This week I attended the Iowa Summer Writing Festival in Iowa City, a program for writers of all levels, those just beginning through published professionals. I strongly recommend this program for you, if you have any interest in developing your writing, or any desire to meet other writers.
I chose a class in creative non-fiction. “Creative” is distinct from “expository” or “journalistic” or “textbook” writing. Most of what is written in the “creative” category, I learned, is called “memoir” from the French for “remembering.” It often includes the kinds of things old people talk about on the porch on a summer evening, watching the fire flies light the sky and hearing the crickets chirp, or the answers to questions sisters and brothers ask each other when the conversation turns to events of childhood. Not limited to old people, memoir could include the musings on a trip a young person took for study abroad, while she explored new worlds and maintained her own identity, or to what is sometimes called the journey of the soul.
Our class started with twelve students and one teacher, but on the first night, one student realized this was not the right fit for him, and changed to another class. Our group had three men, one of whom was the teacher, and nine women, and we ranged in age from 22 to at least 73. We quickly formed a cohesive group and had surprisingly similar tastes in reading and writing, though each one had a particular style. We were asked to bring an excerpt of about 30 pages from our book project in twelve printed copies. This is not the normal format of the workshop, but something this teacher wanted to try. Each day we discussed two of these projects, and also had discussion of other works and aspects of writing. Additionally, each day there was an optional lecture at 11:00 am by various members of the workshop faculty. It was an intense week with both affirmation and constructive criticism of our work, and new areas of writing to explore.
Iowa City is home to University of Iowa, and was the original capital city of Iowa. The “Old Capitol” building stands as a museum on the campus near the downtown of the city. A pedestrian walkway nearby includes a children’s playground and a delightful water playground. One day I took off my sandals and walked on the wet bricks while the children ran through the sprays of water. About eight faucets shoot water up from the sidewalk forming a series of water arches sparkling in the sun. Children run through this arched hallway, some completely wet, while others run through without getting wet.
One day I saw a man sitting on a ledge talking on his phone. His shoes were completely covered in silver duct tape. I enjoyed shopping in the small boutiques and eating lunch in the sidewalk cafes. On the final day, a little girl, perhaps ten years old, saw my nametag and asked me, “Is your name Julia?” I said, “Yes, it is.” “That’s my name,” she said, delighted to find another person with this name. I said I was pleased to meet her, and happy she bore this honorable and ancient name.
Last year I attended this festival and told the teacher, when she asked, “I am looking for focus and direction.” This year I have found that focus and direction in my project about my times in China as an English teacher. I have also received affirmation for that direction, and suggestions for refining my focus. I’m very excited about my writing project, but now I must set it aside, because we have only five weeks to enjoy the summer here, and get ready to return to China for another year of teaching.

The month of May is almost gone.  The lilacs are finished blooming, as are most daffodils and  tulips.  Iris take the stage now, and the peonies are waiting in the wings, to dance for May 30, which used to be known as “Decoration Day.”  Now we call it “Memorial Day” and we celebrate it on the last Monday in May.  It’s a day to remember and honor the dead, especially the soldiers who died in defending the country. Aunt Emma always wanted to decorate the graves of her ancestors with peonies.

When we first moved here about four years ago, there were several peonies in the back yard along the chain link fence.  I thought they deserved a more prominent position, so I dug them up and moved them to the front garden. For the next years, they looked tiny and didn’t really bloom.  Last fall, I thought maybe they should be moved, as they seemed lost in among the dayliies, but decided to wait until this season. This year, they are covered with buds and the bushes stand more than two feet tall.  I’m glad I didn’t move them.  There were originally about three of them in the back yard, but they have multiplied to at least ten!  Meanwhile in the back yard, a few came up each year.  Last year, when we made the new fence, I had someone come with a machine to dig out the old stumps, weeds and vines that had been covering the chain link.  I was certain that there would be no more peonies back there, but this year, another peony bush is back there, slender, but standing tall.  In a few more years, maybe that will multiply also.  Apparently the roots are deep and they don’t give up.

