Yes, I’m seeing the connection. I’m drawn back to my COVID diary because of a thing called similarity. Got it.
“What I Did This Summer” …
15 Sep 2026 Leave a comment
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Once in a while, in the middle of an ordinary day, a creative muse joins the chat, a plan is born, and takes on a life of its own. John and I were texting a few weeks ago when we both alluded to the fact that it had been a while since we’d laid eyes and hugs on each other. His life as an oncology RN keeps him either working 12-hour shifts, traveling to conferences, taking much-needed days off, or escaping the country altogether for a few days of decompression. My life as a retiree keeps me doing the usual, as little of it as possible, eating well, and surviving in my own bubble. Time to shake it up a little. He said “Why don’t you come down here for your birthday?” And then, “As it turns out I have the 3rd through the 7th off.” Well, there we go, who could doubt the stars were aligning?
It was all a little spur-of-the-moment, so Kim and I didn’t sweat the details. He bought a couple of shirts and a pair of jeans, shopping done, ready to go. I ordered a few things online, some of which at this point may or may not arrive before Christmas, but no problem.
It’s said that getting there is half the battle, and that’s certainly true of air travel. With things as they currently exist in the greater world, we weren’t entirely cranked about the thought of flying, so we looked into taking Amtrak just for grins. Watch the countryside go by, get up and walk around, all that. Long story to a screeching halt, it’s ten times the cost of two round-trip plane tickets, and that particular trip takes 52 hours because it goes first to Chicago, then Virginia, THEN Atlanta, changing trains at each stop.
We hadn’t flown anywhere since before COVID but we quickly understood that the experience hasn’t evolved upward in that time. We’d done all the preliminaries from home and weren’t checking any bags, so the process in Kansas City’s shiny new airport was seamless. But ah, my sweet summer child, we were just getting started. I walk around with the perpetual sense that I’ve lost ten years somewhere, which turns out to be a true statement, all facts considered, and never have I been so validated in that misperception as when we stepped onto our outbound plane. It seemed half as wide as I remembered, with just enough room to get through the aisle. Every seat was eventually occupied, which may be the only way they fly now, and that long skinny cylinder looked ponderously full of humanity. I don’t recall planes roaring like wind tunnels throughout the flight. On the other hand, there are likely MANY things I don’t recall. It’s a fact, though, that the seats are being evermore squished together from every angle, and on this plane they didn’t recline by so much as an inch. However, there’s always a good side: It’s less than a 2-hour flight.
And then there’s the REALLY happy stuff… the rest of the trip was a little piece of heaven. John was there to meet us at Hartsfield-Jackson at the top of the giant escalator and we picked up where we left off last time we saw him, which was here in Lawrence. His place and his presence are both very soothing and just what this mom needed. And those hugs are lifegiving. We love his neighborhood and Kim enjoys his early-morning walks there. It always feels sweet to be back in the gentle Southern air and eavesdrop a little on the hum of conversation with its softer cadences and easy flow.
John drove us around his part of the metro area to show us what’s new since last time we were there, and he took us to a gigantic farmers market that, counting the parking lot, takes up a city block, with more building expansion planned. The comprehensive variety of foodstuffs is staggering. There isn’t an official accounting of all the various ethnic and cultural groups represented in the Atlanta Metro area, but they seem to be well-served by the market, which is open seven days a week. It’s housed in an enormous metal building, with people constantly restocking the shelves and long tables with every kind of meat, fish, poultry, seafood, vegetable, fruit, seed, nut, spice, and bread you can imagine from around the world, and many things you may not have known existed. It was an experience that will stay with us for all the reasons, all of them positive.
Since one thing every city has is restaurants, we had fun going with John to a tiny handful of his favorites, including Mellow Mushroom across the street from his place, and his favorite neighborhood Waffle House, staffed by terrific women who call him by name when he comes in. We were able to share food and drink with several different friends, some of whom we’ve known ALmost as long as he has, some new, and each one helped me celebrate my birthday by adding to the goodness of it. To one friend who will likely see this… the soft pink throw saved my life on the flight home. Thx to you I didn’t freeze to death, love you!!
