Housekeeping…
14 Jul 2026 1 Comment
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I opened my eyes this morning and found myself, in the immortal words of Ulla Inka Hansen Benson Yansen Tallen Hallen Swadon Swanson, in the mood to “tidy-oop” a little. And if you’ve somehow missed The Producers in your lifetime, watch it posthaste, you’ll thank me for the reference.
Speaking of tidying accumulated detritus, what I’ve observed about computer files over time is that they are faithful to their calling which is to fill themselves to capacity with things no one will ever need again. Ever. But MIGHT just… so therein lies the dilemma. I can’t simply let them go, despite an experienced knowledge of how this works, so I’m tossing this batch into your court, do with it as you may. I’ll yield to the inner compunction to share it, then immediately throw it in the bin. Heartlessly, I assure you.
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And a couple from the realists…
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Sadness and anger are cousins and can exist simultaneously with all the other human emotions. There are no Get Out of (Existential) Jail Free cards.
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There’s so much sadness and anger intermingled in this one it’s hard to process. Incredibly, this is what a massive part of The People’s House looks like now, before it gets even worse. And no one bothered to get clearance for ANY of it.
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My heart hurts for everybody younger than 60 (as well as everyone older than 60), because every generation since the Boomers (mine) has believed deep down that there’s no rosy future for anyone of any age anymore. That’s a bleak outlook to base a lifetime on, and not fair… but I’ve never heard anyone say life’s designed to be fair. I do especially feel for the kids coming out of high school this year, the college grads, the people who need to be ready to take over from us, the certified elderly, and steer the country away from the cliffs. Again. Some more. The youthful ones who traditionally lace up their boots and implement plans formulated by old men in windowless rooms who are basically immune to the downsides. And those old men and women have to get a clue and retire because for the most part they’ve lost the plot and aren’t keeping up with what time inevitably delivers. Life is entirely about change. That’s an immutable fact and it’s pointless to laugh in the face of reality.
Meanwhile, those high school and college “kids,” what ABOUT them? Who and what are they supposed to believe and internalize? What kind of society is being built via all these mixed messages? What sort of adults are under construction as we speak? And who shoulders responsibility if it all turns to quicksand under our feet?
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Which brings us full circle to an important truth…
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It’s a beautiful day.
Find someone to be nice to.
Smile a little or a lot.
Keep your powder dry
and work with what ya’ got.
[I may have just written a pome.]
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Hmm, what IS this?
09 Jul 2026 Leave a comment
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It’s a balmy 79° out this morning, the sun’s shining, the trees are overwhelmingly green, the tiny wrens and sparrows are loving the feeders, and the wind isn’t blowing. The house is clean, the laundry’s caught up for a bit, the plants have been watered and encouraged, and my wonderment as I sit here is… what is this feeling? It feels suspiciously like contentment, with a welcome absence of dread and concern. Given the opportunity, I could get used to this, but for now, even an hour or two of “it’s not my problem, man” is sweetly healing. Constant uncertainty and threat are damaging to the psyche, so there’s no reluctance on my part to say “I don’t care. I’ll care later, after I consort with my better angels for a while. Today I’m in my happy place. Do not screw it up.” Also, I encourage everybody to consider whether you, too, might need to make room for a day of solitude.
Really weary of my own schtick lately, so Hello Sunshine!
Dawson, a thoughtful northern neighbor, encouraged me yesterday with this…
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So our assignment, should we choose to accept it …
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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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This is for the birds…
04 Jun 2026 3 Comments
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For the first time in several summers we don’t have a pair of nesting doves keeping us company on the balcony, so Kim decided to feed the East Lawrence forest instead. The treats were out for less than a day before word got around the neighborhood, “Hey, guys, they have black sunflower seeds up there!” so it’s working out swimmingly. Kim adds seed mix to the saucer repeatedly throughout the day, and he’s been patiently sweeping the deck every evening. Yesterday he let the saucer run empty and then we watched as the regulars came in and picked the floor almost clean as well, so yeah, even better. They make the same mess whether the saucer is on the table or the floor, so letting them police themselves in the name of sustenance seems only right.
A question for whatever hive mind may exist: Is it a law of the universe that once a person passes the 75-year line in the sand, they are hormonally required to develop a sudden awareness of and connection with the bird world? There are two of us here, one as absorbed and engrossed as the other, so it isn’t just a little old lady thing. I have theories but I’d rather see some feedback from anyone reading. Why this particular interest during this particular decade? What draws us to these small creatures? What is this sweet love we feel for them and their utterly helpless offspring?