Across the alley behind our house a woman lives in the house her grandparents lived in.  She said that, about 80 years ago, her grandmother received  more peonies than she wanted, so she shared them with her neighbors.  My plants were some of those. These plants are older than I am, and will probably outlive me.  They’ve endured some cold cold winters, and some hot hot summers, overly wet seasons, droughts, competing weedy plants around them,  and I imagine, some carefully planted companions, uprooting and transplanting, and they were not always in the best of soil.  Nevertheless, they have bloomed, and continue to bloom, year after year, recovering after each hardship.    Strong, secure, and persistent, qualities for us all.

We are having a cool and rainy spring, but the flowers are blooming and the ground is soaking up the moisture.  The peas are coming up, and last night we ate spinach from the garden.  I planted that spinach last fall in hopes of a harvest for Christmas.  My covering for the bed wasn’t quite right, though, and collapsed under the weight of the snow.  I was so surprised in February when I removed the cover and found tiny sweet spinach.  And now that it is warmer, that same spinach is growing big and ready to eat.

Although the rain is delaying the planting season for farmers, it is welcome because we are still recovering from drought.  Everything looks so clean, the colors so intense, in the rain.  I still enjoy a walk in the rain, if I can have a raincoat and waterproof boots.  Rain is a gift of life.

“April showers bring May flowers” is an old rhyme.  So far, we haven’t seen the showers, but the flowers are starting anyway.  The tulips in my front garden are about six inches high.  My son-in-law said, “I like the daffodils, to me, they mean Spring is here.”

“Oh, yes,” I said, “there are also hundreds of daffodils in that bed, but they haven’t shown themselves yet.”

His sister said, “As soon as they start blooming, call me, and I’ll come with my camera.”

These signs of spring bring us hope for the immediate future of the plant kingdom, and remind us that there is hope for the long term future of life in the spiritual realm as well.  We are about to celebrate the highest holy day of the Christian year, the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead.  This holiday is also known as Easter, a word that was in use in English when the ancient texts of Christianity were translated.  Many say that “Easter” is a pagan holiday taken over by the Christian celebration.  Although the two coincide, there is a distinct difference in the reality of meaning.

Some 50 years ago, Easter was still considered a main holiday, and, for example, school was out starting Good Friday and continuing a whole week after Easter Sunday.  As the USA has left behind its Christian heritage, we hardly notice Easter anymore in the general society, except for the sales of chocolate rabbits and colored eggs.  For Christians, though, the resurrection of Christ remains as the central event of our faith, and “Easter” marks the anniversary of it.

Joy! Hope! Peace! Love!   All these blessings come from Jesus Christ and his victory over death.  May all these be yours this season.

This afternoon I went out to my garden to do a little clean up work.  Last fall I had left the chrysanthemums standing and they were dried up stalks.  I cut them back to make room for spring, and I saw the new growth at the very bottom of the stalks.  Some people walked by and greeted me, and asked “Is anything coming up yet?”  “Oh, yes, take a look,” I said and showed them the tiny green tips of tulip leaves and daffodil leaves poking through the dry brown oak leaves from last fall. 

This small garden is in front of my house along the sidewalk, so anyone walking by may enjoy the flowers. There are hundreds of bulbs: daffodils, tulips, crocus, hyacinths.  Spring is late settling in this year, it has been quite cold.  But we can see that the flowers will bloom in a glorious display.  I’m so glad I planted a new section of tulips last fall.

In late June I will have to dig up about half this garden to make way for a new sidewalk to be poured.  When that is complete, I can replant, and plant more on the other side of the walk also.  I plan to move the peonies over on the other side of the sidewalk.  I moved them from the back yard to the front three years ago.  Poor things, they haven’t resettled yet, and will have to move again.  They seem hardy enough to do that, though, and I think will make a more impressive display all together instead of mixed in with the other plants. 

The year will fly by as usual, and I hope to enjoy each day as it comes.  I wish you joy in each season.  

