I'm really excited to start my foray into the world of blogging. I hope it will be the perfect outlet for the many musings swirling around my gray matter. I would not like, however, to be known as a "blogger". To me, that word conjures up the decidedly un-feminine images of a logger and a blob. Instead, I've come up with the word "bloggerina", which is much more to my liking because it makes me think about pointe shoes and ballet.
The title of my blog is a line from the classic song "The Garden Song" by Peter, Paul & Mary. I grew up in a beautiful town not far from a little island the Lenni Lenape Indians referred to as Mannahatta, and one of its most popular radio stations was WOR. Every Sunday morning, John Gambling's radio show featured a gardening segment ushered in by the opening bars of "The Garden Song". I thought it would be perfect for a blog title, as that's pretty much what I'm doing with my life: making my proverbial garden grow. Please click here to view a great cover by the equally great John Denver! On a side note, my original title was going to be borrowed from Bernstein's humorous and moving operetta Candide, but Blogger.com informed me that "We'll build our home/and chop our wood/and make our garden grow" was too long. Oh well. Less is more, I suppose!
A big thank you to my wonderful husband for putting the final design touches on the blog (always a work in progress) and for being a guest contributor! Thanks for stopping by, and I hope you will do so often! xo
Monday, July 5, 2010
The Fourth of July
Not to be confused with July 3 or 5, the FOURTH of July is a big deal in our family since it is a time to celebrate generations of Americans' Christ-like sacrifice so that we all could have freedom. It is a time where we find ourselves enjoying the company of family and good friends, too much food and (of all things) large explosions in the night sky.
At any other time of year, you would likely find people bothered by loud, thunderous cracking that echoes off the trees and rattles windows. But one weekend each year reveals boys discovering fire as they shoot off rockets and people supportively look on as Roman candles blaze. Even though by the following year you can hardly remember the previous year's fireworks show, there is something that inspires wonder in every age as we peer into the darkness overhead and anticipate the decibels bulging in our chests.
At any other time of year, you would likely find people bothered by loud, thunderous cracking that echoes off the trees and rattles windows. But one weekend each year reveals boys discovering fire as they shoot off rockets and people supportively look on as Roman candles blaze. Even though by the following year you can hardly remember the previous year's fireworks show, there is something that inspires wonder in every age as we peer into the darkness overhead and anticipate the decibels bulging in our chests.
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