Tree Curiosity

One day on our ride home from downtown in the early 1970's, my father pointed out a slender pine tree growing through the roof of this residential garage. Daddy loved to tease, and I thought that he was pulling my leg. Yes, the pine appeared to be poking out through the shingles, but was it? Or had he found an illusion created by my viewing angle from the street?  Look below from a different perspective to see that the tree is growing up and out from inside the garage.

Since that day I've driven past that busy corner thousands of times, and, almost always, I have turned to look at the tree. Was it still there, or had it fallen and crushed the garage?  As of today, the tree stands.


I've asked neighbors, but have never received a clear explanation and have never been nervy enough to ring the door bell to ask, "Why is that pine tree growing through your garage?" but I really do want to know.


You can use Google Street View to "see" the garage from the road. Navigate to the 17th St. driveway on the northwest corner of 17th Street and Hilton Avenue (red "A" on the map), and then follow the drive. Use the zoom tool for a closer "look."



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Rainy Winter Saturday Adventuring

Dreary weather did not daunt us on our Atlanta area adventuring this last January week-end.

First: a fly fishing reconnaissance mission to Chattahoochee River National Recreation Area (Island Ford):

• Informative Q&A with the on-duty ranger,
• Brief, brisk walk down to the high river,
• Plans for a trip back when the weather is nicer and the river is lower.

Then, a rendezvous with Mr.Georgia Tech:

And dinner:

• Skipped the Varsity,
• Enjoyed great conversation - learned a bit about Modernism and Film, 
• Disrupted New Year's Resolutions at Mary Mac's Tea Room,
• Renewed resolutions...on the uncomfortable ride home...

Yoga Day USA

GET YOUR KARMA ON!

January 23, 2010 is Yoga Day USA. Find a free workshop near you. Anyone can do Yoga. What's it gonna hurt to try? Come on; up off the couch now!

On the Wing

Great Blue Heron coasts over the Chattahoochee River

Finally, I convinced Fife to rent and ride bikes down the Chattahoochee Riverwalk* today. Truthfully, he didn't take much convincing, and he was a perfect companion for the trip: patient and agreeable. We rode all the way to Columbus Water Works' sewage treatment plant (not as bad as it sounds)...just down the street from Key School.
*Check out the interactive, panoramic media for a virtual trip down the Riverwalk.

We chose Trek Navigators from Ride on Bikes on Broadway in Downtown Columbus. Mine was perfect in every way - almost didn't even notice the dreaded muscle aches on the climb up the few hills we met. I imagined myself heron-like -- on the wing. But, unlike the graceful heron, I suppose we'll be sore tomorrow. For $10 each, we could have kept the bikes all day, instead of just the 3 hours we spent on them. What a deal! I know that we'll be back - earlier in the day - for a longer ride. Maybe we'll ride to the Infantry Museum or Oxbow Meadows.

The trail was just as beautiful this winter day as I've ever seen it; the rains from the week-end washed every plant and animal we saw to shimmering splendor. Well, except for the little guy riding ahead of me up one long hill.  My own backside was mud-splattered by the time we climbed the final hill. (No pictures of that!)

We saw a beautiful Great Blue Heron wading by the river bank and looking for a meal, geese swimming and in flight, some cormorants, a cardinal, a ruby throated hummingbird, one (!) squirrel, and lots of leashed dogs, but no gators. Maybe next time...

.

It was a perfect ride on a perfect day on a perfect bike down a perfect trail with a perfect Bike Buddy.

Six

Found this photo today while searching for a suitable  retro Facebook profile pic. It perfectly sums up my life at 6: independent, uninhibited, active, imaginative adventurous, and comfortable in my own skin.

Four year old Beth, in her popover bottoms, also looks comfy, but I'm not too sure about Miss Tiny Tears' comfort level. As I recall, she, a hand-me-down doll, required an energetic punch in the tummy for tear production. Beth looks pretty protective of her here. I wasn't much interested in Tiny unless she was fulfilling her sole function: crying. Mechanical tears were the closest a doll could get to what I enjoyed even as early as 1961: technology!

Baseball Lover

Roy Luttrell, Chero-Cola team manager, front and center

My granddad, W. Roy Luttrell, Sr., loved baseball. He played one season of minor league baseball (Georgia-Alabama League) for the Newnan Cowetas. A pitcher, he had impressive stats: .692 won/loss record, but decided that he needed steadier work and swapped playing baseball for banking (National Bank of Columbus and later the Federal Reserve in Atlanta).

