This photograph was sent in the early morning by my DIL in Berlin.
For the blog!
Thank you, N,❤️!
I’ve had some excellent contributions from family members and friends, as my own travel has been restricted, during these Pandemic times.
My sister sends me photos from her early morning walks in New York City.
Her guest blogging helps me with interesting posts when I’m not really going anywhere.
It’s cool she’s a tourist where she lives. Thanks, Mary.
Another guest blog today.
The New York Public Library Lions don masks.
My sister has taken the role of a NYC tourist as she walks in the city and today she photographed Patience and Fortitude. They’re carved from pink Tennessee marble, designed by sculptor Edward Clark Potter.
Read about their naming and renaming here
On the University of Pittsburgh campus you can see this sculpture of Dr. Thomas E. Starzl, “father of organ transplantation”, seated on an iron memorial bench.
Someone added the mask! You can visit the sculpture on Pitt’s campus, by the Cathedral of Learning lawn.
Dr. Starzl’s bronze likeness was created by sculptor Susan Wagner and unveiled in June 2018 . The statue, sporting a mask during the COVID 19 Pandemic, was photographed by a friend of a friend and asks to remain anonymous.
Thanks for sharing this photo documenting our collective experience and reminding us of safety measures we can all practice.
“Wagner is best known locally for her three 12-foot-tall bronze statues of Roberto Clemente, Willie Stargell and Bill Mazeroski at PNC Park and of the Gulf War Memorial at the 14th Quartermaster headquarters in Greensburg.” From article by Deb Eardley in TribLive
I’ve had a lot of good help with friends and family contributing to the blog during this Pandemic. I appreciate their sharing their images.
Some prefer to be anonymous and I respect their wishes. This early morning I received the photo AND the accompanying title. Thank you guest blogger. 😀
You miss the physical connection, the being together.
We’re into the third month of being apart.
Grateful for virtual connection via Face Time
Storms a coming.
by Jane Miller
My husband and I live with his mother in an old farmhouse with parts dating back to 1842. Except for the window lined porch that faces west, the house is structurally the way it was 100 years ago when the third generation of the Hunter family lived here. Their ancestors were a Scottish Presbyterian family who cleared this portion of Depreciation Lands.
Often my thoughts go to life as it may have been stretched out over a nearly 200 year history when the family sustained themselves with their labors in the fields and there were horses in the barn. Now the horses are gone. The farm is in transition. Our work of the day includes for me, the care giving for my mother-in-law, Lois—almost 90—and the patients my husband “sees” on a computer in his office that was at one time our dining room and in generations past, a kitchen. The beauty of the evolving nature is one constant. We especially enjoy our summer evenings.
On one of the first warm nights this year we sat together on the back deck after mom was in bed, I grieved the loss of the horses and a pasture plowed under by Farmer Beahm, who will soon plant field corn. The sun was heading for its sweet spot between the tree-lined hills as clouds gathered bits of gray.
I remembered an evening nearly 35 years ago on May 31, 1985, the evening a 25-mile long twister took out the trees of that hill and my mother and father-in-law, along with our three-year-old son, hit the basement. I think they wanted a room with windows to better see a storm a coming in addition to daily witnessing the beauty of nature.
On this May evening—one of the first ones a coat and blanket not needed—another storm was brewing. It was May 12, just before the world began opening up to our “new normal” and all of the unknowns this will bring. Then in the skies, a real storm collected clouds and we were fascinated as we watched where the sun would soon disappear in the West. Rick had a Scotch in his hand. I had my camera.
The beauty of the moment mesmerized us and we didn’t heed the warnings of the winds. Our eyes were on the skies, when rain pelted us. For the moment we laughed through the winds, making sure my camera was safe and Rick anchored down the furniture we had to evacuate.
I thought of the storms of the past and the ones that are brewing and a word came to my mind about life on the farm. Resilience. Crops fail. You replant. Animals that sustain you will die. It’s not a moment to moment feeling. It’s a joy that doesn’t depend upon what is happening to you. It’s about being grateful for every moment in every time.
Life goes on and it’s always day by day. Farmers look for their rewards at the end of the day.
Storm a ComingFrom the archives. Columbus Zoo.
Has anyone asked what you’re doing? I read that during the pandemic, people are documenting their accomplishments on social media. Some are impressive- home improvement, organization, gourmet meals, stacks of books read,all sorts of things.
When someone asks me tomorrow what I did over the weekend, I’ll be able to proclaim this-
“I washed a stack of potholders today. And one dishcloth.”
