We're Married Thirty-Two Years

Thirty-two years ago my husband and I were married in a county park. I wore a Gunne Sax prom dress and a sun hat from a local store that I trimmed with lace. I also made the wedding cake, which wasn't so hard to decorate, but was terrifying to transport to the reception in August heat and humidity. Our wedding didn't come close to resembling the affairs I'm invited to lately, or that I see on television on shows like Whose Wedding Is It, Anyway? But we had a good time and the marriage has lasted, so I don't regret not having a more elaborate shebang. At least we had a live dance band.

But the most amazing thing about our wedding had to do with photography, or lack of it. I hired a college friend to take casual pictures, and one of my sisters-in-law took home movies, the Super 8 variety. We didn't see the movies until twenty-five years later. The sister-in-law lived miles away, and eventually became sick with cancer. The movies were stashed in her basement, and after her death, years later, my husband's brother found them and passed them on to us. We didn't have a movie projector or a screen, so we had the films transferred to video tape (which I had tranferred to DVD disk this summer). On our twenty-fifth anniversary we watched a silent home movie of our wedding and reception. It was amazing and sad. There we were in our younger selves, and there were our parents, all gone now, dancing. It was like stepping back for a moment to a very happy day, with everyone there to share it with us. It was almost unbearable.

Anyway, we're off today for a couple days in a nice inn with an excellent restaurant. We'll bicycle, play some scrabble, read, drink some wine, and remember that happy day thirty-two years ago.

Market Artistry

I haven't felt very creative lately. Obsessive compulsive person that I am I've been working on family history and scanning old photos. But recently I walked out to the Janesville Farmers Market, thinking to get some sun, see some friends, and maybe find something good to eat. I am always amazed and pleased by how some vendors display their produce. This display was created by a young man with a green thumb and an eye for design. It brought to mind our senior high school motto, "To do a common thing uncommonly well."

August Surprises

August is the time when I begin to lose interest in fertlizing, weeding and watering in my garden, but there are still surprises to be found there. Yesterday my husband called me to the deck to see a strange creature, a walking stick. They are from the Phasmatodea order of insects, of which there are over 2,000 varieties worldwide. I think there are only about ten types in North America. We both got down on our knees with a magnifying glass to look at this critter. It appears to have only four legs, but we discovered that the little pincers in front are actually the other two legs, It was probably headed out to munch my roses, but I didn't bother the insect, who looks like a magically animated twig.

Naked lady. Ghost lily. Resurrection lily. Magic lily. Surprise lily. I can't remember who gave me my first bulb, but at a time when most of my other flowers have started to dry up these luminous pink flowers shoot out of the ground and boom seweetly under the trees. I understand they were imported from Japan and were popular in the 1800s. They are actually not a lily, but rather an amaryllis, Latin name Lycoris squamigera. In the spring they send up vigrous green strappy leaves that die away completely in the late spring and summer. But then in August, often after a rain, the stalks shoot out of the ground and are soon topped with pale pink blooms, tinged with lavender, and with a glowing yellow center. In the evening they have a sweet scent, not so strong a perfume as the Stargazer lilies, but still pleasant. I like them because they are hard to kill, and they like the dry shade under my maple. I mix them in with my hostas, because when they bloom they have no leaves, and the hostas provide some clothing for my naked ladies of August.