We get an amazing number of visitors in a day’s time, comin’ in hungry. Then they likely all fly home to fill the craws of waiting babies, back and forth endlessly until they kick the progeny out to fend for themselves. We see doves, house wrens, sparrows, and other tiny feathered guys we haven’t ID’d from images yet. So far, the wrens and other littles are too skittish for pictures – they dart away the instant they detect motion – but Kim’s gotten other good shots.
A mourning dove getting right to the business at hand.
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None of them have any table manners to speak of but at least there have been no gang fights.
There’s water as well, and they drink a lot of it some days.
And then there’s THIS guy, whom we’d never seen up close and personal before. He’s likely a Swainson’s hawk, and he’s several times bigger than any of our regulars. By which I mean he’s 18 to 20″ long and has a 46 to 54″ wingspan when fully grown. Google paints him as somewhat benevolent concerning baby birds, but I’d trust that assessment only so far. Fun to see him this close, though.
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There’s a lot to like.
The Witching Week…
27 Dec 2025 Leave a comment
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No matter how many times I’ve lived it I’m caught off guard by the vibe of the year’s final week… the quiet, the heavier sense of import, the urging to leave no wrong unrighted in big or small ways, if only in my mind. My psyche pushes me to process in seven days what’s been neglected for years, an impossible task, but this time it’s lighting a small flame under me so we’ll see if anything happens with that. I love surprising myself, AND I’d love to spend my days with a more spare, organized, informed version of me. So it’s a goal. I have the 2026 PLANNER to prove it.
Christmas 2025 came and went without fanfare but wrapped in goodness. We were able to spend a couple of hours on the weekend with family we hadn’t seen in a while, and then after years of Rita, Kimmers, and me cooking holiday meals here, we decided what we wanted to make for Christmas Day this year… was reservations. Ahhh, how sweetly festive. And soothing. Our server was tall, dark, and gorgeous, grandson age, and possessed the quality that’s above price, a layered sense of humor, thus adding to the good time. The food and drink did not disappoint and we enjoyed traditions like meat loaf, pot roast, real mashed potatoes, other actual vegetables, lovely gravy, nice wines, and a decadent dessert to share, thank you Kansas City for a great afternoon. We may have created a monster, but if so it’s a delightfully benign one.
Christmas Day is a sweet time to eat in a restaurant, surrounded by a wide assortment of fellow humans sharing connections. Everybody’s represented… young to old, parents, children, a whole bunch of nationalities and languages, siblings talking, lovers snuggling, people feeling magnanimous and in a genuinely good mood. We could do with more of this, how about a Refresher Christmas midway through the year?
Speaking of “the year,” I’m not yet fully ready to contemplate 2026. Obviously this post is all about getting there, girding my loins and other parts for anything and everything. Peace and hope to us all.
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Month by month…
06 Sep 2025 2 Comments
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Abundant August rains have brought us to a lush September, and fall should be a show of color. I love all of autumn but I may be prejudiced toward the month of September since it contains my birth date (today) so just know I’m doing some extra thinking. I staggered into a Facebook site last week called WDNC, populated by women WhoDoNotCare, and it’s as therapeutic as you might already imagine. In that vein and a spirit of celebration:
IDNC that I’ve never, in all these years, managed to fit the mold. Full disclosure, I still don’t even know where and what it is, so I guess that gives us the pertinent information right there, hm.
IDNC that on the little things I’m wrong more often than right, that’s just bad luck. On the BIG things I’m far more often right.
IDNC that I alone can say what qualifies as large or small in life.
There are many things I genuinely no longer care about and most of them are things I should never have cared about at all, so passing birthdays are good for perspective and a few other concepts like longevity, which reminds me… I’m not old. Not yet. Both of my grandmothers saw 96 with their minds in working order and I call that incentive. My mom had me in the same September in which she turned 20, so I always knew exactly how old she was. This year she would be 98 and likely still wouldn’t be “old,” so there’s some more perspective.
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The state of human existence being what it is, I offer one piece of advice from this vantage point: Whatever it is, do it NOW.
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And everybody still gets one special birthday wish, right?
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Seems like just yesterday…
25 Jul 2025 Leave a comment
Photo by Kim Smith 07/2025
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This week we’re celebrating our 21st wedding anniversary, a number that might confound the skeptics but makes us happy. Yesterday we had lunch in the Rozelle Room in the Nelson Atkins Museum of Art in Kansas City, a space that lends itself to retrospection… perspective… and projection. I wondered out loud if we might have another 21 years in us and neither of us laughed, so we’ll see. I’d be 99 years old and Kim would still be the kid he’s always been, but what’s life without the challenges, right?
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The Rozelle Room. It’s casually elegant and the museum is a 3-day experience, so we’ll be going back soon. Yesterday we primarily saw the Egyptian exhibition and the one for Photography, half of which is currently closed for renovations. It’s a pretty wonderful place and good for getting steps in if you’re counting.
