It's about time

Time waits for no man, woman, or child

I meant to get the table done in time for Thanksgiving, but I ran out of -- wait for it, because it won't wait for you any more than it did for me -- time.

(That's a four-letter word if ever there was one.)

Brittany provided so many cute pictures of Ember

(Speaking of four, that's how many years it had been since I updated what I call the Time Table).

But I got it done in December, on one of the days that Michael, our retired contractor friend, was working away upstairs on the guest bath.

The picture of Andrew in uniform was taken at my mother's funeral

(Which remodel I shall reveal to you later this week.)

In case you are not already aware, the subject table occupies an alcove at one end of our kitchen.

There is a picture of Mom with her baby brother, the last time he saw her

If you'd like to know the provenance of what I refer to as our Time Table and learn more about its various iterations over the last dozen or so years, you're welcome to read about it here and here.

To summarize, the first time I decided to make a collage of family photos on the table, I printed out the pictures on my printer, in black and white, but on softly colored paper.

Any good pictures of the pirate went under the glass, haaha

At that time, the table sat in our front room dining area, and we did not use it for dining. It was serving as more of a desk and all-purpose surface -- which does not mean it was covered with stuff. It wasn't.

But it saw lots of action.

There's one of Dagny sitting in a tree in Ridge Spring, South Carolina

I printed those first pictures out big -- the size of the paper. There were maybe fifty of them beneath the glass.

The original idea then morphed into the collage of four-by-six black-and-white prints that I use now.

One of the last pictures of my mom, still with a big smile on her face

By then, the glass-topped trestle table had been moved into the kitchen eating alcove, and Erica had painted the wood that shows, matte black. 

I think that was around 2013.

Newborn Baby Rhett's picture is right in the middle of this one

As I update the table, the pictures from past versions are placed in albums.

This latest table contains more pictures than ever before -- approximately one hundred seventy-five.

Pets past and present are pictured

With a few exceptions, the photos are exclusively of events that occurred in 2018, 2019, 2020, and 2021.

The exceptions are photos of TG's and my parents and grandparents, which are positioned in the center of every version of the table.

Here's Wednesday the Tuxedo Cat

Building out on each side of those vintage photos (they are copies; the originals are safe from fading) are pictures of TG and me on our wedding day and of our children on their wedding days.

This time, I added the wedding photos of Andrew and Brittany, and of Chad and Erica, both from 2018.

Birthdays and vacations and all manner of special moments are memorialized

Their children Ember and Rhett were born in 2019 and 2021 respectively, and I was eager to add them.

Ninety-five percent of the photos under the glass were taken by me. Brittany and Stephanie have contributed pictures of their children, because without those, I wouldn't have enough of the grands who live in other states.

TG in the stocks in Salem, Massachusetts, 2019

When it's time to do a new table, I see it as a big project, which can seem overwhelming at first contemplation, but which turns out to be more satisfying than burdensome.

I begin by going back in my photos and selecting the pictures. This time I chose two hundred.

Pets and kids get lots of love and it's right there on the table

Then I have to edit each one, to resize them if necessary, and make them black and white. They are then stored in a folder on my desktop until I'm certain I have everything I need.

At that point I order the prints, getting the best price possible. This time that was nine cents per print, the lowest offered online -- I'm pretty sure it was Walmart.

We look at the table and remember God's faithfulness in good times and bad

The upload process was easy as pie, and I got my pictures promptly, and there were no mistakes.

On the day I designated to do the work, TG and I moved the glass off of the table -- always a tense moment -- and placed it on a large rubber mat TG had put on the floor beside the table, and leaned it against the wall.

The only color picture is of Melanie on her fifteenth birthday two years ago

I removed all of the photos -- yes, they're taped down -- and set them aside for later, when I'd put them in their album.

A new black tablecloth was placed just so, and I spread out all of my new pictures. 

The pictures are all family except for one friend, plus our pastor

It took until late afternoon, and there were too many pictures to fit so I had to make a few dozen cuts, but the result was a table more packed with pictures than ever before.

