Share a story about someone who had a positive impact on your life.
Tiny Baby and Mommy
Once upon a time, in a land about thirty miles away from where your author sits at this very moment, a tiny baby was born. She was born five weeks early because her mother chased around a cat with a baby chicken in its mouth and as a result, broke her waters. The baby’s father was away at sea, working hard as a ship’s captain and unable to return in time for the imminent premature birth of the tiny baby.
The tiny baby’s mother had to go to the hospital because the tiny baby insisted on being born, regardless of where her daddy was. The tiny baby didn’t care about that, she was ready to enter the world of the oxygen breathers. The tiny baby’s big sister took their mother to the hospital and waited in the father’s waiting room with a room full of expectant dads (this is how it was back in the day – dads waited in a room). After some time, the tiny baby was born. The tiny baby’s mother and big sister rejoiced.
The tiny baby grew as babies do, and eventually became a grown-up. Many people helped the tiny baby along the way, but there were only two at the start of the tiny baby’s life as an oxygen breather: her mommy and her big sister.
Hello everyone, each day I draw closer to starting my new job. It has become evident to me that I won’t have the time to write very much or very often, and even leading up to starting my new job, I don’t have very much time to devote to the process.
It’s starting to get warm and nice outside and as you know, I like to be outside with the plants. It’s staying light later and the draw to be outside is considerably greater than when it gets dark earlier.
All of this to say that I’m taking a mini-hiatus from blogging. I’ll be training on my new job for months, not just for a few weeks. I also want to get into a routine of working out again, because nothing helps the mind more than moving the body.
There are still a lot of things that I need to do this week in my home office and around my house that I haven’t done, and I need to put down the phone and the laptop and do them.
I’m not going away forever, and I may still post, but I am not putting any pressure on myself. It’s a time of transition and it has been since I lost my job in March. There have been numerous large changes, not just that one, which has equated to me not being around very much.
I wrote about William last fall. He has been doing his thing all winter, and he withstood a tornado. Although he did shed a few limbs, he seems unscathed overall.
This week William has decided to participate in the pollination of the entire neighborhood. The winds are a bit gusty, so William is trying to populate everything, basically. My next-door neighbor asked me today what kind of tree he is. I could tell she was annoyed by all of his spring activities – i.e. dropping seed pods. I told her he is a Willow Oak and many years ago, my mother thought her beloved Birch trees were dropping these pods, so she had them all cut down. It turns out, William was dropping the pods. My mother was upset about that for many years. She didn’t like William. William is a big boy, it would take a crane and many thousands of dollars to remove him. So William stays, and the bigger he gets, the more seeds drop. Everywhere. You can’t go outside without getting rained on by seed pods these days. They clog rain gutters, they form piles of tumbleweed looking things, and they get under your wiper blades. I think birds use them for their nests, though. But they can’t take a bath in the birdbath because it’s filled with William’s pods.
I was out front fussing with the clematis this morning when two (other) neighbors walked past and talked amongst themselves about these pods being everywhere. I didn’t say a word, except a good morning when the greeting was offered to me. I kept my eyes down and focused on my task. When I was done, I walked in my house and shook my hair. Twelve seed pods fell out. Thanks, William.
William’s seed podsThe man himself. If you look closely, you might be able to see him dropping seed pods like it’s a game – silly William
Oh – one more thing: for the past several years, there has been a toad living in my backyard. When I had all the English ivy eradicated last fall, I was worried that the toad might have been adversely affected. I am happy to report that Toady McToaderson is back and apparently in fine health. Today is the first day I have heard him singing his dulcet sounds to the lady toads. Welcome back, Toady.
Toady McToaderson, 2021, seen here next to ERJ II. He makes his home in this region, and he does *not* like his photo taken
It’s about 90° here now, which is unusual for April and early May. Everything is hot, including humans, animals and tiny creatures. I was on my usual excursion to my neighbor’s mailbox to retrieve her mail, and when I opened the mailbox, a bumblebee was inside. It seemed disoriented and probably was quite warm having been in a hot metal box with no escape. I had just gotten my own mail, so I had torn up junk mail in my hands which came in handy – no pun intended.
