One Hundred Days of Summer

From last Saturday's Ashland Times-Gazette:

I don’t know if the tradition still stands, but back in the days before Ipods and smart phones, our singing filled the band bus to and from the high school football games. We’d work our way through the pep songs, sing a round or two of “Salvation Army, put a nickel in the drum, save another drunken bum,” and usually end up with the classic “One hundred bottles of beer on the wall.”

We sang in the car when our kids were little, but due to their tender age and our Salvation Army connection, we chose the more benign “One hundred bottles of pop on the wall.” I doubt we made it much past seventy on that countdown ditty before anarchy erupted in the rear seat, but that melody came to mind when I discovered the One Hundred Days of Summer calendar that the Ashland Area Convention and Visitors Bureau developed for Summer 2014 (available in placemat format at their office, and on the web at www.visitashlandohio.com).

I’m a day late and a dollar short on this, because the calendar creator began her countdown (or is it a count-up?) on Memorial Day, the unofficial beginning of summer, so I’ve missed a few days of activities. But since we still have 95 “bottles on the wall” as of today, it’s definitely not too late to check out our community, silencing the familiar summer lament, “there’s nothing to do.” According to this calendar, there’s plenty to do in Ashland County.

Some of the activities are event-connected, such as BalloonFEST 2014 (July 3-6), the Downtown Dream Cruise and Car Show on July 12, and Pioneer Days at Wolf Creek/Pine Run Grist Mill (July 26-27). My favorite authors are in town for Ashland Chautauqua (July 15-19), including Dr. Seuss, Robert Frost, and C.S. Lewis. The lovely Madelyn Simone and I can create balloon sculptures at the Ashland library and eat green eggs and ham, like it or not – right, Sam I am?

With NCIS, The Good Wife, and Law and Order SVU on hiatus for the summer, we’ve decided to get out of the house more at night, joining the rhythm of Thursday and Sunday nights at the Myers Bandshell. Here’s a sample of what’s scheduled. Dr. Insecta Bug Lab will open for the Ashland Area Community Concert Band on opening night, June 15. There will be “Pops in the Park” with the Ashland Symphony Orchestra (June 29), and Motown Sounds of Touch on June 26. The Diamond Project Band is appearing July 3, so I’ll be singing Sweet Caroline and Cracklin’ Rose for weeks. And since I’ve got family connections, here’s a plug for the Kroc Center Big Band on Thursday, August 14. If I didn’t have two left feet, I’d bring my dancing shoes that night.

Too tired to go out at night? Try lunchtime activities instead. United Way has great times planned for Fun Fabulous Fridays, and a series of Brown Bag concerts at the Kroc Center takes care of Wednesdays in June and July. Saturdays are filled with visits to the Farmers’ Market at Christ UMC, and the downtown Farmers’ Market is back in session on Wednesdays beginning June 11^th. There’s a library book sale on July 19^th, an antique tractor show at the Career Center on July 12, and a Lincoln Highway exhibit at the Ashland County Historical Society on August 10^th. Tired yet?

In between these scheduled events, there’s bowling, bingo, story hour, geo-caching, golf, canoeing, roller skating, nature hikes, outdoor movies and much more. “More” definitely includes ice cream and frozen yogurt, backyard picnics, shopping in Downtown Ashland and Loudonville, swimming at Brookside, and splashing at the Kroc Center Spraypark. Look for Madelyn and me – I’m sure we’ll be there!

If you attended the Downtown Walk-in Movie (Frozen) last weekend, you may remember what Olaf the snowman said to Kristof: “But sometimes I like to close my eyes, and imagine what it'd be like when summer does come.” School is out, the sun is shining, and summertime has come. We don’t have to imagine anymore – it’s finally time to soak in the fun of one hundred days of summer in Ashland, Ohio.

From My Garden . . .

Old McDonald had a farm, E-I-E-I-O. The lovely Madelyn Simone and I sing these words with gusto, but I am definitely not a farmer by nature or nurture. Raised in suburban Buffalo, and residing in urban areas for most of my adult life, I've not experienced life on a farm like Old McDonald, and have no urge to add a chicken or cow to our homestead here in Ashland. But after a pitiful rookie attempt at a garden last summer, I was determined to find out if I had any speck of green on my thumbs, or if my house-plant killing reputation would extend to any semblance of a garden.

My desire to have tomatoes on our summer table spurred me on as I cast a longing eye on the small plot of land I'd attempted to cultivate last summer. That spot sat in the shade about 95% of the day, resulting in a pitiful crop. Unbeknownst to me, Jeff, our super-neighbor, had witnessed my feeble efforts, and decided to clear a spot behind our garage/barn and haul in some topsoil, providing me a great place for a few tomato and pepper seedlings. I'd watched his flourishing garden last summer with envy, and his thoughtful gesture was quite the gift to this budding gardener.

Jeff's garden began its days in an orderly fashion. He laid the weed-preventing material on top of the soil, placed his tomato plants in neat rows, with custom-made cages designed to guide the growing branches, and had a separate bed for squash and cucumber vines. By the first of July, his plants looked terrific, with tiny tomatoes appearing almost overnight.

