Spring Gardens

Judy. It's spring in Georgia, and absolutely gorgeous.  Daffodils, azaleas, redbud trees, cherry trees, dogwood, iris--all are blooming like mad and lifting our hearts after the lockdown of winter.  

View from our front porch

One of our go-to's this year has been the Georgia State Botanical Gardens. Boy, what a hidden gem! Fifteen minutes from the house, free, and vast, with miles of wooded and riverside hiking trails, numerous gardens and orchards celebrating plants from different areas of the world, it has become a great escape. There's even a children's play area (closed now due to Covid) with climbing toys fashioned from natural elements.

On Monday, we decided to take a last walk to explore, since we leave for Costa Rica in a few days. Tired from packing, we needed to breathe fresh air and see the spring explosion. Daffodil season is waning, and the rains from the weekend had left its mark on the tulips, but it did its job anyway.

Wetlamds

Forest walk

Kitchen gardens

View of the orchards

In winter, the conservatory is a great refuge, with orchids of all varieties, and all sorts of tropical plants. It's closed on Mondays, but the gardens are always open. There's something for every season.

Of course, there's always a downside to spring in Georgia--lots of folks are allergic to the pollen. We are not. Pine pollen, however, is a whole different ball game. After a two-hour walk, this car in the parking lot showed the effects. Still, nature is just to dressed up for us  to stay inside!

"The Dream," five years on

Ted. Judy and I published our first blog post five years ago today. Titled “The Dream,” we spelled out our vision for our future. You can still find it in the archives on the home page of our blog. We think this is a good time to reflect back and look ahead. I’ll let Judy start. 

Judy. Just before we left on our amazing new life, a friend asked if we thought that we were going on a mission trip. No. A mission trip was not our plan. Our plan was to see the world, try to understand other cultures, and appreciate God’s world. God, of course, had other plans. So, as we return to our wanderings, with the uncertainty of what will happen with Covid-19, I want to review what God has done for us—so far. We have been blessed to meet people of all faiths, and have been welcomed and blessed by them. We’ve worshipped in churches in Malaysia, South Africa, Chile, Mexico, France, Spain, and more. In South Africa one Sunday we visited a Dutch Reformed church where the service was conducted in Afrikaans. We didn’t understand a word of it, but it was clear the Holy Spirit was alive and well there. We’ve been to Bible study in both conservative and liberal churches and learned from each. Ted started a men’s Bible study on a ship as we returned home in 2018. Our Muslim friends have wrapped their arms around us, fed us, offered suggestions, and made sure we got to our plane on time with homemade cookies in hand. We even have a Malaysian “grandson”—Rina says with a smile that we are his “white grandparents”! We’ve had the joy and privilege of painting rooms in girls’ homes in Chile, in helping with a church bazaar in the Canary Islands, of feeding the homeless and working poor in Texas, of welcoming singers from other countries to a choral festival in Montana, of teaching English to children in small villages in Mexico. We’ve cooked and waited tables for a young man starting a new restaurant in Mexico. We’ve spoken several times with English students in Mexico and Poland to help them practice. I’ve listened to women cry as they stumble through the next phases of their lives, and to men cry as their wives left them for a “more fun life”. And God has given us more: strangers who quickly become friends and offer us their homes or food or suggestions, friends and relatives who meet us in various places around the world, hikes in unbelievably beautiful parts of the world, the opportunity to try new foods and ideas. We’ve seen flamenco in a tiny bar in Spain, tango in the streets of Buenos Aires, eaten cheeses in France and Poland that we can’t even get here, seen Ladysmith Black Mombasa in a music festival in the Canary Islands. And we’ve learned that life is much more complicated than we ever thought, and that neither we, nor our American way of life know the answer for everyone. We’ve met up with friends and family in Hungary, Poland, Croatia, and Morocco, not to mention Canada and Great Britain. In Germany, our grandson listened to Syrian refugees sponsored by a dear friend and former student of mine, and to long-time friends who survived the transition from East Germany to a United Germany; two groups in search of freedom, and willing to pay the price. Quite a lesson. We’ve found that we need little to live on and have no problem with change. We’ve yet to miss a flight, lose luggage, or get so lost we can’t find our way. Ted had his old cell phone stolen in Chile (he was going to buy another when we got home anyway), and I took a spill on a bicycle that fortunately, didn’t break bones, but unfortunately gave me an ugly bruise down my leg and a swollen knee that took weeks to heal. We are careful, and we are unafraid. We trust God. When He stops opening doors, we’ll know it’s time. At a Bible study in France a woman asked me, “Do you REALLY think God wants you to travel around all the time like that?” I turned to the woman who brought me to that study—the friend of a missionary former student of mine (God just keeps opening doors)—we both laughed, and Apryl said, “Yeah, I think God does.” So do I. 

