The lovely side of spring

I can't tell if it's the rain or the semi-cold weather but my allergies have abated and I've had an opportunity to photograph my yard, as promised. This allowed me to practice my photography also.

I took these pictures of the vegetable garden so that I can make a big deal later about how much it's grown. I realized that "before" pictures were lacking last year.





Next, I'll show off my little window box. Again, I have some notion that it might improve later.







And, a few shots of the blooming stuff:

tulips


blueberry bushes


dogwood

Here's the song--Ned Nostril

Pollen count--High. Achoo!

http://www.pollen.com/forecast.asp?zip=30309&affiliateid=8248

So, oak, cedar, and juniper are in the running for the plants/trees I'm allergic to. There's a lot of oak around me so I'm thinking that it's a good bet. I guess that some people are just allergic to "tree pollen" as opposed to "grass pollen." Anyway, my throat is sore and I'm sort of honk-y/snort-y. It reminds me of a Ray Stephens song that was on the same album as the song about the Mississippi squirrel.

The good news is, it's beautiful. Everything is in bloom and looking nice. Slutty trees sluttin' it up. Maybe I'll take some pictures of my yard tonight.

Tough love

I'm starting my blog with a picture of a tuner because I'm buying one because my oboe teacher got giant scary eyes when I told her I don't have one. I'm not feeling bad about it because she has this same tuner so, you know, it's something people need. Now I'll discuss my weekend. I play oboe in a Baroque ensemble which generally just plays during church on Sundays. The music is generally over my head, which is why I am taking lessons. Several weeks ago, my conductor asked me if I would play 2nd oboe in an afternoon concert, which he conducts each year. I said I would. Then, I started hearing people talk about how they had chosen not to play in the afternoon concert because the music was too hard and there would be only one rehearsal. Shoot. I'd already said 'yes' and didn't feel like I could back out. So, I practiced. A lot. I purchased a recording on iTunes and practiced along to my iPod. I have never worked this hard at my oboe playing in my life. I felt very proud. That's the background.

So, I got in my car Saturday morning at 8:30am to find that it was gas-free, thanks to my loving husband. The rehearsal was at 9 but I didn't have any choice. I got to the church, couldn't find a place to park, parked far away, and then couldn't find an open door...long story short, I was late. Very late. No one else was late. The orchestra was halfway through the first (of ten) movement when I arrived and I COULD NOT get to my seat without disturbing people. So, I put my instrument together, soaked my reed, wandered around the perimeter of the orchestra, and waited for a pause in rehearsal. Awkward. I recognized very few people, this because almost everyone in the orchestra for this particular concert, was a professional. Great. I found a pause, a route, and some courage, and bustled to my seat next to, oh yeah, I forgot to mention, the 1st oboist was MY TEACHER! No pressure.

I actually did make it through rehearsal but it was very tense and I made a couple of mistakes, one which caused the 1st oboist (my teacher) to put out her hand and count out loud to me. Fantastic. So, at the end, everyone just dispersed. I felt like someone should have congratulated me but they didn't. So, I went around apologizing to various people for having been late (the conductor, my teacher, etc.) hoping that this would cause them to point out to me how brave and hard-working I'd been. Nothing. Just a lot of, "Well, you're here now." sort of comments. So, I had lunch with my friend, who is a generation older than I and always makes me feel a little bit like I've misbehaved. I explained to her about my hectic morning and she pointed out to me how I'm frequently late. I explained to her about how I just wanted someone to say, "You're doing fine." and she said, "You're too old to need that sort of affirmation." I mean, honestly, am I? Am I just too old for people to be nice to me and tell me I'm doing a good job? Should I consider this feeling and tell people who are older than I am when they're doing a good job? Because I generally only do this for younger people.

Anyway, concert day arrived and I felt sick all day. I put on my concert black and arrived very early. I was not first but I was something like 3rd to arrive. I got into my seat and did not throw up. My teacher came in and got arranged as well. I brought in two reeds. We tuned and my teacher said, "Flat, pull out." Now, this is tricky because, when you're flat, you push in, so now I'm just confused. The first movement was 15 minutes long with relentless playing and a long pause before the 2nd movement. I was frenzied and tense and so so anxious but I made it through with little incident. At the end, my teacher whispered, "Are you having a good time?" I said, "No, not really." I said, "I'm worried about my pitch." She said, "That's because you're sharp." Shit. Shit. Shit. Now I have to finish the piece but I'm even more nervous than before! I changed reeds and adjusted my instrument and I made it to the end. Not an awesome show but I generally knew where we were and I played most of my notes. I looked at my teacher and said, "I think I fixed the pitch." She confirmed, kindly, that I had fixed my pitch. As I was exhaling, my friend from lunch the day before came and said (as a somewhat sarcastic joke), "You did an excellent job," in reference to my comment the day before. I don't think it's too much to ask! So, then I turned to explain to my teacher what was happening. At this point, she was very nice, explaining how she was busy playing and didn't think about reassuring me but that I had done just fine. Phew. Then she made the face with the big eyes when she recommended that I spend some time with a tuner...and I said that I don't have one... Oh well... So, regarding the "flat, pull out" comment: Apparently, since we were tuning to the organ, what she meant was that the organ was flat and so I should pull out, since that would make me sharp. Crap.

