It smells like Spring

This morning as I stood outside to assess the day, I was surrounded by the smell of Spring.  I stood there stunned that the air smelled sweet, slightly pungent, different than it was yesterday.  Mother Nature is up to something.  It was unexpectedly warm yesterday, in the mid-70’s, unusual for this time of year.  Perhaps the warm air stimulated all the plants to turn up their metabolism to grow and release sweet smells into the air.  February is extraordinary here in Berkeley.  The hills turn green from the rain, daffodils and narcissus and beautiful hellebores adorn gardens.  But it is the pink and white blossoms in the ornamental plum and cherry trees that blow me away.  They are like girls (in my day) dressed up in beautiful extravagant dresses ready to go out.  I remember February in the colder places we lived (Connecticut and Tennessee) was the worst month of winter.  Spring seemed impossibly far away as the roads were rutted with black ice.  Last week it was so for much of the country as it struggled under freezing cold and snow of the Polar Vortex that had moved South.   Here the days this week are beautiful and warm.  It is easy to feel cheerful on such a beautiful sweet smelling Spring morning.   We are very fortunate to live in such a beautiful place.  

A Vision

 Yesterday was Valentine’s Day.  There was a big red box of fancy Italian chocolates tied with a gold bow on my table with a lovely Valentine from my sweetie.  It was a nice way to start my day.  Then, Arne and Liam came over for a visit, to work in the shop, to hang out and play card games and to have lunch with us.  It was blessed time of seeming normality interrupted only by the necessity of us all wearing masks.  How good it was to have them here for the afternoon.  

While all the guys were in the shop doing their guy work,  I worked in my garden, pruning Salvias and pulling out the omnipresent Oxalis.  Carrying up the full blue garden bin to the green waste can in the driveway, I had a vision of myself.  Suddenly, as if I was hit by a bolt of lightning, I saw myself as I expect others see me—-as a thin white haired old woman.  It was a shock.   In my mind, I’m not like that.  I have in me a constant inner thread of who I am that hasn’t changed that much over the years.  Oh, I hope I’m a bit wiser now, more patient and calmer.  But I feel the same in this inner picture as I did years ago, when Bob and I were first married and hiked so much or when I was teaching and carpooling the boys all over to their various activities.  There is a constancy in me of who I think I am.   I feel like the essence of me has remained the same through the many experiences I’ve had and over the years I’ve been alive.  Yet when I look in the mirror or catch of glimpse of this older me in photos, I see my body has changed.  I see myself as my grandmother.  Someone who finds it hard to put a big lunch on the table for company because she doesn’t do it very often.  Someone who now gets nervous riding in the car on the freeway.  Someone who lies down in the afternoon to read and falls asleep.  There are two me’s.  I think both are true.  But it’s definitely a puzzle.  

The Sentinel

 When Bob retired from his long time career as a physicist, he had it in his mind to fix up his workshop in his retirement.  He’d not had time in his busy life to spend much time there.  Starting mostly with tools from his father and the time they worked helping to build the addition on our house in the early 1980’s, he began to build up his tool collection—saws, a lathe, drill press, a grinder or two and much much more.  Over the years, he has built up a fabulous workshop that serves his almost every desire.  After he got all the woodworking tools in place, he began to develop an interest in metalworking.  For many years, he spent time building ever more creative pieces from used horseshoes he’d collect at nearby horse barns.  This work led him to become a skilled welder.  At first he used his father’s old welder, then he needed to have other kinds of welders.  He’s gotten two more so he now has three welders.  Over the years, he has come to be a regular “Mr Fixit” able to fix anything that is broken, from a broken rake to a broken mixer whip.   His creations have changed and become more and more artistic over the years.  

About a month ago, he accepted the challenge to make a heron sculpture for a friend.  She wanted it as a tangible monument for her dear friend who had died.  She and Bob went back and forth, finally settling on an elegant simple design.  I found it fascinating to watch him work.  He spent a really long time getting the design pattern exactly right, then enlarging it on graph paper to be four times bigger, marking the lengths of the pieces and the precise angles of the curves.  Then he began to plan the jigs he’d need.  A jig is a specially created tool that helps one do a specific job,  in this case  to make bends in the metal.  It took him a very long time to make the jigs he’d need.  Finally he began to cut the 3/8” square steel metal pieces into the required lengths.  Then he bent the pieces to the exact curves needed.  Finally he began to weld the pieces together—-first the head (the hardest part), then the long neck then the body.  The legs presented a question in which I was consulted.  Were they long enough?  We decided the first ones he’d made weren’t long enough so he made another longer set of legs.   Finally, he finished the piece, grinding off the excess metal of the welds so the pieces were smooth and shiny.  And it was ready to go with just one more addition, the pieces that would hold it in place.  He welded on two 10” stakes, connected by a crosspiece that go into the ground.  We invited over friend over to view the piece which Bob had placed in my garden.  At first she couldn’t see it and then she did and her face lit up with joy and delight!  She was so very happy with Bob’s beautiful artistic heron creation.  We took it to her garden and helped her install the piece.  She calls it “The Sentinel.”  Bob is now not just a most talented craftsman but truly an artist.  He’s already working on his next piece, a 3-D rotating double helix.  I can’t wait to see it.  

