My Coldest Vermont summer on Record

This is a touchy subject but one I wanted to have some fun with.
Mostly since we have had such a cold summer. When you can refer to 70F degrees as "muggy", you really might have forgotten what 90F plus is (or my childhood Illinois memories of over 100 degrees+100 percent humidity for days). We are creeping up to the 80F range and now I worry the artichokes might shut off for awhile.
So have fun with my next poem. I did.

Global Warming
first draft
by Mary E. Gerdt
all rights reserved

The summer was predicted
To be an extra hot one
The polar bears were drowning,
I mean all and not one.

The ice cap receding like there is
No tomorrow.
The end of the world would surely,
Quickly follow.

The filthy air exhausting from our
Fires and cows and engines
Was warming up the air and
Causing mass frustrations.

The global messenger this summer,
Taking some vacation,
Was flying in his private jet
When it began a strange gyration.

It coughed and sputtered,
The first engine died,
Then number two it failed
Though the pilot tried,
The third one went
The fourth one whined and cried
The final engine held that bird up high
The pilot said a prayer.

Al looked out the window of his private plane
And thought how some thought he was simply insane.
He was sure his answer was to burn up the corn,
Ethanol was the answer,
His marketing plan born.

But alas like the engine on our poor garden tractor,
His fourth engine coughed and broke like a cracker.
And he sat in amazement, that arrogant man
Who thought to burn corn in his free falling plane.

Close up with our Artichokes

We are pleased with our artichokes. These photos will give you a better idea about what they look like.

Had a long day weeding the second planting beans, carrots and beets.

Hope your day brought a pleasant surprise.

Summer Darkness

Better Forget
by Mary E. Gerdt
all rights reserved

Hot and sticky.
The weather had finally changed from the bitter cold to now the unbearable heat.
How are we to continue to tolerate this misery?
My sweat stung my eyes as I looked to the far horizon. I shook my head to refocus.
No sign.
I look in the opposite direction.
Nothing.
Don’t think about thirst. Those thoughts would not leave me alone.

Pain.
Sometimes sharp. Sometimes dull.
Sometimes pleasurable in a sick sort of way.
Pain better than thirst.

Voices.
Were they real?
Are they friendly?
They are too far away to tell.
My voice will not respond.
I am so parched.
A little squeak.
Smaller than a mouse cry.
Smaller than a mosquito buzz.
Surely they cannot hear me.

Lights.
Are they real? Is that the sun? Or some delusions.
They hurt my eyes but I want to stare at them.
They have rings around them. Halos.
Am I dead yet?

Dizzy.
How can I be dizzy lying down?
I feel I am floating but this hard ground reminds me I am on the desert floor.
A sore nags at my back side. Pain again. Stinging.


Rushing
I feel I am rushing here and there. Flying in a way.
No pain for a minute.
Flashes and needles and little noises.
Beeping noises like a smoke alarm.
Loud then soft.
Soft then loud.


Sleeping.
How could I sleep when I am dying?
Wasting living time.
Why not when it hurts so much to be awake?

Movement.
I can’t move.
Something must be broken.
Pains here, then there, then gone again.
If I could raise an arm I could call the voices over to help.

Crying.
I feel tears drop like rain. Little sad voices overhead. Is that an angel?
Pain then none.
Sleep.
Let me go.

Remember.
Remember when I was alive and well and fighting the battles of life.
Remember when I smiled and laughed and cried and wondered.
When we loved and were loved and lost and gained.
And

Forget
Those days in ICU when my parched bloated body looked horrible.
When you saw my pain in grimaces and questioning looks.
“Why me?”
When you wondered if I had pain, was dizzy, could I cry?
Yes, but forget those days.
Better you forget.



notes: This poem refers to my projection of what an ICU patient experiences after 8+ years as an ICU nurse observing all forms of illness, delirium, end of life. There has been much MS Blogger activity discussing end of life issues. This poem is one of my imaginary ends.
Not good nor bad, I guess it is some of both.mary

Artichokes have arrived in Vermont

We were excited to find August bringing in our first 3 artichokes.
There are 3 here even though 2 are infantile.









