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 M. BENDER | Whisper sweet nothings in my ear
“Your call is very important to us,” growled the crabby lady at the utility company. “Please wait for the next available representative.”
MICHELE M. BENDER | Sock it to me
MICHELE M. BENDER | What happened to Christmas?
Headaches rarely bother me. I always felt sorry for folks trapped in the Advil/Dristan web.
I woke up at 4 a.m. Dec 17 with a headache that probably registered on a Richter scale. (People in New Zealand experienced aftershocks.)
Judge Judy’s tough in any language
In her relentless effort to “correct and serve,” Judge Judy Scheindlin is “on the road” promoting her new program, “Hot Bench.”
Twelve days of Christmas
“Ms. Bender? Are you awake?”
The guy sounded cute. I opened one eye.
“I’m Dr. S. I’ll be your brain surgeon.”
MICHELE M. BENDER | Shop until you drop
Is it my imagination, or have advertisers dialed back the Christmas hype this season?
A sonnet? Doggone it!
I’m a gal of many talents,
Though lots of folks don’t know it.
MICHELE M. BENDER | Not another ‘for sale’ sign
I suspect that goblins fly over Johnstown at night sprinkling “For Sale” sign seeds. Weather doesn’t seem to hamper the growth process; signs are popping out everywhere.
Clear the aisles! I’m back in the saddle again
Study this face carefully. If you ever … EVER … see me in your checkout line (with my walker or an electric cart), RUN … do not walk … RUN the other way.
MICHELE M. BENDER | What lurks in your closet?
Ladies wrote this summer reminding me that the struggle for brand-name dominance in fashion began in the ’60s and ’70s. Everyone knew that Audrey wore Givenchy. Brooke posed provocatively in magazines wearing “only her Calvins.”
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