View from the cottage

The view from inside my house 
in the days when I had a houseful of littles.

I’ve been writing this blog now for seventeen years, a record which frankly astounds me. Way back in 2006 my daughter-in-law, Melanie, suggested I start a blog. Blogging was then fairly new, and I complained I had nothing to write about. “Yes, you do,” she replied. “Write about writing and cooking and grandmothering, the things you do. And call it Judy’s Stew, a stew of those things.” So that’s what happened. In those early days, I had no idea how to attach a photo, so I would write a post, send it to my computer at work, and have Melinda, the production manager, add the photo and post it. I’ve gotten a lot better since those days, thank goodness. And over the years, the number of people who read my blog and sometimes respond has grown steadily. You may never know how grateful I am to you for letting me share my thoughts and doings, some serious, a lot silly. Blogging is my form of journaling.

Six years ago, I moved into the cottage—I cannot believe it’s been that long. But I immediately recognized that my view of the world, sheltered in the back of the property, was distinctly different. And I wanted to rename the blog, “View from the Cottage.” I was discouraged from that by wiser heads, but I still keep old posts in a file with that title.

Today I was struck again by the difference in my view. As long as I lived in the main house, one of my great pleasures was to sit on the porch and watch the schoolchildren arrive in the morning for the elementary school across the street and leave in the afternoon. For six of those years, Jacob was one of those children. He stopped a my house each morning for a hug, and, most of the time, I was the one who walked across the street to get him at three o’clock (wreaked havoc on my nap time!). These days, my view of the street and the school is obstructed.

Ever since Jacob’s catalytic converter was stolen, the Burtons have parked three cars inside the electric gate—my VW which Jordan drives, Christian’s Lexus, and Jacob’s van (I have been chastised for calling it a van—it is a Toyota Sequoia, but it looks a lot like the van I drove in the late seventies). I can see around the two cars, but not Jacob’s, so my view is of a tiny sliver through an iron gate. And only if I go to the kitchen window. From my desk, I cannot see the street.

This morning was half-price day during spring break at the zoo, a day when our neighborhood is notoriously brought to its knees by zoogoers and lines of cars parked on both sides of the street, and others in a long line waiting to get to the zoo. It’s frustrating and dangerous—emergency vehicles couldn’t get in if they had to. This year new extreme measures have been instituted, and I wanted to see if they were working. I wanted to look out and see if there were bumper-to-bumper cars on the street. But I couldn’t see.

I mentioned the other day that a new building has gone up, unnoticed by me, on the neighbor’s property behind me and one lot over. I kept waiting to tell Jordan about it, but when I did, she said, “I know. I see it every day.” When Jamie and I went to the grocery Monday, we both saw it, looming over the single-story garage next door, and were amazed. Jordan made me realize it was clearly visible all along—except from my limited view from the cottage. I had wondered for weeks why I heard so much hammering—including a nail gun that seemed to ratchet up just when I wanted to nap. Now I know.

But if my view is limited, it also has advantages. You know those tacky people who leave Christmas lights up all year? Count me as one. When Mary Dulle moved, she gifted us with a live tree, about four feet tall, strung with Christmas lights. Now, in March, it still shines brightly outside my French doors. And one year Jordan bought a light that throws tiny specks of green lights on the wall of the neighbor’s casita (guest house). I love it.

When the yard is in bloom, I have a wonderful view from my desk. Last year, the pentas were pitiful, but most years they are lush and gorgeous, and in fall bright yellow mums line the front edge of the deck. This year, my new native plant bed is showing great signs of growth, and I am anxious to see it when it’s had time to fill out. It’s also showing great signs of weeds.

This morning I saw that June Bug, the youngest of the Burtons’ two Cavalier King Charles Spaniels, was walking better. Several years ago, she was given months to live, but she defied predictions. Not without several lapses when we thought for sure she was going. Somehow, she rallied. This past weekend, her hind legs gave out on her until she was literally on her last legs—the dogsitter had to hold her up so she could pee. We thought it was the Rainbow Bridge for Junie. But this morning, I watched fascinated as she walked almost straight down the sidewalk. Marvelous recovery. We are calling her Kitty from now on.

Such is the view from my cottage—limited but oh so rewarding.

