Tag Archives: grandchildren

Melodies play all through me.

I first titled this post “Melodies of life,” then “Melodies play in my mind…” but then I realized that music is more pervasive than that. My heart is full of melodies today. I mentioned last summer how Kate’s husband Tom would sing about everything; I asked him to make up a song for going to the Indian market and he was on it immediately and with a good will.

Now it’s Raj who sings all day, as long as he is in a happy mood. As the weeks went by and he got used to being in Grandma’s house, his mood gradually improved. But the change when his father returned from extended job training was dramatic. Until then, I think he was intuitively ill at ease, what with his nanny and father both “disappearing” and being replaced with Grandma. Once the family unit was restored he relaxed and became much less reactive. The songs increased.

His mother has created custom eclectic playlists of songs to play for the children, including many from her own childhood, when we had our favorites to sing on trips and before bed, and sometimes around the piano. From being fed throughout his whole short life by both the recorded music and the singing parents, Raj seems to have at his disposal a hundred songs to sing as medleys while he is playing.

Rug I just got for my newly refurbished closet.

He has been allowed to watch toddler videos in Spanish, which I found very educational for myself. When I achieved 500 days in a row in my Duolingo “study” a few weeks ago, I stopped; it just seemed like too much with all the world events demanding my attention. So I’ve enjoyed learning some new words and phrases by means of catchy songs (on “Super Simple” Spanish, YouTube) like “Ponte tus zapatos, zapatos, zapatos…”

At his morning naptime the parents sing to little Rigo, and I could hear them from downstairs, especially when Tom returned and took his turns in a man’s voice. “As I Went Down in the River to Pray,” was reintroduced to my own musical repertoire in this way. Other sweet reminders are “You Are My Sunshine” and “I Feel Like a Morning Star.” These melodies have comforted our souls, especially as we were repeatedly recovering from little boy noise — oh, my! The wild energy is exhausting; I’m glad the parents are young.

The family departed this morning for their new home and jobs in Panama. It’s the same daughter whom I visited in India two years ago, where I was able to be present when their firstborn arrived. I’m posting a few more stories and pictures before I move on to the next chapter of my life.

One discovery Raj led me to was manzanita berries as food. He found a funny unused plant stand in the greenhouse that he liked to sit on, and one day I found him in there chewing on something from a cup. He had collected manzanita berries from under the bush. I knew that they weren’t toxic, but I had never heard of any human eating them, so I looked them up and found an article about how you can use the unripe berries to make cider, the ripe berries in baked goods; you can even boil the seeds to make “a sophisticated drink.” No joke!

Well, if a toddler was enjoying them, and going back for more, I must sample one myself. I tried several, actually, and they do taste good, but there is not much flesh to taste! You immediately get to the seeds in the middle, which are basically three little stones filling the fruit. I hope I never am so poor that I need to survive on them.

Their last day here, when Tom and Kate were busy packing, Raj had been informed that the trip was imminent. Finally they would go to their new house in that mythical place called Panama, which he’d heard about for several months. He was as cheerful as could be, working from the essential understanding that they would be on an airplane and an adventure again. Finally he had a personal use for the phrase that he’s heard so often in the last year: “You ‘tay here, I be right back!” He told me this many times, as the move was the topic of the day.

And when in my bedroom he found a stuffed llama toy, he thought he’d like to get in my “big red bed” with it, and he snuggled there for at least a half an hour, leaving and returning with books to read, and more stuffed animals, chattering nonstop. He found a basket of Christmas cards and “read” all two dozen of them; I particularly liked this activity!

What will I do, now that it’s quiet here again? I managed to note on paper at least a couple dozen songs that I heard my grandson sing over the last few weeks, and I’ll try to create my own playlist of cheerful tunes to keep filling my house and heart. ❤

Our souls were satisfied on the pebbly beach.

Daughter Kate and her family are still here, and Pippin’s family also came to visit for a couple of days. We women took the kids to the beach, one that is becoming a favorite; it’s a little farther to drive to, but there is no undertow or other dangerous feature, and the sand is tiny pebbles. It doesn’t blow in your face and is much much easier to deal with at picnics — or in diapers.

Rigo liked this kind of sand very much for exploring orally; Kate spent a lot of time with her boys helping them to focus on the visual aspect of the smooth stones.

Scout joked he was on a mission to clean out the ocean; he and his siblings dragged up many sea vegetables and other live things. Pippin found starfish on a rock and brought them up for everyone to see for a few minutes before she put them back in a wetter place. The long-leaved kelp Rigo is touching had washed in still attached to its stone anchor.

Gooseneck Barnacle

Kate and Pippin took a lot of pictures that they shared with me, which is why I am featured in some scenes here. Raj understandably did not want to brave that wild surf on his own, but he did like throwing pebbles or grass into the waves from on high, secure in the arms of his aunt or grandma. We each took many turns with this routine, running down close enough to let the next wave wash over our feet, and to see Raj’s beaming face.

Ivy collected shells and used them to decorate the little mountain in which she buried my feet. Then we did the same to her. She looked much more elegant than I had as she received the warm sand treatment.

Pippin brought me special presents, as it were, a couple of tiny pieces of beach glass, and a strange little item she said appeared to be a bit of plant matter with grains of the pebbly sand embedded in it. That night I found that she had also taken a picture of me taking a picture of it. What a daughter!

