A BELOVED NEIGHBOR: the Big Creek Ski Area of the old Cleveland Ski Club, s.e. Concord Twp

LAST NIGHT: I FOUND MYSELF RELAXING IN MY LIBRARY WINDOWS AS THE SNOW FELL ...AS I WATCHED, THE SKI HILL LIT UP... always one of my favorite (and now rare) night views in winter ....

I WAS JUST THINKING ...

I WAS THINKING ...
What you don't see in the Women's Marches are the huge numbers of women who prefer to think & speak for themselves---not in crowds; not in crowd-speak; not with profane words & signs; not for TV cameras... 
AND NOT JUST FOR WOMEN!

'THOSE ENDEARING YOUNG CHARMS' ...

Fri, Nov 29, 6:13 PM (14 hours ago)

I was a young school girl at St. Mary's School in Painesville when I opened a school book and found the following poem:

"Believe Me If All Those Endearing Young Charms

which I gaze on so fondly today

were to change by tomorrow and flee from my arms

like fairy gifts fading away,

Thou wouldst still be adored

as this moment thou art,

let thy lovliness fade as it will,

and around the dear ruin each wish of my heart

would entwine itself verdantly still.

"It is not while beauty and youth are thine own
and thy cheek unprofaned by a tear
that the fervor and faith of a soul can be known,
to which time will but make thee more dear.
Oh the heart that has loved never truly forgets,
but as truly lives on to the close;
as the sunflower turns on her God as He sets,
the same look that she gave when He rose."

I, a reader and writer of poems even then, had found this poem in a book on a shelf in the classroom, and Sister Cornelia had found me engrossed in that poem, and she told me it was actually a song. She was the teacher who gathered us all in the church after school every Thursday, to practice our singing for the Children's Choir in the Sunday morning Mass, and she took the time to sing that song for me.

I was stunned by the poem; even more so when I heard it sung as a song. I memorized it and sang it quietly to myself quite often. Young as I was, I decided it was the sort of love I would want when I was grown and would choose my partner in life. 

I was a romantic, but I was also a realist, and I told Sister Cornelia the concept of finding such love for a lifetime seemed  an impossible miracle. How could two people in our huge world full of so many people actually cross each others' path; let alone realize we were right for a lifetime together?

You never know," she smiled, and we never discussed it again.

IN LATE 1959 on a snowy night, that miracle began to materialize for me when I and my newspaper colleagues gathered for a tobogganing party. There I met the brother of a colleague; his name was Bob Moore. 

We fell quickly in love and were married in 1960 at St. Mary's Church, in front of family, friends and my newspaper colleagues. 

I hadn't known him for more than a few weeks when I was surprised to hear him singing that old Irish love song in his fine tenor voice. He loved it too; he had learned it through his high school glee club, and he told me he liked what it stood for. 

As it turned out, we were the finest of partners, and our marriage did last a lifetime. We would sometimes laughingly describe ourselves as "two matched horses happily in harness" ... forging our way through the world together, raising three children, founding and running a business together... and yes, fully loving each other.

My Bob passed away in the springtime of 2017, two years ago, when we were a few months short of our 57th anniversary. 

Right to the end, he would continue to look at me as if I had never reached that "dear ruin" stage of the Irish song we both loved. He seemed to still see me as the bearer of those "endearing young charms," and he would say so. I, in turn, would laugh and accuse him of looking at me with "Rose Colored Glasses."

In his presence, I could feel so young, though I will be 80 in the forthcoming August.

I still miss my Bob; I still feel his presence; a lifetime of memories brightens the darkness of losing him. He was my impossible miracle and will always be with me.

Last anniversary lunch just the two of us, across the table from me at Bass Lake Tavern in Chardon, Ohio 

Yesterday's clear skies were exuberant, with a jet-trail sunset and a night sky brightly filled with stars, a high-watt moon ... and yes! I saw some shooting stars!

Why should I be surprised to see the same exuberant skies this morning? 
Happy SUNday--all day long, with rising temps!

"This is the day the Lord has made. Rejoice and be glad in it."
But let us not forget, He also makes the cloudy days. For his own reasons, always.

BOB & ROSE TOGETHER

(click on photo area to view full size)

SEPTEMBER SONG...

It was fine-wine September

blue-and-gold September

burnished-leaf September

when I wed my own true love.

And the air was warm and veiled

with the fine September sunshine

and the young boys flung down rosebuds

when I wed my own true love.

And I locked my arm in his arm

and we raced away together

and the sunshine turned to cloudburst

when I wed my own true love.

And we wandered 'round like gypsies

and we laughed a lot together

and we didn't think of duties

'til our pennies disappeared.

Then we turned our wheels homeward

and we settled in our farmhouse

and began our world together

me and me true love.

And the years brought joy and sorrow

and we walked through both united

and I've always loved September

when I wed my own true love.

From Rose to Bob, Sept. 10 2009,

49th anniversary

A HALLELUIAH TO SEPTEMBER ...

SEPTEMBER MORN,,,

    SEPTEMBER! It's my favorite month! 

    In fact, that's why I chose September for my wedding day so many years ago, and then I had good reason through my years to love September even more.

    September is the year matured. September opens up my eyes and elevates my spirits. September mornings drape the countryside with other-worldly morning mists and shadows... 
    September's daytime skies are mostly brilliant. Her sunny afternoons are fragrant with the rich aromas of ripening apples, wild berries, grapes and grasses. With a changing angle of the sun, she lays a mellowness upon our fields, lawns and gardens. And her wildflowers lend a bright nobility to dusty roadsides.

     If each day in sweet September sinks a little sooner into darkness, so be it! September compensates in full with spectacular sunsets and cooler, quieter nights; and September moonlight is the most benevolent of any of the 12 moons of the year. 
     IF I'VE HAD COMPLAINT about September, it has been the threat of early frosts to kill the flowers in my gardens. But even that no longer bothers me. For it gives the elder Rose a seasonal respite from lawn and garden work. As the autumn of my human years advances, that respite is ever-more appreciated. 

     I admit, September weather sometimes lets me down. But in the ledgers of my memory, by far, September's assets far outnumber any of its imperfections.
     I love the seasons of the year for different reasons. But if God would tell me, "Choose your favorite month to be your season in the after-life," He knows which I would choose: SEPTEMBER! 
  

A MAN AND HIS DOG... GONE WEST...

A MAN AND HIS DOG: GONE WEST
MY DOG AND MICK





Today would have been a birthday for Bob. I took this photo some years ago near the Fairport Beach when Mick was a young pup in training. By 2017, Bob was gone from this earth, and Mick was a very large doberman who would meet his master a year later on the Rainbow Bridge. We have fun, special memories of both.

Their mischievous spirits still roam in places they loved, and Bob's spirits still speak every year in his favorite perennials.