Fifth Time's a Charm

I had just shut the projector off after my final class presentation at Back-to-school night when a parent I had met last week knocked sheepishly on my open door. " I don't know what happened!" she confessed. She gestured to her husband who was blushing a bit. "We were totally lunchin' and we ended up cutting your class!"

I laughed and shrugged. "No worries," I said, "it's not required."

"Is there any work we can make up?" she asked.

"Sure," I said handing them the course description. "Let me hit the highlights." As I went over my talking points one more time with an audience of two, they were open and generous with their questions and feedback.

"That is so cool," the mom said at the end. "I'm so glad she's in this class!"

And I was so glad I stayed a little later than I planned.

If You Say So

Today my students and I read the poem Knoxville, Tennessee by Nikki Giovanni. It's a good beginning of the year common text because it has so much sensory detail in it. It is also written in a child's voice, and the entire poem is a single sentence. I always like to challenge any student who is willing to try to read it all in one breath. Sixth graders love that kind of thing.

The poem begins with the line, I always like summer best, and the follow up assignment is for them to use the poem as a model and write a tribute to their own favorite season using sensory details they have pulled from their lives. As I circulated through my classes today I noticed that most students agreed with Giovanni and preferred summer, although winter was a close second.

In one class somebody asked me what my favorite season is and I answered that they are all pretty great, but I probably love fall the best. He looked at me shrewdly. "I bet I know why."

I called him on it. "Why?"

"Because that's when kids come back to school! Right?"

Lavender and Old Lace

It's funny.  We spent three days in San Francisco this summer and I had a really good time.

On the last night we ate at a vegan Mexican place in the Mission. It was at the end of a long day where we rented a car, walked the Golden Gate Bridge, visited Muir Woods, Stinson Beach, and drove back to the city on the 101 along the coast. It was around 7 when we got back to town and we were hungry.

Parking was tough on Mission Street, and the neighborhood seemed to change block by block, but eventually we found a place not too too far from the restaurant. Of course there was a wait, and the light had faded from pink to dark purple before we ushered to one end of a communal table. By then, all I wanted was a cold beer, and I ordered an IPA from a brewery with lavender in its name.

Well... that's what I thought, but when I tasted the beer there was an herby floral note that at first I couldn't place. Eventually the obvious penetrated my fatigued brain and I realized I was drinking a lavender IPA. As I was tired and driving, I stopped at one pint, but the essence of it lingered in my  mind and on my palate.

Since I've been home, I have regularly infused my favorite west coast ale with fresh lavender, and every sip reminds me of those three days, and every time the memories of that whole trip get a little sweeter.

Success

Well.

I've done it.

I finally grew a pumpkin in my garden. It has a nice shape and a beautiful color, and I was careful to pluck it from the vine before anything could harm it.

In fact, here's a picture:

AND... Here's another:

Wild Thing

At the end of the trail is a shelter overlooking the golden grasses of the wetland and the river beyond. There is a telescope there as well and over the years, depending on the season, we have seen bald eagles, arctic swans, redwing blackbirds, herons, gulls, and egrets. Today there was a family with two young daughters taking in the view when we arrived. The girls, who looked to be about 3 and 6, chattered happily as they explored.

The oldest was using the telescope with her dad and the younger pointed out spiders and plants to her mom as she waited for her turn with the gadget. When at last she got to step up on the platform, her mother was mindful that we had been waiting a while. "We have to be quick in case these other people want to look, too," she told the little girl.

I saw an expression of disappointment cloud her face. "Oh, don't worry about us," I said. "You were here first-- take all the time you want."

Her mom smiled gratefully as she lifted her daughter up to the eyepiece. "What do you see?" she asked.

"A bear!" the little girl replied without hesitation. Then she looked right at me to check my reaction to her joke.

I did a broad double take and raised my eyebrows high. "A bear?! Well now I do want a look!" I said and stepped toward them.

"Oh," she shrugged, "it's gone."

Bounty

Experienced gardeners will tell you that every year is different; one year may be great for tomatoes, or peppers, or squash, and in the same garden the same crop may struggle the next. Certainly, in my four short seasons, I have found that to be true. For me, this was the summer of tomatoes and butternut squash. I cannot complain about either. The tomatoes we have been eating and canning and fortunately the squash? 

Well, there's butternut chocolate chip ice cream on the menu tonight, and the other 20 will keep until fall nips a little harder at our door.

Aging Workforce

"Happy Friday!" a colleague greeted me as we walked in together. "Are you as wiped as I am?"

I nodded and made a confession. "I know how many more Fridays there are until the end of the year."

"Oooooh," she answered with sympathy, "that's pretty bad."

"It's not like me at all, " I agreed. "But, on the bright side," I continued, "I'm sure I'll forget before October!"