In an unprecedented move, this time the table includes one color picture -- of Melanie, on her fifteenth birthday. She's now seventeen. Stephanie had given me a few photos of that day and they were so sweet of our special girl, with her brightly colored butterfly balloon, that I decided to break with tradition.

Pictures of Andrew and Brittany's wedding were added this time

In another departure from the norm -- in the past it was strictly members only -- there are two pictures of Andrea, a dear family friend who sits with us in church. 

Over the past few years, she has been invited to a number of our family gatherings. Someday maybe I will tell you her story.

Chad and Erica's nuptials are featured as well

There is also a picture of our pastor, with Dagny.

The kids and grandkids love the table. In fact, everyone who sees it seems drawn to it and intrigued by it.

Joel and Stephanie are pictured on their wedding day, as are TG and me

I read once that children are greatly benefited by seeing pictures of themselves in the home. It solidifies their sense of belonging and of being loved, and of their importance in the scheme of things.

That goes for children of all ages. Even adult children.

Pictures on the table include memorable times and places

Audrey first saw the new table a few days after it was completed. TG and I were out of town and she'd come by to take care of my cat. I hadn't told anyone that the table had been redone.

I knew they would all notice immediately because they never fail to look at the pictures on that table, no matter how many times they've seen them. I think they all have favorite shots; I know that I do.

Pictures of TG's and my parents and grandparents have been on every version of the table

Audrey told me later that it was a good thing she was alone when she noticed the new pictures, because she got emotional.

As the others began coming by because the Christmas season was getting underway, they examined the updated table with great interest. I had to remove everything so that they could see it all. There was a lot of laughter and a few tears.

Pictures from tables past go into albums for future reference

There are the new baby pictures, and photos of our other babies growing up, and of everyone growing older. Pictures of my mother, who went to heaven in late 2020, at the end of her life.

I wish you could see the faces of my beloveds when they see their faces on the table, and the faces of their children and those they love most in the world, and those they have loved who are gone.

The table waits until we gather again

They point and laugh and say Look! to one another, and gab about when and where the pictures were taken.

They marvel at the way they have changed, and they ways in which their children have grown, and the aggregate of experiences that make up a life -- all of our lives, progressing swiftly, on a timeline.

Assembled together, the pictures pack a punch.

This table, as were all the tables before it, is potent with the power of memories and of love, and of the passage of -- wait for it, because it will most certainly not wait for you -- time.

Let's make the most of what's left.

And that is all for now.

=0=0=0=

Happy Monday

Playing Favorites :: Butter Bell

Your butter is ready.

I don't remember where I saw it or why I wanted an Original Butter Bell Crock, but at some point in the last year or so, I added it to my Amazon wish list.

(We've all built these lists and they have made Christmas and birthday gift buying so much easier.)

(Perhaps not as creative, but at least you can get your peeps something that you know they want.)

Years ago, before all this internet stuff, I used to dread Christmas shopping.

Here was my method: Go to the mall and walk around until my back and legs ached, buying sweaters and robes and slippers and pajamas and earrings and necklaces and wallets and scarves and socks and neckties and aftershave and books and backscratchers and ballpoint pens and keyrings and toys and various other doodads that I hoped the recipients would like.

It was tedious and unimaginative and, at times, straight-up boring. It could be stressful. I'm just telling it like it is.

Now, from the comfort of my chair, wearing my pajamas and robe and slippers, no need for a wallet or keyring, I can get all of the shopping done in one evening.

Cowardly maybe, but effective. And I have no plans to change. Can't go back.

You can carve a pretty design in the top but I don't.

Anyway, I put the butter bell on my list because it looked like something I would like to have and use.

It is marketed as a way to keep your butter fresh out on the counter, not in the fridge where it will be hard and difficult to spread.

But that's not why I wanted one.

I have always kept my butter out on the counter, at the ready, in a commodious and attractive oblong-shaped dish made of cut glass. In a house that is always cool, the butter stays plenty fresh.

In summer I move the butter dish a bit so that morning sun does not fall on it. In winter it sits where the sun can touch it and it's always the correct consistency for spreading.

