Traverse City Record-Eagle

The View From Sunnybank: Blustery adventure
It's a blustery day; the forecast promises even higher winds, and intense gusts, soon. This sort of prediction always gets my heart beating too fast. I fret about delicate plants with tall, slim profiles, and begin to run around flapping my hands, rather like a chicken with the usual problem. Finally, my common sense asserts itself, and I begin to think constructively about the situation.
The View From Sunnybank: Plant examinations
Today, donning my soil-smeared white coat, I feel professorial and expansive. Doctor Smock is In. Hmmm ... your climbing hydrangea won't bloom? Well, lookee here. These bunched daylilies are suffering an acute case of "girdle-gasp." When were these daylilies divided? What? Never?
The View from Sunnybank: Elk Lake
Once upon a time, long ago, I spent my summers at Elk Lake. A vast forest surrounded our cabin, high on a hill. There were no people for miles, so I amused myself observing forest life. At 10, I moved quietly through that green world, marveling.
The View from Sunnybank: Invention duds
Catalogs offer seemingly bright ideas for gardeners. I found a photo of a fellow from the shoulders up, with his back to the camera, the better to exhibit the latest die-fly idea. He wore a hat favored by fisher folk, with a large rectangular strip of special sticky tape secured to its back. Fascinated, I read on. This, I learned, was a black-fly snagger.
The View from Sunnybank: Dog adventure
The other day I was conversing with a neighbor who'd stopped to chat after seeing me in the alley, watering. Eventually she tied her attractive little gray dog, Bowser, to one of my enormous, empty plastic rubbish bins by the garage.
The View From Sunnybank: Onion outrage
I arrived home from England to find the ornamental onions (Alliums, garlic) had been multiplying like stink under a dirty cover over our long, snowy winter.
The View From Sunnybank: Toenail tales
I love toenails, especially the really stunning, classic ones I discovered in a battered trashcan behind an elegant antique shop. Let me explain.
The View from Sunnybank: Duck!
The View from Sunnybank: Tree support
I've always been an arboreal creature.
The View from Sunnybank: Talkin' trash
When visiting my daughters in Chicago, I haunt architectural salvage centers, where all manner of intriguing stuff is recycled from doomed buildings targeted for demolition.
The View from Sunnybank: Don't panic
I'd love to pick apart a plant or two with you occasionally, but you must promise not to panic when I trot out alien names.
The View from Sunnybank: Brooms
As birthdays come faster, I often contemplate how life can change in an instant. There are three constants: death, taxes and bad brooms.
The View from Sunnybank: Armchair action
Gazing out at the snowy garden, I fidget. Maybe I'll go out there with a hair dryer and hurry things along. After reveling in a deep, white winter, I'm longing for workable, sun-warmed earth. Fascinating books, though, keep me distracted.
The View from Sunnybank: Wise, wonderful
Animals demonstrate uncanny abilities that we humans observe with wonder, but little understanding. The following is a true story.
The View from Sunnybank: Old swingers
Most doors are bores. But with imagination and time they can be transformed, from just room separators, to unique expressions of the rooms they announce.
The View From Sunnybank: Door soliloquy
Sometimes, in winter, when I run low on music-making energy, I think about doors. Door = snore.
The View from Sunnybank: Tiny disasters
I sometimes find myself trying to cope with spontaneous, small disasters that happen when I'm distracted, unlucky, or way too full of myself.
The View From Sunnybank: Final machine gripes
Huh!" you say, pondering last week's column about how things seem to happen whenever I approach certain machines. "What blather! Surely she can't influence machines!" Huh, I say, wanna bet?
The View from Sunnybank: Down in dumps
Mysterious machinations happen whenever I approach certain machines. I must emit magnetic signals that encourage vacuums and toasters, for example, to vomit dust, flame out or simply balk. Alas, the most mystifying refusals happen with my two toilets.
The View From Sunnybank: My iron Cinderella
A crisp autumn day 15 years ago found me at a farm auction sale downstate that sounded interesting. (I'm a notorious scrounger.) What an extraordinary place it was! The entire house leaned evenly, as though all the support beams had given up on the same day. Sun and wind had scoured off every scrap of exterior paint eons ago, but I thought it retained a certain dignified, stark beauty.
The View From Sunnybank: Foot-draggers stalk the Opera
Opera can be wonderful -- and full of surprises. One day downtown, I overheard the protests of an incredulous fellow whose wife was determined to give him "enrichment."
The View From Sunnybank: Slip-sliding along
Coping with slippery conditions is constantly challenging, especially to older folk. Some determined residents, though, get-a-grip in intriguing ways.
The View From Sunnybank: Canine wish: Rain
Funny, the memories a drenching January rain recalls. One wet day about three years ago, I grabbed my biggest umbrella and strolled to Hannah Park, just across the street. Every so often I'll get the urge to walk in the rain.
The View From Sunnybank: Beetles, lice and long memories
Here I stand, peering into a large pot, waiting for inspiration. Sometimes, for fun, I'll rummage through the pantry extracting stuff stored there, like whole-wheat pasta, a forgotten jar of artichoke hearts, dried soup ingredients, interesting sauces or microscopically inspected rice.
