I used to know this: when using SubStack on my iPhone and needing to look something up, mid-comment, sometimes there is simply no coming back to the earlier part of the comment! Grrrr. Pooof!
The kernel of my remark was to acknowledge typist’s commitment to learning, practicing discernment, and showing little attraction to the group-speak of the moment. Not anti-social by a long shot. Perhaps enlightened. Note: blushing is entirely optional. 😉
Those properties brought to mind Robert Frost’s well known poem, “The Road Not Taken.” It’s final three lines serve to summarize:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I -
I chose the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Earlier lines of the poem describe the elements of his choosing. He suggests each would appear to be a good choice. They appear nearly equally traveled, and each bears newly fallen leaves, not yet blackened by any form of travel. Was his choosing that of intuition? By chance? He tries to justify his choice factually but quickly decides there’s not much difference to note. Just as Frost exhibits discernment, we too see that in our typist’s practices.
And today I sit privileged to witness Gail and the Muses relying on nuances of discernment.
Note: No money changed hands in the writing of this post. 😬
Ahhh… I too have experienced the sad disappeared, partially-completed comment. No doubt Substack’s developers continue to make improvements as they are able.
Blushing girl Typist is an automatic, uncontrollable reflex. 😊 Thank you for your kind words.
I love Frost’s poem as well as a quote from him: “I know only this about life, it goes on.” My paraphrase might be a little bit off.
I, too, blush unbidden. Sometimes for no reason I can cite. And my weak detection of red hues often leaves me clueless to a blush. Well, clueless on plenty of other things as well... 🙃
I recently received a book of poems by Barbara Kingsolver as a gift. Reading one or two poems daily has added spice to me and the muses that was not with us before.
Based on your recommendation, next I’d like to add Frost to my reading mix.
You didn’t miss anything. I didn’t name the podcast because I don’t want my learning to color somebody else’s. Another listener will likely take away something different than I did?
It was a well known author/speaker/personality talking to an audience of tech employees. Listening/reading her authentic voice has taught me a lot about myself! 😊
T-shirt: “How old do you have to be to know what’s going on? (Asking for a friend.)” 😁
I was indifferent to strawberries until late in life, when friends introduced me to local, field-grown strawberries (as opposed to the commercial variety in groceries, bred to look pretty for as long as possible). Alas, the strawberry season here is, depending on the quirks of weather: short, very short, or "oh, are we done with strawberries already? nobody told me!" 😢
My dad prefers honeyoye strawberries because he feels they hold up well when frozen. 🤷♀️ Me? Makes no difference. I just go because he likes it and it gives us a pint of connection.
Hope you’ve had some plant ripened berries this year Jack. They are delicious when plucked warm from the sun.
I grew up in NW Pennsylvania, part of the forced labor unit of a family that gardened extensively for our own use, mostly. Strawberries, their types and advantages, were an ongoing experiment for several years. The results were these: June strawberries yielded, in June, large & almost flavorless fruit. Red on the outside and nearly white inside despite having ripened! Ever-bearing strawberries, which fruited for several months each year, produced smaller but much tastier fruit. Red through and through. The winner in this category was “Oglala,” also the name of a Sioux Tribe from the upper Midwest.
Their flavor closely resembled that of wild strawberries that grew near our home. Shortly after school ended in Spring, we were dispatched with berry buckets (large Crisco cans with coat hanger loop handles) to pick as many as we could find. Note: large wild berries were around 1/2 inch in diameter with many smaller! With a decent harvest, preserves were made. If scant, shortcake! 🤗
Consider that my strawberry familiarity dates to the late 50’s. Considering how much hybridization and genetic tweaking has taken place over the 60+ years since, did no geneticist ever say, “Hey! You know those hard, red fruits? Let’s develop a variety that tastes like strawberries!”
