"Interbeing" and Joy

A Young Thich Nhat Hahn 

Last July I shared a few of my spiritual beliefs with others during one of our virtual Unitarian Universalist Services. One of my core beliefs is that our lives are imbedded in an interdependent web of existence. We Unitarians are challenged with defining our own theology or world view. We are free to draw from several religious and non- religious sources and traditions.  The Buddha's teachings are one of my sources.

Thich Nhat Hahn, a global spiritual leader, poet, peace activist, and  Buddhist monk coined the word “interbeing” to emphasis the deep interrelationships between all things.  As an example of interbeing, Thich Nhat Hahn refers to a biologist named Lewis Thomas. Thomas says that our bodies are occupied by countless tiny organisms which are even more numerous than human cells. Without these tiny organisms we wouldn’t be able to think, to feel, or to speak. Furthermore according to Thomas , and I quote Thich Nhat Hahn, “The whole planet is one giant, living, breathing cell, with all its working parts linked in symbioses."  

The 95 year old Thiền Vietnamese Buddhist monk now lives in the Vietnam monastery that ordained him when he was sixteen. For years he was exiled from Vietnam. During those years, he established Plum Village, an engaged Buddhist community in France, that now has two monasteries in the United States and others throughout the world. On November 11th, 2014, a month after his 88th birthday and following several months of rapidly declining health, Thich Nhat Hanh suffered a severe stroke. Although he is still unable to speak, and is paralyzed on the right side, he is an inspiration through his peaceful and courageous presence.  Learn more about him: follow this link. 

Autumn especially reminds me of how all beings are interconnected on this breathing Earth and I include sandhill cranes. This one plus a mate and a chick visited Wingra Park across the street from our apartment.  One morning while doing the qigong "crane" movement on our apartment deck, two flew overhead ---human being connected with crane.

 Sara Burr, a Wisconsinite, points out how the cranes are now "markers of the season" in her poem Almost Extinct Once. 

Above us twenty-six red-capped cranes fly 

soundlessly except for the noise of air 

responding to the heave of their wings,

and to their low slide across the sky, teaching 

their juveniles sky-dives and graceful glides. 

Once almost vanished, now a marker of the season, 

the cranes of Dane County depart at dusk 

from their feeding fields, where leavings 

from the harvests are lavish. A village of fellows 

flap and splash about their soggy marsh, 

welcome arrivals.

During October evenings as the sunset

 trails its ruddy fingers along the planet's edge,

 a growing cast in the long grass wetland hoots and rattles, 

gabs with incoming families of three or four and flocks

 of twenty-six or more. The deafening noise of nature vibrates 

through the neighborhood like an alleluia evensong. 

The assembly grows large by November, hundreds 

gather here for their communal journey south, then, leaving

 silence, depart well before harsh winter ice hardens the bog.

While tending Prospect Gardens I often sense  interbeing, as when I reconnected with this friendly black cat. Blackie came sauntering down the dirt section of Prospect Avenue towards the Gardens, tail straight up and meowing a loud "HELLO."  We last met in the Fall of 2020. 

I returned the greeting as Blackie approached for  pets, belly rubs, and ear rubs; all received with pleasant purring. Blackie followed me down the steps where Ann, my wife, was weeding. After receiving more pets from Ann, Blackie continued on his way, tail still straight up. I hope we meet again before winter sets in. Until then, be well.

A few weeks ago, as Ann B. and I were finishing tending the Gardens, we connected with Courtney. Here she is, pausing as she picks up the plant material from Prospect Gardens. Shortly after taking the picture, her team member arrived to assist.  

Courtney is with Madison's City Engineering Division. After each work session, I email her "boss" Ryan for a pick up. Thank you Ryan, Courtney and others who provide these needed pickups. The prompt and efficient extra service is greatly appreciated. 

A shout out to two other City Engineering Staff, Carissa and Maddie. I value our connections and your advice and support freely given over these many years. Thank you. 

Carissa is a landscape architect and Maddie is the Greenway Vegetation Coordinator. Both have major responsibilities for the many green spaces throughout the city. These include rain gardens and the plantings in traffic islands designed to slow down street traffic.

