well worth a trip...

... to drive up to Decatur on Saturday afternoon. I knew that neat exhibit of amazingly huge blown glass was on display at the Atlanta Botanical Gardens all summer. And would be such a treat to see, especially when I heard from my reliable source that we could go at night, when the gardens were mostly dark.  With all the huge glass installations lit up and glowing out there under the trees in the acres of gardens tucked away in the heart of metro. Atlanta.

I thought to myself a couple of weeks ago: I should take this display 'off the back burner', and make it a priority so it does not get away before I have an opportunity to enjoy it. I know there is a limited time before all those gigantic pieces of brilliantly colored  glass will be dis-assembled and carefully wrapped in miles of bubble wrap. Diligently replaced in shipping crates to be sent on to the next destination. Actually: today is the final day.

I went last Saturday night, after a very busy day. Worked five hours, painted sweaty little cheeks with holiday designs for two hours at fall festival, then jumped in my car to drive for two hours to get to Decatur. We had tickets to go at night. It was crowded, which I found surprising .Hundreds of visitors milling around in the dark along the elevated walking trail, dozens of people slowly meandering through the dimly lit gardens, gawking at dozens of monstrous glass fixtures. But I guess factoring in that this is the last weekend of the glorious installation + about eight million residents of the metro. area, you could also say there weren't really all that many people present.

I've seen lots of pieces that originate in the Chiluly workshop in Seattle, but it never ceases to amaze. The size of the pieces is always astounding. The brilliant colors are always breath taking. The massed pieces when assembled together in a grouping: in a wooden boat, in a shady dell, startlingly erupting from a lush bed of woodland ferns. Appearing to glow when back lit by artfully placed spot lights hidden in the undergrowth at night.

getting to work at 5:00 a.m....

... is not routine, but actually not all that far from reality. I only agreed to do it today, early in order to leave at ten, for an event I was planning to attend at the local botanical garden.  The usual arrival time is 6:00, which is not so different from five, especially when I woke up numerous times wondering what time it was, fearful the alarm had failed me. Making me feel like I woke up every 15 minutes to check and be sure I had not overslept.

Today at the gloriously blooming, neatly landscaped, tidily groomed gardens was the annual fall festival: fun, games, plants for sale, bouncy inflatables, portable rock climbing wall, eats and treats, plus me face painting. I had offered to be there as one of two people who would do some simple little designs on kids: face painting (or putting designs on hands for little ones who were too fearful to let someone decorate their cheeks.) As it turned out, I was one of one.

And paint I did. I must have put pumpkins, ghosts, smiley faces, ladybugs, butterflies, little green snakes or shooting stars on well over a hundred little sweaty cheeks in a little more than four hours. Wishing I had kept up with how many I did, but it was such chaos I doubt I could have counted them. In addition to a few grubby little hands that didn't want the painting on their faces. I think I would still be there, with a line of little ones in assorted princess and storm trooper costumes, if I had not said: 'the face painting shop is closed'.

interesting volunteer job yesterday...

... that lead me to be a judge for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich competition. When we went on the tree walk, the county agent was hoping for a volunteer to help with judging a 4-H program for elementary school students.  I guess this program where you get to invent your choice of ingredients to make up your own version of p-b-j is a 'think outside the loaf' type of project, and  most certainly not a traditional sandwich. I enjoyed it, but if I should happen to do this again, you can bet I will take my bottle of water.

Participants were all grade school kids, so just the fact that they choose to enter the contest, and had to gumption to show up to put their creations together for display and tasting is remarkable. I was impressed with all the kids and their efforts. One was a second grader, who was apparently too young to actually compete. We were told she was just there for the 'practice', to see what it was like. She might be the star attraction next year.

Some of the concoctions were a bit 'iffy', but others were quite tasty. Even so, you will need a big glass of cold milk to wash down a clump of peanut butter when it gets stuck. I am guessing the event had some sponsorship from the GA Peanut Council, and was supported by the UGA Extension Service, which is how I accidentally got involved.

One young guy made a sandwich out of tortillas, with sliced apple in between the smears of peanut butter, then put it in a panini grill to heat it up. Another used thin layers of rice-krispy treats instead of bread, and put chocolate in between with the peanut butter ('way too sweet!) One young girl made hers on a circle of bread cut out with a biscuit cutter, folded it over, and turned the half-moon shaped sandwiches into fortune cookies, with a dipping sauce. The clever second grader used a cookie cutter to make hers in the shape of a flower, then added celery sticks and a leaf to make it look like a flower on a stem.

It was a bit intimidating trying to decide on scoring, but fortunately there was no need for a Grand Prize winner. They all got certificates, for various and sundry accomplishments: most ingredients, messiest, most nutritious, best presentation, etc. Winners all!

a downtown stroll...

... on a beauty-full fall day.  Thursday, just after noon, along with several master gardening friends who were interested in attending the talk-and-walk about trees in the city. We went aroaming around several blocks, stopping numerous times to look at trees, as our leader, Dorothy, Director of Trees Columbus (in her gorgeous cowgirl boots) shared info. about various species. Discussing their growth habits and overall health when planted in urban setting.