I'm in south central PA, Gary, which is where I was introduced to strawberries with flavor. I never (after living here for almost 30 years) gained any knowledge about types of strawberries; I usually just ask people, "Where's a good place to go?" My late MIL was wonderful about getting the best local strawberries for us (another reason I miss Mom).
Then a few years ago I noticed some of my yard's weeds had little bitty red berries that looked like... miniature strawberries! And thus I was introduced to wild strawberries. I love the flowers and the look of the berries, so they do not get my usual weed treatment (unless they get out of hand, and left to their own devices that takes maybe two months, max), but the flavor is erratic; sometimes I get a handful (has to be that much, or there's no point) with flavor that beats regular commercial berries, and sometimes I get a mouthful of little tiny seeds with some flavor attached. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
As a child I loved when my mom would read us The Fly Away Horse by Eugine Fields. We had a set of The Book of Knowledge encyclopedias and this poem was in it. I loved looking at the picture of the winged horse with little ones on it's back. The background behind them was a mystical place with lollipops growing, fruit trees etc. After we lost my dad my sister was going to throw them out because the info in them was so out dated. I snatched in a heart beat and have them here with me. It is the memories I cherish.
All this talk of fresh berries has me feeling a little jealous right now. No fresh berries in the desert. So, I will live vicariously through your stories for now… I am amazed at how Typist continues to develop her discernment muscles. Obviously she’s been working out! 😉
The wild black berries brambles growing in the wild spaces of our yard are just beginning to offer ripe fruit. The berries are seedy and delicious! 😋
Discernment muscles… I like the sound of that! Our mutual friend Billie shared Christina Aguilera’s song “fighter” with me shortly after my c diagnosis. Amazing how adversity has the potential to bring out our best!
I used to know this: when using SubStack on my iPhone and needing to look something up, mid-comment, sometimes there is simply no coming back to the earlier part of the comment! Grrrr. Pooof!
The kernel of my remark was to acknowledge typist’s commitment to learning, practicing discernment, and showing little attraction to the group-speak of the moment. Not anti-social by a long shot. Perhaps enlightened. Note: blushing is entirely optional. 😉
Those properties brought to mind Robert Frost’s well known poem, “The Road Not Taken.” It’s final three lines serve to summarize:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I -
I chose the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Earlier lines of the poem describe the elements of his choosing. He suggests each would appear to be a good choice. They appear nearly equally traveled, and each bears newly fallen leaves, not yet blackened by any form of travel. Was his choosing that of intuition? By chance? He tries to justify his choice factually but quickly decides there’s not much difference to note. Just as Frost exhibits discernment, we too see that in our typist’s practices.
And today I sit privileged to witness Gail and the Muses relying on nuances of discernment.
Note: No money changed hands in the writing of this post. 😬
Ahhh… I too have experienced the sad disappeared, partially-completed comment. No doubt Substack’s developers continue to make improvements as they are able.
Blushing girl Typist is an automatic, uncontrollable reflex. 😊 Thank you for your kind words.
I love Frost’s poem as well as a quote from him: “I know only this about life, it goes on.” My paraphrase might be a little bit off.
I, too, blush unbidden. Sometimes for no reason I can cite. And my weak detection of red hues often leaves me clueless to a blush. Well, clueless on plenty of other things as well... 🙃
The Road Not Taken is my all time favorite poem!! I love Robert Frost poems.
I recently received a book of poems by Barbara Kingsolver as a gift. Reading one or two poems daily has added spice to me and the muses that was not with us before.
Based on your recommendation, next I’d like to add Frost to my reading mix.
Thank you!
I missed something. Which podcast?
The confluence of fresh strawberries, blackberries, and raspberries was on our table last night. It was divine.
You didn’t miss anything. I didn’t name the podcast because I don’t want my learning to color somebody else’s. Another listener will likely take away something different than I did?
It was a well known author/speaker/personality talking to an audience of tech employees. Listening/reading her authentic voice has taught me a lot about myself! 😊
Maxi-mum yum!