Scout engaged his mother in a study of wave patterns. He had to hike back up the cliff to get a notebook from the car, in which they then recorded a series of waves, judging their relative size, to see if big ones came at regular intervals. It doesn’t seem to have been a long-term project.

Meanwhile, Jamie waited an hour or two before he was willing to get his feet wet. Then he had a lot of fun! This baby who was gentlemanly from the start, waiting to make his appearance until after we had said goodbye to his Grandpa Glad, is now five years old, and a real boy.

 

There were new plants for me to discover at the coast, as well as old favorites. Here are a few wildflowers I saw:

Silver Beach Weed
Indian sweet-clover
Pacific Gumplant

Kate and I were both grateful to Pippin for making our beach outing happen. Once more I had gone because someone else prompted me. August and September typically are the best months for pleasant weather on the North Coast, and I’m going to try very hard to go all on my own! It is always the most soul-satisfying place to spend some time.

Summertime is a bath.

I’m glad to say that the two littlest of my (thirteen) grandsons are still here with their parents. I really do love hanging out in the garden with them; whether it’s engaging the “help” of Raj to pick up pine needles or wipe the patio furniture, or sitting by Rigo as he splashes his hands in a pan of water.

Yes, that’s my brand-new bathroom! It’s about the only part of the remodel that is both usable and picture worthy. Busy little people keep me occupied with better things than the rest of it, like unfinished closets.

On the Fourth of July Kate and I stayed up long after the little boys went to bed, to watch the film version of the musical “Hamilton.” We had thought to watch only part of it, but it was hard to stop. Besides, my neighbors were making a lot of noise with their fireworks, so our household couldn’t easily settle down anyway.

A couple of years ago after my cousin Renée saw “Hamilton,” she gave me the book by Ron Chernow that was its inspiration. The two-hour show naturally had to reduced the story of Alexander Hamilton’s life and times to a few themes and historical threads that Lin-Manuel Miranda found especially meaningful; I don’t think I’d have appreciated it much without the background of the book. But having become familiar with the players from Ron Chernow’s purely historical telling, I was impressed with how much could be expressed through the choreography alone. Thomas Jefferson’s character was a brilliant example of this. I’m sure if I watched this fast-paced musical a few times more I’d notice much more; but on my own I’m not much of a watcher of shows, period. I’m glad Kate arranged it, and I wanted to mention the book-theater connection here with my recommendation.

The weather has been perfectly summery, and not too hot to have friends over twice already while Kate is here, and to eat brunch in the garden. Feeding  people, and helping to facilitate the necessary baths and naps and soothing garden tours… those are some of the fundamental activities that have consumed me this week from morning to night. Maybe that is why I liked this poem. Also, it reminds me of my own father coming out of the 100-degree afternoon into our ranch house, and eating thick round slices of cold watermelon before returning to irrigate his orange groves.

Summertime is like a bath of sensory experiences rich with poetry. It slows and calms me and prompts prayers of thanksgiving. Drink up!

CARRYING WATER TO THE FIELD

And on those hot afternoons in July,
when my father was out on the tractor
cultivating rows of corn, my mother
would send us out with a Mason jar
filled with ice and water, a dish towel
wrapped around it for insulation.

Like a rocket launched to an orbiting
planet, we would cut across the fields
in a trajectory calculated to intercept—
or, perhaps, even—surprise him
in his absorption with the row and the
turning always over earth beneath the blade.

He would look up and see us, throttle
down, stop, and step from the tractor
with the grace of a cowboy dismounting
his horse, and receive gratefully the jar
of water, ice cubes now melted into tiny
shards, drinking it down in a single gulp,
while we watched, mission accomplished.

-Joyce Sutphen

Summer of 2001

 

End of June tune.

When Daughter Kate and her family arrived, we soon established a tradition of drinking smoothies in the afternoon, on the sunny patio. Raj especially liked the thick one I made with mango, ice, rice protein and pineapple juice concentrate. Then there was chocolate banana. And strawberry.

He hadn’t seen the playhouse in six months, and was quite pleased.

Rigo celebrated his first birthday, and he was pleased, too.

Raj sings pretty much all through the day, and he carries a tune awfully well for a two-year-old. I love having Raffi and every children’s folk song wafting through the house and garden.

By the way, out there, a hollyhock whose seeds I planted several years ago is blooming for the first time. [It’s Black Currant Whirl from Baker Creek seeds.] It’s in a very out-of-the way spot behind the mock orange, and grew giant buds before I ever noticed. Then today, this!

I went to church today for the feast of Saints Peter and Paul. Blessed Feast! Our parish is not open yet on Sunday mornings; that is, we aren’t able to be in the building except for a short time when we file through to receive the sacrament. But because this was a weekday Liturgy, not a large crowd was expected, and we could stand through the service at an appropriate distance from one another. I was an hour late because I’ve been busy with other things than keeping track of the service schedule that’s been changing a lot lately. It was still quite a blessing.

I visited the icon of Saint Isadora, whose message I know that I always need, but never more than these days and months we’ve had lately. And what a gorgeous flower surround for the icon of the saints of the day.

I’ll see you in July! ❤