Memorial Day weekend. It's more than a holiday.

The first year I lived in the USA, in California, the first Memorial Day holiday, I went to the ceremony at Mount Vernon Memorial Park, a cemetery in Citrus Heights. While in England, fallen and wounded soldiers are remembered and honoured in November, "Poppy Day", with the flowers that represent the fields of Flanders where so many lost their lives, in the USA it is the last Monday of May.

The most moving part of that ceremony was witnessing a group of men, older than myself but not by much, leather-clad bikers, Vietnam veterans, who arrived and left on their Harleys and whose participation in the memorial ceremony moved me to tears. It brought home--if it was needed--that wars are fought by real men, real women, real human beings. Not numbers--though the number of lives lost, and damaged, are horrendous. After all the years that had passed, these tough leathery men were shedding tears for their lost colleagues, friends and comrades.

And while enjoying the festivities at this year's Sacramento Music Festival, again and again I noticed the veterans. Some bikers, some not. One gentleman with not one but three Purple Hearts on his hat, witnessing his bravery and his war wounds.

This gentleman reminded me that the Dignity Memorial Vietnam Wall was at the Mount Vernon Memorial Park this weekend. I went there on the way home. It had me in tears.

No matter how inane you consider any war; no matter how stupid you find the justification for fighting; no matter how little you agree with the leaders who declare; no matter how fervently you believe and want and strive for that elusive existance, "peace"; how can you fail to be moved by the sight of nearly sixty thousand names, each one an American soldier lost to the conflict in Vietnam.

Each name, one person. Somebody's son (or daughter). Somebody's husband, friend, lover, brother, soul-mate, father. Gone. All gone. But not forgotten.

"He joined up when he was fourteen, lied about his age.  He was fifteen when he died."

Snippets of conversation, as people sought the names of loved ones, of family members. Rubbed pencil over paper to make and save an image of the name; one of 58,227, embossed in a 3/4 size replica of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Wall that stands in Washington, DC.

(And yes, of course, there was loss on the "other side" too. And they all had families and loved ones and lives that were forever changed. War leaves no-one undamaged. This is not a statement about right, or might, and wrong. Remember too... for the most part, Vietnam was not a volunteer war. Young men were conscripted. There was no choice.)

And so this Memorial Day weekend, I think of all the men and women who have given their time, their youth, their courage, their health and often their lives, by serving the people of their country through military service. They all fought for what we believe in: freedom.

Thank you, Veterans.

A few more photos: http://www.flickr.com/photos/alisontoon/sets/72157633728604373/ 

It takes two years...

... to knock a garden into shape. By that I mean two years of hard work, and you have a garden (English garden, which equals everything on the property outside the house, rather than the American "garden-being-a-vegetable-patch-only.) I don't mean that the hard work is over, and it's all finished; the work has only just begun. Rather, the framework is there, it's more-or-less under control; you know the problem areas, you've seen two full-year cycles of seasons and weathers and rain/heat/drought, you've planted some perennials and they are growing into their space, some annuals have self-seeded, the first lilies have already multiplied, and people other than yourself-the-gardener can actually visualise what it might eventually look like.

Two years ago, there were no flowers in this garden, except for the privet trees that were standing dumbly around the swimming-pool fence, and the wild blue flax that showed its pretty face down by the creek. Now there are roses and daylillies, there are a few footpaths, I have a vegetable garden and herb garden, lavendar and daffodils and two pomegranate trees which each have more than one flower.

So I can have a cup of tea, surrounded by lipstick salvia, before the next round of weeding.

Pictures shortly!

Roots and blooms!

You'll start to see more postings here, on this blog, again. It's going to be used for my gardening stories, life stories, things that are not music and event reviews (those you'll find on my other blog, over here).

At the risk of repeating myself, sunrise was beautiful today

And then it turned into a beautiful springlike-but-with-snow-on-the-ground day.

Saturday sunrise

Yes, it was. Just like this.