T-shirt: “How old do you have to be to know what’s going on? (Asking for a friend.)” 😁
I was indifferent to strawberries until late in life, when friends introduced me to local, field-grown strawberries (as opposed to the commercial variety in groceries, bred to look pretty for as long as possible). Alas, the strawberry season here is, depending on the quirks of weather: short, very short, or "oh, are we done with strawberries already? nobody told me!" 😢
Short season — yes! Here, too.
My dad prefers honeyoye strawberries because he feels they hold up well when frozen. 🤷♀️ Me? Makes no difference. I just go because he likes it and it gives us a pint of connection.
Hope you’ve had some plant ripened berries this year Jack. They are delicious when plucked warm from the sun.
I grew up in NW Pennsylvania, part of the forced labor unit of a family that gardened extensively for our own use, mostly. Strawberries, their types and advantages, were an ongoing experiment for several years. The results were these: June strawberries yielded, in June, large & almost flavorless fruit. Red on the outside and nearly white inside despite having ripened! Ever-bearing strawberries, which fruited for several months each year, produced smaller but much tastier fruit. Red through and through. The winner in this category was “Oglala,” also the name of a Sioux Tribe from the upper Midwest.
Their flavor closely resembled that of wild strawberries that grew near our home. Shortly after school ended in Spring, we were dispatched with berry buckets (large Crisco cans with coat hanger loop handles) to pick as many as we could find. Note: large wild berries were around 1/2 inch in diameter with many smaller! With a decent harvest, preserves were made. If scant, shortcake! 🤗
Honeyoye is the only variety my dad wants and so that’s what we pick. I’m not fussy… at least not about that. 😂
Consider that my strawberry familiarity dates to the late 50’s. Considering how much hybridization and genetic tweaking has taken place over the 60+ years since, did no geneticist ever say, “Hey! You know those hard, red fruits? Let’s develop a variety that tastes like strawberries!”
I'm in south central PA, Gary, which is where I was introduced to strawberries with flavor. I never (after living here for almost 30 years) gained any knowledge about types of strawberries; I usually just ask people, "Where's a good place to go?" My late MIL was wonderful about getting the best local strawberries for us (another reason I miss Mom).
Then a few years ago I noticed some of my yard's weeds had little bitty red berries that looked like... miniature strawberries! And thus I was introduced to wild strawberries. I love the flowers and the look of the berries, so they do not get my usual weed treatment (unless they get out of hand, and left to their own devices that takes maybe two months, max), but the flavor is erratic; sometimes I get a handful (has to be that much, or there's no point) with flavor that beats regular commercial berries, and sometimes I get a mouthful of little tiny seeds with some flavor attached. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Life is like a box of strawberries.
As a child I loved when my mom would read us The Fly Away Horse by Eugine Fields. We had a set of The Book of Knowledge encyclopedias and this poem was in it. I loved looking at the picture of the winged horse with little ones on it's back. The background behind them was a mystical place with lollipops growing, fruit trees etc. After we lost my dad my sister was going to throw them out because the info in them was so out dated. I snatched in a heart beat and have them here with me. It is the memories I cherish.
Look what I found!
https://vimeo.com/475805723
I had never heard the poem before.
I do not remember my parents reading to me. I DO remember that my older sister did read to me… Charlotte’s Web in particular.
I always loved the library and reading.
Thank you for introducing me (us) to The Fly Away Horse!
All this talk of fresh berries has me feeling a little jealous right now. No fresh berries in the desert. So, I will live vicariously through your stories for now… I am amazed at how Typist continues to develop her discernment muscles. Obviously she’s been working out! 😉
The wild black berries brambles growing in the wild spaces of our yard are just beginning to offer ripe fruit. The berries are seedy and delicious! 😋
Discernment muscles… I like the sound of that! Our mutual friend Billie shared Christina Aguilera’s song “fighter” with me shortly after my c diagnosis. Amazing how adversity has the potential to bring out our best!
Thanks for being here Bobby!