View from my desk window

 

 

 

 

 

 

Watching Junie walk better

High Jinks at Camp Tomball

Jordan gave her brother an unexpected push

Home after spending a few days at Camp Tomball, a special treat for four of my grandchildren. Colin’s children, eleven-year-old Morgan and ten-year-old Kegan, along with their mom Lisa, put a lot of time and effort into planning everything, from camp activities to menus. There was even a printed sheet with menu for each meal, available drinks, activities, and so on. The kids swam and fished, had a lesson from a TV Ninja warrior, even tried to sleep at outdoors on the trampoline—they gave up and came in about midnight. One night Colin declared we would all come to the dinner table in our underpants, because he'd been caught doing it the night before. So we had underpants dinner, though Ford declined and was even photographer.

The two moms got in quite a bit of pool and sun time and spent lots of time in the kitchen, preparing meals for grateful kids. I sat, as I planned, at my computer and worked, while watching the activity, but I got some outdoor time too, particularly when Colin was grilling and a couple of nights by the lake.

One day Jordan said while the kids were at the Ninja class, we’d look for a nice little coffee shop. The coffee shop at Target was not quite what I envisioned, but it was good to visit with one of Lisa’s fellow teachers and a friend of theirs I knew from previous visits.

We took Sophie with us, and she behaved admirably, voluntarily sleeping in her crate by my bed, welcoming walks that Jordan and the kids took her on. Her only lapse from grace came with Grace, Colin’s German shepherd mix. Obviously, Grace is a lot bigger than Sophie, and I guess Sophie figured a pre-emptive attack was best. She tried to mix it up with Grace, who only wanted to play and was completely puzzled.

Morgan with Sophie

Sophie got lots of love from everyone

           Long day today. Maybe it was Friday, maybe it was the time of day we traveled—mid-day—but traffic was heavy. Took us so long to go through Hearne that Jacob insisted on asking Siri what the population of Hearne was—a whopping 3,000 plus. We made a couple of stops which slowed us down, but we were in no hurry. One was at Czech Stop in West, where I got sandwiches for my supper. That was sort of a nostalgia trip for me. I can’t tell you how many trips to Austin and College Station ended with me bringing home sandwiches from West. Sometimes they’re good, sometimes they’re not (cotton candy white bread), but it’s a custom.

Came home to an infestation of flies—I think they got in when the window was broken. (Thankful that it was repaired when we got here.) Jacob the giant killer got most of the flies for me. He’s ferocious about it, stalking them like a hunter.

Made nice memories this week. Now it feels like summer is over. Three weeks until summer begins.

Wouldn't it be nice if life was one big sleepover?

Church and the marathon … and an excerpt

The Cowtown Marathon runners went down my street, right in front of my house, this morning. I’m just about at the halfway point. In the long ago, I was enough involved in competitive racing to recognize good form when I see it, so it was fun to watch the early runners, a little after eight this morning. I haven’t heard about a winner or winning time but it’s usually 2 hours plus, so those early easy runners were well on their way to becoming early finishers. It’s also fun to watch the styles—I saw one man who ran stiffly upright, and I thought he’d tire before long; the easy runners are relaxed, giving themselves into their pace.

A group had set up a cheering stand, complete with boom box, across the street from me, in front of the school. They clapped and cheered and yelled for each runner. Eventually they must have seen the runner they were looking for because they packed up and left. A neighbor a couple of blocks over had emailed to ask if it was okay if she left juice for her husband on my steps—she did, and it’s gone tonight. I saw a FB picture of him at the finish line—his 32^nd Cowtown.

By the time Jordan came to get me for church, we had slow runners, some walkers, some groups. She stewed and worried about how to get here and finally didn’t do it the way I would have at all but I kept my mouth shut. We tried to avoid the runners by taking a side street, only to find out that the marathon planners had outfoxed us and routed the runners down a cross street. So we sat and waited for a break to cross the street. Made it to church in plenty of time, and by the time we came home, after lunch, there were no runners. I remember the day when the last marathoner would straggle in about four or five in the afternoon.

After church we had brunch at the small Park Hill Café near my house. Really good—I had quiche and wonderful hash browns—you got a complimentary mimosa which I had about half of and gave the other half to Christian. It’s a café where I like to eat lunch, and I was at first dismayed I couldn’t get my half pimiento sandwich. And they never did bring that small mint/dark chocolate bar they serve with lunch. Still it was fun.

Tonight I’m back to working on my writing projects. And have a big announcement: want to read an excerpt from The Gilded Cage, my April 18 novel about Chicago in the late 19^th Century. Go here:

http://www.judyalter.com/b/GildedCageExcerpt.pdf