The best day was the one before we came home because the three of us spent the whole day just hanging out in John’s loft, being slugs while we talked about the “trivial” to the momentous and back again. NOTE TO SELF: Always include enough time. Always.
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In a world of Type A’s, be like Kim, who has yet to meet an electric bike he didn’t like…
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And then it was time to do the whole thing in reverse, which involves goodbyes, of course. John graciously delivered us back to Hartsfield-Jackson before dawn’s butt-crack, thus leaving him the rest of the day to himself. I need to ask him if he went to see his ladies at Waffle House, who, by the way, serve a wicked breakfast and coffee that rivals Kim’s. And they kinda make you feel loved in the process.
Two words: Pre Coffee
I’ll keep this brief. Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport covers 4,700 acres and it’s entirely possible that we walked every one of them, as our gate seemed to be at the farthest end from the center point you could go. Next time I’ll put in a request for one of their spiffy wheelchairs with the warning flag attached. I could have used it. On the other hand, I proved to myself that I’m not done yet, hopefully not by a long shot. Onward.
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So now we’re home and everything survived without us. It rained enough to keep the plants going and the mourning doves are hatching another pair of chicks. It took 24 hours for word to get around, but the wrens, finches, and sparrows are back in droves, loading up at the feeder. I’ve had a week to let my bones and other parts recover and I’d do it all over again next week… because it seems like a dream!
Since we’re here for the foreseeable, I’m sayin’ …
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And this is still my mantra all week…
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A closing thought influenced by our recent Southern sojourn…
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Jay the Hawk and other friends…
29 Jun 2026 4 Comments
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It was a wet spring and now summer’s here, with more rain in the long-range forecast. That’s a GOOD thing, as Eastern Kansas temps and humidity can turn on a dime and cook us right out of our flip-flops. With all the water, the trees and other vegetation are so green and dense we’re genuinely living in a forest and I have to wonder how many birds and other critters dwell here with us. It would be a big number. No dove couples have nested on our balcony yet this season, so when Kim mentioned putting out bird-food and water I was an instant fan. We’ve resisted in the past, thinking the mess might be too much but it’s turning out not to be an actual problem, and the entertainment is well worth a little extra sweeping up. It took less than 24 hours for word to get out that “There’s FOOD up there, guys! They even have black-oil sunflower seeds, c’mon!”
So now every day sees a fresh gathering of birds, from tiny to bigger/fatter/rounder/quieter. That would be the mourning doves, who’ve gravitated to us several spring seasons in a row, and who make for the best possible feathered renters. We still hope they’ll decide to move in and raise a clutch or two here this summer.
The small bird varieties, like house wrens, finches, sparrows, black & white warblers and others, are highly skittish and hard to photograph, although I have a plan: the next not-windy morning or evening we get, I’ll open the door wide and wait to capture a few shots when they come in for their regular feeding times in the morning and late afternoon. Otherwise, they sense every movement behind the glass and they’re gone in an instant. Until I can pull that off, here are a few stock photos for reference.
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At least twice now, we’ve had a brief visit from this guy, who’s delicate-looking and stunningly crimson.
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And then there’s THIS new friend who sits quietly on the balcony rail whenever he feels like it, and since he hasn’t harassed any of the littles or the sweet doves we’re happy to have him hang out with us. For those who don’t know, we live in the town that’s home to the KU Jayhawks, so his name is… yeah, Jay the Hawk. Rock Chalk!
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Our fascination with the world of birds may indicate that we’re growing old and soft. Not a bad thing at all, but it feels more like THIS:
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” …where the earth is respected, and where life is valued above all else.”
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We were festive…
26 Dec 2024 2 Comments
Just not THIS festive.
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Christmas Day this year was sweet and special in too many ways to list, but you know I’ll try. It’s hard to sort out what the whole thing is about for me now, but what remains… always… from the past and forever… is the love. It’s entirely a feel-good day if we can do it right.
Rita was here, she and I wore our Christmas jammies, the Chiefs won, and dinner was amazing.