So… starting on the next twenty. Can’t wait.
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Fractured fairytales…
27 Dec 2024 1 Comment
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Once upon a time, strange as it may sound, Christmas happened in a world that wasn’t ready for it, making things discombobulated and odd from the start of the season. Planet LOOK.AT.US. was out of sorts and feeling aloof from the whole affair. Things were not right in the kingdom and no one knew how to fix it. Such a different holiday it was shaping up to be, with far too much sadness in the mix.
But wait… since the task of Christmas is to lighten hearts and gladden the soul, I must give you, instead, the story of The Four Farmer’s Daughters… have you heard this one? Get another cup of coffee and pull up a chair, it goes like this:
Long ago, in a previous century, four daughters were born. Two sets of sisters, farm girls all. After high school came the usual endeavors that send people their separate ways… college, extensive travel, careers, partners, children, life. Circumstance and the passage of time eventually conspired to bring the four together again some years into this century, hours spent realizing how alike they are in their world view and code of living.
These four women, now mostly past 70, have not lost touch since, and won’t. In the midst of this barren-feeling lonesome Christmas season, everybody listened to their inner angel and they spent hours… again… sharing food and conversation and knowing nothing’s changed. Oh, out there in the world, everything’s changed, but real friends don’t. That’s a supreme gift to open, one that makes everything seem possible. Keep it real in 2025.
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Things that matter…
27 Nov 2024 Leave a comment
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Holidays are hard. There… I said it. As kids we rarely pick up on the nuances of family gatherings, we’re just there to see our cousins and eat fun stuff. And then life changes, as it is wont to do, and we learn how to celebrate on a different scale, how to hold room for our memories and feelings, how to appreciate everything. It’s a lot.
Some years ago we stopped trying to live up to the noisy food-laden holidays of yore and brought the house down a little with simple, and simply wonderful, comfort food, the National Dog Show, football, the chill weather, and much laughter. So as it turns out life is in great part about taming expectations. Kim and Rita cook and bicker in the kitchen while I keep myself available for mindless tasks, and behold, a luscious meal appears. It works seamlessly, and we’re appropriately thankful for various things all day, no stress required. I love it. The mood couldn’t be more comfortable.
Still. Our hearts remember the old times, and we think of them as having been magical… everybody happy and full of love, hugs all around, nothing but peace and goodwill. With everything hanging in the balance this year, we yearn for the unity and unconditional love we think we remember, and we try to go back to a place that was never really there… kind of like Brigadoon. Silly us.
If you’re still with me, thank you for indulging this minor fit of melancholy, which I shall now attempt to put back in the box with the double-secret code on the lock. Nobody needs that stuff on a day we’re just grateful to spend together, alive and well, so tomorrow will be about the right-now, the life we have, and the people we love.
I wish the same for you, complete with everything you need.
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The way we look to a distant constellation…
18 Oct 2024 2 Comments
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You know… if we hang around long enough in life it’s possible to learn a lot and pick up crucial perspective in the process. Some of the lessons are painfully, embarrassingly slow… some hit us between the eyes and demand immediate remedy. Life isn’t always a supreme challenge, but I admit to being shocked by how consistently it’s the same ol’ stuff over and over ad infinitum. This year has brought a succession of skin cancer surgeries, the most recent of which is still receiving scar therapy from the comforts of home. Other physical taunts, presumably related to the aging structure inside this skin suit, have raised their cheeky cries for attention to such an extent that I’m getting used to them, while not thrilled by their existence.
I’ve recently been reminded that some twenty-five years or more ago I watched my dad’s first cataract surgery on closed-circuit TV in Garden City, Kansas, with pioneer in the field Dr. Luther Fry, whose techniques at the time were cutting edge.
This week it was my turn and the technology has only improved by leaps and bounds since my experience with my dad. One eye down, second next week, followed by weeks of light therapy to fine-tune my vision. Meanwhile, until at least past Christmas, it’s my job to keep sunlight from invading my eyeballs, which in a 4th-floor loft with top-to-bottom east-facing windows is a challenge. The wooden blinds leave lots of leeway for sunshine, so until the sun makes it past the peak of our building every morning I’m schlepping around in here in my Official Old Person Post-Surgical Giant Black Glasses. I know Karma when I see it so I’m sure this is payback for all the times my friends and I giggled about the sweet lil’ oldies in their Double-Secret Agent glasses, but this seems a little excessive since our intentions were pure.
