matching tracksuits

fun in threes, sometimes fours

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Saturday of Work

In a lot of ways, today seemed like a typical May Saturday. Coffee, eggs, a chat with Babcia. The morning sun made the backyard glow. It all appeared typical.

But the weather -- it's Polish summer here. Today I don't know that we ever broke into the sixties, and if we did, it was just barely. Add to it the chance of afternoon rain, and given one of my major chores of the day, the day scheduled itself. Morning work had to be the mowing.

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As I was cutting the edges before transitioning to the long, almost hypnotic straight lines, a bit of motion in the deep grass caught my eye: a fledgling was hunkered down in a patch of tall grass. I cycled back and forth, nearing the bird, and I noticed that mother was near, flying in when I was away, taking off again as I approached. I knew I'd have to move the bird, and I worried a bit about how that might impact the situation. Since I always wear gloves when mowing, thanks to eczema, I didn't fear the old thought of transferring my scent to the bird and somehow making its mother reject it. I'm not even sure if that happens. I was just wondering whether the mother would find it if I moved it too far.

First I it near one of the round planters in the yard, but I knew I'd have to move it again when I neared the end of mowing. The second time, I moved it over to the corner of the house, to a patch of grass that I never manage to cut because I don't have a working weed wacker. Each time, mother bird had no problem finding the baby.

Yet I knew it was doomed. The second time I relocated the baby, it fluttered out of my glove and plopped straight down: no chance of it flying back to its nest. And with two cats in the yard, I knew it was only a matter of time before one of them made a natural discovery. "Wouldn't it just be better to put it out of it's future misery?" I wondered. Yet how could I do it? I could think of no quick and painless, and besides, who was I to say that it didn't stand a chance of survival.

Thankfully, the Girl was away at an amusement park with her school chorus. Had she been there, I would have had to fend her off and deal with her eventual frustrated sadness when I would have tried to convince her that, no, we couldn't take it into the house and try to raise it ourselves. That would be a sure death sentence.

When I walked back to empty the grass catcher, though, I saw that the chick had disappeared. Where it had gone remained a mystery for the rest of the day. Mother bird still fluttered around here and there, but I couldn't figure out where the bird was.

And as I type this, I find myself wondering if mother bird has nestled up to the chick for the night to protect it and comfort it. And I'm glad I'm not a bird parent facing that impossible situation.

Still More Playing

So I've gone all in -- Lightroom all the way. I've been importing photos all evening, and in the process, I've learned a thing or two.

First, the number of photos was actually a little surprising. When it was all said and done, over seventy thousand photos over a span of eighteen years, with most of them being over the last thirteen years or so.

Second, the spread: most years, I was taking around three to four thousand pictures. In 2013, the number jumped up six thousand pictures. In 2014, it was just under ten thousand. And in 2015, I topped ten thousand pictures. Not sure why that change happened, but it's stayed roughly in that range since then. In 2017, I've taken almost three and a half thousand pictures, so it seems to be down this year. Of course, we're going to Poland this summer, so it will likely shoot back up.

Of course Lightroom is not just a photo organization tool, and so I've spent the evening playing with some of the old photos I imported.

Sometimes, I do very little, like al ittle darkening of spots.

Before

After

Sometimes, I like to try to give it an edgy feel.

Before

After

And every now and then, it's been fun just to push everything to its limits: pump up the colors, the contrast, the clarity -- everything.

Before

After

More Playing

I put it off as long as possible — that’s how I explain it to myself. But push came to shove, and I finally began playing with Lightroom. What a tool.

Before

After

I especially like the highlights on the trees to the left. I think I went a bit overboard with them, but the idea is good.

Tuesday Evening

More honeysuckle.

More Polish lessons.

Re-processing

Been playing with a few older photos in Lightroom.

Split Sunday

Today is the last Sunday of the month, which means Polish Mass. It’s not much of a Polish Mass as much as it’s an English Mass with responses in Polish. Finding a replacement Polish priest is not all that easy, it seems. Yet L’s recent involvement in the children’s choir has energized and interested her: she doesn’t want to give it up. So we went to Mass in the morning, the three of us, and K went in the afternoon. Kind of like we used to do when one of us was sick: one stays home with the kid then goes to Mass later in the day.

It’s been a real benefit to the Girl, children’s choir. It keeps her focused in Mass for thing. It’s hard to fidget about when you have to pay attention and be ready to sing. It’s also helped her make new friends with girls who seem to have their heads looking forward and their priorities straight. It’s a constant worry we have: what kind of friends is she making at school? What kinds of behaviors are being modeled at school? We’ve met her best friends, of course, but she comes into contact with so many other children that it would be impossible to keep up. And so we’re happy to have some more positive influences in her life.

After lunch, it’s the same old Sunday tradition: exploring. The Boy and I headed to the other side of the creek to the neglected, overgrown portion of the lot of the all-but-abandoned house. The owner of the house died in his backyard a few years ago — we heard the cries of anguish in our yard when they discovered him — and I guess they moved his wife into assisted care or something. At any rate, someone comes and mows the yard a few times a summer, but the long triangular off-shoot of the lot has been completely neglected. There is now a stand of Sweetgum trees there that just makes me shudder.

But we were after something else, something sweeter.

Honeysuckle. When I was a kid, finding a fine of honeysuckle was a rare and wonderful treat. Our neighborhood didn’t have any wild areas, and I don’t think many people cultivate honeysuckle.

Later, in the early evening, E and I went back down to have another snack. The Girl joined us, bringing a small bowl to bring back some blossoms to enjoy during the movie.

I love the simplicity of that.

Working Saturday

So much to do on a Saturday. Backyard to mow, soil to "till" by hand with a shovel and rake,

grass to plant, floors to clean, lunch to prepare, flowers to plant,

wood to cut, shopping to complete, wings to season, cabbage to prepare,

fires to build, dinner to cook, children to clean, movie to watch, wine to drink,

photos to process, and post to write.

Last Friday in April

Bribery…

Random Fidget

The Girl apparently is anxious to get one -- they're all the rage at her school. Everyone's got one, and they're so fun.

It's the same at our school -- the now-ubiquitous fidget spinner. They're marketed as aids for kids with attention issues and hyperactivity issues. Supposedly they'll help these kids to focus by giving them a little outlet for their hyperactivity.

What ends up happening, though, is that the kids who have them become fixated on them. They're just another in a long line of distractions that keep them from staying focused for more than a few moments. The kid in the front row who can't keep his eyes on his work for more than two seconds now has to contend with this little gadget in his hand and, when he starts sharing it, who's got it and when he can get it back.

A similar trend (in our school anyway) is the fight with the eternally-in earbuds.

"Take the earbuds out," I tell a student.

"You tell me that every day," he says.

Not only that, but I've referred the matter to the administrator a couple of times and he's sat in ISS (probably with his earbuds in ) -- but every day, there they are again.

What do these to things have in common? Simple: they're symptoms of the current generation's need to be constantly stimulated with something.

L is starting to develop those symptoms as well. She loves to have something playing on her little CD player at all times. She wants to read with it on, do homework with it on, color with it own, play on her tablet with it on. However, what she's playing on it is somewhat different than what the kids walking down our hallways have blaring into their heads. (How much rap can you take before you go insane? How much misogynistic, materialistic machismo can you listen to before you realize how empty it is?) No, no music for the Girl: she's always listening to a recorded book.