Maddie was instrumental in creating the recently installed Roger Bannerman Memorial Rain Garden across from the intersection of Virginia Terrace and the Southwest Path. Roger, an urban water quality expert for the Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources, championed rain gardens to address flooding and managing rain runoff. Roger pointed out the inter-connections between rain gardens and managing rain runoff, especially during major flooding such as the one that hit Madison in 2018. Many Madisonians held their breath during that flood and filled sandbags as record breaking rain fell, which flooded streets, businesses and basements.  Roger and his wife had three rain gardens in their backyard. The Bannerman’s basement, unlike their neighbors’ basements, did not flood. 

 

Like rain gardens, Prospect Gardens and other prairie gardens along the Southwest Path, maintained by volunteers, are part of a web of inter-dependent connections. Earth, human beings, plants, insects, wildlife, rain, and Lake Wingra are all linked.  Reestablished prairie remnants beautify the earth along the Southwest Path corridor while reinforcing human connections among the volunteers. Prairie plants, with their complex root systems, help reduce rain water runoff from reaching Lake Wingra. Water remains at the sites and pollutants are filtered out by the plants' roots. Migrating butterflies, like this yellow tail, take refuge in the prairies along with monarch butterflies.

 I spotted the yellow tail feeding on Joe Pye weed while walking through Prospect Gardens on a serene late summer day. This prairie plant is the offspring of one received, at least ten years ago, from friends Gary and Jane.  

 Gary and I taught social studies at West Bend West High School during the late 1960s and early 1970s. Gary and Jane were avid gardeners before moving from their home into a senior living complex near West Bend. Their gardens won several community awards. Daughter Jenny is now the avid gardener with bountiful gardens surrounding her home.  Human connections continue to be replenished because of plants. 

Preparing Prospect Gardens for the winter on October 2nd provided more opportunities to feel interbeing. Badger fans streamed by on their way to Camp Randall for the Michigan game, as fifteen volunteers weeded, cut back plants and began thinning out some that are aggressive, such as the tall saw tooth daises. Their large brilliant yellow flowers in early Fall are beautiful. Yet saw tooth daisies are not good neighbors because they grow fast and crowd out other plants. Thinning them is needed to have diversity.  

While preparing the Gardens, connections were made with these seven freshmen from West High. Starting at left side of the top row is Zoe, Lila and Jerry. Sitting in the middle row and starting on the left are Goan, Daniel and Isabelle. Belisma has the bottom row. All but Lila are Leo Club members. Thank you very much.

Thank you Club Advisor Tessa also for renewing our connections. Several times last season club members, now graduates, helped tend the Gardens.  

You all worked hard before and after a break during which all enjoyed Ann B's homemade cheesecake squares. Sorry Goan about the encounter with stinging nettles. My recovery took almost 24 hours and included taking antihistamine. 

Stinging nettles can be both nasty and beneficial. As I took a break from writing this blog and I walked  through Prospect Gardens, I met Andy for the first time.  He was harvesting stinging nettles, anticipating filling the large wooden woven basket strapped on his back.  I learned that during the Fall, stinging nettles have a "flush" of new growth. Andy picks the new leaves as well as the tops of mature plants and uses them in recipes.  Andy assured me that blanching the leaves removes the chemicals that cause stinging. His family favorites include lasagna layered with nettles and other wild plants and creamy nettle soup. Andy brews tea from the tops of mature plants.    Here's a link to a soup recipe for the adventuresome.

Here's Lila and Belisma on a break from cutting back the false indigo. They are best friends. Robert Frost's famous poem still captures the sweet spirit of friendship. While working I am sure Lila and Belisma took time to talk.

  A Time To Talk

When a friend calls to me from the road

And slows his horse to a meaning walk,

I don't stand still and look around

On all the hills I haven't hoed,

And shout from where I am, 'What is it?'

No, not as there is a time to talk.

I thrust my hoe in the mellow ground,

Blade-end up and five feet tall,

And plod: I go up to the stone wall

For a friendly visit.

Ann N. gives a wave as she loads the wheel barrel. Ann is a long time volunteer. Ann brought four dormant Columbines which we planted with hopes they bloom next Spring. Last Fall, Ann provided Columbine seeds which I wintered and planted in early Spring. None came up and I don't really know why.  

Behind Ann N. is Erica who lives a few blocks from the Gardens. This was Erica's first time volunteering. Bill C. was another first timer. Ann R. and her husband, Mark, returned for another time, as well as Jody. The band on Mark's watch broke and after searching for it, we thought it was lost.  After Mark and Ann left, the watch appeared, to my surprise, while I was raking up cut material.  A small event worthy of celebrating. 

