geraniums, UFO's and summer's end

8.19.2010

I have a roommate. She and I moved into a little second floor apartment with a balcony on the west side about a year and a half ago. It was winter. She brought several dead plants wondering if I could revive them since I "know about plants." I told her several times that the prickly brown, dried up, unidentifiable tree looking thing was incurable. But there it sat in our kitchen for weeks. I'm not sure if she thought maybe it would come back to life in my presence or if for some reason it was just too hard for her to part with. So one day I finally threw it out the window, making sure it wouldn't strike anyone on it's way down from the second story. I now realize it would have made for a better story had it hit someone. The geraniums she gave me, were however a success. The secret... they still had some life in them. I wish I had taken a picture of the three pathetic seed geraniums still in their little plastic pint containers. I planted them in a pot, kept them in the house during two winters and now they are thriving in their third summer. Anya and I are amazed at the geraniums. Maybe I am more than she. I put them in an old pot that looks like it was for draining pasta. I like it even though I'm not too fond of geraniums. The colius you see next to the geraniums are enormous now. Gigantic and beautiful actually.

I've been thinking lately about my upcoming trip to Beaver Island. It's become Schofield tradition to take a vacation there every year and somehow I have been blessed with an ongoing invitation to join. Actually, I was invited once. I'm not sure who decided I would tag along every year. Anyways, this will be my third Labor Day with them.

At the island we pretty much do whatever we want all day every day. We take naps, eat cookies, read books, marvel at the loons, ride bikes, go running, sew, do crafts, sit in the sun, go to town, things like that. But no one is obligated to do any of those things at any particular time. It's quite marvelous. I am ready to leave behind Grand Rapids to revel in a few days with absolutely no obligations and no deadlines. The only thing that saddens me about Beaver Island is that somehow in my mind it always marks the end of summer. I will inevitably leave the island with mixed feelings. I suppose though if summer must come to an end, there is no better way to say farewell then by spending a relaxing long weekend with dear friends on a little island in Northern Michigan.