One of the hardest things about living in Florida is missing the chance to experience all four seasons. Though I don't miss the cold, snowy winters, I do often lament the lack of the spring fragrances and the cool, crisp, fall evenings that I grew up with in the northeast.
But as I've been driving to work the past few days, I've noticed something interesting. The trees may not be changing colors in the traditional deciduous way, but there is a definite transformation happening. New blooms are coming out. Plants that lay dormant under the hot, humid sun have found themselves seeking some fresh air in the cooler mornings.
The result is a new color palette under a bluer sky, with wispy white clouds dotting the atmosphere, instead of the heavy storm clouds that we've become so familiar with all summer.
This change in nature is a good reminder for me that life's rhythms aren't always planned either, and sometimes, there are good things just waiting around the corner if we alter our expectations.
After this summer of loss, the blooming plumeria tree in our front yard seems like hope and new beginnings, and a reminder that adventures are just around the corner.
Thursday, October 8, 2015
Thursday, December 11, 2014
As we continue to get moved into the house, one of my favorite things that I’m doing is putting up photos. We’ve had some older ones printed for collage-style frames, and it really brings back memories.
Facebook is criticized for many things, but say what you will about it – it is good for memories. And #TBT takes nostalgia to a new level with people finding photographs that have long since been forgotten. With those photos come stories from previous generations and lots of emotions.
Today my aunt posted this amazing photo of she and my father from the early 1950s: They were going to see Santa Claus at the John Wanamaker’s Department in Philadelphia.
They surely took the train from Trenton with my Pop Pop and BaBa. He was a railroad guy, and that was the thing to do. The two of them are holding hands and going to see the big guy like a pair with a plan.
He was the REAL Santa, of course. Why wouldn’t he be there? It had the grand pipe organ in the marbled atrium, and there was a narrated Christmas light show. Maybe I’m making this up, but I think there was a monorail in the store, near Santa’s village too.
(Years later, my parents and my aunt and uncle did the same thing with me and my cousin. During a recent trip home, we were talking about this tradition, and I recalled that during the train trips and the commotion in the hot, crowded department store, I think I got sick once or twice. My cousin corrected me and said, “You threw up EVERY year.” Sorry about that.)
I still don’t love crowded places, and sitting on hot planes is never my favorite thing in the world, but thank goodness, I’ve become a better traveler. Unfortunately, Wanamaker’s is long gone (it became Hecht’s or Lord & Taylor? and is now Macy’s), but I’m glad that I got to do it.
It’s funny – I’ve been working on the Pennsylvania TourBook all this week, and as I’m getting to Philadelphia, more than anything, I want to get on the train to go see Santa and ask him to see Pop Pop and BaBa one more time. As I’m running around getting ready for the holidays, this is a good reminder about this time of year.