Anyone who has ever eaten in a restaurant where your food is not already wrapped to go has seen a plate liberally adorned with kale. It’s deep green, frilly, and not easily affected by the heat or sauce of the food; haven’t you wondered fleetingly if they ever rinse it off in the kitchen and recycle it for the next unsuspecting diner? It keeps its biting taste and crunch even when it’s cooked—none of that dissolved slime you get with spinach cooked too long in the soup. If they put it in cans, Popeye would have been perfectly happy to substitute it for his favorite vegetable because it confers a certain indestructibility on the diner: no cholesterol, some dietary fiber, and a whopping 354% of the daily requirement of Vitamin A and 89% for Vitamin C. It maxes out on the high edge of the Nutrition Target Map (see http://www.nutritiondata.com/facts-B00001-01c20di.html .)

Ironically, as every second grader learns (but surely doesn’t really appreciate), the miracle of seeds and plant growth is such that this Iron Man vegetable comes up the hard way. The seed leaves (the first two to appear, but bearing little resemblance to the true leaves we will later recognize as kale) are big and hearty enough, but the stem of the seedling is long, brittle, and water-filled. If it bends, from human carelessness, the weight of its roots, or becoming entwined with its neighbors, the tissue is broken and that seedling is no longer viable. This characteristic makes it challenging to transplant the seedlings into peat pots for later transfer to the outside. Every year, my potting table is littered with the ones that could have been contenders. Nevertheless, there are enough that have survived the ordeal this spring and will by fall become a border of ruffled rosettes, pink and cream against the lovely blue-green of Osaka Ornamental Kale.

On the plane out to Chicago this winter the woman in the next seat pulled out a book of Sudoku number puzzles and went to work. I hope there was no smirk on my face, but I was thinking what a waste of time it must be to do the practically the same 1-9 puzzle over and over. Of course, that was before I ever tried to do one myself. What a difference a month makes. On my next plane trip, to Savannah, the woman next to me was doing the day’s newspaper Sudoko, but now I knew enough about these puzzles to recognize that she was basically guessing. (Even a little trial and error is a dead-end line of attack, not to mention that erasing newsprint is distressing.) By the time we arrived at our Elderhostel a few days later, I had gotten in the habit of trying to solve every Sudoku I encountered, and I made so bold as to offer some strategy tips to the woman next to me on the bus who was just learning about Sudoku. Now, most mornings I do at least one newspaper puzzle and one on the Internet. The best site I have found is http://sudoku.com.au/Default.aspx ; it offers new puzzles daily at four levels of difficulty and has several good options to suit a person’s favored strategies. Notice in the accompanying screen capture that all the possible numbers can be arrayed in given slot before the final numbers are figured out definitively; most online programs don’t have this capability and are more suited for printing out, solving, and then checking for accuracy. At this point, I approach each puzzle following a set sequence of solving strategies, although I’m still not too efficient (I may be ready to absorb a new principle soon, though). I can reliably solve puzzles designated Easy, Medium, and Hard, but I sometimes hit a wall on Tough or bail out because it’s not worth investing any more time. However, unlike with crossword puzzles, I’m pretty confident that every Sudoku is solvable and I can easily self-check my effort to feel a sense of closure…until tomorrow morning, that is.

As Christy said so succinctly, “What were we thinking?” Some people may be pack rats. Others are proudly resourceful and truly think they’ll someday find a use for their little-used treasures. So, down the cellar steps they carry the clothes and books and furniture that must make way for new acquisitions. Now, ten or twenty years later, as Ralph brings likely candidates up from the basement on the way out to the curb (or to the homeless shelter, the Salvation Army resale store, the minivan being packed for a Chicago trip), I’m flooded with memories of each item’s former life. Today I must acknowledge that Eric and Christy will never again lay their sweet heads down on pillowcases featuring Princess Leia, Cookie Monster, NFL team logos, or Wonder Woman. Do they even remember doing so? It’s okay to give away these pieces of their childhood; isn’t it better that our children are exploring boldly and enjoying so many aspects of life rather than simply falling asleep dreaming about doing it?

There’s no use having a collection of something if you’re not going to take it out and look at it once in a while. Based on my modest album of flower postcards, the first decade of the 1900s must have been their heyday, and the pansy was one of the most popular subjects. The cards themselves are often beautiful, but some of their value for me certainly resides in the messages: “Dear Son, We heard your wife is sick. Your Loving Mother” or “Hello Harlen—Are you going barefooted yet. It is awful hot. I am in second reader now from Mary.”

During this period, specific flowers were said to represent certain feelings or relationships. Pansies may have gotten their name from the French “pensee,” meaning “thought;” thus a pansy postcard conveyed both the sender’s carefully penned message and the unspoken one, “I’m thinking of you.” In the garden, a pansy cheerfully presents its open face to the world while other flowers are still making plans or staying safe from the cold. It is no fair weather friend.

I keep saying, “Someday, I’m going to [fill in the blank],” but someday is now. If I can’t find time now that I’m retired, I have only myself to blame. So-o-o-o, I’m viewing the tutorial videos for Painter Essentials 2, software bundled with the Wacom Intuos 3 tablet. This is a slimmed-down version of Corel Painter, but it’s still pretty complicated. My ultimate goal is to create watercolor and pastel versions of some of my photographs. For today, I’m just trying out the various brushes. Some of them create a more appealing effect than others, especially with the very realistic textured surfaces.

The first thing I do every morning is get a cup of coffee and sit in my comfortable armchair to view The Daily Critique from the Radiant Vista site -- http://www.radiantvista.com . There is a new viewer-submitted image every morning, and Craig follows a simple formula in each under-5-minutes discussion. In his respectful, calm, professional way he always starts with, "The first thing I like about this image...," highlighting such features as the kind of light, the "story," or adherence to such principles as rule of thirds, power points, or the golden spiral. He follows up with suggestions for "improving this image in a perfect world," often by pointing out how another angle or time of day or interaction with the subject might have changed the picture. When he demonstrates how a simple crop, a change in saturation, or a slight cloning out of small distractions can elevate an image, I bet even the original photographer is pleased rather than insulted.

I hope that over time I can absorb and use all the tips and principles I've heard him discuss. There is just something about Craig's voice and his gentle teaching that gets my day off to a serene start.