From November to Mid-December: The Last of the Lavender and the End of the Year Covid Blues

1. Bridging Into the Covid Blues and End of the Year

One day my bf and I took our granddaughter to the "Blue Bridge," in late October--or was it early November? The weather was still like late summer. We celebrated the bridge from summer into fall that would soon turn to winter--if not for global warming. Little did we know we were bridging into Covid, that this trip over the blue water on the blue bridge would bring us all soon to a case of the blues. Times were so pretty and deceptive--but we were just fooling ourselves, because we all knew we could get Covid at any time as cases were increasing in our area. I worried about my granddaughter's mother, my daughter, who works in a nursing home where there were Covid patients and where some of her co-workers had contacted it; I worried about my granddaughter getting it from my daughter or from school even from just picking up homework in case exposed or from her club meetings even if everyone stayed over six feet apart during meetings; I worried about my mother and aunt in a nursing home and kept (keep) saying, "I am glad they at least have each other in there as roommates." Yes, we were all crossing a bridge of some sort into a brave new world, a world which required a new type of bravery. This bridge was like our initiation ceremony. I think everyone has a time--a moment or an event--they can consider their bridge into C.T. or Covid Times. 

2. The Last of the Year's Lavender

Lavender is one of my and my granddaughter's favorite flowers and fragrances. She is seven now. As long as our memories takes us back together, we have enjoyed singing songs in unison about lavender. I think it began when I would babysit her and sing the lavender song to her that her mother always sang to her, too.  Any vase or plant of lavender, potted or in the ground, is a symbol to me and to my daughter and granddaughter of many good times we have enjoyed together. These stems and last of the blooms from my large pot of lavender outside are the last of the lavender this year. First the lavender was fading away when weather began turning cold, then the weather got warm again and the lavender began to re-bloom, and then most of it began to die again. I snipped the few blooms that were left in late November. So far there has been a lot of pretty blues. 

3. Reflections on The Covid Times (C. T.)

The photo above is an old one. I have taken no photos during this time that my family and I have had Covid. I looked through some of my computer files for a photo with some blue in it, to keep with this theme of blues. Here we are, blue, feeling blue with Covid blues. I did take a photo of chicken soup just prior to hearing about Covid's big release into the air, into earth's atmosphere. Here is a photo of my homemade chicken soup in the biggest pan I have. We ate it for a week back at that time. We have been eating a lot of chicken soup ever since.

My daughter had Covid and my granddaughter was assumed to have it also so they were both under quarantine in their home. When I delivered food to them, I was careful to stay outside and drop the bags off on their porch. We waved through the window and that was as close as we got to one another. It was sad. This whole thing had been sad. Sad to not hug, sad to wear a mask like we were all aliens when together but together six feet apart or more, wanting but not wanting to get close. Just as my daughter and granddaughter were no longer in quarantine at their home, I tested positive then my husband tested positive. By some grace of God, every morning he was supposed to go to work to his new part-time job, the manager had called him to cancel every morning for a week. Meanwhile, he got tested and was told he was postive three days after I received my positive results. My boyfriend and I are still under quarantine. Later I hope to do a blog on all the movies I have watched while in quarantine. I also have a couple other blogs to do before the year is over. I was so thankful for my presents from my family, which included a delicious birthday cake with blueberry whipped cream icing with fresh blueberries! That was before any of us had gotten Covid.

True Blue,

Mary Ann

writes4aliving@gmail.com

Record Breaking Warmth Followed by Big October Storm

(Posting this today, November 19 from a draft I wrote near the end of October.)

In late October here up North we had record-breaking high temperatures that felt like summertime. My bf and I were socially distancing, but with friends. First we were over at their place at the gazebo looking over the big beautiful lake. First it was very sunny, and then it began to rain then pour and it was so beautiful to watch the rain from the gazebo--a small flock of geese flew in and landed right before us and then took off again, then another flock of geese flew by after the rain, from NE to SW. Then a bunch of fiery colored leaves fell from a nearby tree like raining leaves, and then a faint rainbow appeared over the lake. Then it rained some more, briefly, and when it stopped again the rainbow was back and its delicate light reflected back at us upon the water almost as if to reach out to us to touch us all. Then we ordered dinner which we ate at Mill Hollow, then played frisbee for a while in the record breaking warm temperature. We stayed at the park until dark, and on the way home the storm broke out with a huge storm and 60 mph winds with almost zero visibility on the old country roads. My bf drove very very slow. By the time we got home, the rain was just a light drizzle.

