Raspberry Reverie

The raspberry bushes in the backyard are currently producing enough that I have had two pickings which were not quite enough for a pie and which I used on ice cream and cereal, and one picking that was enough for a pie which I am now enjoying.  There are more coming too.

So here are some raspberry memories….

In the mid 70s we moved into a neighborhood of old Victorian homes.  The new neighbor across the street was reorganizing her yard and dug up a small clump of raspberries which she gave to me.  I planted them along a narrow strip of sidewalk which ran next to the carriage house.  Raspberries propagate by send up shoots from their roots.  Every year before my husband mowed the lawn for the first time, I would dig up the shoots which had popped up in the lawn and plant them back along that narrow sidewalk.  After decades of living there, I had a raspberry patch about 3 feet wide and 15 feet long.

The summer after our son was born, I would put him in the umbrella stroller when I went to work in the garden behind the carriage house.  As we passed the raspberries, I would pick one big juicy berry and put it in his little 8-month old mouth.  When he was about 8 years old, and he and his friends ate most of the berries while playing on the nearby swing-set, I figured it was my own fault, and I couldn’t scold him.  I had taught him the enjoyment of a raspberry….or two or twenty…right off the bush.  There were years when only a literal handful made it into the house.

Yesterday we attended the calling hours for an elderly woman who passed away last weekend.  In the receiving line we met a pretty young woman in her 30s who was a granddaughter of the deceased lady.  We would not have recognized her, but when she was a child, she had lived in the house next to us for a time.  The first thing she said to us was “OH!  I used to eat your raspberries!”  I think she felt guilty about it, but there was no need.  We knew the neighborhood children enjoyed the raspberries!  She also mentioned ice-skating on the rink my husband used to create in the backyard.  I am always pleased when I hear that a young adult has pleasant memories from childhood of being in our home. 

When we moved to our present home 9 years ago, I moved some of the raspberries.  Here I must try to keep the deer from eating them.  Children I don’t mind, but those deer are a pain!  I have covered the bushes with netting, but that makes it difficult for me to pick the berries.

We are moving into a small apartment in two weeks, and this time I can’t take the raspberries along.  The new owners of our home have a little boy and another on the way.  I hope they enjoy the raspberries!

An Awkward Age

I spent most of my adult life thinking that age 14-15 was the most awkward age.  You are no longer a child, but neither are you fully adult.  You don’t know for sure what you want to do with your life, or if you do know, you haven’t figured out how to achieve it.  I felt as though turning 16 brought me out of the “Dark Ages” of my life.

No other stage of my life seemed all that unsettling.  The end of high school years and college were challenging times, but also exciting times full of new experiences.  Early marriage without kids was great.  Having a young family had its dark moments and times of total exhaustion, but also lots of enjoyable times going places and doing things with our children.  I was too busy to bother with a midlife crisis…well, other than having a baby in my 40s, but that allowed me to do lots of fun things over again.   I got a job that allowed for creativity and variety after the kids were launched, and we have enjoyed being empty nesters.  Now we have moved into retirement, and I feel like I have entered another awkward time period.

The 70s are a strange time.  I no longer have my full vigor, but neither am I totally broken down.  My energy level is nowhere near what it once was, but I don’t feel ready to be put out to pasture either.  So how exactly do I make productive use of my remaining years?  For example, the director of the church’s Vacation Bible School announced on Sunday that one key position not filled is the Bible teacher.  Now, I have been telling Bible stories for 60 years.  I started as a teenager.  Truthfully, I started as a kid.  I used to gather neighborhood children and tell them Bible stories and create crafts for them to do, but I was probably 14 or 15 when I was asked for the first time to be a Bible story teacher in an official capacity at a girl’s camp.  Over the years, I have taught every age group at some time in a Sunday School or Vacation Bible School.  My brain still works well enough to do this, but….my voice is weak.  I can’t project it as I once did.  So, I am at an awkward age.  My brain tells me “yes, you can do that” all the time.  My body says, “hey sister, I’m not planning to cooperate.”

I am currently working on a very creative sewing project.  My busy brain is excited, but I can only sit and work on it so long before my back says, “I’m going to keep causing you pain until you change positions.”  ARRRRRRGH!  Have I bitten off more than I can chew?  Or do I just need to “chew” more slowly than I did a decade or two ago?

In about 3 weeks, we are selling our house and moving into a small apartment we will keep in the north, while we begin living primarily at a retirement center in Florida.  I lay awake at night with my head spinning with all the things that need to happen in order to accomplish this move.  Then I am so tired during the day, that I don’t get many of what needs doing done. 

Being in my 70s is nearly as confusing as being a teenager!

 Who knew?????