Saturday, to celebrate her birthday, my friend and I went “out to play.”  In my childhood, children went to their friend’s house, knocked on the door and asked the adult who answered, “Can Julia come out to play?”  Children seldom do this anymore, as their friends may live across town rather than in the neighborhood.  Also, few adults are at home during the day, and children no longer have the freedom to play outdoors without adult supervision.  Children’s lives are full with school, sports, music lessons, church, and organized clubs and activities, not to mention their computer gadgets and toys.  But I still think of this phrase when I go out with friends.  It has a ring of freedom.

We ate lunch together: bagel with cream cheese, salted salmon, capers, red onions and tomato.  Her bagel was flavored with asiago and parmesan cheese, while mine had rosemary and olive oil.  She had lemonade, and I had iced tea. “What are capers?” she asked me, and my short reply was, “They are some kind of plant.”  Capers are the small flower bud of a plant that grows near the Mediterranean Sea.  They are harvested at a specific time in their growth and are pickled in brine.  Just a few capers add a flavor boost to an otherwise ordinary dish.  I have learned that in ancient times, capers were used as currency along trade routes. Isn’t it amazing how far our food travels before we eat it?

After lunch we went to a museum.  The main exhibit is about people seeking freedom, immigrating to USA for that purpose.  It’s an interactive display, with many “hands on” activities.  One such activity includes a small suitcase and many items, such as clothing, books, a china plate, a baseball, a comb.  These are on a table, and the visitor is invited to select what to take, and fit it in the small suitcase.  I could see that you couldn’t get it all in.  Did we try? 

My friend is a recent immigrant to this country, and I have travelled many times to China, with the rule of “40 pounds only.”  I felt the display was too close to reality to enjoy playing with it.  What would you take along for a year’s sojourn in a foreign land?  What would you take if you were leaving your homeland forever?   So many immigrants arrived with nothing except the clothes they were wearing, a little bit of cash, and huge hopes for a life better than the one they left behind.  This exhibit is historical, focusing mainly on the people who immigrated in the 1880’s and early 1900’s, but the waves of immigration have not diminished.  As the world is full of oppression and war, people still are looking for freedom.

As we in America daily see our freedom eroding, thousands of people arrive here looking for more freedom than they left behind.  The exhibit we visited asked us to ponder what freedom really is, and where it originates.  Is there a freedom of the soul, regardless of circumstances?  Is freedom political?  Can we find true freedom by leaving a place or by arriving in a place?  How can we preserve freedom, and can we offer freedom to others?   What are the responsibilities inherent in a free society?  What dangers accompany freedom? 

What are your thoughts on freedom?   

As ever, Julia

Yesterday, the temperature rose a degree or two above freezing, so a little bit of snow melted, and some of the ice in driveways, but then at night it was quite slick again.  This morning is bright and clear, but still well below freezing.  There is no school today as it is end of term.  I’m happy to be “off.”   

The year is shaping up with commitments to classes to keep our teaching licenses, plans for the garden and house projects, and a wedding we plan to attend in the fall.  Our grandchildren are getting taller and taller, and more and more accomplished in their pursuits.  We went to a 7^th grade band concert in which one of them played, and were surprised and pleased by its quality.

I’d like to build a tree house in the backyard, but we’ll see if Dear Husband is up to it this year.  Those boys are certainly big enough to help with this project, and it is for them. I’m thinking of four posts sunk into the ground with concrete, four bracing pieces, perhaps diagonally set between each two posts, and four pieces connecting the four posts at the top.  Then the floor boards crossing and connecting to the long pieces.  Finally a railing around the edge, and a ladder to climb to it.   All this surrounding a tall  Arbor Vita tree.  We can see the remains of an earlier tree house from long, long ago in that tree.  I can picture it easily, but I’m not strong enough to build it myself. 

What are your thoughts today?  How is your year shaping up?   

