Category Archives: Memories

Old Writing: Part 2::A Rainstorm

Memories, Writing

The previous entry was stapled on top of this and the next few. For years I thought it was just the final copy of a series of drafts. Today I looked at the pages below it and found a few stories I thought were long gone. This was not one of them. I do not remember it. It is full of cliches. It was written on March 25, 1969. I was 12. Cleaned up for spelling. Please note that I do not feel the same about rain now. Or worms. Also not meteorologically correct.

A Rainstorm

The air was damp and musty moisture was hanging in the air. Then all of a sudden it started to rain. The rain beat against the windows and the wind howled around the house.

Even in the house one could smell that awful odor: a combination of mildew, wormy muddy smells that always come along with any kind of rain.

Now the rain was stopping a little. Not much but enough so that one could see out the big picture window. Ick! look at all of those worms oozing in and out of the wet, muddy ground.

The rain finally gave up and it stopped raining and making everybody grumpy. Fresh smelling air overcame the mildew, wormy muddy-smelling air and after most rainstorms (if the sun comes out) a rainbow could be seen in the western sky!

Old Writing: Part 1::A Day in the Life of Dona and her Owl-Focals

Memories, Writing

I found a few writing samples from my youth in the attic. Here is the first. Warning, it will leave you unfulfilled. Also I have left out the numerous spelling and grammatical error but I am not promising the punctuation is correct. Also this was written in 1969. Also J. K. Rowling does not have to worry.

A Day in the Life of Dona and her Owl-Focals

“Go and get the mail, Dona,” said Mother.

“Oh do I have to?” I asked, “I’m reading the best story I’ve ever read in my life!”

“Oh you always say that when I ask you to do something,” replied Mother.

“Yay! Yippie!”

“You scared me to death,” said Mother.

“I’m sorry but I forgot that my Owl-Focals are coming today.”

“Your what?” asked Mother.

“My Owl-Focals,” I replied. “I will show you when I get the mail.”

“I thought you didn’t want to get the mail,” said Mother, grinning.

So I went out and got the mail, showed them to Mother and couldn’t wait until that night.

When night finally rolled around, slowly but surely, I tried on my new glasses. They worked. So that night when I went to bed I read my book thoroughly. It was 1130 when I fell asleep that night and 8:00 when I woke the next morning. I was so tired I could hardly keep my eyes open all through school.

I learned my lesson and never used something good to do bad again.

/teacher’s note: I’m glad to see you using conversation/

owlfocals
Dona reading with her owl-focals. Image by Mike Popovic

A Tree Grew in Bethesda

Memories

When we moved into our home nearly 20 years ago we were pleased to have a number of trees on our property. We had a ginkgo, two maple trees (one sugar and one red), a tulip tree and a mulberry — probably male because it doesn’t bear fruit. We also had a small tree in the front yard that the local master gardener said was an unusual tree for this area. He later told me it was an Oxydendrum or Sourwood (which happens to be my favorite kind of honey).

One more tree grew in our yard — it was in the back next to the fence and could have been easily cut down with a hacksaw when we moved in. It was so small that baby Andrew’s head nearly covers it in the photo on the right. (click on the photo to make it larger)

Andrew hiding tree

The tree grew quickly and before long it was big enough for the kids to climb, which they did. They climbed much higher than they should have, but thankfully, neither of my children fell out of the tree.

A few years ago with help from my Peterson’s guide to trees of North America and the Internet, I identified the tree as an Ulmus pumila or Siberian Elm. I’m pretty sure it was not planted by the previous owners, but was a volunteer tree.

Siberian Elm tree today

The tree towers over the house now — nearly catching up to the tulip poplar in height. It casts a shadow over the back yard and nothing but weeds grow under it.

Now that the kids are away at college and have not climbed the tree in years and we’ve gotten rid of both the playset and trampoline, Dean wants to grow grass instead of weeds in the backyard. And I’d like to try to grow vegetables. We’ve got someone cutting it down right now, and to say I feel guilty is an understatement. I look out the window at the sugar maple and imagine it is quaking in fear that it will be next. I also sense a bit of resentment that we are murdering a backyard companion.

We’ll see if the loss of this tree brings more life to the back yard. I kind of doubt it, but I hope so. Then the tree may not have died in vain.