There are enough unworn clothes in my home to fully dress three people. I am not talking about things on hangers that COULD be worn. I mean "souvenirs" of my life that I cannot part with, for emotional reasons.
There's an old hatbox stuffed with my mother's hand-knit sweater, a hope chest full of the past, and a few hanging items in an old piano crate in my basement. No one place holds the treasures, so I am apt to come upon one, without warning, at any moment. When I do, I enjoy a few moments of "being there." (Those of you with stuff tucked under rugs and in the backs of closets "get" this.) I live in a minefield of memories, just waiting for me to trip upon them!)
I know this sounds as if I am a candidate for "Hoarders," but I don't see it that way. (That's what they ALL say......) Each piece of clothing is too "special" to discard!
A quick tour: Clothing from my childrens' youths: A teeny bright red corduroy suit worn by Philip at age two for Christmas. A green linen Easter dress I made for Meredith's third Easter, hand-embroidered with flowers and bees. This has a hat with a similarly-decorated hatband. A white Baptismal "dress" that I made with meticulous tiny stitches for my last, Stephen. (A 3-year old Meredith called it "Stephen's curtain.") Under that is a nearly worn-out green sweat suit worn out by that same baptized boy. It turned him into a dragon, complete with spikes up his back and over his blond, curly head.
Oh, it's not just my childrens' clothing that I am writing about, though! EVERY mother saves those things. Doesn't she?? (See how I am working up to making this come across as "normal?")
There is a plaid dress I wore to first grade a hundred years ago. The collar is frayed, and I am the only person in the world who knows it is because I chewed on it to comfort myself: a little girl at school, homesick.
There are two dresses made by my aging mother, her fine top stitching all around one, and the other I can still picture her in, trying to get cool on hot summer days.
There is the dress I wore to my father's funeral, thirty-eight years ago. I bought it the night before calling hours, to do him proud. I never wore it again, but know how I grew in spirit during the few hours that I did.
There is a "hostess skirt" (Remember those?) with a matching shawl, brown velvet, with embroidered ribbon that I could ill-afford when I made this outfit. It represents a moment when I told myself I was "worth it," and spent the grocery money on myself!
My father's felt hat, that he wore to work every day of his life while I was a child, is still in its hatbox. Occasionally I take it out, rub my fingers around the brim, and smile, thinking of the man who wore it.
Of course, there are wedding gowns! I inherited my grandmother's silk and lace dress from 1906, and two of my own, less fancy, more utilitarian, bought to get the jobs done, not impress.
I know people who don't have a single baby garb from their own babies' lives! I've seen beautiful wedding gowns in garage sales...........they apparently took up too much space, and the owners wanted rid of them! These are not people to whom I can relate..................(How COULD they????)
Could I cast off these items, let someone else wear them, allow them to be torn to rags for industry, or sold to strangers at vintage shops? Probably not. Let me tell you how I know this.
When Philip died, he left so many tee shirts (each one special) that our family members still wear them. I have drawers full of them. I open the drawers, put my face into his shirts and smell him, frequently. For a moment or two he is right here. Those shirts aren't going anywhere, unless to clothe his brother.
Philip also left a nice gray suit that he wore to his ten-year high school reunion. Never again. A good suit, he chose it for himself to wear for his return to his hometown, and he must have liked it. I know he had a wonderful time at that reunion!
I decided, three years after his death, that I couldn't house the suit anymore, and knew that some other person might be overjoyed to wear it. Along with some other items, I donated it to The Discovery Shop, a resale shop that benefits the American Cancer Society.
When I dropped the things off, my hand must have held onto the suit a bit too long, because the volunteer gave me that "look" which I have come to know means, "There is history here.............." and I told him that the suit had belonged to my thirty-year old son who died, and I hoped that some man would enjoy it. The volunteer thanked me for thinking of Discovery Shop, assured me it would find a person, then he took it away. I cried all the way home.
But here is why I know I could never part with my dad's hat, my mother's sweater, or the funeral dress: Several weeks after the donation, I drove back to the Discovery Shop, went in to "visit" Philip's suit on the rack, held up the hanger, put my arms around the suit, and hugged it.
I visited that suit until it finally disappeared into the city, hopefully on the back of a young man who bought it for a special event-- maybe his wedding, his first date, or his high school reunion.