The View From Sunnybank: An English teashop reminiscence
Recently I hosted two longtime British friends. Chatting with them brought back the flavor of England, where I've spent many delightful days over the years exploring historic Hereford and Ross-on-Wye near my family's home in Herefordshire. Many ancient buildings there lean comfortably, their dignified timbers seemingly impervious to insects and time.
The View From Sunnybank: A 2008 makeover: Me
Recently I saw my reflection in a full-length mirror. I decided then and there that a makeover might be a good idea; some firm promises were made to the rumpled, poke-haired image gazing back at me.
The View From Sunnybank: Adventures of an alley explorer
It's a delicious sort of day out there; the world is wedding cake white. As usual, I delight in winter. Though the season is young, the city's been challenged by four inches of snow, then a thick ice slice, topped by more snow -- a formidable sandwich. Shifting it has been quite a job. Two strong young men with shovels keep access to my driveway and garage possible.
The View From Sunnybank: An unforgettable cat tale
Animals are incredibly resilient. I saw a cat the other day, walking quietly on a leash with her owner, not seeming to mind the snowy scene. This pussy, rescued from a cruel situation, was mending now in a loving home.
Home invaders are caught in the act
I keep a neat house. Nooks and crannies are free of dust bunnies, floors are swept, carpets are regularly vacuumed and dishes faithfully washed. But still, I face pesky challenges.
The View From Sunnybank: Toronto horse magic
Recently my husband told me to pack my passport, warm clothes and a grin; we'd have a three-day adventure. So, early on a Friday morning we boarded a roomy tour bus in Saginaw, bound for Toronto. Only then did Joe reveal our destination: the Royal Agricultural Show, followed by the Royal Horse Show. I was astounded, and intrigued.
The View From Sunnybank: A swinging hotel for feline phantoms
One morning recently, after enjoying aromatic Kenya coffee and crunchy bacon, I opened the front door and moved out into the fresh, crisp air, noting how dark it still was at 7 a.m. Idly, I strolled to the curved side of the porch -- setting off annoyed exclamations and soft, multiple thumps. The porch swing rocked; indistinct forms shot away from all the wicker furniture and vanished into the night.
The View From Sunnybank: Terror to triumph: A man and his music
TV is an often-merciless medium. Almost everyone is familiar with shows featuring amateur talent: A contestant trots out there and tries to dazzle everyone with, say, swallowing an ostrich effortlessly. His five minutes of "fame" ends in a burp. He's either done, or done in by sarcastic judges, or he may be chosen to remain in competition, if the audience likes his angle.
Time to hurry: Winter's in the wings
OK. Time's up. Donning gloves, I dive in, having put off final tasks far too long. The giant hostas sag; I cut them to the dirt, tossing exhausted remnants into the wheelbarrow. Wow! Every year I marvel at how much earth they'd occupied. Now that vacant space is shocking.
The View From Sunnybank: Acute garden ditherfoot
The garden's almost ready for winter. But alas, October's pleasant days have encouraged a terrible case of ditherfoot. I try to walk outside toward pumps and fountain scrub brushes, but my trotters refuse to oblige.
The View from Sunnybank: Gargoyle thoughts amid urban vistas
My husband and I are visiting our children in Chicago. This place is in the heart of the University of Chicago's quadrangle, which is surrounded by wonderful, gargoyle-infested stone buildings designed in the classic Cambridge tradition, funded by the vast Rockefeller fortune.
The View From Sunnybank: A final, fantastic light show
These days I take huge delight in light. The way it transforms some plants into glowing glories is simply magical. Pennisetum alopecuroides, a 3- to 4-foot tall perennial grass, offers a good example. I positioned this dependable plant along the faux brick path exactly where the late afternoon sun briefly spears the space between two huge trees in the next yard, highlighting its bottlebrush plumes, emphasizing their purple hue.
The View from Sunnybank: How thyme is slipping under our feet
Sometimes when I sit here meditating about endings -- garden endings -- I realize that, like anything else, it's a matter of perspective. Of balance.
The Views from Sunnybank: Little assumptions are dangerous things
Assumptions. It's a word that's gotten me in trouble many times. Here's some dirt on Dee-dumbness.
The View from Sunnybank: The bodies in the garden
One late afternoon last September, as I sat on the main garden bench dreaming and humming, the North Gate door quietly opened. A very large well-dressed woman entered, pushing a diminutive, obviously occupied antique baby carriage.
The View from Sunnybank: Crotchety gardener, hammock-y-howls
Maybe I'm getting crotchety, but sometimes it seems there's a plague of unnecessary noise out there.
The View from Sunnybank: A garden, a lady, a life remembered
A light rain fell, running off the limp-leaved Harry Lauder Hazel and freshening the big hibiscus tree's lovely white blooms. Maybe today I'd catch a break, and not have to hand-water my flowers' roots so often. I padded outside, relishing the garden's clean, shining aspect.