There I was, wondering what I was going to write about this week, when yet another person mentioned that she had put meal worms in her bird feeder, and now she had bluebirds coming to her backyard on a regular basis.
I am glad you told me, too! Others as well! And since then I have learned of one other person who has bluebirds come to her yard. She doesn't feed them, but they come back every spring. Best of all, she is right in my 'hood! I never knew bluebirds were so plentiful around here!
Sylvia, I loved this post and could relate to it in a couple of ways.
As a child in England I always avoided the orange and yellow fruit gums in the packet, and that continued into adulthood! I would never choose the orange or yellow counters/markers in a board game either. They are still colors that don’t feature in my closet but I definitely appreciate them in nature. My favorite orange memory is the tangerine at the bottom of my stocking each year at Christmas.
In my all-girls secondary school we were subjected to needlework and cookery classes. Mrs Hope was the needlework teacher and used to call us “little toads!” Each week I would spend half the class unpicking the work she deemed unsatisfactory. We made an apron in grey and yellow gingham to wear in cookery classes. It had a white panel across the top of the bib part on which we had to embroider our first and last name in chain stitch. It was not my forte (but I still have the apron!!!)
I have been reading the Maisie Dobbs murder mystery series. One of the main characters, Priscilla, calls her three sons (when they are young) "the toads." Is that an English thing? (Because this murder mystery series, like all good murder mystery series, takes place in England ... most of them do, anyway. And our main character, Maisie Dobbs, is definitely English.)
I don't have anything left from my home ec classes. No skirt or dress I sewed, no recipe from cooking class. Just stories. Like, the first recipe we made in cooking class was chocolate milk. Seriously. I guess Miss Sullivan wanted to make sure we knew how to use measuring cups and cleaned up the dirty dishes before we advanced to more complicated things, like coffee cake, which, as I recall, used a bunch of Crisco in it. We might have made French toast once. I don't remember anything after that. I turned out to be a pretty good cook, but it wasn't because of home ec class, believe me!
Well. I attended the University of Illinois in Urbana Illinois, where we sang: “Hail to the orange! Hail to the Blue! Hail Alma mater, ever so true…” the school colors were orange and blue. Usually a big orange capital letter I with a blue border on white sweatshirts.
I absolutely adore orange, and it has been my favorite color forever! I like it in all its many shades, fancy names and not so fancy names. Orange makes me warm and happy. Thanks for making me appreciate it all over again, and thanks for your column, which made me smile over and over. (I, too, was terrible at home ec class, and some of my least favorite high school memories are of that class.) Orange you glad you wrote this column?
Definitely glad! And so happy I heard multiple bluebird stories from people, and they spurred such memories. And, most glad of all, that I have opened my eyes to a beautiful color!
I have a flock of little bluebirds that will sit up on the telephone lines above my trailer waiting for me to put out mealy worms and many times I will hardy get inside before they are eating. They've been here since the winter before the pandemic cause they were a great source of joy during the many days I was here alone. Sometime remind me to tell you about my home ec experience!
Can bluebirds be anything other than a source of joy? I am so glad they showed up when you needed them most! I would love to hear about your home ec experience. I know I am not alone!
There are, it turns out, a lot of us out here/there: in college, I persuaded my roommates to paint...well, really, let me paint...our two rooms orange. (Can't recall if this was allowed, though to my adult brain, it reads as something no college would want happening whenever students changed rooms.) Anyway the orange walls played variously in various lights; it was a warm room. And, predictably, my roommates, named our rooms Jack...a word and name that goes with some many others. We lived happily in Jack for a full year. Now whenever orange stands out for/to me I say, "there's Jack...or I'll have another Jack...Thanks for this post's reminder.
Pretty sure I was involved in some room painting incident in college. In my case, I think we just painted the room white. I can't recall if we tried to get permission first or not. It must be kind of normal to want to "claim space," and somehow putting up posters isn't always adequate. But, orange! Now that must have been a real statement! A few years ago we painted one of our upstairs bedrooms a lovely shade of orange. Something sort of peachy. It was probably Tahitian sunset or something. I'll have to think about calling it Jack now.
