April seemed to be all garden club, all the time. I started with the zone leader’ walkthrough for Spring Fever on Friday, the 5th, then 2 whole days of that event. Whew. April 11th was the Windermere Garden Club’s monthly meeting, a field trip to Southern Hill Farm, a you-pick and wholesale blueberry farm. We were inspire to add blueberries to our garden. Friday, April 12th, I was the speaker at Bloom and Grow’s monthly luncheon, touting the value of becoming a citizen scientist, specifically, downloading the iNaturalist app and participating in the City Nature Challenge 2024: Orange County. I was pleased with my talk, the first one I’ve given in person in 5 years. I still attend EarlyBird Toastmasters, but we’ve been on Zoom since early 2020. Before that, we’d moved to Key Biscayne for a year, and I didn’t drive up to Fort Lauderdale often. On the 21st, we toured Jeanne’s almost-all native, completely grassless yard, a B&G social with the mandatory wine and lovely appetizers and d...
Our trip to the Keys was marvelous, but hard on my bracelets. First, I realized my sweet little beaded one I’d bought the last time we were down disappeared from my arm. All I can figure is that I accidentally pulled it off when I tucked my hands inside my long sleeved sun shirt. Surely if the elastic had broken, I’d have had beads in my shirt. As soon as I noticed it was missing , I retraced my steps at the gas station and the bait shop, but didn’t find it. I’d restrung the original on elastic bead string, adding the glow-in-the-dark bead I’d found at our campsite. Ah, well, I hope someone else is enjoying now. When we got back to our house, I realized the one made for me by Rani, mom of our old congregation’s pianist Brenda, was coming unstrung. Fortunately, I have all the beads, including the one I stepped on in our dining room, which was amazingly not sucked up by our Roomba. In between jewelry loses, it was a good trip. We were supposed to be in the cabin Saturday, but that was ov...
Crisis averted? Every Thursday, I Zoom with 5 girlfriends, all 1967 graduates from Naples High. One I’ve known since early elementary school, perhaps it was first grade; the others moved to town by junior high. Sixty years of friendship. My high school class was the last under 200 graduates. We all knew everything about everyone, or at least we thought we did. In our last Zoom, at the very end, our most conservative and quietest member said, not once, but twice, “You all are too radical for me.” Wow. It passed without comment. We said our I-love-you's and goodbyes, but that stuck in my head. For her to say that was a big deal. What to do? I let it buzz around in my brain, several nights waking up and thinking about my response, because I knew I couldn’t just let it be ignored. This was an opportunity to deepen our conversations. I decided to write the group early in the week about how important I felt it was to hear each other’s political opinions. Not to try to change one another,...
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