Wreath-making

Today has been full, a typical Saturday given the proximity of Christmas. It's on days like this that I am especially aware of the gift of retirement. Were it not for that I would have spent the day writing sermons, crafting bulletins, attending meetings, desperately not sending Christmas cards again this year, trying to cram in meal planning for Christmas guests. I won't go on. Instead, this pre-Christmas time includes shopkeeping for both Edgefield Regional Arts and the Art Association of Ridge Spring, sending personally designed cards, listening to Christmas music, deliberately, here at home.

And, today I attended a vine wreath-making class taught by a former parishioner, sponsored by and held at the National Wild Turkey Federation here in Edgefield. It was a great event, inspiring the creativity of everyone who participated. My finished wreath is shown here, with apologies for the photograph. The wreath itself is comprised of a number of different kinds of vine: grape, yellow Jessamine, wisteria, and the decoration includes cedar, holly, boxwood and cones from a white pine on the golf course at Pine Ridge Plantation.


Tal was genuinely surprised when I brought the wreath out of the trunk. I'd love to know what he really expected I'd produce and bring home.

Of more than one mind

While the American people learned details of Congress' decision not to give the Detroit three many millions of dollars in bridge loans to get them to the first of the year, Tal and I learned that he is allergic to formaldehyde (no, we don't live in a FEMA trailor), managed our financial situation with our financial planner and waded into Sam's on a shopping expedition. These simultaneous activities fascinate me.

• Although I paid rapt attention to Dr James as she talked to Tal and me about the why of the dermatitis on his hands, I was intensely aware of the aftermath of the decision having been made in the halls and chambers of Congress.
• While our financial planner explained getting to the bottom of a recession in terms I could actually understand, I couldn't help but notice Tal's hands, wondering what we are using at home in terms of soaps and lotions that contains formaldehyde.
• Even though I was monitoring our carefully crafted shopping list as we trooped through Sam's, I was considering how to go about finding the information the financial planner needs.

At no time did I feel separated from the current moment. That is, I wasn't only partially present and I didn't interject comment about the other train of thought into what Tal and I were doing. But, there was clearly more than one thing going on in my mind.

Part of being human. Part of the fascinating power of the brain. I wonder why the phenomenon was so strong today.

Deliver me

The post's title is part of a longer sentence uttered by my dear husband as we approached Columbia this morning in rush hour traffic. "Lawd, deliver me from this." At the moment he was definitely speaking for us both. I-20 was fully stopped in advance of the interchange with SC6 and again at US1. When traffic did move, it inched. When it moved faster, drivers tended to accelerate too rapidly, requiring panic stops when, inevitably, progress came to a halt once again. Fortunately, the heavy rain that moved through during the night had abated. I don't know if it's merely a perception on my part, but I do believe drivers operate their vehicles differently (translated: worse) in bad weather.

"Deliver me," he exclaimed. It might be a good idea to make those appointments for a bit later in the morning. Without doubt extended stop-and-go traffic like we experienced today makes us both appreciate our rural existence and Edgefield's three stop lights.

But, today wasn't totally consumed with "deliver me" moments. With another appointment for tomorrow morning and a SC Troopers Association Christmas gathering this evening at a Columbia hotel we are staying in the area for the night. While it rained much of the day (an understatement), we got in a good walk along the Columbia Canal between Tal's appointment and lunchtime.

As we walked, we talked about other time we'd walked that same path and realized we were celebrating an anniversary. Tal and I began dating after Thanksgiving in 1988 and one of our first adventures was a walk along the canal, then something of a novelty having not been open very long. The area has developed well, the walking path along the canal having been extended all the way to Gervais Street and the State Museum, and the area at the head of the Canal with a long view of the Broad River now sporting a replica of one of the four lock-keepers' houses and even a fish ladder. The canal area is now part of the Three Rivers Greenway, a 12-mile linear park on both sides of the Broad and the Saluda and along the Congaree which is formed at their junction.

So, we didn't need to be delivered from everything today. Making it into Columbia without incident brought us to a very enjoyable place and a remarkable anniversary walk. Today, by the way, we walked farther and faster and more companionably than we did 20 years ago. Pretty impressive, all things considered.

An introspective day

Rain was supposed to arrive here last night. When I awoke in the wee hours of the morning, temporarily sleepless, the nearly-full moon glowed palely through thin clouds, illuminating the water on the pond just well enough for me to enjoy the subtle glimmer. By no means was being awake the worst thing that could have been going on.

By the time Tal and I took that first, almost healing sip of hot coffee shortly before 7:00, however, the rain had begun. And, it rained all day, oftentimes hard, thunder rumbling in the distance, lightening a flicker I wasn't entirely certain I had actaully seen. Tal attempted to watch television after lunch. During intense periods of rain the picture "cubed," DirecTV leaving the air completely several times.

But, what a wonderful day. With only two errands taking us away from home briefly, the better part of the day was quiet. Working on the Christmas cards, catching up entries in Quicken, sorting through the loot I hauled home from yesterday's Ambassadors Tour, preparing for an overnight in Columbia tomorrow -- everything was a pleasure. I wouldn't trade it for anything and, even though the hours passed slowly, the day ended way too soon.

The rain's still coming down. Good sleep awaits.