Daddy tells me that Granddad once drove to Atlanta to listen to a radio broadcast of the World Series, because Columbus radio stations did not cover it. Later, he enjoyed attending the Southern Minor League games here in town: Columbus Confederate Yankees (1964 - 1966), Columbus White Sox (1967), and the Columbus Astros (1968 - 1988), and, occasionally, the Braves in Atlanta.

When I was about 9, I fell in love with baseball too, playing pick-up games in the front yards of homes up and down our heavily child-populated street. I also loved to walk to the baseball park at the end of the street to watch Little League games - wishing that girls could play too. I remember asking for, and getting, a bat and ball (a girlish softball!!!) for my 9th birthday. I later bought a glove at J.C. Penney with birthday money.

Granddad took me along to some of the games at Golden Park. I remember being disappointed that we sat in the grandstand, protected by a net, insuring that we would not catch any tipped balls. (How would he explain a slammed-baseball-to-the-head injury to my parents? Of course, he was wise!) He bought me a program, pointing out players and facts about them. Roy White, a first baseman, was my favorite. The New York Yankees called him up in 1965, so I did not get to see him play much.

The most memorable trip to Golden Park was probably the last one that we made together. I discovered that generous Granddad would buy anything that I asked for, something that he deeply regretted on the trip home. Embarrassed, but helplessly nauseated, I had to get him to pull over to the side of the road so that I could hang my head out the car door. I don't think that we told my parents about that incident. Hot Dogs! Coca-Cola! Popcorn! Peanuts! Candy Apples! Oh My!

****** Breaking News********
This month our local newspaper, the Columbus Ledger-Enquirer, held a "Most Memorable Braves Fan Experience" contest. Submitting an entry was easy for me because of the work I had already done on this posting. Here's what I wrote, as published in the Ledger on Sunday, August 29, 2010.

... - Baseball - Major League Baseball - Atlanta Braves

Sunday, Aug. 29, 2010

Ledger-Enquirer announces Atlanta Braves contest winners

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Readers were invited to write a story about their favorite experience as a Braves fan

FROM STAFF REPORTS

The Ledger-Enquirer asked Braves fans to tell us about their favorite experience as a fan. Here are the top three as chosen by the Ledger-Enquirer’s Kevin Price, Stephanie Pedersen and Heather Williams.

FIRST PLACE

Name: Emily Whiteside

When I was about 9, I fell in love with baseball and played pick-up games in the front yards of homes in our Lindsey Creek neighborhood, but longed to play on a real team — a Little League team. Unfortunately, for me, Little League banned girls in the 1960s. My granddad, W. Roy Luttrell, Sr., loved baseball, too. He had pitched one season of minor league baseball for the Newnan Cowetas in the Georgia-Alabama League with impressive stats: .692 won/loss record.

Daddy tells me that Granddad once drove to Atlanta to listen to a radio broadcast of the World Series, because Columbus radio stations did not cover it.

My indulgent granddad understood how much I wanted to be on a team, so, to mollify me, he sometimes took me with him to see the Columbus Confederate Yankees play at Golden Park. He would buy a program and then explain what the stats meant while I picked out my favorite player on the field: Roy White, a first baseman. I was pretty much content with that arrangement, as Granddad’s largesse also typically included popcorn, peanuts, and candy apples.

But, he and my father outdid themselves in 1966 (or 1967) when they invited me to accompany them on a Columbus Kiwanis Club trip to an Atlanta Braves game. There were other children on the chartered bus, but I think that I was the only girl. Undaunted, I listened to the men talk baseball and made mental notes about who I would look for on the field: Phil Niekro, Joe Torre, and Hank Aaron. Probably, I made further notes about what concessions I’d select at Fulton County Stadium. This was going to be great!

And it was. The game was rained out. We never left the bus. No hot dogs. No candied apples. No peanuts. No Braves pennant or souvenir program. No homers. We just turned south and headed home.

I was very disappointed and probably sulked a bit. But great it must have seemed to me, because here I am 44 years later remembering the scent of tobacco on my grandfather’s jacket, the scratchy bus seats, and the pride that I felt sitting beside my father that night — girls allowed.

