Monday, September 10, 2012


This morning is glorious.  The air is cool, clean and filled with the bright golden hope of autumn days to come.

The View Out My Back Door

I saw on Waverly Lane the wild flowers my mother-in-law so loved and went and photographed them in her memory.  She had tiny little vases on her kitchen window sill filled with the likes of what I saw growing.

When it comes to beauty, Nature has no equal.

Blues shimmering in the morning sun remind me of 
Husband's mother, who wore the color so well.

Before her death, her son John (who died in 1984) planted this Rose of Sharon Hibiscus at the edge of our yard on Waverly Lane.

A beautiful Reminder of Those Now Gone

Plants are preparing to replace themselves by producing seeds in great quantity, and preparing for the long winter's nap to come.

The Magnolia Tree with Seeds for New Trees

Wednesday, September 5, 2012


My mother once informed me that in conduct with the opposite sex, a girl must be in charge.  As a four-year-old, this didn't mean much to me, but I took the core caution to heart and as time went on my posture toward men became mostly defensive.  Actually Mother had me so frozen with fear that I didn't thaw out until 1960.

It is amusing that for so long women's monthly tornado of female mood swings have been given as evidence of unsuitability for high office.  The hormonal hand on the doomsday button was always the implied fear for the safety of all humankind.

Then it should be mentioned that men are governed by debilitating powerful hormones also, which nature found to be successful in procreation, and they are not anchored to any monthly cycle but are in force all the time.  They render men mostly disconnected from reason and ready to pounce with the speed and good judgement of a mousetrap upon any willing or seemingly willing female, forgetting completely about the doomsday button.
Dance at Bougival by Pierre-Auguste Renoir
And a one, and a two (as Lawrence Welk would say)
She is dancing in her virginal off-white attire trimmed in passionate crimson, 
he appears to be dancing and planning his next move 

This is the source of confusion that men experience when seeking to explore the subject of rape.  Subjective paralysis overcomes their ability to think straight, as they empathize with the male pursuing the irresistible goal of sex:  Was he the victim of deliberate seduction?  Did she say no, but mean yes?  What did she expect dressed in a hot-red bonnet like that?   How dare she dangle her goodies under the nose of so helpless a victim, ever willing to excuse himself from culpability.

As Mother said, they can't help themselves and all other men believe in their victim-hood.  I think they have run that play for too long.  The good old boys want to go back to the 50's when women wore pearls and only dreamed about enjoying safe sex.  They are stepping all over feminine toes and thinking they're entitled to the privilege.  I think they misjudge us as well as our secretions, which will happily shut down the whole reproductive process when we are raped, as Mr. Akin said.

I think it is time to stand up for ourselves as women and tell the males wielding all the power to stop being so hysterical and just lie back and enjoy it.