New ambassador

Today has been great fun and I am too tuckered out to write more than a line or two. But, you are reading words written by one of Edgefield County and The South Carolina Heritage Corridor's forty plus newly minted ambassadors. Impressive, huh?

After a lovely breakfast at Oakley Park, an antebellum house museum and UDC Shrine, in Edgefield, our rolling classroom set out with Bettis Academy, the town of Trenton and Titan Farm on the morning itinerary. After a wonderful lunch at Riley's on Main in Johnston, we visited the Edgefield County Peach Museum just a few storefronts up the street and then reboarded the coach for the afternoon. By the time we arrived back at Oakley Park for a wine and cheese reception shortly after 5:00 we had visited the National Wild Turkey Federation, the Freshwater Coast Discovery Center, the Tompkins Library, the Edgefield County Archives and the offices of the Edgefield Advertiser (the oldest continually run newspaper in the state). I am going to sleep gratefully and well.

Here are few images made during the day.

Our rolling classroom, driven by Andrew Lott, was very comfortable, complete with TV screens on which the view from the front of the bus was displayed all day. We didn't have to fight for front seats. In fact, I quite enjoyed sitting in the back of the bus.

A fragile quilt on display at Bettis Academy and Junior College -- an institution founded in 1881 by the Rev'd Alexander Bettis, a former slave who was taught to read by his master.

This is part of the peach sorting apparatus in the packing shed at Titan Farm.

One of a visitor's first sights on entering the National Wild Turkey Federation is the floor at the threshold. The turkey fan inlay is comprised of seven different woods: black walnut, lace wood, Brazilian cherry, zebra wood, wenge, curly maple and Honduras mahogany.

This is a detail of the ceiling in the Tomkins Library on the square in Edgefield, home of the Old Edgefield District Genealogical Society.

At the end of the day my totebag was stuffed!

House cleaning

We hear frequent mention, particularly in the arena of the political, of cleaning house. When politicians are not doing what we would like, we declare that what we need is a good house cleaning. Sometimes that happens and sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes that should happen and sometimes it shouldn't.

But, what needs to happen closer to home, here in Edgefield County at 207 Country Club Road to be specific, is underway. I'm cleaning house in earnest. Too frequently the place gets a lick and a promise, to use a phrase I've heard my whole life. A making the place presentable in the shortest possible amount of time. Getting the dog hair up from along the baseboards. Sweeping the porches. Uncovering the kitchen counters. Yes, it gets that bad.

But, today I started. With only a block of time in the middle of the day to work I decided to tackle the bedroom, bath and closet -- and to take my time. Turned out it was enjoyable and sweet. I looked at the photographs I was dusting, felt the contours of the sinks as I washed off the residual soap and whiskers, thought about my great, good fortune as I smoothed sheets and tucked in blankets, looked forward to reading in bed while wiping off the light bulbs in the bedside lamps. Somewhere I'd lost track of gratitude for what surrounds me, for the items I use every day.

By the time an afternoon obligation took me away the area of the day's focus looked pretty nice AND I'd managed to get in the laundry and to sweep the hardwood floors in the rest of the house.

Tomorrow? Polishing the kitchen cabinets will be the primary task. I plan to enjoy that, too.

Cynic or realist

It's taken all week, getting two simple artificial wreaths up on the new gates at the head of our driveway. The mission of finding the wreaths themselves took a chunk of Tuesday. From place to place I trooped. Perhaps I should more accurately say from place to place I drooped. Most that I found were two small, each gate being nine feet wide and requiring something substantial. A few, not ideal but that would have done, were too expensive. The search ended at Lowes with 36-inch blanks (meaning, I learned, undecorated), an extra bonus being that all the Lowes Christmas merchanize had been marked half off at Thanksgiving. I worked at adding bows last night in a tangle of wide, wired red ribbon and Tal and I attached them to the gates this afternoon using very handy "cable ties" which he had found at the local hardware store.


While I am pleased with our efforts, I have managed not to become overly invested in the greening of the gates for this holiday season. When Tal asked me last night if I were going to put anything beside the bows on the wreaths, I gave him the same line I gave myself on Tuesday as I made checking price tags a priority during my search, not wanting to like too much one -- a pair, actually, costing more than I wanted to pay. Let's be realistic. They won't last the season. We're not going to have to worry about storing them for Advent and Christmas 2009."

Our house is at least 325 feet from Country Club Road; the gates are not even visible from the garage or from the front door. I know we will likely be relieved of responsibility for those wreaths in the very near future ... if not by morning. Before all is said and done they will be appropriated, filched, made away with, pinched, purloined, ripped off, snitched, swiped, even stolen! in the dark of night.

Realistic? Cynical? I don't know which label to use. I wanted to put wreaths on the gates because the gate project during the last six months has been such a pleasure. Since we purchased this piece of property I've always wanted those gates. Essentially, we put wreaths on the gates because I wanted to and I am pleased that they are there.

What happens now will be OK. Any pleasure I experience on seeing them (that is, if I see them) as I come and go during the next few weeks will a bonus added to the pleasure of this day.

Today's newspaper, The State, included on its editorial pages a quote which might sum up the point I'm trying to explore.

Things won are done. Joy's soul lies in the doing. William
Shakespeare

What Tal and I did today brought me joy. That joy will not go away if the wreaths do.