Thank you Ann N., Bill, Ann R., Mark, Erica, and Jody. May our connections continue.

Spending time with the West High freshman caused me to recall the friends I made in high school that are life long friends. These early connections have stood the test of time. 

Here's me as a freshman and the year is 1958. I am the tall skinny kid in the center of this class officer picture. Crew cuts were still in style and I had mine until the Beatles arrived on the scene. 

As vice-president, I can't recall what I really did. Probably not much. I remember my classmates Lester and Gary, my lifetime friends. I roomed with Lester and Gary when we all attended UW-Madison. Lester and I arrived in Madison in his 1957 two-tone green Chevy with some apprehension mixed with excitement.

Before attending Madison, we commuted daily to the then UW-Madison two year center in Green Bay. We all lived at home. I recall one trip when Gary was driving a beat up car with very rusty floors in the back seats. A Beatle song was blaring on the radio and I was keeping the beat by stomping on those rusty floors. Gary shouted to quit stomping or my foot would go through those weakened floor boards.

Gary, his wife, Kathy, and Lester and his friend, Eunice, will be with Ann and I for this year's UW Homecoming. Joining us will be my brother Lou, and his wife, Corine, and hopefully my brother Tom and his wife, Todd. Tom had hip surgery in August. We did not celebrate the 2020 Homecoming because of the pandemic. This year will be special as we restart the decades long tradition of celebrating our alma mater, friendship, and family ties.

Sensing "interbeing", as it manifests through friendship, family ties or tending gardens can also include experiencing joy. I offer for your contemplation this poem about joy by Hafiz, a 14th century Persian poet. Thanks Kate for posting this on your front yard pedestal.

Created for Joy

I sometimes forget
that I was created for Joy.

My mind is too busy.
My Heart is too heavy
for me to remember
that I have been
called to dance
the Sacred dance of life.

I was created to smile
To Love
To be lifted up
And to lift others up.

O’ Sacred One
Untangle my feet
from all that ensnares.
Free my soul.
That we might
Dance
and that our dancing
might be contagious.

May you find yourself dancing as the trees change color, the cranes migrate, and the purple aster flowers of Prospect Gardens become brown seeds that will feed birds during the winter. Blessed be. 

  

  

A Time To Talk

By Robert Frost more Robert Frost

When a friend calls to me from the road
And slows his horse to a meaning walk,
I don't stand still and look around
On all the hills I haven't hoed,
And shout from where I am, 'What is it?'
No, not as there is a time to talk.
I thrust my hoe in the mellow ground,
Blade-end up and five feet tall,
And plod: I go up to the stone wall
For a friendly visit.

Source: https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/a-time-to-talk-by-robert-frost

A Time To Talk

By Robert Frost more Robert Frost

When a friend calls to me from the road
And slows his horse to a meaning walk,
I don't stand still and look around
On all the hills I haven't hoed,
And shout from where I am, 'What is it?'
No, not as there is a time to talk.
I thrust my hoe in the mellow ground,
Blade-end up and five feet tall,
And plod: I go up to the stone wall
For a friendly visit.

Source: https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/a-time-to-talk-by-robert-frost

A Time To Talk

By Robert Frost more Robert Frost

When a friend calls to me from the road
And slows his horse to a meaning walk,
I don't stand still and look around
On all the hills I haven't hoed,
And shout from where I am, 'What is it?'
No, not as there is a time to talk.
I thrust my hoe in the mellow ground,
Blade-end up and five feet tall,
And plod: I go up to the stone wall
For a friendly visit.

Source: https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/a-time-to-talk-by-robert-frost

Summer Joy

Summer often means outdoor fun and joy. Summer at Lake Wingra, across from our apartment, is a prime example. Children climb into the duck paddle boat and splash their way around the lake and sometimes with a joyful squeal.  Adults glide past in their kayaks, canoes or paddle boards.

On Thursday mornings at 9, with my lawn chair, I join a small group of fellow Unitarians for Japanese Crane, a form of Qigong. We sit and talk for awhile, stand up and in silence slowly and gently complete the movements. Afterward we meditate for a short while. Last week, an exquisite white French poodle dog entered the circle, gently sniffed Ann S., our leader, and slowly returned to its owner, an elderly man. He lives in Wingra Shores Apartments which borders the park.      

