ONE moccasin hillbilly plus dog

HI All,
I have had to elicit Calley's help on the blog because the other three family members are otherwise occupied.

Eliza is up on Mt. Washington starting her job as assistant hut master at Lakes of the Clouds.
See her post called "Napkins" for photos or go to
www.outdoors.com/lodging
With no internet and barely any cell service, I don't think she'll be posting on this site anytime soon.

The business of architecture fills David's week days and the garden lures him out on weekends, so I don't know when
he might bless this site with his musings. It may have to be a dark day in December when the earth is asleep.
To see what his firm is up to go to
www.op-architects.com

Carrie is in Nicaragua; her return was delayed due to the tropical storm which did not, blessedly turn into a hurricane. She will be working in Maine this summer for Seeds of Peace, a camp program that empowers youth from regions of conflict to communicate using mediation techniques and good old fashioned summer camp fun.
For more info see www.seedsofpeace.org
She hopes to find time to do some writing about this experience, so we may hear from her once it gets started.

Calley and I will try to keep things rolling here.
Thank you all for your comments and reflections on what we have posted. I love that what we write, inspires the rest of you to write also.
With love to everyone from Moccasin Hill.

Lambert's Cove

In her post about our trip to Martha's Vineyard, Calley didn't mention the sunsets.
She has yet to appreciate the finer things.

graduate puppy

I passed! We were given a yellow piece of paper and a box of tasteless dog treats.

To celebrate we went to Martha's Vineyard to take care of two dogs while their family went to the Wesleyan Graduation. They kept saying Obama. Is that another English word I should be learning? Everyone gets so excited when they say it!

To get there, we went on a huge boat with metal ramps and steep steps and I glued myself to the ground and wouldn't budge. There was no where to dig or sniff, no squirrels to chase and water everywhere. They had to carry me on and carry me off.

I wasn't allowed in the smaller boat, that looked like fun. I did like the beach,though. I could dig as much as I wanted to and no one told me to stop. I swam, but the water sure tasted weird.

We're home now. Things are good. They say CALLEY COME a lot and when I do, I get the delicious treats, not the tasteless ones from dog school. So I give it a try and run to them when they call and for good measure, I sit. They are so excited about this, I guess I'll keep doing it.

graduation day

Here are some photos of Calley deep in thought. She's cramming for her Puppy Kindergarten exam. If all goes well, today she will graduate.

Let's see, what were those English words I've had to learn?
SIT... was totally easy, I knew that when I came to Moccasin Hill but took the treats and praise anyway. They were so excited.
STAY... I'll do that for a little while if I'm sure there's a treat in someone's pocket.
LIE DOWN... I can do, but stay on my haunches so I can leap up at any minute, if needed.
LEAVE IT ...leave what? I'm too curious to not explore an unknown commodity, especially if they don't want me to have it! Manure, trash, a dead bird, a sock, shoes, the possibilities are endless.
OFF... okay, I understand that they don't want me jumping up to the counters to see what food is up there. Now I understand that I will never get food that way and have to wait for them to give it to me in bowl. I guess I'll stop the kitchen counter surfing, it doesn't get me anywhere and takes a lot of energy to walk on my hind feet.
HEEL... keep the leash slack, don't pull. I get it. It will take me awhile to accept this command, there's so much to see and they walk so slowly!
CALLEY COME! ... only when I want to.

I wonder if Tucker, Montana and Sandy will be in class today. I LOVE to play!
Wish me luck.
C

Artifact

Imagine my surprise when I received a personal letter in the mail today. I barely noticed it at first among the catalogs and credit card offerings. My address was written in ink and in the upper right hand corner were nine stamps that miraculously added up to 42 cents. Note the antique chair and the non digital clock images on the stamps. Antedeluvian.
This was intriquing. I recognized the familiar handwriting instantly.
One of my readers called my bluff and sent me an old fashioned letter.
Thanks, Donny.
Wow, the power of the blog.

Old One

Madelyn is my old one. Because she is old, I will always be young. Now that I have entered my fifties, I am aware of my own aging. When I see my reflection in the store window unexpectedly, I am surprised to see my mother’s face.

With Madelyn, I am a sprite. I am young and smooth skinned and I bring the world to her one room. She loves to hear what I have been doing. 
“Begin at the beginning and don’t leave anything out,” she says as she sits upright in her corner chair. “How are the girls?”

At 95 years old she lives in one room. The nurses are busy across the hall but in this room are remnants of a long life lived. The charcoal portrait of her father hangs on the wall. On her desk with the faded tan blotter, is a box that is jammed with letters. She has many friends who keep in touch with her. On her bureau lies a hand mirror, earrings and grey hairpins are scattered about.

Books are stacked by her bed. The New Yorker magazine is folded back. Sections of The New York Times pile up. The faces of grandchildren and great grandchildren smile from frames on the bookshelf.

Her life, once so full of dance, drama, young friends, worry and responsibility has distilled down to this. Reading is her greatest pleasure she says but I suspect that she isn’t able to recall much of the detail of what she has read. Perhaps she reads the words over and over for the sheer pleasure of the sound and sight of them. The weight of the book in her hand. Books and written words are like old friends.

She looks up and asks again, “How are the girls?” I tell her, a shorter version this time, and she smiles to hear familiar words, to see me speak, to be in conversation. Her short term memory is weak but the details from her younger years, particularly her childhood are crystal clear.

“Darling, it was so sweet of you to come,” she says as I reach for my coat and begin my good byes. “Give my love to David and the girls”.

I kiss her paper cheeks, first one then the other and turn and walk down the long hall. She used to walk me to the door, but now she waves from her chair. I walk away alone and go blinking out into the sunny too bright parking lot. I have been granted another day of youthful freedom reminded that one day, it will be otherwise.

Letter

The cost of a postage stamp went up on May 12. I fear the US Postal Service will price this small piece of currency right out of the market.

Once a necessity for communication, the stamp is now a decoration on wedding invitations, postcards from far away places, and the rare hand written thank you note.

The letter as a form of communication has gone the way of the telegram. College students lament that they never get any mail. Across this country on college campuses, rows of small square boxes with combination lock dials on the front in student centers are empty except for inter campus announcements and tuition bills. But what do you write in a letter to a daughter in college when email and cell phones keep us in close touch? A letter is quickly old news.

Worst of all, letters are not ecological. I was horrified to hear someone say that Christmas cards are bad for the environment. There’s concern about the use of all that paper and all those trucks and planes that are needed to deliver them. An E card with music and dancing reindeer could easily replace those red and green envelopes that arrive in our mailboxes each December.

I recycle. I take my own bags to the grocery store and never ask for plastic. I use cloth napkins at dinner and drive a hybrid car. But, as long as I can afford the stamps, I will never stop sending Christmas cards. They are the only personal letters left that actually arrive by “snail mail!”

I have a friend that I met at a writing conference in New Mexico. She lives nearby so we get together every month to write. We arrange our meeting times on email and occasionally send each other pieces of writing to read. We’ve gotten to be good friends. The other day I found a article I thought she would like and sent it to her in an envelope with a stamp and included a personal note. She called to say she was amazed to realize that although she had known me for over a year, she had never seen my handwriting.

Surprise someone with a handwritten note. I try to send off postcards or short notes to people at random times. I love securing a stamp on the upper right hand corner of the envelope. It keeps my place in the long line of letter writers and gives the US postal service something to do beside deliver catalogs.