I slept off and on the throughout the next day from all the weather's barometric pressure change. I am one of the lake creatures here that happens to be affected by the weather and the life of the barometer! More precisely, I slept off and on for two days--the pressure and temp changes really zapped me in a big way--like the geese, when it got cold again, my body needed to fly south, but since it couldn't, it wanted to hibernate.

I am over it now--got up early Sunday morning (today) and folded and put away laundry right away while having my morning coffee. Life on the lake and the Lake Erie wetlands has returned to normal--for me, anyway. Autumn came back and already I am writing less--but I did go out and buy some liquid gel sunshine (vitamin D).

Even if this does not seem very eventful to most my readers, and I would understand that perfectly, I wrote this into my blog to post it here to remember it in the midst of all this. It is just one of those days at the lake like so many other days when auturmn comes.

Strong August

(Photo of beet salad I made)

Dear Readers,

~Here is a recent journal entry poem I call "Strong August"--copr. Mary Ann Bencivengo

It was just like clockwork that I heard

the first crickets of summer in my yard

three days before the first of August,

my favorite month of all months. 

And how wondrous the woolly face of

a mammoth moth with mammoth eyes

I saw beside my door under 

the yellow glow of porch light.

Then came the monarchs, the amber-black life

of day and night, of living and dying in

the strong August sun as summer passes on.

It's spectacular, it's hot, and flowers

are in full bloom. The whole cosmos

shrieks with delight, like hawks circling 

overhead, My head is full of summer

dreams, the magic of fields and streams,

the magic lanterns on boats on the lake.

Such are the untold summers of the heart

of years and years of which the crickets speak.

*

A GIANT CENTIPEDE

on the old gray stone patio

runs right up to my toes!

I scream and it runs away and disappears

under the concrete anchor of the table!

It will probably be back!

A SPINDLY RED-BROWN SPIDER

parachutes under the patio table umbrella

on a large strand of dewy expanse,

like a trapeze artist enjoying the breeze!

I first notice it when it 

whooshes by at the level of my third eye!

I swooped it up in a big leaf in my hands

so I could continue to write in peace!

SO I PITCHED ANOTHER WATERMELON RIND

onto the compost heap of tall wonder, and wonder

if the groundhog will eat it! I know

it likes the beet leaves,

but the garden beets do not like it that it likes them!

If you have a garden, you know how it goes:

all the beet leaves are full of holes!

THE GROUNDHOG LIVES

under my shed, it has burrowed

a nest unseen to my naked eyes!

The shed is situated right under the brightest star

of Capricornus this time this year!

Another family of groundhogs network,

constellate like stars under a parked car

it seems someone can't start anymore! 

It seems the groundhog family is on vacation,

exclaiming, "This is the life!--on the lake!"

I could swear I once saw one of them smile

more than once! They want

for nothing! The universe provides it all! 

Even metal all rusted comes from the earth!

MARIGOLDS! BURSTS OF GREAT BALLS OF FIRE

abound around the ground of the vegetable garden,

but none of them have bloomed yet in a spot

over there, by the beets. So much depends

on the little tin buckets, on a line by the beets, 

to keep the groundhogs away when they clang 

in the wind--the groundhog does not know he is not privileged

to the beet leaves, so helps himself to the program, this

garden creation story, this ***BIG BANG*** still bursting

through the eco-system of the massive cosmos 

in this little neck of the woods!

So much depends on the marigolds

to keep garden pests away!

So much end-of-summer pleasure depends

on having delicious vinegar and oil beet salad! 

*

It is a strong August, 

after all, stronger

than the world is small! 

