traditions – The Hermits' Rest

Blessings abound

What’s something you do completely differently from how you were raised?

Since I’ve been near the area where I spent my childhood, I’ve been thinking quite a bit about how my nuclear family of origin worked. I’ve also been thinking what a blessing it was to spend time with my long-time friend, Vicki. Thus, the answer to the blog prompt jumped right out of my subconscious.

I do not say a blessing before every meal. However, our semi-non religious family felt the need to say these words.

God is great, God is good, let us thank him for our food. By his hands we are fed. Thank him for our daily bread. Father, Son, Holy Ghost, Amen (including hand gestures).

This gave young Suna much to think about. I did attend Presbyterian Sunday School, so I knew who God was. But why did they try to rhyme “good” with “food?” and hey, we did not eat bread every day, just on weekends. And why the crossing of ourselves after the Protestant blessing? The answer was that Dad came from a Methodist family and Mom from a Catholic one, so we did both things from some loyalty or something. I didn’t get a good answer as to why we did the meal ritual if we weren’t religious. Nonetheless, this was done until Mom died, even though I was a tree-hugging atheist at that point. Even when Dad later became a Quaker we were exempt.

Anyway, no, I don’t do Christian rituals by rote anymore. I do send out good energy in thanks for animals and plants who nourish me, and I say a blessing when I see dead animals on the side of the road or whenever I experience awe. I do still count my blessings, though I think they come from Spirit, whatever that is.

The spirit in the sky! Where I’m gonna go when I die, or some kind of song lyric.

Well, I’m done with that topic now. Although I must warn you that tomorrow I will have more encounters with unholy ghosts of my mother’s past.

I need protective feathers! (This is from a Wild Turkey)

Today, though, was a vast improvement over yesterday. Lee kindly drove me back over the three state park loop again, so I could photograph the scenery. There was no negativity, complaining, or grumpiness. (He may have used it all up yesterday, which was a bad day for him).

I even made him look at the Fairchild Oak and the seeping creek.

We also enjoyed getting to watch the pool at the condos get repaired. It’s so much fun to watch guys pumping and smoothing the coating. Then they started filling it up! I guess if I’d waited a week, I could have gone swimming here.

Work was much more interesting today, too, and I enjoyed helping folks until we had a final dinner with Vicki, back at Angelina’s, across from the condo. I’m glad I made the trip.

Not Very Traditional

What traditions have you not kept that your parents had?

It’s a slow news day here at the ranch, so I’ll answer this one. My parents didn’t have many traditions that I can think of, so it’s a little hard to come up with them.

Ah, Easter is a non-tradition for me. Aren’t we a happy 60s family?

I remember they always had a drink or two before dinner. So we always ate later than some of my friends. The drinks were usually vodka and grapefruit juice, but that changed later and Dad had scotch and Mom had morphine. Anyway, I don’t do that. I have wine occasionally before/during dinner and bourbon and an ice cube after. But not all that often.

I do like wine, just not being tipsy anymore (Pexel image)

My parents both thought smoking made them look cool. Dad did look distinguished with his pipe and Mom was elegant with her cigarettes until she wasn’t. I have memories of her vacuuming my room while smoking and leaving long ash caterpillars on the floor. I’d have to re-do it. Mom tried. She had an addiction issue. Watching her die was enough to make me never want to smoke anything, especially since I’d already had so much second-hand smoke that my lungs were weakened. So, not keeping that tradition.

Mom’s floating around up there giving me advice.

They did have a tradition I liked, which was walking the dog (Pumpkin, whom I’ve mentioned before) every night after dinner. Since they were already tipsy, it meant for fun neighbor conversations. I’d walk the dog every evening if I had fewer dogs and a sidewalk. But it was nice and got Mom out of the house while she was sick.

I’d go cuckoo without the dogs. This is an actual cuckoo I saw today.

Damn, that was a downer. I bet this question was supposed to be about holidays or something.

This cheers me up. Squash soup with garlic chives and bread. So good.

Oh! A tradition I wish I’d kept up was having a beautiful garden and propagating plants. Mom was great at hybridizing camellias and daylilies. She grew beautiful orchids in later years. Dad was a great garden designer and loved to keep his lawn and flower beds perfect. I never have been that good or patient with plants but I sure enjoyed watching Dad. He was a great edger.

I just look at plants in case there’s a cool insect on them. That’s a dusky-winged hoverfly.

I guess I sort of maintain the plant tradition with all my native plant observations and how hard I try to protect them. There, I kept one.

Mom was crafty like me. I’ve also kept that family tradition going. This is the border of my sweater. Meh. Maybe it will look better when it’s done.

By the way, new to the Hermits’ Rest website is a page listing all the fungi I’ve identified on iNat.

Yep, We Had Family Traditions

Write about a few of your favorite family traditions.

Ah, I’m sitting in a clean, quiet hotel room, with mindless television and knitting. It’s a perfect time to reminisce about family traditions.

My current family is a bit too chaotic to have a lot of traditions. It’s always something different every day. But my family of origin had a couple I enjoyed at the time and remember fondly.

I’m not home so I can’t scan photos. Here’s our foggy morning.

One I loved was when we lived in south Florida in a family-oriented neighborhood of little cement-block houses. We had a dachshund mix dog named Pumpkin during my college and grad school years. I thought of her as my sister, because she was great to talk to and hang out with. I’m not kidding, I often forgot she was a dog.

Ha! I found a photo of Pumpkin, Dad, and two neighbors.

Anyway, it was my parents’ tradition to take a walk with Pumpkin every evening after dinner. Whenever I was home, I went along with them and my brother. The walk only went to the end of the block, because Mom couldn’t go very far (she was sick a long time, and died when I was 26).

The front of the house, on my 16th birthday. Stylish for 1974.

However, the walks were always fun. We’d talk and joke and comment on the quality of Pumpkin’s poop, which always happened at the corner. (Dad had to go clean it up once a week or so, because they we’d never heard of poop bags in the 80s.) In the winter we’d check to see if she’d produced a “steamer.” Dad loved those.

The walks were often long in time, compared to their length. That’s because we often stopped to talk to the neighbors. My dad and brother were very social. I enjoyed listening to them. It felt so comfortable and convivial. They could talk about all topics, drink beer, tell stories, and get along. They were just nice, hard-working folks. I miss those times.

I realize that hanging out with my family and watching the dog poop is probably a weird tradition, but we all enjoyed it. It was something Mom could do with us, which was so nice. And my Dad and brother were so funny. I’ll treasure our quirky family togetherness time.

Before I left for my 6.5-hour drive to Arkansas, I did get in a little bird watching during the foggy morning. (I haven’t seen the sun since last Saturday.) I’m going to declare our resident loggerhead shrike the Daily Bird, because it matches the sky and trees. Plus, I love watching them grab bugs.

I’m sure the shrike is wishful for the grasshopper season to start! They go into overdrive then.