Meanwhile on the nearby basketball court, millennials perform an athletic form of yoga accompanied by current popular music and the leader's instruction. The yoga and music provide a pleasant contrast  that adds to me feeling the quiet flow of body energy experienced through Qigong.     

This recent poem highlights the joys of summer while raising a question about joy.

Latent

July 8, 2021 by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer

Riding our bikes through the warm summer night,
the dark itself parted to let us pass;
wind in our hair, soft whir of the wheels—
and an almost irrational joy grew in me then,
such simple joy, as if joy were always here,
waiting to flourish, needing only to be noticed.
 
And is joy latent in everything?
I have felt it sometimes in the washing
of dishes, in mowing the lawn,
in peeling the carrots, even washing
the fishtank and scrubbing the floor.
 
So could it be, too, inside worried pacing?
In envy? In sighing? In the clenching of fists?
Is there joy where I can’t imagine it?
Joy—waiting to spin like a wheel,
waiting to rise like laughter
that careens through the deepening dark.

There is nothing latent about the joy in this new mural, entitled Sweet Frolic, next to the Chocolate Shoppe. Here's Emily, the artist, jumping with joy. Thank you Emily for adding joy to our neighborhood.   

Emily says in a Facebook posting that she "wanted to evoke the feelings you get when you eat ice cream - lots of joy, happiness, and color."

Emily's characters, The Bluestar Bloomers, are skateboarding, playing peek-a-boo, and roller skating. A little neighborhood history is included. The sliding rainbow was inspired by the Knickerbocker Ice House that was on the shore of Lake Wingra in the 1920s. Emily painted a block-shaped Bloomer sliding down a rainbow instead of a block of ice traveling up the chute to the ice house.

Joy is latent in Prospect Gardens and waiting to "spin like a wheel", as happened during July.  Here's Koen, the son of Amy, one of our volunteers, reaching for and enjoying ripe cherries early in July.  Ann and I made a cobbler from cherries I picked. Several neighbors made jams and jellies from cherries they picked.  Cherries provided joy for all of us.

The cherries were abundant despite the tree having major damage along the trunk. This spring I considered removing the tree. Maybe the tree sensed my intention and responded: "not yet, I have more joy to  offer the world."   

Mike, who I have not yet met in person, emailed me asking if he could pick the black currants. The bushes border the path in front of the staying-alive cherry tree. I assured Mike that he could pick the berries and he made a black current crumble. 

Mike is reading about caring for soft berries and intends to prune the raspberry and black current patches. I'm unsure about how and when pruning should be done. I look forward to Mike's applying his new found knowledge.  

 

The installation of this marble sculpture, mentioned in my last posting, continued a joyful story. Marcia's sister, Patty, is the artist and named the sculpture Ara. A southern constellation is also named Ara. I have no idea if Patty had in mind the constellation. Ara does have the fluidity and stability of a constellation.

Initially I wondered how we would move Ara from Marcia and Jim's basement into the Gardens. In an email about the move Marcia quipped that "We need two twenty year-olds." A few days later Sean, a UW Student from nearby Breeze Terrace, emailed me. Sean while riding his bike on the Path noticed my poster asking for volunteers. To my great delight, Sean wrote that he and some of his roommates wanted to volunteer.  Once again needed resources magically appeared.  

Ben, Sean and Simon

I informed Sean about our need for muscle. On a warm late June evening Sean,  Ben, and Simon, arrived on their bikes. The three radiated enthusiasm, energy and joy mixed with laughter. 

After a tour of the Gardens, the three young men, and I proceeded to Marcia and Jim's basement. I thought that it would take all three to move the box. Wrong! Ben and Sean easily carried the box, with Ara in it, up the basement stairs. Ben, in the white T, took over and alone carried the box down the Regent side stairs, while Ann B. watched for bikes, and up the Fox side stairs. Marcia and I followed along soaking in the joy of the gift of youthful labor that was freely given.  

Starting at the Bottom: Simon, Ben, Sean

Ben effortlessly lifted Ara out of the box and placed Ara on the platform. Mission accomplished. Thank you Sean, Ben, and Simon. Your visit was an example of joy spinning like a wheel.

