afford and we bought a pair of abstract reindeer with giraffe legs and tiny heads. They make us smile.

When I was a child, my siblings and I had two amazing women in our lives. Auntie Pauline was sweet and quiet and made us fudge and morning buns to beat the band. Auntie Jo had the imagination of a child and the skills of a journeyman carpenter. She made toys and filled a huge walk up attic with her creations--trains you could ride, paper mache animal heads to sit on top your shoulder and transform you into another being, beautiful tin wind up toys, tree stumps made out of old telephone directories . . . the list goes on. Going to their home was like a trip to Disney World for most kids--magical.

They had a small garden, too, and their sense of whimsy carried over there. I like to think that the surprises and whimsy in our garden comes from them. They enjoyed life and loved us, and the joy and abandon they conveyed was a wonderful gift for a child. As things grow and the vista changes day-by-day outside my window, the playful pieces that are woven throughout the garden give it some weight and anchor it, pinning my past and entwining it with the future.

Travel Fears

Thanks to Dick for commenting on my last posting and sharing his trip stories. One of his remarks did jog my memory when he said he had no interest in traveling outside of the US, including to Mexico.

Katz and I got to spend an extended period of time in the Sierra Madre Mountains in central Mexico in the 1970s, and it was one of the highlights of our lives. We lived in San Miguel de Allende for a winter, arriving by car. We rented an apartment, went to school, and grew to love this friendly little colonial town. We lived down the street from the bull fighting venue, ate the local food, learned to cook what we could buy in the local market, hiked the countryside, and took classes at the local Instituto. There I took my first formal writing courses since college (where a harsh professor had given me the notion that I had no future as a writer) and received an injection of all that was possible from an 80 year old former editor of True Confessions magazine. She loved everything I wrote and opened up my heart again to the sense I'd always had that I could put pen to paper and have some success.

I also got to ride horses under the tutelage of a retired Mexican cavalry officer, and Katz learned to throw pots on a potters wheel. We enjoyed poinsettias that grew 20 feet tall outside our window, slept entwined in each others arms because the old bed we shared shank so badly in the middle, bought fuel for the fireplace from vendors with wood laden donkeys in tow, got to know the locals, and made lots of friends. We dreamed of the days ahead and talked about retiring to San Miguel, or at least bringing our imaginary children back. It was a time of great promise, with our future in front of us.

San Miguel is out of touch these days. Although I hear no news of its decline, it is wounded by all that is scary in the streets of Mexico. I am glad we have our photos and our memories, but with killings in the street and violence a part of everyday life, I haven't the courage to go back. While my concerns are born of real fears, I do wonder: Is my lack of courage partly due to growing old? Did I really have more courage when I was younger, or did I just have no sense of caution?

My sons are getting to the age when Katz and I traveled to Mexico, and they have that same sense of invulnerability that we had. If they wanted to take the same trip their parents took 30 years before, I would be terrified. It is a different world, no doubt, and the thought of all that has changed makes me weep.

Travels Past and Future

On our recent visit to Charleston, SC, every local we met wanted to know if it was our first visit to the city (it was), and then without exception they added, "Y'all will be back."

Charleston was lovely. We enjoyed so much about it--the architecture, the history, the food, the people, the accessibility. We won't, however, be going back. Four days was enough for us to get the flavor of the city and see the highlights, and we are "did and done" as someone in my childhood used to say.

That whole "You'll be back" thing made me think about what places in all our travels could lure me back. Here's at least a partial list:

Zion, Arches, and Yosemite National Parks--especially Yosemite. I'd go there any day, any season, any weather condition. I'd go if I had to stay in the crowded, loud tents of Curry Village, even though the last time I did that I slept with my eyes open due to the noise of a thousand fellow campers and the thoughts of a thin sheet of canvas separating my children (and me!) from hungry bears padding through the campground.

Custer State Park--Love them buffalo! (No, really: The buffalo are awesome!)

The Badlands--Surreal is not a common feeling to experience and not at all unpleasant. The Badlands are surreal.

Northern Wales--A fairyland.

NYC--It's exciting and ever-evolving, I love theatre, and Central Park requires constant exploration. Truth be told, I'd go back anytime because we always have a free place to stay and that free place to stay comes with my beautiful sister Kathy and her much adored (by me!) husband, G. It doesn't hurt that her neighbor is Ed Doctorow (E.L. to you in the know) and that the their apartment is beautiful, close to everything Manhattan, and comes with the requisite doorman. I like having a doorman in my life.

New Orleans--The joint was jumping!

There's a couple of places I'd love to go back to but only with conditions:

London--If money was no object. Dang, that city is pricey.

Disney World--It's not as fresh as it was the first time we went, but someday I'd love to go back there with grand kids in hand. They would need to be 6 or 7 years old and have been raised by parents that expected them to be well behaved and adore their Nana (Noni? Grandma? MaMa? Lucky this grandparent thing is not just around the corner. I need time to decide what moniker fits me best.)

I know there are more places I'd go again, but it's time to post and get to work. How about you, faithful readers? Where would you travel to again--or not--and why. Post your comments and let's share!