My neighbor had a package in her mailbox, but nothing else, so I ignored that for a moment and used the scraps of paper that I had just torn up to escort the bumblebee out of the mailbox. It was essentially a real Lyft. The bee climbed on and I carried it in front of me like a golden child, which bumblebees truly are. I tried to find flowers, but much of them are gone, and the new batch haven’t bloomed yet. I tried a Dianthus, but as soon as I perched him or her on there, I could see there was no pollen. I apologized and eventually convinced the bee that I would find a more suitable flower. We traveled in the same way (golden child real Lyft transport system) toward the backyard where I put the bee on some wild violet flowers. It seemed there was some pollen in these, but the bee was so heavy, the flower took a slow drop to the ground. I frowned. The bee was determined and more lively at this point, so after two attempts at the wild violet flowers, I convinced he or she to get back on the paper and I would find a flower. I walked over to the azaleas, but immediately knew there was no pollen. I was out of ideas. In that moment, the bee buzzed away – took flight and was completely recovered. Buzzy was no more silent bee. Then the bee found an appropriate weed and proceeded to feed. If you’ve been here a while, you know that I chase bumblebees for photo ops. I thought maybe the bee would let me get a quick snap in, but no. But that is ok. Their lifespan is short, after all, and they have to capture the pollen. After the bee buzzed away, I went back to my neighbor’s house, got her mail out of her mailbox and put it on her stoop.
I’ve been on insect saving duty the past three days – one of the hazards/joys (however you want to look at it) of spring. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Although I do have many favorite quotes from Zora Neale Hurston, I’m going to try to follow the rules for this prompt. I know, you’re probably thinking, “Why start now?” It’s because I have a favorite quote that I really don’t think of that often but for this prompt, I thought of it.
Years ago, I bought this book:
Filled with requited and unrequited varieties
I don’t recall why I purchased the book, but if I had to venture a guess, it would be because the book is pink, has a heart on it (your girl is obsessed with hearts and collects them – not anatomical hearts, dear reader), and it also has a pink bookmark built right in.
The book contains different chapters, which delve into the many different types of love – requited, unrequited, grief, love for pets, etc. I’m not much of a romantic, but I am sentimental. So I tend towards more eccentric quotes about not just love, but everything.
I nudged this book off my shelf for this prompt and opened it up to the page with the pink bookmark. I never take this bookmark out of this page because this is my favorite quote in the whole book, and that’s not an easy feat to accomplish.
Without further adieu, Let me introduce you to my favorite quote:
When I read this the first time, I wasn’t quite sure how to interpret it. Then I realized there were many ways to interpret it. In fact, I have a new interpretation as I write this.
What is a superstition? (We all know, because we all remember the daily prompt from not that long ago.) Examples of superstitions include walking under a ladder is considered bad luck, opening an umbrella in the house is bad luck, breaking a mirror will give you seven years of bad luck, black cats are bad luck, knocking on wood so whatever you’ve just said comes true or stays safe (depends on the situation), and many more. Superstitions are misunderstood, mysterious, used as protection. In my mind, I always think about superstitions as hovering in the air in a cloud. Superstitions are not part of reality, but they are still given deference and respect. They are very real to the person who believes.
Having said that, I believe Monsieur Baudelaire is speaking here of unrequited love, a love that to him is so precious, he keeps it in the clouds just out of reach. The image of his love stays in his mind, and in his heart is where the cherishing blooms, but his love is so much more than that. He seems to be under a spell. To say you are more than an image I dream about and cherish, you are my superstition, means to me, that you are the very thing that I believe in, the idea of which makes no sense, but I love you more than I could ever love anyone else. And yet, there is a mystery about you. Are you bad for me? If my love were requited, would it be a mistake? Would it ruin everything? Superstition has to stay in the clouds, just out of reach, and so does the love. Dream of it, cherish it, hold it in the highest regard. Be also aware of its mystery and respect the unknowingness of it.