The traditional cheese ball I hadn’t made in 30 years. The recipe holds up.
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Salmon filets in cream sauce with spinach and cherry tomatoes over Jasmine rice; candied carrots, and cheesy biscuits. And vino. Dessert was warm fruit tarts with ice cream.
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The usual suspects.
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Today we’re being hugged by a heavy fog and indoors is where it’s at. Perfect.
Let quiet and peace soak into your bones, and savor every blessing.
Everything’s coming up sunflowers…
21 Sep 2024 Leave a comment
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Favorite kind of Saturday. Soft, quiet… rain showers moving through. Muted conversations below us as people go back and forth to Farmers Market all morning. We sat on the balcony with our coffee at 6:30, counting the seconds between spectacular lightning flashes and their answering thunder, guessing how close we were to getting fried. I mean, if you’re not livin’ on the edge you’re takin’ up too much space, amirite?
Kim went over to the Market at the crack of 7:30, which is opening time, so he could be first in line for the flowers. So competitive this man, which is reassuring. He’d save me from any oncoming threat, no hesitation, so I’ll take it. He said the lady hadn’t unpacked yet because of the rain, but out of three or four crates of flowers there was only one bouquet with a sunflower in it, which of course had his name on it. Mission accomplished, home to make breakfast. It’s been twenty years of the same old Saturday morning breakfast, same old incredible flavors, same blessed comfort food, every single week, thank you Universe! I’ve signed up for another twenty, with option to renew at any point in time.
This week was the “time to pay the piper” kind. Had my sixth MOHS procedure yesterday and am waiting to get a look at my surgeon’s handiwork after enough hours have passed. They’re all the result of childhood sunburns and each is a unique challenge. This one will likely leave a decent pirate-slash scar, but it’s where I’d have to call someone’s attention to it or they’ll never notice it. Likely. Hopefully. Doesn’t matter. Slings and arrows are proof that we’ve lived. Stickin’ to that story.
Since most of life involves zigzagging between the whizzing arrows and tossing off the slings, I’m sending kudos, hugs, love, and respect to all the brave women of every age, wherever you are, who are doing just that. Don’t stop, girls, we’re earning our stripes with this one.
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Lemme tell ya ’bout the birds & the bees…
15 Jul 2024 Leave a comment
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… and the flowers and the trees
and the moon up above
and a thing called Love.
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If you’re a regular here, you know that we hosted a mourning dove couple last spring and summer, watching them raise and fledge four sets of chicks. Kim named the parents David and Darlene Dove, and he subsequently gave monikers to each chick as they hatched. One set of babies was named Durwood and Donna, I remember. And then, right on schedule, D&D showed up here again in April this year and hatched Willie & SnoopDove… but lil’ Snoop failed to thrive. After that, D&D put one more set of eggs in the nest before they inexplicably disappeared, leaving the eggs to languish and making my Mama heart hurt.
So when a young skinny pair of doves started scoping us out in May, I feigned disinterest. Not gonna hurt me again, ‘k? Totes unaware of my sulky mood, they bypassed the wooden dove house to nest deep in the east end of the fern baskets… and kept their own counsel. Fine with me, don’t wanna know, everybody just stay in your own lane. One day both parents, whom Kim had by now named Bonnie and Clyde, were out of the nest, and a casual look-see told us that there was one tiny white egg. On a subsequent day, we saw that there were two. My interest was piqued, of course, but far be it from me to precipitate another vanishing act via simple curiosity. We’ve been stellar landlords to this point, sensitive to Bonnie & Clyde’s comings and goings, and taken care not to startle them overly much when we’re on the deck. Kim’s judicious about watering that end of the fern basket, so it’s a bit of a balancing act.
The picture looked a little like this when we finally caught on that the nursery was in business again.
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Kim went out yesterday afternoon and there was just one fat baby in the nest. By evening there were none, so a new generation of Smith-hosted mourning doves has fledged and is likely somewhere in the East Lawrence forest. They looked a lot like this before they left… shockingly “huge,” when we weren’t even sure they existed at all!
