July 18, 2020

Just returned from seven magical days at Gilas Lake. More pics here: http://growingupwards.home.blog/2020/07/20/july-18-2020

July 8, 2020

Our street has held a 4th of July block party for many decades. That includes over 20 years of the Silbers’ beloved rib fest. Two years ago on the 4th, Chris pulled into the driveway to end his cross-country drive from Oakland. (The kids and I joined him a month later - he flew back and drove with us). He saw everyone hanging out on the street with games and beer and stopped by to introduce himself. Last year, we missed the party because of our trip to California. This year, coronavirus.

Except Ian’s annual request (submitted like always on Jan. 1) was approved. He got the news around July 1. Ours would be the first block party in our village mid-COVID. The rules include no potluck, mask wearing, and distancing. The weather was on the hot side of perfect. But pretty perfect. We made a big circle of chairs in the middle of the street. After a while, we took off our masks to eat and drink and left them off. And people brought food, but in individual containers and plates. We did eat the lemon squares Anne made from her well-worn childhood Peanuts cookbook. And Jeff’s potato salad, and Katie’s au gratin muffins. Not to mention Ian’s ribs.

At one point, Peggy and her husband strolled by from the 100 block. They were both wearing masks and looked a little surprised. “Some of you people aren’t quite six feet apart,” Peggy noted. “Someone probably needs to tell you that.” I’d just learned that Peggy is an oboist with a local orchestra and gave lessons to the Pieritz’s daughter (our block) who is also now an oboist at a local orchestra. This is the kind of stuff I learned from talking nonstop to neighbors for ~ 4 hours.

My mom is right -- social impulses and social distancing are largely in conflict when it comes to gatherings. And social impulses tend to win. It was really fun to scoot, play catch, and sit around chatting and dining in our street. We tried to be safe about it and at some point I lost track if I was being as safe as I could be. 

At dusk the fireworks started. We can hear it from Chicago's west side and all the neighboring villages. It’s been going on for a month, so no surprise. But this was next level. The air was thick with smoke and filled with what sounded like layers of artillery. Scooting around after dark in the warm night under a full moon, Luke and I watched fireworks in a neighboring alley — one of them reminded us of the Purple Rain from Grandma and Grandpa’s in past summers when we’d visit them for Luke and Chris’s birthdays and set off fireworks in their driveway. Halina and Luke found us there. Chris had bare feet. The neighbor setting them off is a colleague of Chris's. The night was a mix of familiar and friendly and worrisome.

Luke loved having no cars on our street

Halina hanging out on the parkway trees

Lynda’s been constantly improving ‘canyon park’

In the kitchen, as usual

July 1, 2020

The kids and I took bikes to explore Salt Creek Trail last week. A quiet, undulating trail that opens to busy traffic intersections occasionally then dips back into green shade. 

It always feels like a bit of an adventure to explore a new place, even near by.

Luke had a playdate with Sebbie yesterday in the woods. His dad brought laser guns and bubbles. I brought spray bottles because it was 90 and humid.

Luke had a tennis lesson afterwards. It was only his second lesson but the teacher says he’s picking it up quickly. Maybe all that ping pong is helping.

We also put up the badminton net recently.

Lynda told us the trees along our back fence are cherry and peach that she planted many years ago. They make great pies, she said. We’ve been eyeing the cherries lately, watching them go darker and rounder, Luke asking when we can pick them, but we’ve been so busy. Today we finally brought out the ladder and buckets and found they were mostly dried or getting mushy or eaten by squirrels. I used Luke’s toy grabber to pluck a couple perfect ones for him from the very top of the ladder, leaning gingerly into brittle branches that sometimes snapped.

Lynda invited us into the cool canyon between our houses where she’s been making a patio for us to share. We chatted while the sky purpled and the fireflies came out. 

Flowers from the garden