Monsieur Baudelaire was a controversial poet in Paris in the 19th century. He was part of the Decadent era. Knowing a bit about poets myself, I’ve been thinking: is the superstition the muse? Oui.
The physicality combined with the stress relieving exertion usually leads to a good night’s sleep. Whether I am up to my elbows in dirt sowing seeds, planting plants, putting cages around my perennials, or digging up old bricks from a long ago fire pit, working outside is not only beneficial exercise, but it is a sort of meditative state for me. I don’t have to think about what I’m doing, so my mind can wander. Using my strength and feeling the ground underneath helps to center me when I am feeling shaky. Sweating and feeling the ache in my muscles at the end of the day means that I got a lot done, even though sometimes it doesn’t look like it.
I dug up all these bricks from the other side of my yard and piled them up here. I’m considering rebuilding a fire pit, but for now the accomplishment of digging up and stacking the bricks is enough.Very close to where I found the old bricks I found this cement slab. I hope it was part of the former fire pit and not a pet cemetery situation. To be determined…
On March 4 of this year, my team got an email that we were to convene in less than 24 hours for a mandatory meeting. CCed on this meeting demand were HR and Administration. From experience, knowing others who have had similar type of meetings, we all knew this meant trouble on the job front, and likely we were all going to lose our jobs in less than 24 hours.
On March 5, we attended the mandatory meeting (I attended via Teams) and I watched as refreshments were offered to some of my teammates in person. I tried to hide my eye rolls as my camera was on. The vice president of our department asked us why we thought we were there in a very chipper tone, unfitting for the occasion. One member of my team spoke up and said she thought we were there because our jobs were being outsourced. The VP replied, “Yes, that’s it,” as if she had given the correct answer and was going to win a fabulous prize.
I sat there stunned. In the room with the VP was a representative from human resources, and people from the outsourcing company that were going to take over our department. They were there to give a talk about how great it would be to transition to working for their company. By offering us jobs of a comparable type, paying unemployment and severance could be avoided. Some of us chose not to take this road. I wasn’t one of those people. I needed to go from one job directly to another with no gaps in pay and no gaps in health insurance. Many of you here know that I have chronic migraine and have to take very expensive migraine medication. To go without insurance would bankrupt me.
The next few days I frantically contacted the talent recruiter at the agency that would be replacing us to arrange an interview, and within days I was hired at the company. I was going to start April 15. I was less than thrilled. In fact, I was cried every day. I felt like I was in a stranglehold, my self-esteem took a dip, and I felt a sense of betrayal from an employer I had been with for 13 1/2 years. We were thrown away like trash, and stepped on as we landed on the ground.
But time marches on no matter what we do or how much we cry. April 12 would be our last day at our former employer, a place where I was born, where my mother had several operations and where my father died in the operating room. But that tiny community hospital where all of these major life events occurred has been acquired by a conglomerate health system bent on saving money, and if you happen to have your life destroyed in the process? Oh, well.
Two of my colleagues and I went through the process of getting hired by the outsourcing company without any time to grieve our loss, which is much like a divorce if you think about it. Party A(sshole) decides they don’t want to be with you anymore, and you have no say in it. They’re not dead, they’re still there, so it’s not like experiencing a death. It’s a betrayal, It’s demeaning and demoralizing – professionally and personally. The notion of being jobless with only one way to acquire one quickly removes your autonomy and takes away your choices.
