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. 

Gratitude Once Again and Reminiscing

 

Once again, as Spring continues to unfold, I am filled with gratitude for all those who over the last twelve years have tended the Prospect Prairie Gardens or contributed in some other way. For example, several years ago Steve, who was also a regular volunteer, arrived one day with what looked like a stick having hair-like roots. Steve assured me that the stick was a red bud. Now a corner is filled with brilliance. 

Steve now lives in Ashland near his daughter, her husband and his grandson. I often think of Steve when I pause and admire this red bud. This red bud and others, apple blossoms in the UW-Arboretum, and flowers in neighborhood gardens seem more brilliant this year. Is it just me? Or maybe the side effects of the hopefully receding pandemic? 

Speaking of the pandemic. Ann and I are cautiously venturing out. On April 27th we met in Appleton, my brother Lou, his wife, Corine, my nephew Mike and his wife, Cathi, for a long overdue visit and lunch at Pullman's. We talked for a long time after enjoying our lunch. We were the last ones to leave the restaurant after nearly a two and half hour stay.  On May 7th we had pizza with friends Bob and Claudia at Ian's in the renovated Garver Mill. Siting outside was a little chilly. Two of my small groups are now meeting outside instead of on Zoom.  

Earth Day included tending the Gardens. Thank you Ann R., Amy and Dave for being part of this first official 2021 work session. Thank you Joyce and Percy who worked earlier in April.

Saturday, April 24th, was a special day and another reason to be grateful. These three members of West High School's Leo Club and their advisor, Rick, arrived and were ready for serious gardening. Pictured, starting at the left, are Misha, Maddie and Frosya. All three are sophomores.

These members of Generation Z have a very strong work ethic. The three, along with Rick, quickly and effectively mulched the raspberry patch and another section. They ended the three hour work session with cutting back plant remnants and weeding.  

The students wore masks because they were not yet vaccinated. Ann and I are fully vaccinated, but wore masks when near the students. Plus all of us practiced social distancing. This season, unlike last year, small groups of volunteers can now tend the Gardens. Maintaining social distancing is still recommended and easy because the Gardens cover about 6200 square feet.  

Here's Frosya cutting dried stalks left over from last season. You can see the new growth below the clippers. Frosya quickly cleared this section of the Garden. 

 

  

          

Here's Misha with a handful of dried plant material. Just a pause before she went back into action. I bet there is a smile behind that mask.

Our three diligent gardeners are in front of the pile of plant material that resulted from their labor. Camera shy advisor Rick also worked hard. Thank you Rick. 

                                              

Tessa and Olivia (top)

Last Saturday, May 8th, Misha and Frosya returned to again lend a helping hand. Olivia and the new Leo Club advisor, Tessa, joined the team. Tessa is a nurse, a West High School graduate, and former Leo Club member.

Misha, Frosya, Olivia and Tessa first took up the challenge of removing waterleaf from the Hosta Garden. After removing the waterleaf, the Leo Club team moved to other sections of the Garden.

Waterleaf is one of those plants that is a great ground cover but spreads rapidly.  Whether waterleaf is classified as a weed depends upon location and individual preference. Let's just say, waterleaf was not a good neighbor to the hostas, the jacob's ladder, the jack-in-the pulpits and other woodland plants. I must say I had some hesitancy about evicting the waterleaf. 

 

Joining us was Isabel (Isa), an Edgewood College sophomore majoring in elementary education. She is on our scheduled break. Metcalfe's cookies were offered. 

Isa also was a diligent worker and seemed to enjoy weeding the east end of the hosta garden. Isa, sometimes bent over, made her way up the steep slope while listening to music. Thank you Isa for your good work. 

Isa is a Bonner Leader. The Bonner Leaders Program provides scholarships to selected students who are committed to community service and learning about social issues and social change. Students spend two to four years working with a team of other Edgewood College students on specific community service initiatives. Leaders meet regularly as a group to learn about social justice issues, community leadership, and civic engagement. Sending gratitude to Virginia, the Bonner Program Coordinator, who made the connection with Isa.

 

Laura With Scissors 

Two neighborhood volunteers joined  the weeding brigade. Here's Laura. Laura is sometimes camera shy and  hides when I want to take a picture. Her gardening scissors make an interesting addition to her face mask. 