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Kim named this year’s inaugural chicks Batman and Robin, may they thrive and prosper. One of the parent doves was still hanging around at dusk yesterday, so we hope there will be eggs in the nest again soon. Que sera sera. Whatever will be will be.
In the interim, some lovely summer blossoms for all that ails our spirits.
E’erbody still here?
20 Jun 2024 4 Comments
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Hot town, summer in the city
Back of my neck gettin’ dirty and gritty
Been down, isn’t it a pity?
Doesn’t seem to be a shadow in the city
All around, people lookin’ half dead
Walkin’ on the sidewalk, hotter than a match head…
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Summer officially arrives here at 3:50 this afternoon, but as usual we’ve had a few show-off previews before the official date. I don’t mind the heat, I like the pace, love the sense of lazy freedom, so it’s all good. And warm. Eighties, nineties, how high will it go, boys and girls?
A cautious bit of news: We have doves again. A young skinny pair checked us out for a couple of days and decided to nest in one of our fern baskets. Our last glimpse told us there was one egg in the nest and we assume there’s another one by now, but they’re being very coy about the reveal. After Dave and Darlene disappeared I was hesitant about attaching names to any more of them, but Kim has christened these two Bonnie and Clyde and here we go.
BONNIE
CLYDE
It feels good to have them here and we’ll be looking forward to the babies. The sweetness and continuity are nice in a world where everything stays chaotic 100% of the time.
Welcome to summer, ENJOY!
Brain fog…
30 Apr 2024 Leave a comment
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I’ve tried for days to write something, just to sort things a little and get a handle on the current prevailing vibe, but as soon as I sit down here my mind goes blank. It feels almost too big to deal with… the massive governmental changes lurking just over the horizon… the sense of walking on eggshells around friends and family… everything in a state of flux, resulting in endless limbo. Our skies have been gray with rain lately… but there’s also a general charcoaled-out mood to the rest of life as well. Beautiful friends who deserve only life’s sweetness are caught in the pain and darkness of loss and grief… and I’m helpless in the face of all that, just as I am in looking at the planet’s woes and knowing I can’t make any of it better. These are the days that try little white-haired women’s souls.
Closer to home, our Dove family is settled in and weathering the storms so far. We’re increasingly worried about Snoop, though… he’s tiny compared to Willie Nelson and he shivers constantly, even under his mama or daddy’s feathers. We hope he’ll eventually thrive, but it isn’t looking good for lil’ Snoop. Life is hard, dude, and nowhere is it as close to the bone as in pure raw nature.
Willie and Snoop Dove. Best bros. Hatched a day apart.
I scroll social media every day looking for “good news” stories and gentle humor because we all need it right now like a favorite teddy bear. When we least feel like smiling, we need it most. Humor and kindness make life livable because they add up to love.
So… I wrote all of the above yesterday. It’s another sunny morning, and Snoop Dove is clinging to life, but just barely. Willie Nelson stays close and usually has Snoop tucked against his side or under his tail feathers, but Snoop has gotten even tinier and he shivers nonstop. David and Darlene are making themselves scarce most of the time, probably letting reality follow its own course. Willie looks big enough to fly away, so little Snoop’s window is closing. Life on the planet is a fight every day, whether or not we can sense our own struggle. It’s overwhelming, even without the people who do cruel things ON PURPOSE.
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It’s about time…
19 Apr 2024 Leave a comment
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Word on the street growing up was that as you get older time accelerates, and it’s utterly true. Weekends now arrive every three days, and seasons are but a blip on the calendar. A short while ago I was whining about the cockamamie time change and now it’s settled into my DNA again. Life simply rolls on. Case in point, David and Darlene Dove, who are back for another round of babies, making our crusty old hearts glad.
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The other unmistakable sign of full-on spring here is Farmers Market, whose busy Opening Day 2024 was last Saturday. Through our open door the sounds of conversation and laughter made it almost as good as putting on my sandals and going down there, which I didn’t do, although I have intentions, so check me on it.