As ever,  Julia

Hello again after my long absence. This blog was compromised 6 months ago and I was not able to access it. It was up and running again for a short time, but then google deemed it to be dangerous, and I was not able to sign in. Although we don’t understand the reasons, it is back in service, so hello again and thanks for looking in.
This winter in the Midwest of USA we are having arctic cold. It is similar to the winter of 1977, when Alaska was warm and snowless, while the Midwest had record snowfall and brutal cold. We spent that winter in Alaska. I recall that our parents called, worried about how cold we must be, if they were snowed in in Indiana. We had been outside washing the car!
We have about a foot of snow on the ground which cannot melt in the severe cold. We might break some records for the most days below zero (F) during the winter. The weather people assure us that Spring is indeed on the way, but she seems a long way out and we eagerly await her arrival. Meanwhile, I for one, am enjoying the time indoors to ponder, to read, to write.
I planted a non-native tree last summer. If it survives this winter, I’m confident it will survive anything. I will be surprised though if it does survive. It is a Japanese Maple, with lacy red leaves. We built a little structure to cover it with plastic and that was good until January when the wind tore it apart. Then I wrapped the plastic around the trunk and the snow has made an insulating blanket around it. It is a very slender young tree from a warmer place than this. If it doesn’t survive, should I give up and find something more suitable for our climate, or try again with a new tree of the same variety?

The children still come every week, and we still go out to work and volunteer a few days per week, but most days, I have been staying inside. Our son bought us a snow blower and I learned how it works. I also learned that if Dear Husband is not available to use this machine, I will hire someone to use it. I stand in awe of power machines, but I do not feel confident in using them.

Although I’ve improved my chess skills, our grandchildren are now able to beat me easily, except for the youngest one. It’s always good to have a challenge to our minds. I also like the challenge of Sudoku, the number puzzle, which I see as a nine patch quilt pattern. I find it fascinating, and I’m glad it’s in the newspaper every morning. On Mondays, it’s easy and it gets more difficult during the week until on Saturday it takes a little effort.

Each day, we face a new challenge, or a form of a familiar challenge. These small ones get us ready for bigger ones, and small triumphs, such as a completed puzzle, or a game well played, give us confidence to go on, no matter how cold it is outside.
As ever, Julia

My dear husband left on June 24 for a journey abroad, and returned on August 15. How I missed him! Oh, yes, I kept busy in the backyard projects. Yes, I had fun with the grandchildren. Yes, I enjoyed my “freedom” every day to do as I pleased, when I pleased, to eat out if I liked, or not to eat at all. BUT, I missed him every day. I missed his company, his laughter, and his boundless energy.

My dear husband made his first trip to China in 1986! That year, there were no accessible phones in most of rural China. We had NO communication for about six weeks. It was extremely difficult. This year, we had the “miracle” of SKYPE, on which we could talk almost every day, and see each other while doing so. What an amazing world we live in these days. When the fence was complete, I took my laptop outside and walked around the yard, showing him the fence. I still marvel at this.

In 1986, almost as soon as Dear Husband left, the car broke down, followed by the washing machine. Then we had an intruder break into the house one evening while we were gone. Another night, very late, we heard a lot of noise outside, and our dogs barked wildly. I called the sheriff because I was scared. He came out and said he thought perhaps a large animal such as a bear had caused the dogs to bark. I gather he thought this was a comfort to me. The next morning, I looked around and saw evidence of a person: some wrappers and little ketchup packets from McDonald’s in my driveway. I was glad I had the dogs outside. I brought the dogs inside, but they weren’t trained for inside and made life more difficult, so I put them back outside.

This year, I have no dog, and I live in a city, small, but a city nonetheless. Some say we live in a “bad” neighborhood, but I’m happy to have neighbors. Since we live close to the hospitals, we hear sirens nearly every day, but in general, it is a quiet neighborhood.

In 1986, I was still quite young, though I didn’t think so at the time, and the eight week absence seemed like forever. This year, the seven weeks seemed fairly short. The older we get, the faster time seems to race by. Back then I had the children to consider and I feared for them when we had the break-in. This year, one of those same children, now an adult, feared for me. I must say my “children” looked out for me and took care of me by calling, e-mailing, coming over, and inviting me their homes.

It’s been a wonderful summer, and there is still some summer left. I’m so glad Dear Husband is now home to share it with me.

A few days ago, I noticed my plants drooping in the heat. We have not had a serious rain for many weeks. I decided to water the plants.