And so it went. My two colleagues and I started working for the outsourcing company April 15. That first week was a nightmare. I cried the entire day Monday and Tuesday. Meeting upon meeting, thrown into a new atmosphere, and a whole new way of doing a job that we all knew how to do for many years was yet another punch in the stomach. We all made it through the first week, but during that first week I hustled to find a new job, determined that I would not be there to start week three. The first two weeks were going to be onboarding, week three would start to get into the nitty-gritty about taking over the cases of our former employer. The cases we just worked on the week before would now become ours again at a different company. We would have to look at and work on those cases again. I would rather burn my hands off.
I made multiple contacts the first week. I stayed up late sending resumes, talking to talent acquisition specialists (recruiters), doing whatever I could to escape the circumstance I was in. Towards the end of the first week an opportunity opened up. I interviewed with them and took a skills assessment over the weekend. I performed very well on the assessment, which boosted my work self-esteem a bit. I asked if my coworkers who came with me from the healthcare system were interested in interviewing at this opportunity. One of my coworkers said that she was. She interviewed and was offered a position early this week. The other coworker received an offer from another company. I received a job offer early this week, and I accepted.
We worked as team for many years at the healthcare system, and we came in as our own little team to the outsourcing agency. The agency did nothing wrong, they are just collateral damage – as are we – in what has been the most heinous, egregious treatment I have ever experienced from an employer in my life. The three of us decided we would stick it out this week and then Friday – today – we would turn in our resignations to the outsourcing agency. We came in as part of our fractured, larger team, and we left as a team. 
In my resignation letter, I mentioned that everyone at the outsourcing agency was kind and gracious during this very difficult time in my life, personally and professionally. I thanked them for giving me the opportunity. The healthcare system that threw us away took away my autonomy and my ability to make choices for myself. But with just two weeks, I hustled my ass off to find a job that was by my choosing. By accepting another position outside of their agency, I regain my autonomy. I am nowhere near being healed from this – this will take months if not years to recover from, but I have made my own choice and I have taken a step towards reclaiming my self-esteem, because I know I can do the job and I’ve proven it time and time again for 13 1/2 years.
To the healthcare system that dumped me and my coworkers like trash, I say to you this: karma never forgets a name or an address.
Now meet ERJ. First I should tell you about ER. ER was my beloved first Eastern Redbud. Eastern Redbuds are my favorite tree because the flowers emerge from the bark. They come in shades of purple and pink, and also white. They bloom in mid April. They are a native species to the United States, and if you pay attention, you’ll see them everywhere. 
ER was just a wee babe in 2013-ish, when he arrived to my yard. I estimate he was about four years old, because he was flowering, and it takes about four years for the tree to become old enough to flower. ER was planted out front for all to see. Each spring I would wait for the buds to appear, then the flowers to emerge, followed shortly – or simultaneously if the weather is especially warm – by the heart-shaped leaves.
ER did well for a few years, but then he took a turn for the worse. He wasn’t very old, but he started to develop problems in his bark. His location in the yard was facing southeast, and he didn’t have much protection from southern storms and brutal Nor’easters. It turns out Eastern Redbuds are a little bit of a delicate tree and probably should have more shelter than was provided to ER. ER suffered mortal wounds shortly after his diagnosis and was cut down. I was devastated to lose this tree, but when I noticed the tree was sick, I gathered the pods that formed on the tree, which happens in autumn. Inside the pods are little seeds that disperse as the pods fall on the ground. These pods contain many seeds and there are many, many pods. When the pod breaks open, the seeds are naturally sown, and if the conditions are right, a new tree forms. This is why you’ll see groups of Eastern Redbuds growing in areas where there is not much development and trees can be left to be, well, trees.
Back to when I was gathering the pods. I read up on how to gather the pods, prepare the seeds and sow them. I had little pots with soil, and after I prepared the seeds by scraping off the outer hard layer and doing something with hot water (I can’t remember right now), I planted them. I covered them with plastic wrap and put them in a sunny window. I waited.
And waited.
I kept waiting.
And nothing happened.
It turns out it is difficult to cultivate Eastern Redbuds. I didn’t get any trees from my attempts. ER was cut down and I assumed that in a few years I would buy another tree and plant it elsewhere, where it was safer.