(There is a rule in our house: Do NOT leave crumbs or anything else in the butter. Take what you need for both pieces of your toast or your baked potato or whatever, and don't go back unless you use a clean knife.)

(Still, a butter dish will get greasy looking and at least once a week you have to either take a paper towel to it or pop it into the dishwasher.)

So I had no real need for a butter bell. I was just intrigued by the concept, and I did like the fact that you would no longer see the butter, and yet it would be there, at just the right consistency.

We work together.

And this year, someone bought it for me. I won't say who because that's irrelevant.

But I was thrilled to see it amongst my gifts. I love white dishes and the fleur de lis design is a favorite of mine. In addition, the bell's weight and size is so charming. It keeps a low profile and is easy to use.

Here's the process: You let a stick of butter soften a tad bit on the counter and then you unwrap it and, using the paper it was wrapped in to keep your fingers out of the butter, press the entire stick into the bell.

It just fits.

You put about a third of a cup of cold tap water into the bell's bottom half and place the bell upside down into that jar.

The handle on top of the bell is perfect for grabbing and it also sits by itself on the counter while you're getting your butter.

It's super easy to clean, either with a paper towel wipedown or in the dishwasher.

Cute, and useful too.

I still keep a cold stick of butter in my cut glass dish in the fridge, and grab it when I need to throw some butter into a pan to make eggs or whatever.

The butter bell will probably strike some as unusual or unnecessary, and maybe you wouldn't like it, but I love it.

TG has not complained. That could be because A. he likes it too, or B. he has no opinion one way or the other.

Either way, we're good.

What say you? Please do share your thoughts. Be honest! No need to butter me up.

And that is all for now.

=0=0=0=

Happy Friday :: Happy Weekend

Two Two Two-Thousand Twenty-Two :: A Tale of Tall Trees

Once upon a time it looked like this

Punxsutawney Phil saw his shadow today. Six more weeks of winter.

That's the good news. Here's the bad:

As preamble, let me point out that the pirate possesses, like most people, an enduring affinity for trees.

I used to climb them as a kid. I fell out of one once. As an adult, I just like the sight of them. The more, the better. Trees, like strawberries and puppy dogs, make me happy.

Therefore I become alarmed and sometimes agitated when trees have to be -- or simply are -- cut down, for the sake of convenience or out of an abundance of caution or straight-up fear, or whatever.

I understand that sometimes it is necessary.

Our Stephanie and Joel once had a massive pine towering over their house in North Carolina. It became vexing because they truly did have reason to worry that it would fall and that if it did, the damage to life and limb (see what I did there), not to mention domicile, could be significant.

Things are no longer as they once were

They had it cut down. Not that it was my business, but I supported their decision. Their lot, however, is still luxuriously wooded.

Reading my friend Barb's blog earlier this week, I was impressed by her lack of dismay at deforestation in view of the home she shares with her beloved.

She understands that tree removal is sometimes for the good of the forest and for those who live near it. 

If it broke her heart (because she loves those forests), she did not let on, and I admire her for that because I fear that I would not have handled it so well.

Even though I know that in Breckenridge, Colorado, where they live, there is an elevated risk of wildfires.

In fact a few weeks ago, when the fires were raging in Colorado, I checked to see how close they were to Barb. I satisfied myself from consulting a map, that those particular fires did not pose a threat to her.

Similarly, I get that sometimes trees fall all by their onesies.

The trees lent a great deal of cosmetic relief to the shed

In fact I have told the stories on this blog about not one but two trees that have fallen on trucks sitting on our property.

One of the trees was ours, and it fell on our nephew David's truck in August of 2008. The other was a tree in the side yard of our neighbor across the street, and it fell on TG's truck exactly four years later.

Not good. I actually have a genuine phobia of a tree falling on me but we won't go into that.

Today's story is about a perfectly natural reaction to a tree mishap involving another neighbor's house -- the more-than-adequately-reported-on Bothertons* -- followed by what was, in the pirate's opinion, a completely irrational response by said quasi-annoying neighbors.

Allow me to elaborate.

