Reflections on the Tenth Week of Fall

Aunt Marge said, “It's the people that matter.” Though my good dishes were in Cleveland, our six chairs didn't match, and so many regular forks had disappeared we had to use dessert forks for dinner, wishes for a Happy Thanksgiving, that friends and relatives sent via text, email, cards, phone, and shouts across the field, came true. Friday, daughter Ellen and her boyfriend Chris arrived at 1:30. We offered beverages, but they said, “We just want to sit and talk with you.” Later, Cousin Joe and his wife Barb came from Erie. Barb hung her coat and asked, “What can I do?” She made gravy and mashed potatoes. Joe kept cozy conversation flowing around the dinner table. When I put the pie in the oven to warm, Barb pulled a pair of purple gloves out of her purse so she could wash dishes. Ellen packed leftovers. I dried plates and revelled in having three women in the kitchen. Ellen and Chris stayed overnight so were here when son Spencer Charles arrived at 6:00 a.m. Saturday. Because we won't be together in December, we celebrated Christmas: present sharing, snowy walk, winery visit, games, hugs, smiles, and always the joy of people being together. Aunt Marge was right.

 

Reflections on the Ninth Week of Fall

Chickadees don't mind immersing when it's 23° and snowy. I do. But my rheumatologist prescribed aerobics, and the deep water fitness class at Meadville YMCA fit that requirement. Feeling I'd rather use a cold water wetsuit, I packed my black and white skirted swimsuit and a black T-shirt in case the old straps didn't hold. Because this was my first visit, the kind young woman at the front desk let me in for free. I changed; put my hair in a ponytail; stuffed winter coat, boots, and three layers of clothing inside a locker; and followed wet steps to the pool. “At least you have one person in your class,” a life guard said to another. I was early so did breast stroke and side stroke in the empty pool for the end of lap swim time. No wetsuit needed–the water was toasty. Another women arrived. The first life guard helped me into a flotation belt and gave me a set of water barbells. The other led us through leg kicks and arm swings. The movements weren't hard, but the class was. The belt bounced me up and forward. I concentrated on not bumping into anyone. Despite balance issues and active exercise, I didn't need the T-shirt for a strap malfunction. I did need a knit cap pulled way down over my wet hair for the drive home.

 

Reflections on the Eighth Week of Fall

Mid morning Friday, Spence poured sunflower seeds into the bird feeder. Because it had slipped down the glass door in last year's bitter cold, he squirted dish washing liquid on the suction cups before mounting the feeder on the door. Lines of soap dripped, but the feeder stayed in place. No birds came. Their morning food-check swoop had been earlier. Saturday, though, a chickadee arrived at dawn. Within ten minutes, five chickadees, two titmice, and a junco waited on dry wisteria vines for their turns at the feeder. As wings fluttered, birds teetered, and fly-by challenges abounded, near collisions were acrobatically averted. Since the furniture had been cleared from that part of the room for floor work, the cats enjoyed a wide view of the flying gymnastics. George and Emma took turns sitting under the feeder. Ears twitched, tails switched, and birds scattered. In the afternoon, Spence and I moved the sofa against one of the sliding doors to prepare for a new section of flooring. Having bumped into the glass enough times, birds had learned to ignored the cats who couldn't get through the glass either. Sunday, Spence didn't top up the feeder because the snow had melted. Birds came anyway. They reached their beaks under the sides to the covered center for the last few seeds.

 

Reflections on the Seventh Week of Fall

This week highlighted the perils of home remodeling. Monday, Spence stained the thirteen rows of oak flooring he'd installed by the sliding glass door. He reached for his cell phone to join a conference call. The phone slipped and landed in the gallon of stain. Thinking the worst, he pulled the phone out and wiped off sticky liquid. But, he made his call–just with a shinier phone. Friday, our cat Emma climbed through the spiral stairs to rest on the open shelf of the china cabinet Spence had pushed against the railing to apply sealer in a back corner. When she got down, she stepped on a stained trim board that was balanced on the railings to dry. The board and Emma fell to the basement. Horrified we ran downstairs. She'd landed in a box of Styrofoam chunks that Spence had cut for basement insulation. She jumped out, made complaining cat growls, and ran away. Later that night, Spence used his table saw to cut trim for the stairwell opening. He came upstairs and said, “I think it's emergency room time.” The saw had cut through the nail and tip of the bone in his left pinkie finger. Disinfectant, eight stitches, tetanus shot, antibiotics, and pain pills later, Spence came home with a banana-sized bandaged finger. He could still type except for “a,” Tab, and Shift.

 

Reflections on the Sixth Week of Fall

Monday, Spence met Two Men and Truck movers in Cleveland. Niles was tall and young; Steve was average height and middle-age. Both were muscular. After loading our washer, dryer, dining room set, queen size mattress, and box springs, they headed to Wells Wood. A half hour after Spence arrived, the moving truck passed our house. Spence got back in his pickup and found the men parked by the second log house. I gave a tour of what went where then the movers brought in the washer. Because front loaders hold water, the men paused to catch their breaths, and Steve commented on the weight. In time, they maneuvered the machine into the bathroom. Directions for attaching the mounting rack on the washer were skimpy. While Niles brought in the other furniture, Steve fit rack pieces by trial and error. After adjusting the dryer feet, the men lifted the dryer onto the washer. One side slipped into the rack; the other didn't. Lifting-loosening-lifting-tightening finally secured the machine. While I did four loads of laundry without climbing stairs or packing folded clothes into suitcases, I was grateful for the three men and two trucks.