Thank you Laura for your long term commitment to Prospect Gardens. If I am recalling right, she was one of the first volunteers twelve years ago.  

Found this on the Web and I think it's meant for Laura.

LAURA

L:  LUSTER, you shine!
A: AGREEABLE, the best side of you
U: UNDERSTANDING, you show others
R: RADIANT, it's your personality
A:AFFIRM, the certainty of knowledge

Here's Ann R., another stalwart and hard working volunteer. Ann has been volunteering now for several years. Ann's husband, Mark, sometimes joins Ann. 

The name Ann is of  Hebrew, English origin and means "grace".  "Grace" has several definitions, including "simple elegance" and "courteous goodwill", and these words certainly describe Ann.

Ann lives in the Regent neighborhood. The Regent Neighborhood Association and the Dudgeon-Monroe Neighborhood Association jointly sponsor and financially support the Gardens. Another bow of gratitude to these two neighborhood associations and to Ann R.

Working with the Leo Club reminded me when I taught sophomores at West Bend, West High School. The year is 1971 when teachers wore shirts and ties.  Note my long hair and sideburns. 

Now, the barber cuts what is left of my hair in less than 10 minutes (pandemic time cut by Ann-one half  hour). My dear mother-in-law, Ethel, once commented: "Jake, since I have known you, you have lost a lot of hair." She was a resident at St. Mary's Care Center. Ann and I were visiting her and during a quiet time she looked at our wedding picture, glanced at me, and made the truthful assessment. 

Here's me listening to a student delivering a report. Students often researched topics and presented in small groups, such as this one.  I was a third year teacher and team taught with Bill Bast. We taught a course entitled "American Studies." Bill had a Ph.D. and loved teaching. He chaired the Social Studies Department. 

We were on "modular scheduling" and in a newly opened high school; actually two side-by-side high schools that shared common facilities. Modular scheduling meant we met students in different configurations. Small group discussions were the dominant mode of instruction. Lectures were used to introduce units and presented to all enrolled sophomores assembled in a large room.  

We did not use a textbook. Instead, the curriculum consisted of thematic units; for example, a unit on American Industrialization. This unit ended with students presenting their projects during a fair attended by community members. Many students made posters and museum like exhibits and were available for comments with attendees.  

We had a resource room stacked with paperbacks and other learning materials that students used. We met individually with students who were academically challenged or were experiencing problems. If needed, we created special assignments or had students report to the resource room for extra help by the teacher's aide in charge of the resource room.

Those were good days; filled with excitement, challenge and rewarding. During my last eight years of my long educational career I had the great fortune of being the coordinator of an evaluation unit which was part of a natural resource center, now the UW Natural Resources Institute. My interest in prairie gardens is an extension of those eight years working with individuals who cared deeply about this interdependent world we inhabit. 

Thanks for staying with this tangent down memory lane. I end with gratitude for one of my favorite poets, Mary Oliver. Here's her poem " Spring in the Classroom" with its delightful ending. 

Spring in the Classroom

Elbows on dry books, we dreamed

Past Miss Willow Bangs, and lessons, and windows,

To catch all day glimpses and guesses of the greening

 woodlot,

Its secrets and increases,

Its hidden nests and kind.

And what warmed in us was no book-learning,

But the old mud blood murmuring,

Loosening like petals from bone sleep.

So spring surrounded the classroom, and suffered to be 

    kept indoors,

Droned through lessons, carved when we could with 

    jackknives

Our pulsing initials into the desks, and grew

Angry to be held so, without pity and beyond reason,

By Miss Willow Bangs, her eves two stones behind glass,

Her legs thick, her heart

In love with pencils and arithmetic.

So it went—one gorgeous day lost after another

While we sat like captives and breathed the chalky air

And the leaves thickened and birds called

From the edge of the world -- till it grew easy to hate,

To plot mutiny, even murder. Oh, we. had her in chains,

We had her hanged and cold, in our longing to be gone!

And then one day, Miss Willow Bangs, we saw you

As we ran wild in our three o'clock escape

Past the abandoned swings; you were leaning
All furry and blooming against the old brick wall 

In the Art Teacher's arms.