(Grapevines Patio Ceiling at Firelands Winery, Sandusky, OH by M. Bencivengo)

~~~

Truly,

Mary Ann

Dawn After the Storm

"Dawn After the Storm", watercolor/gouache by M. Bencivengo, 1987.

Dear Reader, 

It has been a while since I have blogged. 

There was a big storm here, then there was the aftermath, and by now we are after the aftermath.  There have been smaller storms since, and every time a smaller storm comes, I wonder into the clouds  if it will be anything like "The Big Storm." So far, so good: There are few storms here as big as that "Big Storm." I am not in Tornado Alley, but for several minutes, my side yard was its own narrow tornado alley. A gush of  seventy mile-per-hour wind left huge tree limbs down upon the ground in its wake. And it did not stop there: It decided to race downtown to see what else it could destroy and settled on the roof and a wall of the historic Sandusky State Theater. You can view the devastation at:  https://sanduskyregister.com/news/264530/crews-work-at-the-sandusky-state-theatre/  and you can also see the restitution being made, the re-building. The first movie I ever saw at a theater was at this beloved theater; my mom took me and my cousin Tim. It is breathtaking to see a movie or live entertainment at a theater as magnificent as this, as you can see if you visit its website at:  https://www.yelp.com/biz_photos/sandusky-state-theatre-sandusky?select=SVRQ4AbG32D4XdwQaw2Khw

It was after this storm that I finally gave a title to an old painting I did back in 1987. I used to call it "Untitled" and now I call it "Dawn After the Storm." The painting does not exist anymore. I had given it to an old friend and due to a mishap it suffered some water damage. My friend told me the damaged painting looked like it was weeping. May it rest in peace. I am glad I saved a photo of it. It's not a great masterpiece, but to me it was special. I thought to include it in this blog because it reminds me of the time my lemon tree almost did not survive. The woman could be the spirit of the tree and you can see the tree-spirit wants to come back to life again when you look above the tree-woman's head and see the soulful limbs stretch to the sky again where they had once been cut down. I could have easily named the painting "Amaterasu," as she could be a sun-goddess, too, leaning upon the trunk of the tree. She is faceless, because she could be anybody. We all face storms. Then we all re-form our lives. 

So did my garden. Broken tree limbs fell not just in the yard, but over the garden. I do say over, because the plants were spared due to the curving of the limbs atop the plants. None of them were squashed or squished or trampled. I wish the birds in the trees had been spared--there were dead birds all over the yard and smashed onto the patio. One baby bird that had not even opened its eyes to the world yet was badly injured. It was sheltered under the bench in front of the porch. I tried to make it comfortable; I called the animal rescue, but it was just after hours and no one answered the phone; I went to the animal rescue website to see how I might help the little bird. Whenever I talked to it with a sweet sing-song soothing voice, it turned its head to me even though it could not see just what it was that was talking to it. I built it a little nest and did what I could to comfort it. I hoped it could last until morning so I could take it to the wild animal rescue shelter, but it did not make it through the night. May God bless that baby bird. 

Since then, so much has happened: 

The Cosmos have beautifully bloomed!

Wild daisies grace the vegetable and flower gardens 

and the bees and butterflies love them! 

When they try to bloom where they cannot grow, 

I transplant them elsewhere in the yard or in temporary pots 

to save them and the little bit of eco-system I can!

Big hearty clover with yellow flowers spreads out

like tall pillows around the Morning Glories

where the night-time fairies can sleep!

White Clover plays connect-the-dots with the honey bees and bumblebees

while Purple Clover explodes all over the yard like deep space stars!

Somehow, made of stars, came lavender and lemon seeds!--and you and me!

With Love of the Earth and the Universe,

Mary Ann

mbenci.writes@gmail.com

When Life Gives You Lemons, Paint Them or Make Lemon Cake

"Still Life with Lemons and a Bee" by Giovanna Garzoni (1600-1670), Italian painter of the Baroque period. 

(Retrieved from @womensart1 #womensart on Facebook)

Dear Reader,

I saw this painting on a friend's page on Facebook. It immediately became one of my favorite paintings and I would like to have a print of this for my Tuscan Italian kitchen. I never regarded lemons as something too sour, or as a metaphor for the sour things in life. From my childhood, I remember homemade lemonade, eating lemons with sugar on them, lemon cake and cookies, and lemon meringue pie. I have always loved lemon and pepper chicken, chicken piccata, and lemon juice on my salad with olive oil and salt. I love the fresh scent of lemons in the air. The bright yellow color of the lemon reminds me of the sun. It is an interesting case of opposites when something so sour comes from sweet lemon blossoms. The bee in this painting of course reminds me of honey, another of nature's gifts that is yellow, golden like the sun. To me, lemons signify happiness and joy of being in the sunshine. 