Winter thrush

This guy has been turning up a lot, recently. Just one, feeding with the sparrows like an oversized brother. He's beautiful, but that beak makes me suspicious that he's a grackle in disguise.

Snow, again.

Shirley sunset

Shirley beach is the perfect viewpoint for sunsets on this part of Long Island. About five minutes in the car from home.

This evening, the bay was frozen flat; a mirror of ice; the sky turquoise and pink and faded.

I have never, ever felt so cold, so quickly: I understood frostbite. Thermometer said 22 degrees farenheit, it felt colder... the breeze across the bay helping numb fingers and nose inside a short moment.

Not a time to be living outdoors. I hope the car-people have somewhere warm to go tonight.

Seriously... every day.

This morning, it was like someone was shining a red light up, behind Fire Island, into a solid grey sky. This persisted long after the sun must have been clear of the horizon.

Nice to have a dawn above freezing; birds singing, sound of the ocean faded and more gentle. Yesterday's rain washed all the snow from the deck and reduced it everwhere; can even see tufts of grass where the snow hadn't drifted.

It will probably freeze this way now, but spring will arrive, one day soon.

Orange morning

One thing I have learned to appreciate since living here is the colour orange. It just happens: at sunrise, at sunset, in lillies that appear in the garden as if by magic. It doesn't look out-of-place next to pink or turquoise or grey anymore... it's a natural and beautiful colour that, before living here, only meant citrus to me.

Frozen bay, frozen (ocean) beach... but the hunt goes on

Smith Point ocean beach on Fire Island, frozen this morning; baby waves rippling onto the sands where plates of sand-mixed-with-ice had floated and cracked. A strange and unusual sight.

How cold must it be for the ocean to freeze?

Seagulls standing on their reflections on the bay; deep ice in Pattersquash Creek this morning.

Cold, but not cold enough to deter us from going to the beach, nor to keep hunters-and-their-dog at home, nor preventing the guys in the rowboats from going with the ice floes at the end of Cranberry in Mastic Beach.

It's the sunshine that does it. Makes everthing possible, despite what brain/eyes/thermometer says.

Never two the same... just spectacular

Keeps happening. Every day.

I like this guy

Really nice renovations, beach cottages

A shout out to the folks who have turned the cottage on the corner of Whittier and Dogwood, just before the marina. A few months ago it was an unloved eyesore, dark and abandoned. Now it is a beautiful, happy beach cottage, a subtle but cheerful green, somewhere anyone would be proud to call home.

All over the village of Mastic Beach, people have been working hard to renovate homes. A walk down Park Drive is a good example--many of the cottages have been given new leases on life. A new home has grown up where the house damaged by fire once stood.

There's a lot of opportunity here. Look at the prices, the proximity to the bay, to boating and fishing, to watching the birds. Think about taking a bicycle ride to the ocean beach or just nipping there in your car. No ferries to catch. No Hamptons-horrendous beach parking charge.

Nice place to spend your weekends, even if you are not ready to leave the city full-time... yet!

Another day, another sunrise

And a reminder: this could be your morning view!  See the house on the MLS. MLS# 2315270, find it on Realtor.com or MLSLI.com or any of your favourite real estate search engines!

Sunday melted away...

Temperatures well above freezing; the bay-ice just a melted shadow. Mist rising from ploughed, dirty piles of snow. Across the water, suddenly crystal-clear then fogged from view again. The sun tries to break through, then retreats behind the clouds. Just teasing.

Happy New Year!!!!

May it bring you health, happiness and good things.

010111 

Last day of the year, 2010

Still ice on the bay, but less than yesterday, and there is a drip-drip-dripping sound as the sun melts away the snow... but the bay ice seemed to radiate a chill into the sun-warmed air.

Another grackle invasion

They came in a crowd-cloud and scooped up all the bread, tipped the birdseed all over the deck, and then had a group pooping-session all over the deck railings. There are many brown (juvenile?) grackles in the crowd this year, disguised as something other than their beleathered counterparts.

I do like grackles.