For years I have searched for the best hose, one that does not kink, does not break, is not heavy to carry, and is long enough for the whole yard. I have not yet found it. I’ve spent lots of money, probably too much, in the search. Early this season, I bought online a hose that looked like the answer. It is coiled, like the old time telephone cord, or the slinky toy. (For you who are younger than 30, look up these words in the dictionary.) I chose the bright purple one. The idea is that it wouldn’t kink because it was already coiled. The problem though, is that it gets tangled within itself, and requires untangling. It was supposed to revert quickly to its compact form, but what happens is that it is very difficult to stretch out. And it isn’t as long as I need it to be. Next, on the recommendation of a friend who has bought the newest thing, I went to an online site and succumbed to a “buy one, get one FREE!” plan. (I’m about ready to call it a “scam” instead of a “plan”) This hose has the remarkable quality of stretching out when charged with water, but shrinking when dry. When it was called “25 feet long” I thought it meant it was 25 feet doubling to 50 feet. In fact, it is 8 feet, going to 25. I chose the longest one, which is 50′ and then the site offered an even lower price than originally, to get the shorter one as well, so I did that. The problem is that you have to pay a shipping and handling cost for each one. Then, there is an offer of speeding up the shipping, to which I also succumbed. I paid $49.00 in these costs. So, I am reminded that nothing is FREE, except the grace of God. These newest hoses require their own special nozzle at the spraying end. I find the nozzle inferior to the one I already have, but that one doesn’t fit the end of the new hose. Also, you can’t leave the hose attached to the faucet, you must take it off and make sure it is dry each time you use it. I would send back this purchase, except I don’t want to pay that much shipping again.

Another problem at this house is that we have only one operating faucet outside the house — that is why I need so much hose. We replaced this faucet with a new “modern” one so that we can have some special valve on it. The result is that the hose will not attach securely to the faucet. Every time I turn on the water, much is wasted. I keep buckets under the faucet to collect most of the water, but still, some is sprayed on the driveway. I thought for some time that it was the fault of the hose, so I hoped this new hose would solve the problem, but the same thing happened. A neighbor suggested I get some washers (small round rubber rings) to put inside the hose, rather than think about changing the faucet. Good advice. For $1.49, I got a small package of 10 washers, a good deal, because I now have 7 hoses! This plan does cut down the water loss, but not completely. Besides the philosophical aspect of wasting the most precious thing in life, I have to consider that we pay for our water according to how much is used each month.

On the morning I decided to water the plants, first, I connected one hose to the rain barrel near the front yard, and watered everything in the front. When that barrel was empty, I connected the two oldest vinyl, easily kinked hoses,and attached one end to the faucet with the new washer in place. Then I attached the purple coiled one to these, with my own nozzle at the end. In theory, it is now 180′ of hose. (about 60 meters) I carried this long hose to the back yard, making sure there were no kinks, and that the hose was not breaking any plants in the area. Then I turned on the water, and started my task. A hose, even a garden hose, full of water is heavy. The purple one is awkward, and I have to keep moving it carefully to manage it properly. Having carried the hose all the way to the back of the yard, and back to the front, uncoiling, straightening, and lifting it to the plants, I was nearly finished with my task. As I was standing, watering my beautiful ferns and flowers, I was fussing in my mind about the inconvenience of my hoses, the placement of the faucet, and how hard it was to do the simple task of watering.

Suddenly, I realized there are people in the world who have NO WATER! No water for drinking, for washing, for daily life. These people walk for hours to find a source of water which is not clean, then they carry some home in a bucket. They have no plants for beauty. Although I eat from my vegetable garden, it is not my main source of food. My plants are entirely “extra” when we think of necessity. I was so ashamed of myself in that moment.

I came inside and sent a donation to Water For South Sudan. The website for this organization is www.waterforsouthsudan.org This is not a link, you must type it in for yourself. The founder of Water for South Sudan is Salva Dut. He was a “lost boy” of Sudan and came to the USA as a refugee. He goes to South Sudan and drills wells in villages. He has formed the organization in order to allow more people to participate in this task. We must never take for granted what we have, nor may we ignore the needs of others who have even less. If your life is convenient, give thanks. If you think it is not, think again.