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March 4, 2012

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As I Was Saying
By Opal Toney

OpalToney7-24.jpg (37075 bytes)Seasons...
Well, I’m looking forward for spring, but when I woke up this morning and opened the door to go feed the cats and give Son #2’s dog food, whose name is “Bounce a Little,” but it takes quite a lot to feed him. I have to watch, or the cats wouldn’t get a bite!
I enjoy fall and winter when Santa comes, but spring is my favorite.

The Last Word: I enjoy them all! – O.T.

 

honeyandflag.jpg (61206 bytes)The View From Here
By Katherine Veno

March is already here...
Into the third month of the new year already! I can hardly remember where January and February have disappeared and here Spring is knocking on the door!
Is it me? Or is the world going faster while I am in low gear. My instincts give in and let Spring Fever take over. I have been planting seeds and flowers like crazy. The operative word here is “crazy.” My mother always told me to wait until after the “Easter freeze” to plant new flowers or start my garden.
It is obvious that I remember what she said, but if I get close to a garden center I am out of control. So I have a new plan. In avoidance of the coming freeze predicted annually by my much smarter mother, I am going to try and resist anymore planting until after the Easter Bunny hops by my place.
Good luck with this I tell myself. If a neighbor starts planting something beautiful and flowering I want to do it too. If I see another gardener out trimming and mulching, I want to join in. Then my ears ring with the words Easter freeze.
I wonder where this came from, but I do remember times in my not so distant past when I bought trays of beautiful spring flowers and tiny tomato plants and hurried home so excited. I dug and mulched, and planted them. I sat back with a big tall glass of sweet tea and admired my work and the sheer beauty of it all. I watered, and I fertilized. They were growing and flourishing under my hands until the temperature dropped off the map, and the rain came down, and they froze under my makeshift plastic bucket and bags cover-ups. They all drooped, turned their tiny faces to the ground, and never recovered as the dreaded Easter freeze turned them into ground covering stalks of mush.
I think I know why myself and others get so excited over spring plants. It is the color and fragrance filling the air at the open nurseries if you get out and walk about. Uplifting, dazzling displays make me think I can re-create the same thing at home and live among a lush tropical landscape. I do not think about how the soaring summer will burn up my fragile palms, and begonias. The expensive hibiscus that flourishes in the tropics with daily showers of water from the skies, will wilt and droop because the sun and heat is unrelenting in Texas summers.
I have already succumbed and planted with the help of my friend, Maria, a lush, white-flowering potato vine. I am in hopes it will shade my sunny kitchen window by June. The tag says it is fast-growing. It has been in the ground for three days now, and it still looks the same. I resist the urge to over-water and give it food. Maria is from Belize where everything grows wild and lush. The bromeliad that I have carted in and out of the house has limped along through this winter and has made it to the porch. In her native country she says they grow so huge they topple trees to the ground. Mine is the same size as it was two Valentine’s grocery store aisle displays ago. But, it does have two young plants growing beside it. There is something to be said for that.
Of course, spring always makes me want chicks that grow into chickens, and baby bunnies that grow into rabbits. I have had Easter rabbits that lived with me so long I leash trained them, and baby chicks that grew into fierce hens and roosters and live at my rural friends homes now. I am trying to resist Chick and Rabbit Days at Tractor Supply.
Why does March have only wind that people associate with it? There should also be March warnings about plants in the ground too soon before the inevitable freeze, and small furry and feathered friends as well.
Happy Springtime readers.

 

EmilyLundy4-2.jpg (36194 bytes)Escapades of Emily
By Emily Gail Lundy

You never know...
“Life isn’t Fair.” I’ve never liked this line or excuse for occurrences we don’t like. What is fair? Would we know when something is unfair? What if we are somewhat part of the problem. I live by “Life is filled with surprises or the totally unexpected.” It is difficult to plan for everything; I like it that way. But unfair?
Sure, I’ve had hurt feelings, been treated though I was not good enough to do or go whatever; had feelings of being unfair (that word again) when I didn’t know or think I was.
My career was one of ups and downs. There could be thrilling moments or thoughts of walking off anywhere, just anywhere.
Once the one in charge decided teachers of a similar subject should have a HEAD of the department. In my assignments as senior English IV, I had my M.S. and B.S. with both majors in business education, both minors in English, one course shy of a double major. I began enjoying teaching English more even though my work load doubled.
Others in this group of English teachers were not English majors. The Journalism major taught with diligence, compassion, and dedication. The Drama major was most successful in her English classes; maybe some of the newer kids on the block had English majors. Anyway, I was known for ideas, scatterbrainness, disorganization, the messy desk, no neat files of information, etc. I loved what I taught.
It was logical that the principal chose the drama major with strict organization of her presentations, her records, everything in her room.
I hurt although I understood. The next morning as I prepared to get to work, always early, the hurt feeling entered again. There was no extra compensation for being Head, but these from all departments might have special decision-making meetings, and most were women.
That afternoon a poem awaited me in the mail: It has become my guide, my mantra, and I have shared it before:
“As the years roll onward and I leave the past behind,
Much I have counted as sadness but proves that God is kind.
Many a full-covered rosebush had thorns of hidden pain.
Many a rock- filled pass has led to fields of golden grain.” Anon.
Soon the Heads were chosen to interview for a few replacements in the high school, even traveling was involved. They made their choices, agreement with the administration followed, and we had new personnel eventually. Other teachers were upset, some furious with the decisions. The Heads were on the defensive.
Then I saw my poem at work. I was really happy not to be one of the committee; I would have taken the complaints personally, brooded for weeks, most like had several headaches. No, I was not complaining; I was at peace and happy to be just a teacher.
In many ways, sometimes surprisingly, my poem has flooded my mind with assurance and contentment where life has me. “Let God and let go” is a calmer for many as is “Seek Ye First the Wisdom of the Lord.”
What if in some way, Life is Fair. As I slightly contradict myself, would we then know when it is unfair?
On a footnote, at one of those many English workshops for us, our department went to TCU for a week. That first Monday, I began having nausea after every meal and soon turned clammy in sessions, held my head in my hands, lived on cinnamon rolls and water in order to make it to the mall three nights. My roommate, the work horse of the department, was going to have surgery once we went home; then came disturbing news for the Head that family situations with elderly relatives required she come home.
Not only did she go home but also resigned as teacher. This left a sad group, and we made my roommate our new Head. I didn’t feel any emotion, only relief and belief although some time I’m slow.

 

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