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As you might surmise, we’re back to balcony afternoons here, which are vital for health and wellbeing. I sit within a few inches of whichever parent is on the nest, they never move a feather in protest, and that feels sweet. So glad for the sunshine and the sounds of life. So glad for benevolent walking weather. So glad we stay continually educated by living until it’s done.
At this point, after 76 years of it, life in the U.S. has never felt more threatened, nor more tenuous to me, even through the debacle and angst that was Viet Nam. We’re on the precipice of losing everything democracy has afforded us, and that’s for real. And yet HOPE is still my first go-to. We can get through this. That’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it. Check me on it.
An update…
04 Apr 2024 Leave a comment
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As you know if you hang out here much, spring has been slow to find purchase this year. We’ve had pleasant days interspersed with cold ones, sometimes snow, often rain which we’ll take any time. But my body’s ready for warmth, benevolence, comfort, and energy. I’m ready for the mornings when I can open the balcony door and sit outside half-dressed (arms and legs totally soaking up the sunshine) with my coffee. I’m ready for the walks I’ll take, and I see that by next weekend we might be looking at temps in the 80s, high 70s, so clear the streets and sidewalks, people, she’s going out into the greater world.
Speaking of the balcony, open doors, and spring sunshine, look at THIS tiny harbinger! David and Darlene finally decided to move into their dove house yesterday morning, and by evening there was a new arrival. It will likely be joined by a second one soon, if not already, but Darlene’s a constant presence now so our view is blocked. She and David will be fattening themselves up for the long haul, so we’ll try to peek into the birthing chamber when they’re both out for a bit. As you can see, mourning doves are haphazard nest-builders at best, although they did add some dried grass before the egg dropped. Darlene must have been crossing her legs while procrastinating until the last second, but she’s an old pro now and all should be well.
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So… despite the lingering chill in the air it’s officially spring at last. (No more frosts/freezes, please.)
Stay tuned for progress reports if you can stand it.
Happy Winds Day…
03 Apr 2024 Leave a comment
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Hello on a chilly spring HumpDay. Good news: the sun’s shining and breaking up the clouds. Bad news: the wind’s blowing and it’s 42°. My bones are ready for warmth. For sunny days. For good news all ’round. Here’s a little piece of it: Dave & Dar have apparently decided to make us their spring and summer birthing center once again and the little dove house is no longer empty. We’ll be providing fern-y protection once we’re past our frost-free date. Meanwhile, here we are again and the continuity is comforting.
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I may have a hat made that says “DOVE HOVERER.” It would go well with others I wear, including these:
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And most of all…
A visitation of benevolence…
13 Nov 2023 2 Comments
11/12/2023
The KIMN8R and I are gradually returning to routine after having son John here long enough to absorb him a little. He spotted a 4-day stretch in his schedule with no work and no meetings, grabbed a flight to KC, and a good time was enjoyed by all, including Auntie Rita. Relative to our status age-wise, the three of us plied him with medical questions and got back better than we asked for, as it’s information you can take to the (blood)bank. In nearly twenty years as an oncology RN and hospice nurse he’s sort of seen it all, and possesses an innate depth of spirit that makes me listen carefully to his words, which are generally very sparing. He also gives amazing hugs.
So. A happy-surprise weekend that included KU home games in both football and basketball, much wonderful food from Kim’s kitchen, best company, and excellent conversation. John and I share a love of peace, quiet, independence, sarcasm, music, good food, and sensory deprivation, not necessarily in that order, and he’s a very soothing person to spend time with, so I’m feeling renewed and energized for a deep dive into winter hibernation. Sounds like an oxymoron… but isn’t. Ready for my cave and whatever sources of inspiration it might contain.
My core posse. Couldn’t make it without them.
Addendum…
05 Oct 2023 4 Comments
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Fall has a thing she does every year called Bring On The Melancholy, and since October 4, 1985, she’s been bringing it with a vengeance. For the first time in 38 years I missed every signal while dancing with them all, so the denial is still strong with this one. Mystery solved. The crushing grief of the past couple of weeks has a direct source, beyond the usual fall mood.
The story is here:
My Brother’s Keeper
The heart always knows.
Playing for Time 
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