A month that began with a longing for spring is coming to a close on a gorgeous Iowa day filled with warmth, sunshine, and blooming color. If one had to resort to only one word to describe my portion of earth this time of year it would be “green.” In Iowa, green is synonymous with life. If some sort of flora isn’t green, it’s cause for concern. That may be the case with one or two of my Ash trees.
The farmers are in the field, planting what will soon come up green. Cows are in the pastures eating the tender new green growth. I even have about three-fourths of my garden planted. We’ll have to wait a bit to see how that green adventure comes out. I’m not much of a gardener. My general strategy is plant and pray.
I have sampled the rhubarb. Not much flavor yet, but I had a soulful moment walking back across the yard in the moonlight with my single stalk feeling oh, so good about myself for producing my own food.
The indoor greenery is feeling refreshed as well in its new seasonal home on the sun porch. The porch is closed off in the winter, and moving back in every spring is a ritual I relish. I sit here now, in fact. In a near perfect environment – doors and windows open to the outside, yet screens between me and the bugs. We’re practical about nature here in Iowa.
April has been an extremely busy month aside from my communing with nature. It’s a month in which I’ve worn nearly all my hats. In the past month I have: photographed a wedding, met 12 deadlines, conducted eight in-depth phone interviews and several brief contacts, and made one out-of-town-for-work trip. I took on three new clients and five new jobs. I participated in two business and four community project meetings. I made three appearances at public events and attended one conference.
I had the following conversation with my daughter:
Milini: “I’m moving.”
Me: Does that mean you’re finally taking some of this furniture around here?”
Milini: “Not this time.”
Me: “Damn.”
Hopes dashed again.
I attended the Third Anniversary Party of the Warren Cultural Center. That’s the third anniversary of its opening. The project has been ongoing for much of the last two decades. I sat in that grand auditorium watching the videos remembering my early days at the Free Press covering the early days of the opera house project. I’ve seen the building through its incarnations (and it through mine) – from scraping the pigeon crap off the auditorium floor to the magnificent restoration (the building, that is). I attended and participated in events held in the rough-hewn basement and pink-walled former dance studio.
I felt the frustrations and celebrated the successes at countless Happy Hours at my house with my sister, who has, and continues to, devote her life to the venture.
Now I sit in that glorious auditorium, being entertained by top-quality professional performers on a regular basis– and the sense of awe never goes away.
I’ve seen what it has done for the attitude of a community. The pride. The inspiration to try more; to do more. New businesses that have followed its lead. An expanded sensibility for the arts, and the ways art, in all its forms, can enhance life.
I made the comment awhile back that the Cultural Center has raised the quality of life bar for small towns everywhere. I firmly believe that. As I go to conferences and cover life in Iowa for magazines, I see an awakening – a new awareness of the role culture plays in community and personal development. What’s happening here has been on the front arc of that movement. That’s something to be proud of.
Also on the community front, I’m working to put on the 114th Fontanelle Alumni Banquet and the town’s 4th of July celebration. Two long-held traditions that I am also proud to be a part of. It takes many volunteers to keep these things running. I am only one of a small army. But glad to do what I can.
May looks to be as busy as April. And just as green. By month’s end, God willing and the creek don’t rise (a very real threat in this part of the country), I’ll have peonies in bloom, a house full of family, and with a little luck radishes to feed them.
Between now and then there is much to be done, much to be learned and recorded, and many piles of project materials to be shifted about.
But the sun rises every morning before I do and doesn’t set at night until I’m ready to quit for the day. The furnace barely runs and the AC has yet to kick in. I get to work on my sun porch, talk to interesting people about interesting things, be part of a great community, and still spend a little time just watching the plants grow.
It’s pretty hard to beat a life like this.