Put together people from 6 to 60-plus years; students, teachers, parents, neighbors, experts and non-experts, hoses and hoes, soil and seeds and what do you have? The Traverse Heights Village Garden at the elementary school on Rose Street. More
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Rose Street Ramblings
Garden in progress
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Valley of Fire
This past February when I was visiting my son in Las Vegas, we went for a drive in the desert one afternoon. We drove for the better part of an hour through a monochromatic landscape. At one point, he pointed to a distant spot that appeared to be a dark red or brown and said that was where we were headed. We turned off the main highway and twisted and turned through a landscape of desert and low hills before suddenly coming around a bend that brought us face to face with massive amounts of deep red rock in a myriad of shapes and sizes.
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The snowball in the locker
The names have been changed to protect the innocent and those who may have erred in their response.
A snowball in a school locker. A little girl’s attempt to preserve a bit of winter for more play at the next recess. The school was not amused. Little “Lisa’s” punishment for her chilly misdemeanor? Her next opportunity for the freedom of outdoor recess was canceled. More
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I was an Orchid Clerk
WANTED: Orchid clerk. No experience required. On-the-job training. No pay but great learning opportunity. How could I turn down such an opportunity?
And so it was that I volunteered to clerk at the recent Northwestern Michigan Orchid Society “Orchids By The Bay” show at the Civic Center. Everyone assured me that it would not be hard and I would learn a lot from the experts who came to judge the exhibits. I was given two pages of instructions, which I read carefully but didn’t leave me feeling any better prepared.
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Vacation thoughts
After my vacation cruise last November with my Aunt Mozelle, I wrote several posts about the places our travels had taken us: Aruba, Cartegena in Colombia, the high point of the Panama Canal, and Costa Rica. In the several months since I submitted the last one, I have been meaning to write a concluding post pulling together some observations and thoughts from those experiences. But first let me share with you a little bit about our last port of call: the Cayman Islands. And, no, we weren’t blessed with any off-shore bank accounts to visit. More
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Limon, Costa Rica — so beautiful
“This must be one of the most beautiful places on earth,” I thought as we neared the port of Limon, Costa Rica. I’m not sure which component triggered that spontaneous thought: the heart-breakingly blue mountains, the piles of dumpling-puffy clouds, the dark blue of the ocean or the soft, warm golden light of early morning. Maybe it wasn’t any one thing, maybe it was all of them put together. More
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Train trip across the Isthmus
After breakfast we had a chance to see the Panama Canal and get a glimpse of the rain forest from another perspective.
We left the cruise ship on a lighter that carried us to shore where we boarded a bus which took us to the railroad station. There we boarded Panama Railways “Rio Bayano #105″ for our trip across the Isthmus. More
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The Steps of Gatun
An endless string of ships, all brilliantly lit, were strung along the horizon we couldn’t see because of the pre-dawn darkness. It was about five in the morning, and we were approaching The Steps of Gatun, the Atlantic side Panama Canal locks.
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On the way to…
Aruba and Cartegena were supposed to be nothing more than brief ports of call on the way to our main destination: the Panama Canal. But that is not the way it turned out; especially Cartegena. But first, Aruba. Or maybe I should start at the very beginning which would be well before Aruba. More
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Ice cream for supper
Ice cream for supper. That seemed to be the young man’s urgent concern. His grandfather, 90-something and living alone, occasionally ate ice cream for supper. YIKES! SOMETHING HAD TO BE DONE! To the rescue came a social service agency.
I wasn’t clear when I heard the “public service announcement” (I think that is the politically correct term) last summer whether it was a public or private non-profit social service agency that served “seniors,” another term I detest. (Elders, in the Native American sense, is my preference). More
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