No Simple Highway

I was thinking of calling my aunt this evening, so I picked up my phone, and the time flashed 6:12. "Okay, okay!" I responded to what seemed like a gentle nudge from spirit. 

My aunt and I had a nice conversation, and when I hung up, a picture of my mom popped up on the memories feature of my phone screen. I tapped it and was treated to a montage of photos of her set to the Grateful Dead song "Ripple." 

I knew why the pictures showed up, but the song? Was entirely random. Five years ago today, I was adding photos to the slide show for my mother's funeral, and there they were again. She was young, she was older, she was laughing with a clown nose on, she was a teenager petting a dog, a grandmother reading to the boys, a traveler sitting in a plaza in Spain. She was dancing with my brother, then bundled up on snowshoes, and then sitting poolside in a bikini at Zaby's Motel. 

And the Grateful Dead sang

If my words did glow with the gold of sunshine
And my tunes were played on the harp unstrung
Would you hear my voice come through the music?
Would you hold it near as it were your own?

Ripple in still water
When there is no pebble tossed
Nor wind to blow

Light Work

I was alone in our community garden today while I cleaned out my raised beds, trimmed the perennials,  harvested the sweet potatoes and the last of the peppers and tomatoes, and stacked the metal cages. And it was just me in the breezy October sunshine as I planted cover crops and spring garlic, shallots, and potatoes and then mulched the beds.

And that was fine.

Claiming Their Territory

Lucy and I were almost back to the car on our National Mall circuit this morning when a screech shattered the clear blue sky. Two hawks swooped over the rotunda dome of the National Gallery, their wings pinned in a dive. Everyone stopped and looked up. "I didn't know an animal could make that noise!" a little boy said to his mom. 

"Keeeyarrr!" one cried again as if to say, "Well, now you do!" and they soared back up toward the golden October sun to catch the autumn breeze.

Like an Old Pair of Slippers

For my debut as a volunteer field trip chaperone, I reported to school by 7:20 and stayed until 3:45. I got a chance to catch up with my friends and former colleagues and see a bunch of 7th and 8th graders I knew, too. Before we boarded the buses, I played a few card games, reminded a teacher to share the groups with her homeroom, and watched part of Ice Age. There might have been a Kahoot, but the kids had been instructed to leave their iPads in their lockers. The weather at Mount Vernon was perfect, and the kids I met were typical sixth graders, funny, silly, impulsive, and smart. I came home tired but energized and sort of happy I didn't have to go back tomorrow.

Trust the Process

 I knew the power washers were out there.

I mean, how could you not? The drone of the compressor, the spray of the water against vinyl siding, the barking of the neighborhood dogs all alerted anyone within earshot of their presence. And I was glad-- glad that they were early, glad I had drawn the curtains so that our pets wouldn't be alarmed, and glad to have a thorough cleaning underway (that I didn't have to do!), and glad I'd be able to move all my stuff back soon.

But when the din subsided and I peaked outside at our dripping but still very grungy deck, I was dismayed. Is that all there is? I wondered, and considered going to find the foreman of the crew and show him the grime in the corners. But the Surely? I moved all my outdoor possessions for more section of my brain prevailed, and I waited.

Right before lunch the racket geared up again, but then I was stuck inside as the front porch was thoroughly scoured. Fortunately that process was short-lived, but before I took Lucy out to enjoy this glorious weather, I inspected all the outdoor spaces and found them less than sparkling. Leaning over the railing and craning my neck down the way, I saw other railings and walls much cleaner that ours. Maybe it's just lunch? I surmised, and out we went.

90 minutes later we returned to a couple of extension ladders leaning against the house, and yellow foul-weather gear clad workers on our decks doing some detail work. By 2:30, they had really moved on. Compressors, ladders, and crews were all assembled at the next building to begin washing, and after my inspection, I had few complaints. 

Mamma Said There'd Be Days Like This

Unfortunately, today was one of those days retirement seems to be made for. 

I started before 8 a.m., clearing off the decks and front porch so they could be power-washed. The chore included saying goodbye to the hanging plants for the season, thanking them for their service, emptying their pots, and dragging heavy garbage bags full of organic discard to the curb. It also involved spreading out a tarp by the sliding glass door in the living room, stowing various outdoor items there, and moving several cumbersome items from the front porch to the breezeway. Finally, I charged up the leafblower and cleared away as much detritus as possible.

And then, the power-washing team didn't make it to our unit.

But I didn't know that right away because a few weeks ago when I tried to pay the property tax and then renew the registration on our second car, I was surprised to see that it was not listed under our accounts. I put in a help request to the DMV in Richmond and was pleasantly surprised when someone called me the very next day. Between the two of us, we figured out that the leasing company had reported the vehicle as sold after I had retitled it, so officially, nobody owned it. Fortunately, I had the title and registration, but unfortunately, I had to go to the DMV in person to resolve the issue. But before I could do that, I had to have the emissions checked to both clear the title and renew the registration on the same visit.

As efficient as that process might sound, it took over three hours to acquire those two little square stickers for the license plate. I did get to spend a lot of time observing a fascinating cross-section of my fellow residents, and trying to decipher the DMV's system for prioritizing and calling those of us waiting for service was also an exciting diversion.

Then, it was time to pick Heidi up from school, and as we had agreed earlier, we stopped for early voting at the community center on our way home. There, we ran into two former students and a former colleague who were variously working at the center, volunteering at the polls, and voting.

It felt great to do our democratic duty, and as we headed home, I looked forward to replacing all the items on our freshly cleaned decks.

But that will have to be tomorrow. Luckily? I don't have to go to work.

WWGWD

We took a ride out to Mount Vernon this afternoon. The day was perfect for it: azure blue skies, warm, golden sunshine, and some nice fall color in the trees. We enjoyed it all the way down the Parkway.

George Washington's estate is still privately owned, and out of respect for the first president's love of them, the Mount Vernon Ladies Association allows dogs on the grounds. In part, because Lucy is always welcome there, we hold membership passes, but in advance of the sixth-grade field trip this week (which marks my debut as an approved school volunteer), we realized that our membership had lapsed, and I was going to need a ticket.

We renewed our membership in short order but decided to take a quick stroll around the grounds, even though we would both be back in a few days. Lucy is always fascinated by the livestock, so after the obligatory portrait on the bowling green, we headed over to the pig sty, sheep pen, and cattle fields. Then, it was through the orchard and nursery beds to see the river. 

The green expanse of the rear lawn was dotted with visitors. Most were enjoying the views, some were relaxing in the shade on blankets, and others were tossing footballs and having a catch with baseballs and mitts. "Wow!" I said to Heidi, "They really must feel at home here."

I couldn't quite let it go, though, so I continued, "But should they? Should they?"