Everything feels slightly discombobulated at present, which will pass. The operative eye is nearly clear 3rd day post-op, but I’m caught between glasses and no glasses, so neither eye is 100% at the moment. Stuff that lands on the floor has to stay there unless I want to do deep-knee bends, which would no doubt benefit my skeleton. There’s laundry waiting to be folded, and my desk is looking very lived-in, but I can’t be bothered. I’ll get to it all when the disorientation fades a little more.
Our eyes and the rest of our senses are too precious for words, as are the brilliant dedicated people who help us keep them for as long as possible, which prompts an astounding realization: Somehow we humans have managed over eons to fashion a world that’s more good than bad, more joy than sorrow, more sweet than sour. Mostly. Sort of. Anyway, all things considered, it’s a place I’m not pining to leave, and I’m looking forward to seeing everything these eyes have been missing along the way lately.
Okay, having reached my max word-count on NICE, here’s this…
Truth.
This is…
21 Aug 2024 Leave a comment
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If you’ve been following the Dove Tales, I need to update you a little. Let’s see, where were we…
The couple renting our balcony condo this summer, Bonnie and Clyde, have birthed and dispatched two sets of fledglings so far, the most recent being Orville and Wilbur, the Flight brothers. We left town for the day last Friday and when we checked the nest there was just one baby parked in it. Orville had clearly flown the coop earlier, but there sat Wilbur, stubborn as a post and seemingly disinclined to make any drastic change in his status. We told each other that was okay, he’d figure it out by the time we got home.
We get home and Wilbur’s still solidly ensconced in the familial nest, but now Bonnie and Clyde are using every trick at their disposal to try to dislodge him. They called repeatedly from the opposite railing. They stood and berated him from the sidelines. Finally they resorted to taking turns trying to literally shove him out, pushing mightily under his fat bottom but making no headway. Such was the state of things when we went to bed. Next morning the nest was empty and we’ll never know how the story really ended, as is the case with all wildlife attachments. We choose to picture fat little Wilbur out there in the East Lawrence forest, loving all the seeds available to him and eventually finding a round little wife with whom to raise a family. THE END.
As it turns out there was a bit of an emergency underway, which became clear as things progressed. B&C had obviously let Wilbur stay past his welcome and by the time they sent him on his way it was time for Round Three. The two of them disappeared for the afternoon in order to fill their bellies to sustain them for the required hours, then were back in the evening, literally billing and cooing on the railing before disappearing into the middle of the ferns where they can’t be seen with the naked eye. There are likely two eggs in the nest by now. When we’re afforded a glimpse I’ll let you know.
What nourishes you?
13 Aug 2024 Leave a comment
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Delicious morning. It rained in the night, with increasing darkness after 8am and rain continuing for a few more hours. Southwest of us Emporia got 5″ of rain this morning, flooding their downtown and other areas, so an extra hour or two of early darkness for us is nothing. As a farm girl and incurable melancholic, rain is a lifetime friend and my happy place. It’s been summertime only every other week or so, days in the 90s and 100s interspersed with cooling, nourishing rain, to the point that in midAugust everything in sight is still green and glowing.
The lush tapestry outside my windows only adds to the sense of hope that’s been let loose in the world over the past month. Joy feels so much better than gloom and doom, and it suddenly feels okay to hope… to cautiously believe things will improve instead of digging deeper into hell. So yeah, rain, happiness, hope, love, it’s all cool, and the coffee tastes extra rich this morning.
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Hope floats…
24 Jul 2024 2 Comments
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What an amazing week this has been, and it’s only Wednesday. I’m trying to remember when my social media feeds last reflected so much fresh optimism and pure hope. My first and overriding thought, “Maybe this brave little experiment in democracy isn’t over yet,” is enough to keep me out of the slough of despond for the foreseeable future. Wish we could see ahead and know what that future looks like, but for now a flood of hope and possibility is more than welcome.
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It seems that once the scent of hopefulness hits the air, it pulls the atmosphere along with it and other positives start lining up. Yesterday we got some things accomplished and put behind us that have been like a weight around my neck for months. In an homage to having survived all that (always with the drama!), I’ve given myself the day off to do exactly as I please, which so far has been to make the bed and sit down right here. My “To Do” list now holds seven things rather than thirty-seven, and I feel like a kid out of school for the summer. Life gets really good sometimes.
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It would be tragic if the U.S. were to end on a sour note so I hope (see what I did there) that we’re all ready to choose hopefulness and run with it.
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If life has felt extra challenging to you of late, if you’re feeling drained and exhausted all the time, if everything’s a muddle in your head, if your heart aches… I, by virtue of seniority, hereby grant dispensation and grace to give yourself a day off, or an hour, whatever you can manage without making things worse. If you need a rest, take it. Get by yourself and let hope soak in for a while. Your world will benefit from the resulting ripple effect.
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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.
Playing for Time 
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