We started our 40 plants indoors the third week in March after chilling the seeds in a cool room for a few weeks.
Then planted out beginning of June. The wind and cold were hard on the little plants but they persevered.
With the prolonged cold weather, we have now the beginning of our first globe.
We are eagerly anticipating the next 40 or so.
When we grew these before, we got 10-12 off each plant.
Here are some pic's from June 23rd-early plants.

Kodak ate my other pictures
from more recent views of what have become large beautiful thistle looking
plants. Savory to all Vermont bugs and subject to rotting diseases that plague the gardeners in this wet cold summer.



If we can pry out of the camera the images of the larger plants I will post those too.
Otherwise I am likely to just go snap a few more.
We are picking baby zucchini "Raven" variety, yellow squash "gentry" and red and yellow onions.
The onion plants we started in little cups and some had a few in the cup when I planted them. Now the small onion is pushing out the large one, leaving the smaller one to grow.
Happy we did black plastic mulch this year as these plants did best against the flooding rain we have had.
Hope to open the farm stand soon.
Enjoy!

Thanks to a friend across the ocean

Thanks to a friend across the Atlantic ocean,

who lives near my ancestral roots,

thoughtful chronicler and keeper of

images good and bad

and feelings good

and bad and

how people read

her words

and feel so much

even though

transmitted

across wires, electronic impulses

and air

across the Atlantic Ocean and beyond.



Thanks for the Honest Scrap award,

Herrad

It is quite an honor!

Visit Herrad at
http://accessdenied-livingwithms.blogspot.com/

Levon Helm's new CD Electric Dirt

I am going to get into this more later but for now, you should really buy Levon Helm's new CD Electric Dirt.
If you do, you will not need to read about it. It will catch you with the opening Tennessee Jed, one of my favorite Dead tunes.
Then one song after another and, as I drive around the county on my job, I rediscover each song and listen to the voices, instruments and feelings in that wonderful CD.
It makes it a million times better that we saw him perform many of the tunes in his studio in Woodstock.
Here is his website:

levonhelm.com

Listen to previews.
enjoy

40 years since the first moon walk

If I had to pick a color for the moon walk, I would probably pick black and white.
That is what we saw about 40 years ago when Donna's birthday pool party was cancelled due to threatening thunderstorms and fears of tornadoes.
Yes, I remember wishing secretly that we would not go swimming partly because of fear of wearing swimsuits and mostly because I loved space travel more than swimming or parties. A trait I carry today.
So when the black skies looked scary enough, we went home. Now I don't remember whether it was Donna's or our house. Donna probably remembers.
But I do remember the whole anticipation and prime time anchoring by our friendly and familiar Walter Cronkite. Didn't he look a little like Walt Disney?
I remember Neil walking and saying his famous words. I wonder now if they were spontaneous? Did he shed a grown man tear in his helmet?
But years later a bigger thrill came my way. Today I was trying to remember exactly when but narrowed it down to 1982-1988 or so. I was working on the neuro floor and a woman was admitted. Her husband was very friendly and as I went to lunch he said, "Do you want to meet a man who walked on the moon?"
I was speechless. How did he know that I would? I thought he was joking.
"Really", he said. I said, "Of Course!"
I waited with him and his wife.
In walked a very short but handsome strong man and his taller, strikingly beautiful wife.
It was Jim Irwin.
One of 12 men to walk on the moon.
I shook his hand and was quite speechless. I stood in awe.
I don't remember if I even said much. No autographs or big speech.
One person's awe of another.
Today I looked him up and was getting excited about the new book that interviewed the moon mission astronauts.
He died in 1991. He was the first moonwalker to die. He died not too many years after I met him. I was a bit sad thinking of his sweet wife losing her handsome husband.
Today I wanted to thank that man for taking time out to shake a nurse's hand.
What a rare and special moment.
I hope Donna still reads my blog so she too can relive the night we saw a man walk on the moon. Happy birthday!
When will we go back?
I believe it is about time.

