Reblog, from “The Kitchen’s Garden”

This is a reblog from The Kitchen’s Garden, my favorite blog. Celi is going to embark on a year-long photo project, where she will take the same picture once a day for a year to show the changes on her little farm through the seasons. Check it out and vote for a spot!


This poll is for all of you to vote on the view you would most like to see every day for a year. Remember we wil always have the usual assortment of animal and farmy shots, the food and the stories and the gardens.

This shot will not be cleaned up at all. It will be au natural as these ones are.

This shot will just be the opening or maybe the closing shot.

It will be the one that shows the same scene every day and the changes in the light and the seasons. But I cannot find one I am sure will be right.

I mean we don’t want to look at empty corn fields all winter do we .. you would die of boredom looking at fields all winter!

Hmm, I cannot get back across to update the poll. Their internet is woeful this morning, so if…

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9/11, Year 11

11 years ago this morning, I was asleep after a long night shift and really didn’t want to be bothered for a plane crash in New York.  I knew it would be on the news later, no need to get up now.  When my mom said another one crashed I was mildly stirred, but grumbled again that I’d see it later.  When she came back and said a third plane crashed in a whole other state, I finally understood that something was very wrong.  My family and I stared at the TV for hours, mesmerized, watching every piece of that awful story unfold.  In the days and weeks that followed, a hush fell over the entire country.  People were quiet everywhere we went.  An entire country in mourning is a strange but oddly comforting thing.  We all lost something, whether it was a person or an idea.  Sharing that loss with millions of people connected us all, made us strong.  We cried openly in public, but we stood taller and firmer, with more dignity and pride in our country than I’d ever known in my lifetime.

It was months, maybe a year, before I could listen to a patriotic song without bursting into tears.  “God Bless the USA” was a popular one to play at public events.  As soon as I heard the first few strains of the melody I’d well up.  Memorials always get me emotional, too, and I know I share this with my fellow millions.  I was okay today: no tears or much emotion, until I came across this picture:

David Reed Gambora-Brandhorst

A former coworker took this at the 9/11 memorial in New York, built over the site of the fallen Twin Towers. Three-year-old David was in the second plane to hit the towers, with his parents, Ron and Dan.  This would break the heart of anyone that has one, but what turned on the waterworks for me was his birthdate:  David was exactly one month older than my son, Andrew.


This one.  This lanky 14-year-old who knows and loves all things Dr. Who, will do anything to impress a girl, wants to form an improve group with his friends, has a wicked sense of humor, and would shrivel up and perish if something happened to his beloved iTouch.  David might have been this way today.  What is more profound to me, though, is that David could be any teenager.  He could spend his Friday nights sitting on the curb at the local farmer’s market, or on a picnic table in a nearby park, with his feet on the bench, the way our neighborhood kids do.  He could be complaining about wearing a bowtie in this heat before a piano recital.  He might be slouching behind his dads en route to his grandparents’ house, secretly happy to get homemade Filipino food.  David should be a contemporary of my son, and his fathers should have as much grey hair as I do.  That is what broke my heart today.

I found this wonderful blog post, In Honor of David Reed Gamboa-Brandhorst, about David and his family.

Be gentle to each other today.

The Art of Procrastination


I’m washing my hands.  The cool water is nice, especially since the heat of the day is starting to collect in this side of our apartment.  Suddenly the water sputters and turns a pale rust color before the stream begins to thin.  Workers must be fixing the sprinklers again.  Why the landlord is so hell-bent on growing grass in that sad square of dirt in the crook of our U-shaped building is beyond me.  I have to admit the green refreshes our tumbleweed-like landscaping, but it’s already dying despite being taped off since the seed was sown.  Perhaps a sturdier groundcover is in order, no?

I should be reading.  I still have a chapter left of homework reading.  I also have to do a 10-minute freewrite, and go over a class syllabus for an ungraded quiz tomorrow in my creative writing class.  I should also check to make sure I don’t have any other homework for my composition class.  I had to read the gospel of Mark for that one.  That was brutal.  Like eating Saltine crackers when I’m dying of thirst.  I’m sorry, more-Christian-than-I-people, but that was some dry, dry reading.

Now I’m in the living room, composing this blog post and thinking about my day.  When should I take a shower?  Will the water be back on?  What time should I leave?  When should I arrive at the library?  I’m meeting Esther there today, and hopefully Syd.   I really want to meet her.  I read her blog Embracing Homelessness and now I need to see her face, hear her voice, hold her hand or give her a hug…I don’t want her to be a computer person, I want her to be real.  So I’m excited for today.

The prevailing theme of my morning, however, is procrastination.  So should I get to the library early and take my laptop?  Take a book?  Should I get there right on time and read later?  Should I take a shower at Mom’s, where the water situation is less iffy?  How about a dress?  Should I wear a dress, or jeans?  It’s going to be scorching today.  My apartment feels so good, I hope the library café has good air conditioning.  I feel bad because Jess is going to have to walk in this heat.  Yuck.  I should take some time to get my cell number transferred to a newer phone.  I left it on top of my car last year and drove away.  It was badly beat up and the back was missing, but the Sprint store gave me another back, even though it was a different color.  I was fine with that because I’m not too superficial when it comes to my phone, but I’ve lost the back again and the buttons are becoming too scratched to identify anymore, so I think it’s time.  I would tell you more about my phone but I’m sure you’re bored and really I’m just procrastinating.

I’m proofreading.  I see a lot of “should.”  My coach, Claire the Magnificent, taught me to eliminate that word from my vocabulary.  Clearly I sucked at that lesson.   Somewhere I have a writing piece that Esther told me to blog.  I don’t remember which one, or where I wrote it.  It might be on my laptop.  I take it everywhere with me, yet I haven’t used it in a couple of weeks.

Okay okay, I’m going.  No really, I am.  Stay cool and hydrated today, friends.