Orange was never my favorite color either. However, as time goes by, I find myself liking it more, especially in the fall and especially some less brilliant shades. Then, of course, you can’t go wrong with the oranges in a sunrise or sunset . . . Maybe I do like orange after all?!?
Sylvia, once again I am captivated by your writing. The beauty of the bluebird stilled a ruffled moment with you and your little son. And then the theme recurs in your son’s wedding attire. He looks so happy.. maybe he is remembering that early moment of looking out the window with you..Life can be so magical and it is all here in your story.. (we can be so grateful that life offers us this imagination, way far beyond Miss Morrison’s so limited view.) thank you, Sylvia
Thank you so much, Hasty. I wonder if David even consciously remembers that moment. I asked him to read the post before I published it (I wouldn't publish something personal like that without his permission), but I forgot to ask him if he remembered seeing that bluebird. I'll have to ask him next time I talk to him. After we saw that little bluebird, we discovered bluebird boxes at a nearby conservation area, and our family used to go there frequently to watch them. I am pretty sure he would remember that, because we did it frequently and over a period of several years -- really right up until we moved to Maine. I wonder if Miss Morrison ever had the pleasure of seeing a bluebird. It doesn't seem so, does it? Poor woman.
I wonder if our mothers pointed us toward the blue and spectrum because of our eye color? I suspect orange isn't a good color for either of us to wear unless it is tempered with another color. (See David with his orange vest and blue shirt arrangement.) Our mothers probably picked colors they thought we looked good in, don't you think? I don't actually wear orange very often, unless it is an accent color to something else, like purple ... or, maybe the right shade of blue. Maybe that accounts for my early rejection of orange? Maybe yours, too? Who knows? I wish we could ask them!
Oh, yes, plaids seemed to be the order of the day back then! I don't remember wearing anything orange, either. I think Eric may have been allowed some plaids that had orange in them, but he had the hair to support that color choice!
I'm so glad I told you about my new bluebirds this year. It amazes me how you were able to expand this so beautifully. Please keep writing.
I am glad you told me, too! Others as well! And since then I have learned of one other person who has bluebirds come to her yard. She doesn't feed them, but they come back every spring. Best of all, she is right in my 'hood! I never knew bluebirds were so plentiful around here!
Sylvia, I loved this post and could relate to it in a couple of ways.
As a child in England I always avoided the orange and yellow fruit gums in the packet, and that continued into adulthood! I would never choose the orange or yellow counters/markers in a board game either. They are still colors that don’t feature in my closet but I definitely appreciate them in nature. My favorite orange memory is the tangerine at the bottom of my stocking each year at Christmas.
In my all-girls secondary school we were subjected to needlework and cookery classes. Mrs Hope was the needlework teacher and used to call us “little toads!” Each week I would spend half the class unpicking the work she deemed unsatisfactory. We made an apron in grey and yellow gingham to wear in cookery classes. It had a white panel across the top of the bib part on which we had to embroider our first and last name in chain stitch. It was not my forte (but I still have the apron!!!)
I have been reading the Maisie Dobbs murder mystery series. One of the main characters, Priscilla, calls her three sons (when they are young) "the toads." Is that an English thing? (Because this murder mystery series, like all good murder mystery series, takes place in England ... most of them do, anyway. And our main character, Maisie Dobbs, is definitely English.)
I don't have anything left from my home ec classes. No skirt or dress I sewed, no recipe from cooking class. Just stories. Like, the first recipe we made in cooking class was chocolate milk. Seriously. I guess Miss Sullivan wanted to make sure we knew how to use measuring cups and cleaned up the dirty dishes before we advanced to more complicated things, like coffee cake, which, as I recall, used a bunch of Crisco in it. We might have made French toast once. I don't remember anything after that. I turned out to be a pretty good cook, but it wasn't because of home ec class, believe me!
I don’t know about the toad thing being English, but it’s funny it came up in a book.
My first home economics lesson we had to make a piece of toast and a cup of tea. I was insulted!!
Well. I attended the University of Illinois in Urbana Illinois, where we sang: “Hail to the orange! Hail to the Blue! Hail Alma mater, ever so true…” the school colors were orange and blue. Usually a big orange capital letter I with a blue border on white sweatshirts.
