Ninth thing: Morel mushrooms. Early on in our relationship, Spence made a visit to northern Michigan, near Charlevoix. His friend Don (and Don’s parents) owned countless acres of wooded land. And on that land around this time of year, a miracle occurs. Morels everywhere. This would have seemed like a beautiful myth had Spence not returned home with a brown paper lunch bag literally brimming with morels. I was in heaven and by extension, so was Spence as I whipped up the most incredibly delicious meals. Not a morsel went to waste. Oh the memories.
Rarely now I will encounter morels peering out of the produce stands if and when I’m lucky. Regardless of the cost (which is incredibly steep) I’m seduced on the spot – and cannot pass them by. So imagine my utter dismay when only a few days into our most recent vacation I saw this picture posted by my favorite farmer’s market Facebook page (knowing that I’ve probably missed them for this year).
Tenth thing: I never knew my Great-Grandma (my Mom’s Grandmother) but had heard my Mom speak of her. Recently I helped my Mom pack up and move her belongings back to Michigan after selling her home in Florida. (see my Moving Mom series for more about that)
Moving from a good size two bedroom house to a nice size one bedroom apartment, Mom found that she couldn’t keep everything she’d moved. (even after parting with tons of her belongings when down-sizing) She offered my sister and I numerous items, one of them was Great-Grandma’s quilt. My sister graciously said I could have it; she’s planning her own downsizing in a few years. I was thrilled. The quilt is showing some wear but given it’s age, surprisingly less than you might expect.
Apparently the original passing of the quilt from my Great-Grandma to my Grandma Fox was not as gracious or amicable. Both she and her sister Ruth (who I understand was quite formidable) wanted this quilt. Drama ensued. My Grandma had to concede other cherished items in bartering for the quilt – but she prevailed.
Fast forward to my childhood. My sister and I stayed overnight on occasion with Grandma and Grandpa F0x who lived 20 minutes away. We were lovingly tucked in with this quilt at nap time, played on top of it with our Barbies and snuggled under it while watching our grandparents dance to Lawrence Welk on their black and white TV (they were impressive).
As soon as I brought it home, I unfolded it and snuggled under it. Good times, happy memories.
Eleventh thing: As I’ve written previously, I started the practice of meditation last year after retiring. I had tried before with no success. I simply couldn’t shut off my mind nor understand that meditation doesn’t necessarily require you to shut off your mind. What it is about is being still, being in the moment and allowing yourself to just…..be. Done with regularity it’s my experience that I’m more focused, even when I haven’t slept well. When I recently started missing consecutive days, I noticed that I felt a bit irritable. And kind of mad at myself for breaking what had become a good habit. As with anything, I re-prioritized and schedule it as a little “me” time each day.
Spence supports my practice though initially he didn’t understand that I can’t talk to him during the 15-30 minute sessions.
“I’M MEDITATING” I would have to yell through the closed door of my meditation space (or guest room). Now, he gets it and leaves me be though – and you’d have to know Spence’s propensity for deliberately switching out words – he calls it “mediation”.
“Go mediate” he says. “I won’t disturb you”.