Ann gave them oranges and cookies which were gratefully accepted. The three got on their bikes and road off. The energy level changed as they drove away while gratitude and joy remained in my heart.

Marcia sees Ara from the backyard of her house. She likes that Ara is in a natural setting for others to enjoy. Several other smaller sculptures done by Patty are also in Prospect Gardens. 

Marcia observed a man standing at the bottom of the slope looking up at Ara for several minutes. He then climbed the stairs on the opposite side of the Path and for several minutes gazed at Ara from a distance. I wish I was there to talk with him about his reactions.

I, while working in the Gardens, talked with a couple who stopped to view Ara. The man said little. The women didn't quite know what to make of Ara. She was more interested in how Ara became part of the Gardens rather than what Ara evoked in her.   

These smiling volunteers, who worked on July 10th, are enjoying a break. Ann B. offered apples and chocolate chip oatmeal bars. Thank you Hanns, and Jody(bottom row), L-R Percy, Joyce, and Ann R. for your continued support.  Thank you Ann B. for baking the treats plus your work. 

Percy and I transplanted hosta from the side of Hanna's garage, which is being replaced. They are now along the southern border of her lot and adjacent to the existing  hosta garden. We were pleased with the results. 

Our volunteers continued weeding, which included the tenacious Bishop's Weed. I have trouble accepting that there may be latent joy in the case of Bishop's Weed. Perhaps we should celebrate its will to survive.

Moving away from the dark side of our battle with Bishop's Weed, here are six pictures of July blooms that hopefully will add a little joy to your day. Included are statements about joy for your reflection.

Purple Poppy Mallow 

 

Tears of joy are like the summer rain drops pierced by sunbeams.

 Hosea Ballou, (1771-1852): Writer, American Universalist minister, and theologian.

Coreopsis 

 

Perfect happiness is a beautiful sunset, the giggle of a grandchild, the first snowfall. It's the little things that make happy moments, not the grand events. Joy comes in sips, not gulps. 

Sharon Draper (August 21, 1948): American children's writer and the 1997 National Teacher of the Year, five-time winner of the Coretta Scott King Award for books about the young and adolescent African-American experience.

Rudbeckia

Find ecstasy in life; the mere sense of living is joy enough.

 Emily Dickinson (1830-1886): American Poet

  

Phlox and Yellow Coneflower

Being alive is finding ourselves in the midst of this great and mysterious paradox. There are ten thousand joys and sorrows in every life, and at one time or another we will be touched by all of them. 

Jack Kornfield (July 16, 1945): Author, Buddhist practitioner, Spirit Rock Meditation Center founding teacher, and one of the key teachers to introduce Buddhist mindfulness practice to the West.

Purple Cone (a favorite)

Sometimes your joy is the source of your smile, but sometimes your smile can be the source of your joy.

Thich Nhat Hanh (October 11, 1926): Vietnamese 

Thiền Buddhist monk, peace activist, and founder of the Plum Village Tradition.

Cardinal Plant and Phlox 

Let us dance in the sun, wearing wild flowers in our hair...

 

Susan Polis Schutz(May 23, 1944): 

American poet, film maker and businesswoman

Jake and Angie

Joy was more often "latent", to use a word from the poem, rather than spinning "like a wheel" while  growing up on our family farm. As a teenager my summers were long days of harvesting crops. Yet, joy surfaced as illustrated in this picture of my sister, Angie and me. I am a skinny 16 year old and Angie is 17.

Maybe the occasion was my brother Tom's high school graduation at which he gave one of two commencement addresses. We were all so proud of him. We are dressed in our Sunday best. I look like I am about to break out into a dance. The drum and hat were from a past Parish picnic. 

The Parish picnic was the highpoint of summer. My mother gave me money earned from picking and selling pickles which I spent on ice cream and on games. I never did win a plaster of Paris stallion that I wanted. My sister-in-law, Corine, has one on a shelf, with other collectables, in her living room.    

The annual event was held at the Parish's "Picnic Grove", better known as the "swamps" because the low land flooded. Picnics were held in July and were a major fund raiser. The grounds were jammed with carnival rides, a few craft stands, gaming booths, and ice cream stands. Women prepared chicken dinners sold and served in a large dance hall. Many weddings were held in that hall, including two of my sister's weddings. 

