Sunday afternoon of Gay Pride Weekend in New York City, taken from my sister’s window.
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.
May Blossoms and Snow video captured in Ohio by Terry Sherry. She texted this afternoon and I asked if I could post her capture of the snow falling.
It’s quick but she documented the unexpected May weather. Thanks Terry. I heard it snowed in places in Pittsburgh too but I didn’t see it. She told me there was a duck in the pond but we can’t see him. Brrrrrrrrrrrr.
Public transportation still running in the city.
Photographed Tuesday morning from the Duquesne Incline Platform. No one else was there
I’d seen the fog over city as I crossed Liberty Bridge. It had lifted when I arrived after my drive.
I’d gotten the call that my iPad was ready for pick up after being repaired. It’s been there for weeks. To get it or not was the question. I paid over the phone and only Shannon was there working as they Tastar Data Systems opened Tuesday morning at 9. I debated whether I should drive over to Library Road or not but decided to have the iPad at home in my possession again. Face timing family and friends.
Sheltering in place makes you appreciate what one took for granted before. Running errands.
Our three rivers.
Allegheny River and the Monongahela River meet at the Point to form the Ohio River.
Yesterday I was remarking how I’d heard birds and there was sunlight on my living room floor and it was staying light so much longer.
There’s a muddy feel in the air, impending Spring. A scent. A feel. Signs of the changing season – oops. The supposed rain shower today wasn’t rain at all but blustery icy sleety snow, blowing around wildly and the thermometer said NO WAY but yes, it was wintry white and howling and my optimism the winter coming to a close, vanished. Just like that!
Spring’s coming though It always does. I know it. You wish it would hurry.
Cloudy cold with blowing sleety snow.