Thanks for sharing your story!!!
Well, there you have it. Further proof that Miss Morrison was small-minded in her approach to color combinations! I am so glad I can "see orange" now.
I absolutely adore orange, and it has been my favorite color forever! I like it in all its many shades, fancy names and not so fancy names. Orange makes me warm and happy. Thanks for making me appreciate it all over again, and thanks for your column, which made me smile over and over. (I, too, was terrible at home ec class, and some of my least favorite high school memories are of that class.) Orange you glad you wrote this column?
Definitely glad! And so happy I heard multiple bluebird stories from people, and they spurred such memories. And, most glad of all, that I have opened my eyes to a beautiful color!
Beautiful piece!! Thank you.
And now I know who Thomas Sullivan is!
Thank you so much!
I have a flock of little bluebirds that will sit up on the telephone lines above my trailer waiting for me to put out mealy worms and many times I will hardy get inside before they are eating. They've been here since the winter before the pandemic cause they were a great source of joy during the many days I was here alone. Sometime remind me to tell you about my home ec experience!
Can bluebirds be anything other than a source of joy? I am so glad they showed up when you needed them most! I would love to hear about your home ec experience. I know I am not alone!
There are, it turns out, a lot of us out here/there: in college, I persuaded my roommates to paint...well, really, let me paint...our two rooms orange. (Can't recall if this was allowed, though to my adult brain, it reads as something no college would want happening whenever students changed rooms.) Anyway the orange walls played variously in various lights; it was a warm room. And, predictably, my roommates, named our rooms Jack...a word and name that goes with some many others. We lived happily in Jack for a full year. Now whenever orange stands out for/to me I say, "there's Jack...or I'll have another Jack...Thanks for this post's reminder.
Pretty sure I was involved in some room painting incident in college. In my case, I think we just painted the room white. I can't recall if we tried to get permission first or not. It must be kind of normal to want to "claim space," and somehow putting up posters isn't always adequate. But, orange! Now that must have been a real statement! A few years ago we painted one of our upstairs bedrooms a lovely shade of orange. Something sort of peachy. It was probably Tahitian sunset or something. I'll have to think about calling it Jack now.
Orange was never my favorite color either. However, as time goes by, I find myself liking it more, especially in the fall and especially some less brilliant shades. Then, of course, you can’t go wrong with the oranges in a sunrise or sunset . . . Maybe I do like orange after all?!?
Sylvia, once again I am captivated by your writing. The beauty of the bluebird stilled a ruffled moment with you and your little son. And then the theme recurs in your son’s wedding attire. He looks so happy.. maybe he is remembering that early moment of looking out the window with you..Life can be so magical and it is all here in your story.. (we can be so grateful that life offers us this imagination, way far beyond Miss Morrison’s so limited view.) thank you, Sylvia
Thank you so much, Hasty. I wonder if David even consciously remembers that moment. I asked him to read the post before I published it (I wouldn't publish something personal like that without his permission), but I forgot to ask him if he remembered seeing that bluebird. I'll have to ask him next time I talk to him. After we saw that little bluebird, we discovered bluebird boxes at a nearby conservation area, and our family used to go there frequently to watch them. I am pretty sure he would remember that, because we did it frequently and over a period of several years -- really right up until we moved to Maine. I wonder if Miss Morrison ever had the pleasure of seeing a bluebird. It doesn't seem so, does it? Poor woman.
I wonder if our mothers pointed us toward the blue and spectrum because of our eye color? I suspect orange isn't a good color for either of us to wear unless it is tempered with another color. (See David with his orange vest and blue shirt arrangement.) Our mothers probably picked colors they thought we looked good in, don't you think? I don't actually wear orange very often, unless it is an accent color to something else, like purple ... or, maybe the right shade of blue. Maybe that accounts for my early rejection of orange? Maybe yours, too? Who knows? I wish we could ask them!
You are probably right. I remember lots of red and blue plaid cotton dresses, but nothing orange.
Oh, yes, plaids seemed to be the order of the day back then! I don't remember wearing anything orange, either. I think Eric may have been allowed some plaids that had orange in them, but he had the hair to support that color choice!