Interruptions of My Calm

 This last week has been full of interruptions disrupting my sought after state of calmness.   Big and little things have happened.  Yesterday, Bob and I drove down to Fremont to get our 2nd Covid vaccination.  The site was more crowded this time.  There was a 30 minute wait in a line.  The place seemed to be crackling with energy.  Everybody was so happy to get their shots!!!!  We toasted each other last night about our closer end of Covid fear.  Neither one of us had any reaction to the shot, so that is great.  In every group of which I’m a part, “did you get your shot yet” is certainly the major topic of conversation.  I’m happy to report, most everyone has gotten at least one.  So Biden’s  goal of 100 million shots in his first 100 days seems to be possible.  

Our elderly neighbor across the street has moved out, probably to a nursing home or maybe she died.  I don’t know.  There is no light in the evening and the front curtains don’t open and close as they have done for years. She was a sweet lady, though very reserved.  We barely ever even spoke in the 40 plus years we’ve lived here.  Once in 1989 they offered to let Arne and me stay in their home for a few days.  We had a few days to wait before our flight after our renters arrived and they were gone on a trip.  It was extremely nice of them.  I remember they had heated floors.  We would be joining Bob on his Humboldt Fellowship in Germany.  It was Arne’s freshman year in high school so Arne and I stayed in Berkeley for his first semester.  Bob and Erik had been over there since September.  He spent his 2nd semester in Heidelberg which had its definite pluses and minuses.  Now there are painters painting the outside of the house across the street.  It’s sad as she and her husband built the house and lived there since the early 1950’s.   I wonder if we’ll have new neighbors there soon.  

And finally the second impeachment trial of trump is underway.  As historian Heather Cox Richardson said “ the people really on trial are the 50 Republican Senators judging trump’s guilt.”  I wonder if he will continue to be the center of the Republican Party with his big lie.  If he is acquitted, he’ll be back in politics, that’s for sure.  Can our democracy survive with just one rational political party?  It is a big question. 

All this and the February spring blossoms are bursting forth in Berkeley.  On our walks, there are bright yellow daffodils nodding in the sunshine; amazing hellebores with their heavy blossoms bent over; plum and cherry trees becoming covered in pink blossoms.  February is the most amazing month here in Berkeley.  

Not Any Sunday

 Sunday morning was special because the sermon I’d been working on for weeks was released on UTube through our little church website (Arlingtoncommunitychurchucc.org).  It is always a challenge for me to actually give a sermon, even when there is no one there to listen, because of my upbringing.  I can’t bear to see myself or even hear my voice.  Being raised, I only remember being praised for not speaking out, for not calling attention to myself and those recriminations are still a strong voice in my head along with my basic introverted personality.  This is the fourth virtual sermon I’ve given during this pandemic and Bob, my outstanding videographer, has upgraded his taping methodology each time.  This time in addition to a long cord on the lapel mic, there were tall lights with diffusers shining on me. It’s fun to do it together and I feel very grateful for his strong support.   As we finished taping the service, I felt a huge relief and thought “well, if I should die now, what I really believe is there in this service for everyone to see.”  I’d never felt that before.  When the sermon was released, I felt exposed.  People with the eyes to see will see and the ears to hear will find my truth.  I didn’t say anything so unusual really, just words about Jesus’ power and authority being Love.  The words are all deeply honest.  As I look back over my life, I see that love has been the energy of much of what I’ve done.  The service has gotten a lot of views for our little church,  so maybe the message and the videography are appreciated.

In the afternoon we went out for a walk, as we do often.  I have a map of the roads and paths in the Berkeley hills in my head now so we make up all sorts of new routes as we walk along.  I still look for beauty and I found a gorgeous Helleborus by the curb in front of the house that has the most beautiful front door on Bret Harte Way.  Walking calmed down my excited nerves and brought me back into my body again.  And then, to top it all off, we had a truly gorgeous sunset!   It was a day full of blessings for which I am very grateful.