Vancouver, 2017 with Inshuk - Inuit symbol for "You are in the right place"

Ted. We have both received our two doses of the covid vaccination and have promptly made plans to renew our nomadic lifestyle. For starters, we will spend the month of April in Costa Rica. Why? It is one of the few countries that still permits Americans to visit. On our return, we will take a road trip from Georgia to Pennsylvania to visit friends and family, hike and to explore an area we do not know very well. The second half of this year is pretty murky. We have booked a flight to London in August in the hope we’ll be allowed admittance but are making no specific plans as yet. Whatever life has in store for us, though, we trust that we will continue to meet wonderful folks who will push us and pull us along our journey.

Quote du Jour

"I see my path, but I don't know where it leads. Not knowing where I'm going is what inspires me to travel it"

- Rosalía de Castro

In Praise of Zoom

and FaceTime, and Google Meet, and WhatsApp video, etc. 

Judy. I've heard a lot in the past few weeks about Zoom fatigue. I guess I understand where that's coming from--so many have to attend Zoom meetings for work, and, of course, many teachers and kids have to deal with it every day. Our daughter Leslie teaches guitar in high school via Zoom. How she does that I don't know, but it seems to work. Our 8-year old grandson Caed attends second grade in the same way, and it's tough on him. In fact, he spends most afternoons at our house rather than his so that he's not distracted by his dog, or Legos, or the refrigerator.

 For me, though, it's a lifesaver. Now that we're coming close to a year of social distancing, it's wearing on me not to see my friends or even family. The technology has become precious to me. Our son Stefan's little boys, Oliver and Callum, attend school, so, as older adults, we're not comfortable hugging them or staying at their house, and virtual visits keep our spirits and hopes up. 

I attend a Zoom Bible Study from Hawaii every Monday afternoon, and a live yoga class on Wednesday and Saturday evenings. The discussions with my Hawaiian (and Floridian and North Carolinian) friends is a joy, and Pat can correct my moves in the yoga class, unlike the YouTube classes.  A couple of weeks ago we had a high school reunion, our third this year, via Zoom, and folks from all over the country could attend.

In the last few weeks, though, friends from all over the world have been checking in. We've had cocktails with Chuck and Frieda in Georgia, and with Margo and Rod in Port Elizabeth, South Africa.  We caught up with Mikaela in Stockholm and discussed cooking during the pandemic with Ben in Prague. And we had a great visit with our nephew Chris and his wife Dilyana, as well as with their boys Nicky and Michael who live in Frankfurt. Sam, a delightful woman I befriended in Marrakesh, periodically video calls me on WhatsApp, and my niece Becky in Baltimore often calls when she sees I'm on Facebook.

After the election, a group of my former students invited me to join them in a Zoom call--first time we've all gotten together since the '90's--and we reveled in how much we have to discuss, and how much we enjoyed our talk. They constantly inspire me.

Two of my friends from high school have remained a part of my life, and, while I've spoken over the year with each individually, we got the idea to have a Zoom gathering, which we now do on alternate Fridays. It's a time I look forward to and relish.

In less than a week, Ted and I are scheduled to get our first of the two covid vaccine shots. We eagerly began planning travel again, only to find that, at least for now, many European countries are still closed to us, and those that aren't have closed cafes, restaurants, museums, and all the things we enjoy doing. I admit it, it was a bit of a blow. Of course, things can change by the time we get our second dose in March. We hope so. Meanwhile, at least we can visit with our friends.

Robins

 Judy.  It's the middle of January, cold by Georgia standards, but today the sky is a beautiful clear blue. Covid-19 is raging, although the vaccine is bringing hope. The country is in an uproar, and our hope is the Inauguration will bring a calming of emotions.

And our yard is full of robins.

At first we didn't know what to make of this. One morning we looked out the window and spotted dozens of robins in the yard and at the birdbath--something we'd never seen before. Cedric, our resident robin, was lost in the crowd. And what the heck were dozens doing here, mostly getting along and sharing the birdbath and bugs in the yard. It's not mating season. And they don't appear interested in leaving. They're usually spotted in ones or twos, at least in our experience. So Ted looked it up.

Turns out that in the winter flocks of robins sometimes gather together to roost at night. According to Wikipedia, they split up during the daytime, but not these guys. They're busy feeding and bathing and chirping. Sometimes a tussle breaks out, but mostly they seem to get along.

As harbingers of springtime, robins have always brought hope, but spring is two months away. In these crazy, frustrating times, though, our flock has brought hope and joy and and the belief that we, too, can get along with each other, get our vaccines, and do our own migrating.