Then there was my garden. I started with tomato plants, but I only had 4 stakes left over from last year, and I never did get to the store to get enough for all my plants. I put out some pepper plants as well, and a couple of cabbage, wanting to provide for Peter Rabbit and his cousins. I planted green and yellow beans, Swiss Chard, cucumbers, and three kinds of squash, and look - there's room for another row of beans between the tomato plants. I was so excited - I could taste those veggies already.

They say a watched pot never boils, but I still checked the garden every day, and one morning, there were hundreds of tiny plants peeking through the soil. Wow, I thought, I can't wait to see what these are. "Weeds," said Jeff, and thus began my short-lived attempt to weed the garden. Most were morning glories and some other creepy plants, but as the days progressed, another weed appeared with a root resembling a gigantic turnip or rutabaga. I knew that cutting off the spikes that stretched above ground wouldn't solve the problem, so I hacked at its massive root as best I could. It worked for about a month, but when I got back from vacation, guess what greeted me?

Finally, the beans began to sprout, but there was nothing growing in the spot where I'd planted the Swiss Chard, so I tried again with beets - but all I've got in that patch is one towering Swiss Chard plant - time to put that on our menu.

Looking at my garden today, one phrase describes it perfectly - it's a hot mess! Due to my overzealous, haphazard planting, beans are nestled among the cabbage and peppers, squash vines have commandeered the yard, and tomatoes lie strewn in the dirt. The pretty purple flowered morning glories are attempting to squeeze the life out of the cucumber vines, but the cucumbers are winning that battle. I've learned some gardening lessons, pocketed a number of sermon illustrations, and savored the best BLT's in the world. Hot mess or not, I love my garden.

I may not be a country girl at heart, but I've experienced the truth of May Sarton's words this summer: "Everything that slows us down and forces patience, everything that sets us back into the slow circles of nature, is a help. Gardening is an instrument of grace." Now, if I can just figure out how to make pickles!

Chocolate, Spraypark, and Garage Sales

As a freelance writer working out of a home office, I've discovered a few temptations inherent in the profession. I cannot keep chocolate on my desk as I did when I worked with other people, because there is no one else to eat it - and so I do. Not good - well, actually quite delicious, but definitely not good in light of the fact that this is bathing suit season.

Which leads me to the second temptation, for on a picture perfect morning (or a sticky, sultry afternoon), I don't want to keep my nose to the grindstone - I want to head to the Kroc Center Spraypark. I admit to some self-conscious moments while strolling down Liberty Street in bathing suit attire, especially with no small child in tow. But I've perfected the doting grandmother look, so once I get there, I can stand under the tumble buckets without shame, even if the lovely Madelyn Simone isn't with me.

But the lure snagging me in these early days of summer is the garage sale bug. I used to work my way from front to back in the Times-Gazette each morning, starting with the headlines, checking out the obituaries, reading the opinion page, bemoaning the fate of Cleveland sports teams, and scanning the Tell and Sell. I'm still OK with that plan on Monday and Tuesday, but by Wednesday, I turn addictively to the classifieds to plot my garage sale adventure for the week.

What do I look for? I'm not big on collectibles, so the Precious Moments and Hummels don't catch my eye. I don't fish or ski, and my husband still has all of his father's tools as well as his own. Exercise equipment - fat chance. The truth is, I really don't need much of anything, but I'm delighted when I unearth a few books for vacation reading, and I keep my eyes open for clothes or other surprises for Madelyn.

Here's the bottom line of garage sailing - at least for me. It's not about the stuff - It's about the hunt. Can I get something I might use some day at a bargain price? If so, I'm pumped!

The hunt begins with the drive-by drill. First, you check out the neighborhood, looking for adjoining houses with sale signs to make the trip worthwhile, and then you drive by slowly, getting a glimpse of the goods. If it's only knick-knacks and adult clothing, I don't stop. Unlike retail, presentation isn't everything, but curb appeal does help, and I'm appreciative when kid's clothing is washed and sorted by size.

At first I felt guilty if I walked out empty-handed - after all, the garage sale host or hostess went to all that trouble - but I quickly realized if I bought something at every garage sale I browsed at, I'd be starring in Hoarders by the end of the year.

While "the hunt" may be the enticement that draws me in, what I've experienced over the last few weeks of intermittent garage-sailing is the same thing I love about Ashland - the people. I've had the best conversations, often beginning with, "Don't you write in the Times-Gazette?" From there I've chatted about writing projects, world peace, teen age girls in the Bible, being smitten over grandchildren, and the spraypark (especially on the hot and humid days).

I've also been amazed at the kindness of people I don't know, especially the house where I scored a backyard swing. I asked if I could leave it there until I could arrange to pick it up, and the woman hosting the garage sale said, "Let's toss it in my truck and I'll follow you to your house." Let me tell you - that wouldn't have happened in Philadelphia or Cleveland. Thank you.

I have a few boxes set aside with fuzzy plans for a garage sale of my own. I even have my classified ad figured out - "buy my junk - CHEAP!" Now, if I can just get over my fear of rejection, I might sell enough stuff to buy some chocolate, and take Madelyn out for a happy meal.  Keep watching the classifieds!