It was interesting to hear about the different types of trees, and learn that some will actually thrive in an environment where others are doomed from the minute they are placed in the hole. We saw several examples of trees that should have never been placedd in small raised planters surrounded by paving and concrete sidewalks, obviously struggling to survive. And others that were a far better choice for planting in that narrow strip of grass between streets and sidewalks. Trees are often butchered by utility contractors, trimmed to the point of abuse to prevent damage to power lines. Many times trees that will grow far too tall are planted too close to utilities, and inevitably mistreated as they mature.

One interesting bit of trivia is there are certain trees that have small, narrow willow-type leaves the city crews love because when they shed in the fall the leaves will easily pass through drainage systems rather than clogging up storm drains and causing flooding. Dorothy noted as times have changed and trees have gone in and out of favor, ones that have been historically planted in commercial or urban settings are no longer popular. A case in point: Bradford pear trees with the historically 'weak crotches' that cause limbs to break, disfiguring the tree, and inviting pests to invade. They are beautiful when they bloom in the spring, as well as turning glorious colors in the fall, but not good for city landscaping: clogging drainage systems and needing pruning. And then there are ginkos that were once so desirable, even though they drop messy fruit and smell terrible,  now unwelcome in densely populated areas. Ginkos are so eye-catching in the fall when they turn golden yellow, but no one wants to clean up the mess when the leaves all fall, practically overnight.

Many trees in the city get damaged by delivery trucks breaking off limbs when traversing city streets. And many get abused by city workers who mow too close, or come by with string trimmers and slice into bark at the base. I guess it's a hard life being a tree in the city, in places where the earth gets compacted and they struggle to survive, blistering heat in the summer with insufficient water, air pollution, stuff that drips out of engines of vehicles and leached into the soil.

a small observance...

..of one of many definitions of a charmed life. You have probably read here that I have a little book, about the size of a 3 x5 note card that I use for Thankfulness reminders. Try to write a line or two as I think of things I am thankful for. I have given away a several of these small, handy, pocket-sized, bound books to people I think deserve one. Folks that appear in my life who seem to understand that every day, every sunshine, every breath is a blessing. All those mundane random happenings we just accept as part of our existence are not to be taken for granted, but noticed, appreciated and should be recognized, noted in writing on a daily basis.

One of the things I recently wrote in  my book: pumpkin spice cappuccino. Available at the curb store for a limited time. It is such a small thing. In the overall scheme of things hardly worth mention. But here I am - appreciating my little cup of pumpkin spice, tasty, over sugared, high-fat, delicious drink. So good it should be a controlled substance, and require an ID to purchase.

Thankful that I can stop at the convenience store and walk out the door with my little cup of warming hot beverage, riding down the road in the dark. Or traveling across south GA in the early morning sunlight, enjoying the scenery. In my 'paid for' vehicle, with the financial resources to travel, and purchase gas. Without need of passport/papers to gain access/permission to go where I want.

So here we are: living in America, under the beneficence of the US Constitution. Thankful for all that.  While hearing about refugees stumbling across a war-torn country, hoping to get family out of harm's way to safety, shelter, food. Where, if they are lucky: stranded in a tent-city full of homeless hungry, exhausted migrants. Certainly makes one give thanks for housing, potable water, grocery stores filled with bounty, employment.

ready to confess...

... that I toot my horn when I am driving down the road at lots of inappropriate times. Like the little kids running around in circles in the yard, who would have thought that someone they know is passing by, causing them to stop their game and wave furiously at a total stranger. Or the guys working for the DOT contractors, flagging traffic. Who wonder: 'who in the world is that?'

Then there was the young guy, in shorts and T-shirt, leaning over the edge of the bridge looking into the creek. When I got even with him, I gave a couple of quick toots -hoping he would be so startled he would loose his balance and fall over the railing and go head-first into the water. Sadly, he only jerked up, looking to see who was driving the passing vehicle. Definitely no one he knows.

I was really disappointed when he did not go crashing over the railing. Hoping to be a witness to a splash-down disaster - but it did not happen. I'll keep trying, and hope to create a crisis in the near future.

about the auntie...

...who has a follow up appt.with the orthopedic Dr. Wednesday afternoon. I will get up early in the morning and drive down to get her, to be in Valdosta at the clinic at 1:15 for her appointment. I am seriously anxious about taking her, really worried that she will get belligerent with me when the dr. tells her that her fractured bones have healed enough for her to be allowed to go home Because the which the cousins all agree is not going to happen.

Even if she is physically able, relatively healthy, capable enough to spontaneously motivate herself up and around, she is not mentally able to return to her house and live alone. The anxious part is that it will be Me telling her that. She can be really disagreeable when you tell her something she does not want to here. If there is anything good about short term memory loss, it might be that she won't remember to be furious with me for very long.

I'm not one for confrontations, and never want to be 'the bad guy' bringing unwelcome or unwanted news.Therefore, understandably, I am getting really worried about how she will react when she has to go back to the rehab. facility where she has been getting fed, cared for, tended to, given meds. as she has recovered from that fall in late August.  Wishing she would grasp the meaning of 'don't shoot the messenger' when I am the one doing the transport.