Don't read if you are not pro or neutral to Sarah Palin

I'll just warn you up front.
If you read it and dislike SP, your B/P will rise and you won't call me anymore.
So just censor yourself if you harbor hate towards "her".
I tried to send this to Kparker but her website is busted, or broken or whatever.
She seems to love one woman over another so I call this
A Tale of Two Women.
My letter to respond to articles in the Burlington Free Press this past week.
Remember the Golden Rule when you express yourself. I tried as best as I am able.

Hello Ms Parker,
I read your opinions on Sarah Palin and Ms. Sotamayor and I am once again puzzled by the modern professional woman who feels she must ooze respect for one woman she admires and rip apart another she detests.
Nancy Drew might be surprised at your hacking apart Ms. Palin since it was a kinder, gentler time when those stories were written.
You say you are sympathetic to a childless woman, yet you mock one who had a down's baby, 4 others, Governor of a large state and nominated to be a Vice Presidential candidate.
Personally, I cannot state that I like Sarah Palin out loud or I get attacked.
Why, when she is a woman I can identify with?
Your words:
"But when Sotomayor and I were girls, there were few girl-oriented books and fewer female professional role models. On my weekly visit to the public library, I checked out as many women's biographies as I could find, searching for someone with whom I could identify.
These recollections are recounted for the single purpose of illustrating that we are all products of our life experiences. The empathy I feel for motherless children is boundless. My understanding of the world having grown up a minority in an all-male household, feeling outside the mainstream of whole families, is different from those who had both a mother and a father.
And though I never requested or wanted special consideration, my sense of the world as I navigated the testosterone-rich environment of America's old newsrooms as one of relatively few women is not the same as that of my male counterparts."
Wow, Sarah deals pretty well with the testosterone rich guys in Alaska. And then on the national stage.
And then on the media stage, and then defending herself against frivolous legal actions.
Your words (my comments in brackets)
"She is not intellectually curious{Ouch!-not good enough college for you?}. We need and have smart, competent alternatives.”
"Undoubtedly and understandably, Palin is weary of the fray{she is pretty high energy that I have seen}. The crucial turning point was the attacks on her family. No one can honestly make the case that the Palins didn’t take more heat than other public families.{does even that anger you??} That said, it isn’t difficult to avoid media attention. All one has to do is go to Alaska and stay put. {run away you little girl-or stand up?}But Palin, like the giddy Icarus, seems drawn to heat and light{I bet SNL wants her back}Palin also blamed frivolous ethics charges as a reason for her premature retirement. Alaskans lately have turned against the once-popular governor and filed complaints that have run up legal fees in the $500,000 range.{Were the opposing lawyers democrats?} Nobody wants that, surely, but that’s chump change {Is this in your journalistic dictionary?} for Palin, whose supporters tossed $400,000 her way the first month SarahPAC went online...Fortunately, Palin has hired a writer to help with her tell-all{ouch!you think she can't spell?}
Insiders {Who?? Are they Friends of yours?} confirm that Palin felt she couldn’t accomplish as much as a besieged governor as she can as a private citizen working behind the scenes. While those facts may be true, the sidebar reveals a convenient rationale. The usual rule applies: Follow the money.As a public speaker, Palin will be golden." {Oh yes she will and people like myself will go see her and shake her hand for standing up for her family, herself and the right of us all to speak our minds.
Yes, you have a right to slay Sarah and praise Ms Sotamayor.
I see two women who struggle in a man's world and wish them both the best.
I bet Nancy Drew would too.
Thank you for considering my comments.
Mary Gerdt

Raspberries are wild

The Raspberries up back are wild and make you suffer a thousand tiny needle like picks from the stems to enjoy the perfect, purely purple sweetness and the texture of the tiny seeds, once a nuisance and now a powerful antioxidant.
I started on the north end and made my way around clockwise. As I picked, I marvelled at how I would turn away to pick a new area and look back at where I just picked and see a whole new bunch of ripe berries.
The question that remained was: did they ripen before my eyes or were they there all along? And, if the latter is true, when I saw the first ripe berries, did they obscure their ripe partners? Were the raspberries doing a magic trick?
I froze 2 bags and added the rest to some vanilla yogurt,
gave up wondering about when the berries ripen,
then had my special and rare dessert.