I mentioned in my blog description and in my introduction that in this blog I wander and meander through the arts and the world of artful living. This is what I am doing here by letting my mind wander through this painting and the image of lemons. Merriam Webster's online dictionary gives the following definitions for meander:

Definition of meander

 (Entry 1 of 2)

1 

 

                   : A winding path or course

                  especially : LABYRINTH

2: a turn or winding of a streamThe meander eventually became isolated from the main stream.

           meander  verb

meandered; meandering\ mē-​ˈan-​d(ə-​)riŋ  \

Definition of meander (Entry 2 of 2)

intransitive verb

1: to follow a winding or intricate courseacross the ceiling meandered a long crack— John Galsworthy

2: to wander aimlessly or casually without urgent destination : RAMBLEhe meandered with the sightseers gawping at the boat people— John le Carré

(retrieved from, https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/meander)

 As a writer, I spend a good deal of my time free-associating one thought to the next; this sometimes shows in my writing and in my conversation with others. I have always been a wanderer and a meanderer--including through the woods around my house, all my life. Often  in this blog I will include my memoirs too, and I am writing this blog for my daughter and granddaughter among my readers. 
Truly,Mary Ann

An Introduction to my Blog

 Dear Reader,

In this blog, I will wander and meander through the beauty in the world there is to enjoy in the arts and entertainment: Literature, visual art, music, dance, film, TV and other media, and also musings through artful everyday life. Its title indulges my memories and stories from my "lived experience" and also some old daydreams of mine, which I write about below. This is my first post in this blog, my introduction to it. Welcome!

On Mother's Day last year (2019), my daughter and granddaughter gave me a little lemon tree in a small pot which they had grown from seed. It was the perfect gift and perfect timing. It brought me tiny tears of joy. I then told my daughter and granddaughter the following story, below, which describes why the little lemon tree was the perfect surprise for me that year.

When I was a young writer, in a creative writing program in college, I worked at the perfume counter in a department store. Perfume and flower farm companies would send brochures and booklets which were breathtaking show-and-tells of the perfume industry from around the world, and I also loved discovering 'secret' ingredients in various fragrances and colognes. I used to daydream about having a flower farm and an orchard of fruit trees and grapevines by the Mediterranean Sea, where I would sit and write under the trees. I had always loved my grandmother's garden with her apple, pear, plum, and cherry trees, and her cobblestone patio with its grapevine 'ceiling.' I used to sit in the grapevine shade with the bits of sunshine dancing and sparkling through it, or sit under the trees in her backyard that encircled her and my grandfather's large vegetable garden. There was an expansiveness to it yet it gave me a cozy tucked in feeling. It felt like a storybook setting.

Then, at some point in time, I began writing a novel for a class, and after reading the first chapter of my manuscript, my professor suggested I read The Asiatics by Frederick Prockosch. The main character in the book travels through Asia, narrating his travels, telling of his sensory experiences in an exotic, foreign land, and what I most loved about it were scenes with the lemon and the peppercorn trees. He thought the novel I was writing had a quality to it that was similar to that of Prockosch (and remarked that it would make a good screenplay). I hold that memory of that remark dearly, when my earlier life as a writer was so full of hopes and dreams; back then, it seemed I had all the time in the world to finish the novel and possibly others in my lifetime. Though I would tinker with the novel now and then, pulling it out of its drawer every few years or so, it always got put back into the drawer, back on the back burner. I always felt too busy and never made the time.

And so it turned out that my precious daughter and granddaughter brought me the little lemon tree at precisely the time I decided to return to my novel writing, and the little lemon tree, like a good luck charm, is the perfect symbolic gift for that. It gave me a little chunk of the world I had always imagined in my daydreams into my real everyday world here and now. Perhaps my life still holds some surprises, perhaps I can still make some dreams come true.

Now I can write with the little lemon tree beside me. If it grows big enough some day, perhaps I will actually be able to sit under it as I write. And perhaps, make lemonade and lemon cookies to share with my daughter and granddaughter, to share more of the spice of life.

Truly,
Mary Ann

mbenci.writes@gmail.com