Bingo was played in a large stand, similar to the ones in the picture, with seating inside and around the perimeter. Individuals and business donated prizes and some were on display. You paid to play. The stand was always filled to capacity as the caller, sometimes a priest, shouted out numbers. The caller's voice could be heard throughout the grounds.

Bingo with an entry fee and prizes was illegal gambling. Yet bingo was played for several years. Even Pulaski's sheriff turned a blind eye. One year police raided the picnic and shut down the game. The Parish was fined, reducing that year's profits. 

In my teen years, Angie and I were dance partners as we took in the popular American Bandstand Television show emceed by Dick Clark. My brother Tony, after he was discharged from the Army, purchased a television along with a TV lamp in the shape of a flying Mallard Duck lamp. The metal television with its rabbit ears and duck lamp on top took over a corner of the living room.

Our lives were never the same afterwards. When American Bandstand flickered on at three in the afternoon, we were ready to dance after taking a break from chores and hurrying into the living room.  Dressed in our work clothes, we danced with the stylish kids (boys in suit coats, shirts and ties, girls in skirts and blouses) from Philadelphia.  Our worlds were so different and yet we were united in joy.

Angie and I, as young children, were playmates before the demands of summer tasks consumed us. Angie created a school in the corn crib, and a house and a beauty shop in a second story unused bedroom in our house. She was the teacher, the mother or wife, and the owner of the beauty shop while I was the student, child, husband or reluctant client. As a beautician, the term used for a hair stylist, Angie washed my hair and once colored my hair using green tinted water. I was a rather compliant child. 

My memories are an affirmative answer to the question Trommer asks in her poem: "And is joy latent in everything?"  Yes, when it comes to the summers of my youth. Summer 2021, already filled with memories, continues to unfold and then will fade into autumn.  I end with this Mary Oliver Poem about summer fading into Fall.

Thank you Kate for posting and sharing the two featured poems on your front yard pedestal. I always look forward to the poems on my walks through the neighborhood.  

Peace

Jake 

       

Open the Hatch - A Blessing for a New Opening In Life

On May 2nd, our church, the First Unitarian Society, called the Rev. Kelly Weisman Asprooth-Jackson to be our Co-minister. He, along with Rev. Kelly Crocker, will have co-equal status as senior ministers and will function as a team.  Kelly just celebrated her twentieth year as our minister, starting as a contracted assistant minister.  

Kelly AJ, as he will be referred to, handed me this poem during a "drive through welcoming event" after the congregation overwhelmingly voted to call him. He wrote the poem. The poem expresses the promise of our new type of ministry as well as the promise and challenge as we continue to transition from the pandemic. 

A Blessing for a New Opening in Life

The scent and beauty of the flower,
Is formed out of light, and water, and earth; 

It is not all contained within the seed, 

Yet the idea of it is.
With each moment that opens before us,
We cannot know all that will come after;
Nevertheless, we can choose to make a beginning.
May the way become clear,
But rather than wait until it does:
Let us plant the seed,
Draw the breath, 

Set out upon the journey, 

And open the hatch.

The journey of caring for Prospect Gardens continues. The hatch was initially opened twelve years ago and with each spring the hatch is reopened. 

On a balmy Saturday, May 22nd, seven volunteers joined Ann B. and I.  A perfect late spring day with a light breeze that made for comfortable weeding. West High School Leo Club members returned once again. 

Here they are tackling Bishops Weed. Misha is on the right, Sydney in the middle, and Olivia on the left. Misha was with us during our last work session while this was the first time for Sydney and Olivia. The three quickly and effectively removed the tenacious Bishops Weed. Thank you.

  

Sydney and Misha on a well deserved break under a blue sky with white fluffy clouds. 

Olivia during a break. Come back again. You are now an experienced Prospect Gardens caretaker. 

And here's Sydney striking a pose. You too are now an experienced Prospect Gardens caretaker and we would so welcome your return.

All three Leo Club members are sophomores ending a very unique year. Next school year will have new beginnings and offer opportunities for opening hatches. May you all enjoy the summer.

Annette, a nearby neighbor, joined the gang. This was Annette's first time. Thank you, Annette.  You are a quick learner and now an intrepid volunteer. We will welcome you any time you have the urge to garden. 

