Just Peachy

The past few years we have traveled to Atlanta at the beginning of the summer and New Jersey at the end, enjoying family and friends and delicious peaches throughout the season.

And while this summer away from home has been filled with fun and family, it has been a summer without peaches. The crop had not quite arrived when we left in mid-July, and here in Minnesota the climate is too cold for that temperate fruit. Sure, the grocery stores are full of rock-hard specimens and promises that they will ripen in a day or two, perhaps in a paper bag, but the reality is often mushy and bland.

So, I have avoided the peaches. That is until the other day when I passed a display of Colorado peaches that looked genuinely promising. A little squeeze convinced me that these might not be too bad, and I took a chance and chose a half dozen. The next morning I was not disappointed-- they weren't the best peaches in the world, but they weren't awful, either, and they were my first peaches of the summer, and so I enjoyed them.

Later in the day, at another store, I couldn't resist a big pile of huge, Jersey-looking peaches, and yet again, a little squeeze gave me some encouragement that they might not be awful. Once again, I was not disappointed. Although far from the perfect pick-your-own peaches of my childhood, they were fine. A little cinnamon, a little sugar, a spoonful of tapioca pudding, and summer was really here at last.

Down at the Feed and Seed

Every time I cross the tracks on my way to see my mom, my eye is drawn to a sprawling building down the block. "Feed & Seed," reads the sign, and in smaller letters, "Antiques and Gifts". Oh how that sounds like my kind of place!

So today, after I had a true Dorothy moment when leaving the hospital I encountered low clouds and powerful winds which quickly swirled into a torrential downpour (so much so, that I was almost convinced that upon my arrival at the condo I would have to pound the storm cellar door with my heel), we decided to make the most of a rainy day and do some local shopping. Of course the F&S was our first stop, and it did not disappoint. In the front of the store we  saw ten foot stacks of 25 pound bags of dog, cat, and other animal feed. There was all sorts of bird seed, too, and a lot of hummingbird stuff. A little farther into the store there were fifty pound bags of water softener stacked by a tower of salt blocks and several duck decoys.

The farther we got into the store, though, the more magical it became. It was one of the most pleasing junk shops I have ever visited. Items were artfully arranged by both color and use. For example, there was a whole corner of green:  folding chairs, thermoses, oxidized copper, and farming tools.

Heidi and I spent well over an hour in there, and in the end we left with a collection of old novelty buttons and pins and four Swanky Swig glasses-- tiny vintage drink ware that first held Kraft cheese spread. Each year there was a new pattern, and so we know that ours were made in 1934, 1937, 1947, and 1948.

And they are the perfect size for sipping beer!

Peeping Lucy

We've known for a while that our dog is a window watcher. It's common to see her nose and eyes peering down at us from the window on our upstairs landing whenever we leave the house. Unfortunately, neighbors have also reported that they not only see her up there, they hear her barking, too.

One of the many things I admire about Heidi is her attitude toward behavior. She doesn't get mad; she does her research, and then she gets serious. When presented with a problem like that, she'll have several possible solutions in an hour and then she will work on it until it is solved.

It's been that way the whole month we've been in Minnesota. Lucy has been pretty good about new situations, but not perfect. There have been barking and jumping issues. She's a good dog, but she has had to work hard to understand the dynamics and expectations of a lot of new places. My mom's condo building was especially challenging-- how much of that enormous inside space did she have to protect? We figured that to her, all of the apartment doors seemed like other rooms in a reallllllly big house. It must have been overwhelming to try to figure out what was a threat and what was not.

She did spend a little time on the fourth floor balcony there, and Heidi used the clicker to teach her that it was okay for people to go about their business in the parking lot below. Even so, we caught her standing up a few times to look out the windows, a low growl rumbling in her chest.

Here in Rochester, the set up is a little closer to ours. The house-style building has 8 units, all with their own outside entrance. From our third floor condo, we walk down a couple flights of weather-proof steps to get to the street. On the way, we pass a couple of doors and windows.

The doors are familiar to Lucy-- she knows  and understands them from our complex, but the windows throw her off a bit. She is used to looking out, so we hope our neighbors can ignore it when a big red nose presses against their bedroom window!

Across the Tracks

It's an easy walk from our rented condo to the hospital where my mom is recovering, just 10 short blocks, but you do have to cross some railroad tracks along the way. And every time I do, I am tempted to empty my pockets of change and scatter coins all along the rail in hopes that when I return, I will be able to collect a new pocketful of smushed pennies, nickels, and dimes.

Why the urge to destroy my currency? I'm not sure. Certainly flattened coins are pleasing in their own way, thin and shiny and smooth, and knowing that an actual train on its way to who knows where on actual tracks did the deed? Well, there's something romantic about that, too.

So maybe it's not destruction, but rather transformation, that has my fingers fiddling in my pockets as I cross the tracks on the way back and forth from the hospital. The notion that something can literally be hit by a train and survive... changed, beautiful in a different regard, and in some ways even more valuable than before?

That's a talisman I could use.

Not Just Me

"What's the weather down there?" my mom asked my uncle in Maryland on the phone this morning.

"Haaaaarible," he answered in his lingering Massachusetts accent. "Humid and feeling like 100 degrees for the next week at least."

"We're lucky up here!" I chimed in. "We've had my favorite weather all month. Cool in the morning, mostly sunny and warming up to about 80 by the afternoon." I paused, and recognizing my egocentricity, laughed. "I guess that's pretty much everybody's favorite weather!" I continued.

USDA Choice

Say what you will about meat and its health, ethics, and sustainability issues, but here in the plains states, you have a lot of options, and most of your choices are fresh and local, whether they are marketed that way, or not. Humanely raised? Organic? Those are separate concerns. Still, I confess to being a little bit thrilled to have my choice of prime rib or brisket burgers at the local grocery today.

I had to really think about it.

But I chose prime rib.

Whatever Works

We are staying in a rented condo in Rochester, MN. It is one of eight units in a new building that was constructed as temporary housing for patients at the Mayo Clinic and their caretakers and supporters. Our stay here has been convenient and pleasant: we can walk to the clinic, and there are bike paths, nature centers, and lakes (of course) nearby, not to mention plenty of restaurants, the usual big box stores, and a YMCA.

In the last two and a half weeks we have seen several other residents come and go, from a distance. Some have been here as long as we have and longer, but the circumstances and the crazy hours that we all keep, coming and going from this treatment, that appointment or test, and ultimately the hospital, has added to the natural distance that passing strangers keep.

Even so, it's curious to observe what and how other people carry on their daily lives in this unusual situation we share. Our window overlooks the street where dashers and delivery people park, and so we see mail orders and groceries and dinners on their way to our neighbors' doors.

The two young woman who are staying in the unit next door seem to order a lot of food. Amazon is a frequent caller at both of our doors, and I have heard the faintest of strains coming from a TV late into the night. But this morning? They provided a paradigm shift when at 8 AM I spotted a restaurant delivery guy making his way from the street to our common outdoor staircase.

Breakfast delivered? What a concept!