I know that when I leave this planet, my children will find these odd pieces of clothing, not know their worth, because, after all, they are MY history, not theirs. Instead of tossing them out, I would hope that they would put them into the casket with me, as my sister and I did with our mother. She and I found some "saved pieces" of clothing that were her history, and that is what we did. We "sent them along with her," as if she were an Egyptian Princess.
I guess that I'd also like to think that they'd take home something I wore a lot, and tuck it away for quiet little "visits" with their mom........ Me.
copyright: KP Gillenwater
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Monday, September 5, 2011
My Tiny Flying Friends............... or, "Hummingbird"
Hummingbirds have enriched my life for over twenty-five years. I'm sure they were "there" before then, buzzing around me, but I was oblivious to their existence. When I "discovered" them, I was like the proverbial kid in the candy store: I had to FEED them, PHOTOGRAPH them, WATCH them!
I bought a feeder, pricey nectar, and spent summers since then entranced by those little birds zooming in and out of my yard, sitting on perches, and sipping juice. Territorial by nature, there have been some fairly decent sword fights near the feeders, as one bird would protect its food from another. Loud screeches accompany these bouts.
Occasionally, I've had a hummingbird flutter right before my eyes as if IT is studying ME !
I've discovered over the years that hummingbirds in Ohio have a pattern of behavior. Like the swallows of Capistrano and the buzzards of Hinckley, I can depend on seeing my first hummer of the season on or about May 7th, each year. That is the day I hang out my feeder, and I haven't been disappointed yet.
Because it is not a good idea to keep feeding these little guys into the fall, I remove my feeder on October 7th. If I were guilty of letting them think that they could keep feeding as Ohio gets colder, they might miss their starting time for the flight south to wherever it is they go for winter. I like to picture them in South America having nectar at colorful festivals, while I am struggling in the deep Ohio snowfalls.
We primarily have Ruby Throated Hummingbirds here. They are luminous green with a bright shiny spot on the front of their necks. There are supposedly five types in Ohio, but this one breeds here and is predominant. I've photographed them repeatedly with a fast lens, as they flutter and dip and soar. It is said that if you can see three hummingbirds, you have ten times that many waiting their turn to feed. I like to think so!
A year when I had grown some fabulous "kitty whisker" flowers in my garden (no, I don't know their real name, just their nickname) I had hummers all day in the garden, and one day the strangest one ever showed up. It was round with an exceptionally long beak, antennae, was a mottled cream color and brown, and moved rather slowly from bloom to bloom. This was before computers, so I trotted off to the library to find out what kind it was, to no avail. Bea Van Iderstine, fondly known as Mrs. Van, knew more than most people about birds and such, and when I described this odd little hummer to her, she told me it was a "hummingbird moth," not a bird at all! Who knew? (Bea did.)
Once, when my children were little, a hummingbird soared into a swing set pole, and landed in our yard. Because by then I had learned to SEE these zooming creatures, I saw it fall. I picked it up and held it in my hand. It was totally dazed. It had no weight. I could have been holding a mere feather in my hand. I felt its little heartbeat and talked to it before it died, and was amazed at the smallness of its physical being.
I found a hummingbird nest once, also. It was like a very small puff of cotton candy. Who knows where they build these little puffs? They are no larger than a pair of small socks rolled together. I kept the tiny nest on our mantle for many years, as a conversation piece.
In Utah, a few summers back, we watched from a restaurant window as literally HERDS of hummingbirds fed at a decent-sized feeder. The lady who filled them wouldn't tell us her secret recipe, but she said she had to fill the feeders three times a day. There must have been ten birds at a time! I don't attract but two at the most. I am not complaining, for if I lived in Hawaii (and wouldn't THAT be a pity!) I would get NONE. There ARE none in Hawaii, alas.
This summer I have enjoyed our hummingbirds in my front yard AND the back yard. They have entertained us with their sparring matches, zoomed in and out during cocktail time on the front porch, or dinner on the back porch. We always point or nod to acknowledge the arrivals. From inside the house, we take note of their comings and goings. I frequently ask myself how did I, as a child, never notice these little creatures?
I no longer buy pricey nectar, but make my own with sugar and water. I boil the water, add the sugar and stir until it is dissolved. If I want to make it red, I add a drop of food coloring, but some folks say the coloring isn't good for the birds. ( I make sure it is cooled before I put it into the feeder, of course.) I actually think they like my mixture better than store-bought nectar. If I mix up a large batch, I keep the extra in the refrigerator until it's time to change. It has to be changed regularly so it is clean and doesn't make the birds sick.