Hanns, an experienced volunteer, focused on removing the fading dandelions from throughout the Gardens. I always enjoy Hanns' humor and wit. Glad to be gardening with you again.  Thank you.

Here's Nick busy pulling--- guess what---- Bishops Weed! Thank you Nick for once again tackling the self-renewing Bishops Weed. This year is an especially good one for Bishops Weed. Some have flowered and the lacy blooms are pretty.  Oh my.....am I developing a soft spot for this challenging weed? 

Laura and my wife, Ann B., the two remaining volunteers, escaped my prying camera. Thank you to both of you.  Ann B.  makes sure we take a break with treats. I affectionately call her the "union steward."

Also contributing to the Gardens and not pictured are nearby

neighbors, Marcia and Jim. The couple, without being asked, have weeded and mulched for several years the Peg Arnold memorial garden. This year they mulched the area under one of the cherry trees. They provided the mulch for both areas and  for another section which I reconfigured. Their generosity is greatly appreciated. Plus our chats are always enjoyable. Thank you for being good neighbors. 

Twelve years ago when Steve A. and I were planning the Gardens, we talked about including art. Quite spontaneously four sculptures by Marcia's beloved sister, Patty, are now installed. 

This piece is made of white marble and rests against a rock I brought in when the memorial garden was developed. The little birds, which Marcia added, are just the right items.  

The circle of the sculpture reminds of a hatch. I wonder where in leads to?  What does the sculpture evoke in you?

This piece is a porotype for a large sculpture that Patty never completed before she died in her mid-sixties. It would have been at least four feet tall. 

I said that Patty's sculptures spontaneously became part of the Gardens. On a Saturday morning, I arrived early to plant two wine cups (callirhoe involucrata) donated by Jane H., a nearby neighbor, and to finish mulching the section that I reconstructed. Thank you Jane for your special gift. 

While I was picking up the mulch from Marcia and Jim's driveway, we begin to chat.  During our chat, Marcia mentioned her beloved sister, Patty. Well, one thing led to another, and to harken back to the poem, the hatch opened and art made its way into the Gardens. 

Here's Patty with the fifth piece that may be installed in the Gardens. It's white marble and Marcia says it's heavy. How to situate the heavy piece and how to move it into the Gardens could be challenging.  

How Patty's art became part of the Gardens fits a pattern I have experienced throughout the history of the Gardens. Hatches open and things appear at the right moment. 

Here's  another example of how  things appear at the right moment. It's a mobile of pottery bells and beads which now compliments the nine bark blossoms that spill over the old weathered picket fence.

A few days ago, Ann B. and I met Sandy, the crew chief of Glenway Prairie, to dig up Pennsylvania Sedge and prairie Jacob's Ladder. These were to be transplanted into Prospect Gardens.  

When we finished digging the plants, a man came walking by and stopped to talk first with Ann B., and then Sandy and I joined in. He was carrying the mobile. He asked Ann B. for directions to the nearest gas station which Ann B. relayed to me. I asked if he needed a bathroom. He replied "no" and was looking for a job. Perhaps he was homeless and I never asked. Sandy and I gave directions to the nearest gas station which is on Speedway. 

I like mobiles and have made a few. So his mobile caught my attention. I said something to the effect, "That's an interesting mobile."  In a soft voice he asked if I would like to have it and that he would accept any offered sum. Ann B. and I quickly agreed, and I handed him ten dollars.  He thanked us, smiled and left in the direction towards the gas station on Speedway while saying: "God bless you."  

Here's Sandy after we dug up the plants.

Still another "open the hatch" experience is the June 1st work session with a crew of seven young men from Operation Fresh Start (OFS) and their two leaders. Maddie, City Engineering's Green Space Coordinator, provided the crew. OFS is a program that serves youth ages 16-24.  Thank you Maddie. 

Here is the hard working crew. Robby, the newest Conservation Supervisor, is standing in the front, left side. Starting at the top left on the stairs is Juan, Taylor, the experienced Conservation Supervisor , Axel, and Muntadher.  In the middle of the stairs and sitting is Mitchell, his first day in the program. Next to him is Reece and in front of Reece is David.  Standing on the right is Alexis. 

              

After introductions were made and a brief orientation, the crew went to work. Under Robby's guidance, a group cleared out several different kinds of weeds along the Regent side. Robby first identified several weeds, pulled them out, laid them in row, and then told his students about each one. This helped his charges to tell which weeds to pull.