Survivor Charlottesville

I begin my story of our summer vacation with my encounter with the TSA.

I have my injectable experimental meds in a bag and when I approached the conveyor belt, I announced out loud I have injectable medications. My voice seemed louder than it should be, but no one was listening except perhaps the hundred or so people in line.

I said again to TSA women, I have injectable meds.

I was waved through and then the TSA guy said I didn't declare my injectable meds.

He said now he has to search my whole bag. Of course our plane was sitting idling and he is swabbing my purse and a woman had to frisk me.

So began my real life story. I suppose next time I will whip out my shots and declare even louder to the whole line of people. But as you will read below, we did not let this spoil our great week in Virginia, US. Hope you enjoy it.

Some stories start with the ending and thereby hints at the lesson learned.

Our story starts with a cabbie asking innocently at the end of our week in Charlottesville, "So did you have a nice relaxing week at a bed and breakfast?"

I began to laugh at 4:40 in the morning. We were 10 minutes late and our faithful driver waited for us.

Well it's a long story I said.

And that is the truth.

We began at my brother and his wife's home which is a country retreat. Comfortable, relaxing and full of good food, conversation and a tour of rural Nelson county.

Here is the rooster and one chicken. We had delicious fresh eggs, and meals of salmon, cheeses and other delights.

We enjoyed dogs, a cat, a horse and the gardens, views and comfort.

Monday came soon and we drove to our next stop, Survivor style.

Having been pampered for 2 days, we departed the bed and breakfast like home for the Agro tourism vacation where anything was possible and we faced the reality of life down on the farm.

J and M greeted us and we were happy to see them. They were preoccupied however with the need to worm the sheep herd. Farm life waits for no man and we plunged into our first adventure. I drew up doses estimating weights and felt I was back in my ICU days.

Fred tackled sheep and demonstrated his skill with sheep whispering.

J and M got dirty too. We go to eat lunch when done and thus began our agro week.

We picked from the garden greens, beans, broccoli and much more.

We had berries and cherries.

Mid week we went to Mad Maggie Cottage in Highland County. What a special retreat
where we lazed a bit and ate fresh Allegheny mountain trout and portabellas stuffed with spinach, et cetera!

Of course, the rainbow was a welcome sight and a view we shall not soon forget.

We spent 2 days at the cottage

then we wound our way back over the 3 mountains

to the sheep farm.

More challenges faced us as we fought to maintain a meat free diet

enjoyed by our friends. I bought a pound of sliced turkey for lunches.

Once when Maggie and I went to the store to buy bleach for the power washer, I spied an elderly petite man buying a 12 pack of soda and a very large 2 inch thick juicy steak. He almost had company!~

The cottage has satellite radio now.

We struggled to aim this little antennae towards the sky and the cabin went from perfect quiet to plugged in. Part of me wanted to go back to no news, no noise, just the sounds of birds chirping, the wind and the conversation of friends over a good meal.

The challenges were each rewarded by a good meal and porch sitting or a nap.

The last morning we were at the farm we had bought Jimmy Dean sausage/egg biscuits to heat up. Our reward to ourselves.

We busied around packing our bags up and loading the car.

Now there are times when being married to an electrician has its percs.

This was one of them.

The microwave circuit breaker tripped.

Our anticipated meat sandwiches sat frozen in the microwave.

Our final challenge.

Fred managed to find the breaker and we got our hot meat sandwiches.

They tasted better than anything I could remember.

Our reward for our week of challenges and memories.

The cabbie summed it up for us while we sipped crappy coffee from the Sheetz store,

"Sometimes you have to go without to really appreciate what you have."

I wondered if he was doing a Ricardo Montalbaum impersonation.

De plane, De plane...

As we left our Fantasy Island Agro tourist farm vacation, we smiled and started planning when we would return. Then we looked for the advil.

And took a long nap.

Happy Solstice

Happy Solstice
Hope you have a wonderful longest day.
Here we see we are near the end of planting opportunities.
As the daylight slowly wanes again, we are reminded of the winter darkness to come.
Cast it off, cast off the darkness.
Bathe in the light here today.
We put in Levon Helm's midnight ramble series volume 2.
See ya later.