In another month I'll remove the hummingbird feeder for fall and winter. I know my little friends will be vacationing in warmer climes, where someone else will put out nectar and enjoy their visits.
On May 7th next year, though, you know I'll be waiting for them!
copyright: KP Gillenwater
I bought a feeder, pricey nectar, and spent summers since then entranced by those little birds zooming in and out of my yard, sitting on perches, and sipping juice. Territorial by nature, there have been some fairly decent sword fights near the feeders, as one bird would protect its food from another. Loud screeches accompany these bouts.
Occasionally, I've had a hummingbird flutter right before my eyes as if IT is studying ME !
I've discovered over the years that hummingbirds in Ohio have a pattern of behavior. Like the swallows of Capistrano and the buzzards of Hinckley, I can depend on seeing my first hummer of the season on or about May 7th, each year. That is the day I hang out my feeder, and I haven't been disappointed yet.
Because it is not a good idea to keep feeding these little guys into the fall, I remove my feeder on October 7th. If I were guilty of letting them think that they could keep feeding as Ohio gets colder, they might miss their starting time for the flight south to wherever it is they go for winter. I like to picture them in South America having nectar at colorful festivals, while I am struggling in the deep Ohio snowfalls.
We primarily have Ruby Throated Hummingbirds here. They are luminous green with a bright shiny spot on the front of their necks. There are supposedly five types in Ohio, but this one breeds here and is predominant. I've photographed them repeatedly with a fast lens, as they flutter and dip and soar. It is said that if you can see three hummingbirds, you have ten times that many waiting their turn to feed. I like to think so!
A year when I had grown some fabulous "kitty whisker" flowers in my garden (no, I don't know their real name, just their nickname) I had hummers all day in the garden, and one day the strangest one ever showed up. It was round with an exceptionally long beak, antennae, was a mottled cream color and brown, and moved rather slowly from bloom to bloom. This was before computers, so I trotted off to the library to find out what kind it was, to no avail. Bea Van Iderstine, fondly known as Mrs. Van, knew more than most people about birds and such, and when I described this odd little hummer to her, she told me it was a "hummingbird moth," not a bird at all! Who knew? (Bea did.)
Once, when my children were little, a hummingbird soared into a swing set pole, and landed in our yard. Because by then I had learned to SEE these zooming creatures, I saw it fall. I picked it up and held it in my hand. It was totally dazed. It had no weight. I could have been holding a mere feather in my hand. I felt its little heartbeat and talked to it before it died, and was amazed at the smallness of its physical being.
I found a hummingbird nest once, also. It was like a very small puff of cotton candy. Who knows where they build these little puffs? They are no larger than a pair of small socks rolled together. I kept the tiny nest on our mantle for many years, as a conversation piece.
In Utah, a few summers back, we watched from a restaurant window as literally HERDS of hummingbirds fed at a decent-sized feeder. The lady who filled them wouldn't tell us her secret recipe, but she said she had to fill the feeders three times a day. There must have been ten birds at a time! I don't attract but two at the most. I am not complaining, for if I lived in Hawaii (and wouldn't THAT be a pity!) I would get NONE. There ARE none in Hawaii, alas.
This summer I have enjoyed our hummingbirds in my front yard AND the back yard. They have entertained us with their sparring matches, zoomed in and out during cocktail time on the front porch, or dinner on the back porch. We always point or nod to acknowledge the arrivals. From inside the house, we take note of their comings and goings. I frequently ask myself how did I, as a child, never notice these little creatures?
I no longer buy pricey nectar, but make my own with sugar and water. I boil the water, add the sugar and stir until it is dissolved. If I want to make it red, I add a drop of food coloring, but some folks say the coloring isn't good for the birds. ( I make sure it is cooled before I put it into the feeder, of course.) I actually think they like my mixture better than store-bought nectar. If I mix up a large batch, I keep the extra in the refrigerator until it's time to change. It has to be changed regularly so it is clean and doesn't make the birds sick.
In another month I'll remove the hummingbird feeder for fall and winter. I know my little friends will be vacationing in warmer climes, where someone else will put out nectar and enjoy their visits.
On May 7th next year, though, you know I'll be waiting for them!
copyright: KP Gillenwater
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