Bottom line: I'm apparently too old for affirmation and reassurance. This depresses me.

Civil Rights and the tenacity of the human spirit.

Here's something I was thinking about today: It's funny to me how, on some days, I think that I hate everyone and that the creation cannot be redeemed because everyone is selfish and hate-filled. Then, on another day, maybe it's sunny or whatever, and all I can think about is how heart-breakingly wonderful people are. So, this morning, I listened to this story on NPR and started bawling in my car. It's about John Lewis leading a pilgrimage to commemorate the Civil Rights struggle.


Peggy Wallace Kennedy, daughter of George Wallace, said the following:

"'I knew in my heart that their cause was just, but unlike them I did not let my voice be heard. For many years I wandered in the world of indifference, until I heard the voice of Barack Obama. He inspired me to believe in myself and to join with millions of others who laid claim to faith and pride in America.'

And then George Wallace's daughter turned, and with tears in her eyes, embraced Holder. For several moments, the two just held each other."

The story goes on to describe the sermon delivered by Rev. Joseph Lowery, based on Revelations 21: "I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the old heaven and the old earth have passed away."

I mean, I bawled. I sat there in my car and bawled. But, here's the thing, right? The whole pilgrimage is based around how completely shitty people were being in the 1950s. So...what is it I want to say? That a wound needs to be opened before it can heal? Something about yin and yang? Revolution? Full-circle something something? I don't really think it's any of that. I guess what I want to say is that people are completely shitty sometimes but, then, you know? Sometimes they're not. So, maybe, when people seem like utter dickheads, the thing to do is to keep believing that things change. Everything changes. On the other hand, the same could be said about when people are being fantastic...

I always miss snow.

For some reason I go out of town every time it snows in Atlanta. Fortunately, this time, I got home in time to see the residual snow. My neighborhood has about 4 inches. I should make a photo diary of Southeastern snow-folk the next time it snows. I love their dirty, leafy selves. Actually, in my neighborhood, there was enough snow for some pretty clean snow-folk. There was even enough for some (pretty dirty) snow forts. Seriously, pictures would help a lot but, if you're from the south, you know what I mean. Georgian children really miss out on winter festivities. Thus, they take every opportunity, based on popular culture images, to do the various things children are supposed to do when it snows. The result is a pretty pitiful array of busted noses (from sledding into grass patches) and snow structures that really require more snow than we have.

While I'm discussing my affection for southern snow culture, let me just say that I don't mind that the city shuts down for a tiny bit of snow. "southern snow" is its own phenomenon. It's not the same as what northern people have experienced because of it's rarity. It's special, it makes people happy, it allows us to stay home from work, while still allowing us to go places if we really need to. I mean, have some sympathy. It's all we get. Your various northern towns probably shut down once a year for snow so why be-grudge us. Sure, fine, you would all tough it out if 4 inches of snow were to fall, but that's because it happens a lot. I think that people who are new to Georgia have a hard time realizing that no one wants their yankee rain on our snow parade. No one finds you tough or impressive for hating our snow. You're just a spoil-sport. We love our snow and we want you to enjoy it with us. Think how much nicer it is that the sun is out and it's not freezing cold so you can go out without long-johns and it's going to melt in two days. No time for it to get all slushy and nasty. Also, since we don't have snow plows or ice trucks or whatever, our snow doesn't get all abused and hideous and piled up in the gutters. Add to that the fact that we don't have snow tires and you start to realize that it's not our weakness, but your lack of vision, that makes these conversations what they are. We aren't such terrible drivers. No one drives on ice without special tires or chains or whatever (snow, sure, but when you have freeze/thaw, you have ice). Also, knowing how to drive on ice/snow really just results in knowing how to get your car out of a ditch and I don't want to do that, when there's just the one day out of the year that I have to opt out. So, really, this situation is like every other, more or less. It's all about attitude. Make yourself some hot chocolate and stop making fun of us. As my mother-in-law says to my nephew, "If you act like that, you won't have a good time."