In late spring of 2020, there were some weeds growing in the front flower bed and grass was growing where ER used to be. One day, I happened to be looking around in the weeds and grass and noticed a tiny heart-shaped plant. I immediately pulled all the grass away from this little guy and studied it further. Sure enough, it was an Eastern Redbud baby. Excited, I went in the house to gather supplies so that I could MacGyver a little cage for the baby. While I was doing that, I noticed another one very close to the first baby. I prepared a little nursery for that one as well. And then I decided I’d better check the whole yard even though the pods don’t disperse that far. To my surprise, there was a larger baby very close to the porch, which is about 10 to 12 feet away from where the original tree had been. This was the largest tree out of the three I found. I prepared the nurseries for all of them and tried to mark them very well so the landscaper wouldn’t weed-whack them. Unfortunately, what I was trying to protect from happening did happen – the baby near the porch got weed-whacked. I was devastated. Did he not see the entire contraption around the tree? The pink tape? Nothing?! With hands on hips, I stomped immediately over to the departing landscaping guy and told him what he did to my tree. This was still Covid lockdown time, and one of the positive distractions I had during this time was this baby tree. He was apologetic, but I was still upset. My beloved ER had come back in the form of ER Junior, II and III. And now the largest of them gets weed-whacked. Fast-forward a couple months. I have finally calmed down, and they’re all still growing well – although one of them was missing a limb.
A few months later, the sewer line collapsed. None of the trees were affected, thank goodness, but the ground had to be dug up to replace the sewer line and once that happened, rain water did not drain properly and pooled in the front yard.
In the spring of 2021, I needed to have the front yard graded due to the water pooling issue. I had to move two of the babies in order to save their lives. My electrician was recruited for the job. He arrived in the pouring rain, and I stood beside him with an umbrella, as foreman of the project, showing him each tree and telling him where to plant them in the backyard. After much mud, II and III were successfully moved. ERJ was not in danger, so I left him where he was.
The yard was graded and landscaped. ERJ could be seen properly, and it was obvious that he had been naturally “planted” (I had nothing to do with it) in a perfect spot. Not too close to the house, but not so far away that he would be in danger from the elements.
In 2022, we had a bout of very hot weather with no rain and ERJ started to lose his leaves. I watered him every day, but still the leaves fell off. I thought the tree was dying, but I watched him when he went dormant in the winter. I pushed on his branches to see if they would snap and they didn’t. That means the tree is not dead. In the spring of 2023, he started to grow leaves and I knew that he was OK, though he didn’t have any buds formed on his bark. Recall from above it takes years for Redbuds to mature enough to form the buds. ERJ grew very tall last year. I encouraged him by talking to him and letting him know that he was a very tall young man and I appreciated his heart-shaped leaves that were very healthy. I pruned the tree and shooed away birds who were too fat to perch on his skinny branches. I wondered if ERJ would develop buds for the spring of 2024. I kept checking him all winter, and I couldn’t tell, but I thought maybe…
By March, I could see little nubs growing from the bark. I know what leaves look like when they are starting to form, and this wasn’t that. I think I did a dance on the front yard. No, I’m sure that I did. Certain that flower buds were forming on ERJ, my miracle Eastern Redbud that appeared years after the parent tree died, I began to document via photographs the bud formation. Without further ado, let me introduce you first to ER, then ER Junior.
(And what about the other two trees, you ask? One of them was injured when a nearby tree branch fell on him, but he is slowly recovering and is growing tall. The other one is very small but still alive. They don’t like to be moved after one re-planting, so I’m going to leave him there and see if he might want to be an Eastern Redbud bush rather than a tree.)
ERERERJ, early MarchERJ late MarchERJ early AprilERJ last weekERJ a few days agoERJ yesterday. His blooms are fully out, and his leaves are coming in nicely. Do you see how they are heart-shaped? 🩷
“It's Amy,” I said. 