We've lived in our home for 40 years, but it is only now, during this mellow August of 2019 that I find myself taking up a studio spot in our greenhouse, feeling reflective as I listen to the birds in the quiet hours of early summer mornings. Rick gave me a tablet for my birthday, and a friend gave me the idea to buy a little bluetooth keyboard for it. No longer having a laptop, I now have this nifty set-up on the circular glass table, my morning desk. Hence, as a seasonal writing project, From the Greenhouse begins with this post.
Two weeks ago I was here at the table writing to a friend when I lapsed into a reflection about my personal history as a transatlantic traveler. Recently, I have surprised some long-known friends when I've off-handedly told them bits about my early life. I assumed that my friends knew my basic life story. Here is what I wrote that day, inspired by the sounds of the morning, with a few pertinent facts and photos added for this first post:
Good morning, K~
When we first went to Europe I was 5 years old. We sailed from NYC to Southhampton, England on the SS America. The year was 1955, and Dad had taken a sabbatical leave. Nine months later, we sailed back to the U.S. and I remember seeing the Statue of Liberty from our ship. In 1961, we flew back to Europe from Seattle (via NYC) after Dad was hired by the Dept. of Defense. That time we made the voyage on a propellor plane. That was a looooong flight that groaned all the way across the Atlantic. Later, in the early 60's, the flights back and forth to visit family were via "turbo-props"–a little faster. Finally, in the mid 60's, the planes were sleek jets with designed interiors. What a treat to arrive in England or Germany or NYC without feeling vibrated to the bone and achingly sleep deprived.
Jocelyn Curry 
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