It started a few weeks ago, about three days before our actual snowstorm.

We'd had a recent particularly rainy night, with lots of wind. The next morning, during coffee hour in the sun room, I noticed that one of the Bothertons' many pine trees had snapped off about ten feet from the ground, and that the top of said tree had landed on the roof at the edge of the back of their house.

Consolation prize: more sky is visible

(I think it is worth noting that had the wind been blowing from another direction, the top of that tree would have landed in our yard, probably taking out a whole section of our privacy fence and ending up on top of TG's newish who's-yer-daddy gas grill.)

In order to get up to speed about us and the Bothertons*, and things in their back yard affecting my sanity, you may have to read or re-read this post. I hope you have all day will find it both entertaining and enlightening.

The main thing you'll need to know about is their eyesore shed, which sits mere inches from said privacy fence and is (or was; keep reading) wedged so tightly between two pine trees on either side that TG gaped at it in amazement when it was installed in 2013, wondering how on earth they even got it in there.

Well, that's not a worry anymore.

And that's because, a few days after the rain-and-wind storm and mere hours before our snowstorm, the Bothertons* had any tree on their land that had a remote chance of falling within ten feet of their house -- much less grazing it -- if the tree were to fall, destroyed.

These trees acted as a haven for birds who were visiting me

Folks I am here to tell you: That was a distressing number of trees. TG and I reckon at least a dozen.

When we bought this house in 2005, if I went to the French doors at one end of my kitchen, and looked out to the right, all I saw over my privacy fence was hundreds of mature pines.

It was so beautiful. I loved that sight and I gazed upon it every day.

That is, until 2013 when the Bothertons* put their shed up. Link above.

From that day until two weeks ago when they took all of the trees out, the only saving grace for that shed was the trees packed so tightly around it. I mean, the shed was there but there were still plenty of trees to look at.

A distraction, as it were.

It's as though someone sprayed a whole can of trees-be-gone

Not anymore.

Look. I fully comprehend that the Bothertons* own their land, and that as such it is one hundred percent within their purview to cut down anything they want. 

However.

We live in a large neighborhood with thousands upon thousands of towering mature pine trees. If everyone got rid of any tree that could potentially touch their house if it fell, ninety percent of those trees would be cut down.

Seriously. It would change the landscape in unacceptable ways.

I was muttering all of this under my breath while I was drinking my coffee on the morning that the Bothertons' deforestation project began. It did not help that Rizzo was terrified of all the noise.

They had two pieces of heavy equipment back there so large that they'd had to bring them in through the property of another neighbor one street over, in back of our houses.

The trees were the only thing that made the shed bearable

In addition there were ropes hanging from the trees and the sound of buzz saws and shouting men and every now and then the sickening whump when a big piece of tree fell to the ground, shaking chez Weber to its foundations.

Then the giant belching scooper would crawl over and dig under the pieces and come up with huge chunks of log plus branches and needles and all manner of tree debris in its iron arms, and trundle over to the place in the yard where they had brought in a wood chipper (I think) or a dump truck (maybe).

It was horrible. Loud and uglifying. By the end of the day they'd taken almost every tree that I used to look out at from my French doors. The two trees anchoring the shed were still standing -- or, half of one was standing. By the next morning, they were gone too.

I can't bear to look out now. I think that the removal of those trees will drastically affect the amount of shade that used to make lolling in the shallow end of our pool for a few hours in the morning, so delightful.

It will be solid sun on the whole pool now, all day.

Some things will never change, like our front-yard white oak

And in the evenings, which is when I swim, there will be no near trees for the bats and hummingbirds and cicadas to fly back and forth to from the white oak that shades our house.

We used to love watching them.

I realize that everything will look at least somewhat better in summer than how things appear in these photos.

Even so. Here's your cue to say something that will help me get over it.

Meanwhile I will derive some small comfort from the fact that I can now see more of the sky.

It's not enough to heal my broken heart, but it's all I've got.

And that is all for now.

* Name changed to protect the guilty.

=0=0=0=

Happy Wednesday :: Happy Groundhog Day