Welcome, April
Time to file taxes, clean house, take a breath and relax
It’s April: No fooling. Let’s spend the month untaxing, relaxing and rebooting.
Check in
Here is a way to ease into the month.
Mantra
Today—now—be authentic. Choose your true self; Find your essence, Sweet and clear and true. Be present in your soul For everyone you meet: The supermarket checker, The dog walker, Your best friend, The coworker you hate. Today you are the salt Stripped to the bone Vulnerable Yet powerful Because you are Today—now— Your true self.
Frogs, again
Louder than crickets Raucous as crows Rapidly croaking— Worse in the rain. But it’s never a bad thing When the stillness of nature Breaks into symphony Happy and free. Let those frogs harmonize They lull me to sleep Even squeaking bedsprings Can’t dampen their song.
Aftermath
Since I wrote that poem, the frogs have gone mostly silent.
Maybe mating is over.
I envision them as fat and happy, replete and depleted, lounging on lily pads, if only metaphorical ones (no water lilies in our water feature).
I imagine them smoking little froggy cigarettes.
Sand, swept away
I wrote last week about the urge to create and the impermanence of what is created. In many cases, what we create remains: a quilt, a book, a poem, stained glass, jewelry, sculpture, a painting.
Other creations are ephemeral. Destruction is their purpose.
A wonderful meal ends in scraps.
Wine is drunk.
Fireworks explode into fantasy.
A garden is harvested.
Halloween carvings rot.
Gift wrapping is destroyed to reveal the gift.
One heartbreaking instance of impermanent creation is sand painting.
Colors to go
I know of two important traditions where temporary art is made of sand, only to be cleared away. One is Tibetan, the other Native American.
These creations may take days to build and, once they have fulfilled their purpose for healing and wholeness, they are swept away.
Creation. Destruction. The cycle of nature.
The Navajo of the American Southwest used naturally colored sand to create their paintings. Erin Whitmore, the education director of The Old Jail Art Center* in Albany, Texas, notes that
For the Navajo, the sand painting is a dynamic, living, sacred entity that enables a transformation in the mental and physical state of the ailing individual. They believe that the holy figures in the painting absorb the ailment and provide relief.
After the healing ceremony, the sand painting is considered toxic and destroyed because it has absorbed the illness or problem.
*The Old Jail Art Center site has several fine examples of sand painting. I was unable to find an image with a copyright that allows me to use it, so there is no art with this posting. Search for “sand painting” with any engine and you will find plenty of images.
In Central Asia
Tibetan sand paintings are mandalas, intricate patterns with repeating elements.
The World History Encyclopedia notes that “The mandala, like the words of the Vedas, was not thought to have been created by the human mind but received from the Universe.”
That is how I view inspiration and creativity: Inspiration comes from God, Spirit, the Universe—however you term it. It is not of yourself—yet, paradoxically, it is your essence made manifest and whole.
The WHE also says: “No two people viewing a mandala might come away with the same meaning and, because of this, the mandala was (and is still) thought to be a kind of spiritual mirror reflecting each viewer’s psychological or spiritual state.”
My own mandala
I wasn’t able to find any free images of sand paintings to download, so instead, here is a mandala-like quilt with bright fabrics. It’s from a pattern by Portland designer Elizabeth Hartman called “Kitchen Windows.” I used her basic gridded template and found fabric of birds, cats, trees and houses that might be viewed from a window.
I ignored scale and took delight in combining figures from different fabrics, like the fox and mushrooms.
I paid attention to color, with the clouds above echoing the yellow of the rabbits. The tree branches complement one another, too, although the effect was unintentional.
Spring cleaning
First, a poem about acquisitions
Stuff and gadgets
Percussive nailing-- Guns, not hammers Making work easy One nail at a time, We love our gadgets Why not? They help us. Sometimes they’re useless Like spoon rests that clatter And slide off the counter. Washi tape purchased That we never use. Some things don’t matter— Except that we bought them And now they are clutter. They delighted us once But became excess baggage. Where are the gizmos We so loved as children? Hula hoops, pogo sticks, Movement and laughter. Stash them away In the garage of our memory While we clean our garage To make room for the car. We’ve moved beyond gadgets. Let’s shed the unneeded! We all understand That’s what Goodwill is for.
Housekeeping help
My old copy of Heloise’s Housekeeping Hints is from 1963 and was written by Heloise Bowles, the original Heloise. She started the popular newspaper helpful hints column on a bet in 1959, publishing it in the Honolulu Advertiser. It was soon syndicated to newspapers all over the country.
Bowles died in 1977, but the “Hints From Heloise” column continued, written by her daughter, Ponce Kiah Marchelle Heloise Cruse Evans. The column was signed, simply, “Heloise.” In The Oregonian, it often ran in tandem with “At Wit’s End” by Erma Bombeck.
Back to the book
“Stop cleaning your house the way it was done generations ago,” Heloise (the mom) wrote in her book. “This is a newer age.”
Simplicity is the style today. All that is needed on an end table is a lamp, an ashtray and one good piece of bric-a-brac. Keep it simple. It’s easier.
