Reflections

Summer is well under way here in Spring Green. It was a long time coming this year, but the trees have all leafed out, the grass is growing lickety-split, and school is out for the summer.

The American Players Theatre opened on the 8th with a potluck for the village followed by a play. The Rural Musicians Forum starts along with a host of other events, including our annual art fair and more.

Summer is an amazing time. People appear to relax, but in reality their schedules seem to get incredibly busy. A woman told me today that she could not see herself taking a weekend off until August. That is because she owns a small business in town and this is the time of the year when our small-business owners are the busiest,

She walks him every day. They walk slowly, for Parker is nearing his death, so Jane patiently stands while he rests, then resumes her slow pace up and down the main street of our village. Sometimes Bentley and I see them from the car and we stop and chat. Other times, we bump into them as I walk Bentley, who is always in a hurry to get to the next smell in the surrounding grass.

Jane knows Parker does not have long. Just a week ago, she thought he was very close to his final days. But like dogs and humans alike, he bounced back and is out with her every single day.

Jane rescued Parker several years ago after

In Washington, D.C., last week we saw the Internal Revenue Service, Environmental Protection Agency, Department of Housing and Urban Development, and the Office of Management and Budget shut down, creating the largest closing of government offices since shutdowns of the 1990s.
In Chicago, we saw the largest number of school closings in the history of our country. In Oklahoma, we saw an outrageously powerful and destructive tornado. We have also seen horrific floods, hurricanes and forest fires. In movies and video games, we see

A long holiday weekend is behind us. One we set aside to remember and honor those who have served our country and given the ultimate gift of their lives.

Without diminishing that gift, I also see other ways in which those who serve give their lives. We all see it but we too often tend to ignore it. I am talking about those who return from war struggling with post-traumatic stress disorder, who waken at night with nightmares, feel anxious most of the time and weep uncontrollably at times.

Their lives have been changed by

I was putting eyedrops in my eyes, something I have done three times a day for a long time, and I suddenly wondered just how much I trusted the manufacturers of the eyedrops. Did they put the right ingredients in this bottle, and is it sterile? From there my mind traveled to a variety of places where trust in others abounds. We trust the pilot of our airplanes, our parents, the doctor treating us or a loved one, the man who installed the furnace, the drivers of all the cars around us on the roads, the chef who prepares our food at a restaurant, the midwife who delivers a baby, and more — so much more.

From there I moved in a bit closer to the heart of the matter. I trust those I love

As I write this, I just returned from Chicago having visited my lifelong friend who is recovering from chemo treatments and seeing my ophthalmologist regarding upcoming eye surgeries. A long way to travel to an eye doctor, you might say, but this woman has tended to my eyes for many years and understands the several diagnoses I have to deal with. But this column is not about my friend or my eyes. It is about speed.

I grew up in Chicago. I spent the first 46 years of my life there and have driven every freeway, tollway

I saw a picture on Pinterest last week. The picture was of a mother bird returning to a branch where her three babies were waiting with open mouths. My first thought was wondering what that mother bird felt. Consider the mother who works long weeks at an office job, or any job, and comes home to three children, each of whom wants her attention. After paying the babysitter and taking her home — with the three kids in the car — they return home where mom now cooks dinner, makes sure the kids have their homework done and baths taken and then interacts with each of them individually and together.

By 9 p.m., if she is lucky, she has time

April has come and gone, and hopefully as it leaves it will take the winter of 2012-’13 with it. This has been one of the longest winters I remember. If the weather predictions are accurate, we will be seeing some days in the 70s and with those perhaps we will see leaves on our trees and flowers in our yards.

I am sure there have been long winters before, but this one just dragged on and on with little sun and lots of icy walks. Several people I know took serious falls this winter. Others found themselves dealing with cabin fever as the gray days wore on and on. Yesterday I automatically put on a fairly heavy jacket to walk Bentley

When an event as popular as the Boston Marathon is disrupted by bombs and explosions that brought death and serious injuries to so many, the entire nation — perhaps the entire world — is shaken. On the day of this bombing I was in Madison, in the midst of 2,000 people attending an environmental conference. As I waited for the highlight of the day, a talk by Jane Goodall, I checked my Facebook account and saw a post by my niece. Katelyn is a wonderful 30-year-old woman who is getting married in September and starting a fellowship in June that will be a part of her master’s degree in community work.

The post did

As I think back over my adult years, I do not remember a time when I hired someone to paint walls once we lived in the house. If we painted, it was done before we moved in and since we moved fairly often, we did not repaint. But this house is different. When Bill and I moved here, he was a pretty sick man and we just wanted to do get settled. The walls, though white in every single room, were OK. Friends helped me unpack, get kitchen cabinets washed and lined, put things away, hang pictures and more. What would I have done without them? What would I do without them now?

So I just hired painters