Read more: http://www.ledger-enquirer.com/2010/08/29/1247506/ledger-enquirer-announces-atlanta.html#ixzz0xzsFg2R5

Feng Shui Purrtender

Historic Columbus Snaps

Photo collage made and uploaded to Blogger with Picasa.

Walk It Off

This afternoon I finally road-tested my new walking shoes down at Lakebottom Park's* track in Columbus' historic Weracoba-St. Elmo area. Being outside was a nice change from walking with the good, but monotonous, DVD that I've been using inside. Lots of people found the weather perfect for jogging, biking, scooting, strolling, playing football, tennis, or basketball. While Will and I chatted our way around the track, we watched different groups of people enjoying the day. Anna jogged the path surrounding the park.

We lived in a tiny craftsman bungalow on Cherokee Avenue, just across from Lakebottom, until Anna was 3 years old. She has made many-a-lap around that park, but mostly in a stroller. While a student at Columbus High (below), Will walked/ran the park perimeter daily during a health class. My father also exercised there during his time at CHS back in the '40's: ROTC drill practice. It's a great, old park and epitomizes "old Columbus" to me.

Being outside also gave me the opportunity to try out my new camera. I played with the settings, but really need to just sit down and look at the manual, I think. Don't like to do that! The Canon PowerShot SD1200 IS Digital Elph is just about perfect for me: compact, 10 megapixels, intuitive (yeah, mostly). One complaint: SLOW. I'm sure that there's a way to improve upon this. The review that I read indicated a better than average shutter lag.

I know, I know: reading the manual may help.

*Lakebottom Park actually refers to two parks, Weracoba and Wildwood, which are bisected by 17th Street.


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Riding the Riverwalk Redux

Anna and I failed in our attempt at riding the Riverwalk this past July. If we had known that the Downtown YMCA loans its members bicycles (pretty nice ones, too), we could have ridden at no cost to us for two hours without the bike rack woes. There was no problem getting two bikes at 4:30 on a week-day. I wonder if Saturdays would be as easy.

Laurie and I have wanted to rent bikes at Ride on Bikes since late summer. We'll do that sometime soon, but chose the freebies today. Vowing to leave work by 4 (almost made it), in order to have time to ride before dark (kinda creepy down there in the shadows), we finally got a bike ride in before the time change.

We selected two sleek,  gazillion speed bikes and set off through downtown towards the river. The Y employees looked just a little bit uncertain about our safety as we headed down 11th Street. They should not have worried about us returning on our own steam, but some navigational tips might have helped us out. Apparently, the last time that I ventured south on the Riverwalk, coaxing balky, sweaty children to follow my lead, the new Trade Center wing had not been built. The trail doubles as a service drive behind the building, confusing me (never takes much!). After a slight false start we did find our way onto the trail and pedaled to South Commons before heading back. I know, I know! Not very far! (I have ridden as far as Oakland Park before!) But now we know the ways of the Riverwalk and we'll be back.

Canada Geese were out flying in formation, and some snacked on whatever delicacy they waded past near the river bank. A lone duck floated by, but the real prize sighting this afternoon was the beautiful Great Blue Heron poised directly below us on the bank. He posed and then took off, skimming across the river and casting his perfect reflection on the water on this overcast autumn day. Lovely. DRAT! I had to use my Blackberry's inadequate camera...would have been a really nice picture with the Canon. This one will have to do (double click on it for a better view).

Laurie and I agreed that biking the Riverwalk was a nice end to a weird Monday at work. We'll be back. With a better camera. Now that we know what's what.

Changing Lifestyles

May I just say, "UNCLE!"? For years I've needed to do something about my sedentary lifestyle and diet. If my shrinking clothes (Surely this is the reason I kept outgrowing them.)  did not serve as an adequate reminder of my backsliding, unhealthy ways, my well-intentioned mother's persistent prompts did refresh my memory each time I saw her.  
Not effective!