Another group worked with Taylor to remove ditch lilies that encircled a cherry tree. Digging ditch lilies is definitely a young person's job. Many of the removed lilies were there when the trains slowly passed by. Tubers are numerous, compacted and deeply rooted. Just when you think you got them all, more turn up as you dig deeper. 

Weeding and digging those hardy ditch lilies saved me so much time and labor. Plus now air circulates around and through the cherry tree. Please come back when the cherries are ripe. The ripe raspberries will also be waiting for you. You all deserve these treats.

Here's David during a well deserved break. I sense that you and other OFS crew members understand one of  the messages within Rev. Kelly AJ's poem. 

"With each moment that opens before us,
We cannot know all that will come after;
Nevertheless, we can choose to make a beginning."

Muntadher looks relaxed after working hard. The best to you and to your fellow crew members. All of you have opened hatches. It was a pleasure spending a sunny late spring morning with all of you.

Spider Wort 

 Here are pictures of seven plants that are benefiting from the generosity of all the mentioned volunteers. 

Golden Alexander 

Blue Indigo 

Milk Weed Loved By Monarchs

A Species of Lilac 

A Species of Primrose 

Columbine 

  

 

 

The columbine, the golden alexanders, and lilacs are fading. Summer and fall plants are waiting for their time in the sun. 

May and June offer new beginnings for our graduating youth.  Here's my nephew Vince celebrating the college graduation of his oldest son, Cole. Several weeks later, Luke (on the left) graduated from high school. His brother Ben (on the far right) has already graduated and is involved in body building competitions.  As my brother, Leo and the boys' Grandfather, often said: "Fine boys." And indeed they are. 

In 1962 I graduated from Pulaski High. Here I am with my mother. That was a year of several new beginnings and the way was not always clear. 

In April, 1962, the family farm was sold. Along with my younger brothers, Ernie and Louie, we moved into Pulaski on Front Street across from the high school. Louie worked for the Red Owl grocery store in Pulaski. I first packed pickles for John Wood's Pickle-Right and then the bean factory before going to the then Stevens Point State College. I disliked Stevens Point. After one semester, and unclear about the future, I transferred to a two year UW Center that is now the University of Wisconsin-Green Bay. I lived at home and commuted to the Green Bay campus.

The way became clear as I entered my junior year and enrolled at the UW-Madison. My friend Lester and I arrived in Madison in his 1957 green Chevy. Lester kept that car spotlessly clean. I still recall my excitement as we traveled down Johnson Street, heading toward the University and moving into an apartment shared with my brother, Tom, Lester and Vedo, a Ph.D. student. We lived in an apartment with two large rooms. 

Lester and I slept in bunk beds and Tom in a bed on the opposite side. Vedo created a space for his single bed in the corner of the second room that also had a kitchen. His space was surrounded by his beloved books. Vedo had a large briefcase to carry his books. Briefcases were very popular. My budget did not allow for one.

We always made it a point to have dinner together. Weekly we rotated who would cook and who would do the shopping. If I recall right, this was Vedo's stipulation.    

I knew I would complete my degree as I went from building to building to register and appear in front of tables staffed with individuals. If a class was open, you signed a sheet and handed in a punch computer card. If not opened, you scrambled to find an alternative.  Beforehand, I carefully mapped out the locations of the several buildings spread across campus involved in the chase for classes.  

After I completed registration, I sat at the base of the Lincoln statute taking in the view and savoring being in Madison. Another student approached me and asked me for assistance because he was having a difficult time registering and couldn't find the next building to hopefully enroll in a class. I offered assistance while feeling confident about the journey that lay ahead. 

Now here I am reminiscing about the past and noticing instances of Kelly AJ's poem.  At this moment I am once again drawn to these phrases: 

"Draw the breath, 

Set out upon the journey, 

And open the hatch." 

So the journey continues and another 90 degree day unfolds. Ride the Drive, a biking event on the closed streets of our neighborhood, is now history. I rode the two mile course along with many others, including parents and their children. 

I close with sharing these two small painted rocks that I unexpectedly found in Prospect Gardens. Katie, a neighbor, thinks a little girl on the next block created them. Katie say it's the latest ritual stressing sharing. When you find a painted rock,  you are to leave one of your own that you decorated.