I deserve a magical summer.
Summers 2010 and ’11 really “Hoovered” (or, more expensively, “Orecked” or “Dysoned”).
Both summers I spent every minute in the hospital, or rehab, or recovering from cataract or kidney surgeries. Yecchhhh!
I’ve enjoyed magic summers before. Usually, nature signals that something rare and exceptional is headed our way.
In 1968, my friend Sharon and I cruised up Route 56 at
8 p.m. on Good Friday. The bank thermometer reported 68 degrees. 68 on an early April night, windows down, summer clothes … magic!
The first time I ever had to cut grass before Daylight Saving Time was in 1987.
That year, we delighted in another “non-winter,” much like the one we just had.
Abundant grass and flowers foretold a hot, humid summer full of fun and adventure, and for me, good fortune.
Let me confess … to the “mind-bogglement” of my friends, I love heat and humidity. I suspect I was a lizard in another life.
So here we are, summer 2012, and Mother Nature is frantically flagging me … a summer of wonder and enchantment has arrived. An ultra-mild winter brought a super-early spring. My crocuses cautiously peeped out in March. The lilacs bloomed in April.
I don’t ever recall such lush foliage, brilliant flowers and seemingly everything flourishing.
Don’t believe me? Drive up (or down) Floyd Street in Southmont. It’ll leave you breathless!
Birds seem more abundant, too, and more vocal. Perhaps they have more to sing about.
That can wear thin, though.
On Sunday, one monotone bird droned his single note for nearly three hours. It’s a wonder he didn’t turn blue and fall off his perch.
Lightning bugs have thrived, too. I’ve seen 75-watt lightning bugs with the wingspans of commuter planes frolicking in my yard. I love it!
To add to the revelry, thus far summer has been almost “skunk-less” (maybe the lightning bugs ate them). I haven’t detected one nasty sniff.
My gladiolus (apparently a skunk delicacy) sighed in relief.
I suspect wood nymphs driving a Greyhound bus transported the little stinkers to a mountaintop somewhere to give us homeowners a rest.
Alas, as I write this, skunk orgies are probably producing hordes of “skunklets” to invade us next summer!
I understand the bat population has swollen, too. Many folks are having problems with these “nonrenters” moving in.
I deserve a magical summer.
- Michele Bender
MICHELE BENDER | Old enough to know better
Sing along …
“Happy Birthday once more, I just turned sixty-four.”
The beat goes on
In 1957, my stage-struck mom took my friend Jere and me to see the movie “South Pacific.” It featured awesome scenery, colorful costumes, catchy show tunes and unforgettable characters. It rolled the best of stage and cinema into one package. We were hooked!
MICHELE BENDER | Springing into action for Easter
People expect certain routines at specific holidays.
They count on fireworks and sparklers on July 4.
Easter demands a basket of colorful eggs and candy.
MICHELE M. BENDER | Dream a shorter dream
Denise stopped by and caught me napping. “How can you sleep with that bright light on?” she asked.
MICHELE M. BENDER | Wedding wackiness
February brings bridal fairs. Bargain-hunting grooms prowl Valentine ring sales, while brides-to-be lose all touch with reality.
MICHELE BENDER | It was hit or miss
Did you know they still crown a “Miss America” every year?
MICHELE BENDER | Cat-titude creates cat-tastrophes
I often receive feedback from readers. In 2011, my friend Rick said he read my Christmas column to his kids, and they were concerned about the fate of Miss Kitty.
MICHELE M. BENDER | Every elf for himself
I’ve never been much of a shopper, even at Christmas. I’m certainly not one who’d stand in an icy, dark parking lot at 4 a.m. with some bunch of wingnuts waiting to purchase a Cabbage Patch doll.
MICHELE BENDER | It’s hard to zest a plastic lemon
At Thanksgiving, we count our blessings and express gratitude. You readers can be thankful that I’ve never invited you to dinner.
Some folks have eaten at my house and gone on to live healthy, normal lives. Others, however, tell frightening tales of grisly inedibility. Savory and usually recognizable holiday dishes have emerged looking like weasel intestines and tasting worse.
MICHELE BENDER | Let’s see a big smile
I confess! I’m a “floss-aholic.” I buy flosser pics (little plastic pics with floss stretched on one end) and keep them in the drawer beside me. I floss after eating anything.
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- MICHELE BENDER | Old enough to know better