Still, it was 61 years ago, when housewives had washing days and ironing days. Bleach figures prominently in her discussion of how to do laundry.
Heloise is frugal. While suggesting that housewives buy a feather duster and a carpet sweeper, she notes: “These can be obtained with trading stamps or purchased cheaply.” Trading stamps (often called “green stamps,”) were issued by retailers like grocers and filling stations based on how much you spent. You could redeem them for goods and prizes.
Plan on spending $30 a week on groceries for a family, Heloise advises, and consider making curtains out of nylon net:
It usually is less than 40 cents a yard and is 72 inches wide! . . . Now where can you get anything for 20 cents a yard? Hot air costs that much today!
Heloise is famous for promoting coarser, scratchier nylon net—“the kind petticoats are made of” —over the years as all-purpose cleaning rags and scrubbers.
Morning routine
Much is written about morning routines these days. Here’s Heloise’s:
Remove breakfast dishes, and put them to soak in hot water and detergent, make the beds, pick up papers and empty ashtrays into a big paper sack you carry around. Heat coffee. While it is heating, douse toilet tissue with rubbing alcohol and wipe the bathroom fixtures. Use a carpet sweeper to “hit“ the middle of the floors, take a feather duster to the coffee tables, then go back and do the dishes.
Coffee hot? Drain the pot! You’ll get great satisfaction from knowing that your house is at least “top cleaned.”
Remember, everyone smoked cigarettes in those days. Indoors.
Hints from Heloise
Here are a few more:
“When hanging nylons or leotards outdoors to dry, slip a teaspoon into each toe. This prevents the hose from wrapping around the clothesline and getting snagged.” This was before pantyhose.
“If you place a small piece of cotton in the fingers of rubber gloves, it will help prevent holes from long, pointed fingernails.”
When she and her neighbors tried frying chicken in all sorts of pans, “All agreed that nothing could beat the old cast iron skillet.” She is right about that!
And it might be sexist, but she nails it: “It is a fact that a man can never find anything, and he will see them here.” She is talking about where to put the bath towels in the linen closet.
On cleaning that linen closet: “Make these decisions quickly. That is the secret to easy housekeeping. Never think back.”
Now, go out there and clean a closet! It’s spring. Time for new beginnings.
Update
I visited Kaiser dental again this week. The last time I was there, on March 9, I encountered staff from China, Korea and Russia. This day, my hygienist was an American born of parents from Yemen. She is the first Yemeni I have ever met. I knew something about Yemen from reading David Eggers’ The Monk of Mokha, a highly readable tale of a Yemeni American who develops a trade in coffee from Yemen.
The ancient New Yorker magazines I saw last time have disappeared from the waiting room. However, I encountered a woman on the bus ride to the clinic reading a New Yorker. She had it folded open, and the font and page design are unmistakeable.
She and I agreed that subscribing to The New Yorker is an exercise in guilt. Guilt over never being able to read it all. And it comes out every week! I couldn’t handle the excess of riches and stopped subscribing years ago. I think I might have a digital subscription, but I don’t have time to read it much.
I still miss Roger Angell’s annual holiday poem, “Greetings, Friends!”, although it’s been decades since I sought it out in the year-end issue. His obituary in The New York Times (he died in 2022 at the age of 101) noted that Angell wrote the annual holiday poem “from 1976 until 1998, when it went on hiatus, and restarted it in 2008. In recent years, the poem has been written by Ian Frazier.”
Check out
Seriously, folks, let’s try to relax this April. Yes, there’s cleaning to be done. Robert and I have an enormous task, finding someone to deep clean the duplex apartment of the dust and detritus of remodeling. (Nobody thought to cover furniture and other items with sheets or drop cloths.)
And there are taxes due this month, too. I hope your tax journey is quick and easy. Because of the higher personal exemption, itemization is a thing of the past for many of us middle-income taxpayers. The IRS says the standard deduction in 2024 is
$13,850 for single or married filing separately
$27,700 for married couples filing jointly or qualifying surviving spouse
$20,800 for head of household
If you’re over 65, the deduction is higher: $29,200 for married filing jointly, for example. Check out the IRS for the relevant figures for your situation.
One more pretty picture
Curating your creativity
How you create matters; you know this. My wish for you is to find time every day to create something. It can be a thing of substance, like a quilt block, a drawing, a poem or a paragraph. Or ephemeral, like a kiss on the wind or the bond between friends or even strangers.
Cook something, make music (or hum along), notice the clouds. Spirit is calling you toward richness and fulfillment. Please, answer.
Until next week.
—30—
Housekeeping
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Looking for spring signs in Ireland, it seems to be autumn since last July
I love this post, Fran, especially your beautiful Kitchen Winder quilt. I used to do quilts but didn't get along with my machine. And my quilter friends didn't appreciate my hissy fits. Now a knit. It's easier to make a fast retreat with a knitting project instead of packing up a machine, fabrics, and other stuff.
As for the tax advise, my husband did the work sheet on the standard deduction for "married filing together and over 65. When you check the appropriate boxes on the worksheet, it guides you to the amount you quality for, which could be $30,700. Apparently it's a relatively simple worksheet.