But now I am committed to a lifestyle change. What did the trick? Really, two long-term processes. Last year Fife was diagnosed with Meniere's Disease and has had Gout attacks for several years. Over the past year he has drastically changed his diet to control both conditions -- life-altering for him -- and very effective for weight loss. His positive response to dietary restrictions helped me begin to change my own diet (Thanks, Fife!). Then, for half of a year I followed a friend's professional blog  in which she reported her day-to-day experiences during her international exchange to Hungary and, in so doing, also documented her active, healthy lifestyle. Later, her simple encouragement for me to try Yoga and to become more active sealed the deal. (Yes, first I stubbornly argued that I couldn't do Yoga. Thanks, Jane!) Turns out that living examples are uncomplicated and effective motivators, if rarely noticed.

I'm loving learning Yoga (Also doesn't hurt that instructor Rodney Yee is a former ballet dancer.) and can't figure out why I was so resolutely opposed to trying it before (Could it be that I have a very hard head?).  For five days each week, I participate in some aerobic activity, and I am rehabing my diet. Another friend, a former aerobics instructor, has been coaching me on machines at the Y and has taught me how to use an exercise ball (thanks, Laurie!). Yet another friend shared her cabbage soup recipe and Yoga DVD recommendations (Thanks, Cindy!). What would I do without my gentle and generous friends?

Try these tasty, filling, low fat, low carb, low salt, meatless Eggplant Stacks (thanks, again, Jane). Sandwich low-fat Swiss cheese, greek oregano, green onions, tomatoes, basil, grilled portabello mushrooms, and roasted bell peppers between grilled eggplant slices (brushed lightly with olive oil) and bake until heated through.

Now that I've blogged my resolutions, I have no choice but to be committed to them. Can't lose face. :D

Sometimes my stubborn persistence can be a good thing.

And, persist I will.

Hold me to it, friends.

Bike Ride: October at Callaway

Here's just a peek at my beautiful day spent (mostly) on a bike at Callaway Gardens while Fife attended his first day of Fly Fishing School (a birthday present). I'm not sure that Pine Mountain ever saw the 65 degree predicted high and am certain that the sun never peeked out, but the day was glorious! I'm pooped! Click on the collage to see the pictures a bit larger or go to my Picasa Web album to see the slideshow.

Don't Think So...

Plan: Bike the Chattahoochee Riverwalk today. Not incredibly hot; slightly overcast. Shouldn't be crowded; close by. We'll ride past the Dillingham Street bridge to see what we missed yesterday.

Execution: Haul the two, 15 year-old bikes out of the storage building to find out if they are rideable. No: four flat tires. Fife, with Will assisting, fixes three, but the fourth needs a new tube. Off to Jordan Bicycle shop with the bike wedged into the bunjee-strapped trunk. Back home with the repaired bike, we try to mount the impossible-to-configure bike rack on the car trunk, but succeed only in denting and scratching my car. An hour of adjusting the six, c- and s-clamped straps gets us nowhere: the rack collapses when the first bike is placed. Hrrrumph! Frustrated, but not ready to quit.

We change venues -- the neighborhood will do. Few sidewalks, so we're forced onto the street. Cars speed past us 20 miles over the speed limit; their drivers cast impatient looks our way. Look left-right-left-right; dart across the curvy road to the only available sidewalk. Heart races and the 24 year old mother reflex cranes my head back to check on Anna. Handlebars turn, following my head. Wobble. Older instincts control the bike: straighten, balance, glide. Now, dodge the broken Bud bottle. Did Anna see it too? Duck under that low-hanging Mulberry limb. Thwack. Puff the disturbed gnats off my nose and forehead. My head itches. Rubbing the neon helmet back and forth does not help. Straighten up to look for the woodpecker drilling a nearby Sycamore. Bump over the drainage cover in the middle of the sidewalk. Remember Diane crushing her right hand in a bike tumble last week. Lean over to grab the racing handle bars again. Relegated to watch sand, grass, cement, and asphalt rush past -- not exactly what I had envisioned.

Evaluation: Riding my childhood bike was as simple as hopping on in the carport and gliding down the driveway to the low-traffic street. No combination lock, no bubble-headed helmet, no gear, no ornery bike rack, no arthritis. Yes, of course, there was the occasional derailed chain and flat tire, but riding my bike to school, to the store, to a friend's house, to explore the neighborhood, or just to feel the wind on my face was functional, uncomplicated fun. Might have been fun today if the bike rack had not frustrated me so and if I had been pedaling my 1961 Western Flyer cruiser with a much nimbler 6 year old frame (mine, not the bike's).