it was nearly 8pm on july 30 when I photographed this sunset on the harbor channel.
we have noticed how dark it is at 8pm now. we have noticed how – in walks west on the channel – how much earlier the sun is setting, how much further to the south the sun rests.
time just marches on.
every friday we look at each other – in surprise – and say, “it’s friday again.” stunning how it all races by. all of it.
after our sweet dogga was seriously ill, we deep-dive researched and changed up his diet to bland homemade foods and monitored him closely. for eleven days he was better. he ate without getting sick, he began to run in the backyard, he looked at us with puppyface eyes. we were immensely grateful.
the day that he got sick – twelve days later – made us scared and destroyed any confidence we had in what had now become routine – making every meal and snicky-snack by hand – and watching to see how he handled it. he is our guiding light and we were taking our cues from him.
we still are. i am writing this post ahead – several days ahead, actually. so i am hoping that by the time it publishes, we are back in a steady zone, that our little lighthouse is guiding us and our care of him through these tougher senior-dog days.
i know that it is important to our dogga that we are centered in this time. i know that it is important to our dogga that we stay focused and balanced, that we don’t forget, that we don’t lose our footing – no matter what happens. i know that the gift of this aussie anam cara is the gift of a lighthouse for the entire time he has been with us, for the entire time he will – sometime – be with us from the plane of existence right next to this plane.
he is our soul dog.
time is speeding by in real life. but here – as we hold caregiving space for the australian shepherd who has taken care of us all these years – it is slower.
in slow motion, we bend to kiss the top of his head, ruffle those incredibly soft aussie ears, whisper how much he is loved.
and the sun rises and sets – and it’s all a mystery – for us and our lighthouse.
littlebabyscion has almost 287,000 miles on it. this little xb has traveled far and wide with me – always keeping me (and then, us) safe. the rocker panel skirt on the passenger side is now held on by a black zip tie (black so as not to draw attention to itself), but LBS has continued to proudly zip us around town, even with its unglamorous wheel rims.
we hadn’t driven it in a bit – there is no longer a/c in it and the humid summer days made it hot-as-heck without a/c – but we were weary of spending $100 to fill up big red in the current days of this country’s dysfunction. so, as it cooled down, we decided to switch the two in our one-car driveway and zip around in LBS again. (plus, big red was making a few strange noises and needed an appointment with steve.)
it felt like freedom driving LBS again – to move around in a much smaller vehicle that is not drinking up a gallon of gas just to go to and return from the grocery store.
and there it was – that sound. undeniable. LBS needed yet another new “lifetime” muffler and exhaust system. this little vehicle left no room for debate as this attention-getting sound got louder and louder and as the fumes in the vehicle necessitated wide open windows. asphyxiation was not a part of the equation, so wide open windows it was.
the signs were there. so was the list of other issues that the mechanic presented us with…oy! we made an appointment and the “lifetime” exhaust system was replaced. even though it was a “lifetime” warranty, i’ll just point out that doesn’t include labor, of course. but LBS wasn’t going to function properly without it. and it was warning us that we could be inundated by the fumes. it would be on us – and our own willful stupidity – if we asphyxiated after LBS clearly warned us.
breck – our aspen out back – is in stress mode. whether the high heat of the summer, or a water (too much/too little) issue or some sort of disease, some of its leaves have some dark spots and curled edges. we will likely go to the local tree nursery and ask a few questions; we want to be sure to help breck prevail. and – much like LBS – it is telling us it is stressed.
how anything in this world could be anything but stressed right now is beyond me.
we are trying – with an exercise regimen, with long daily walks, with some deliberate meditation – to mediate this stress. i can’t say it is entirely helping, but i also must say that it is not hurting. staying grounded and steady, moving forward with goodness and truth, caring about our democracy and the virtue of its ideals and laws as they impact the whole populace – these require a constancy that rides stress like a bucking bronco and holds on.
in less than twenty days, it will be time to vote. there are dark spots and curling edges freaking everywhere now – in every dark and morally vacuous corner of the current administration’s intentions.
while the whole entire tree is not yet entirely and grossly affected, we need to take action and do whatever needs to be done to eradicate that which is stressing breck, that which could snuff its very life.
soon and very soon we will have to trim the stunning plumes off the grasses in the backyard. dogga loves to walk right alongside these grasses and the spikelets attach to his fur. posing as perfectly harmless golden seedheads, these little spikelet awns end up on our bed, in our socks, on the area rug in the living room – and ultimately stab us repeatedly, until one finds the source of the pain and removes it.
last year…as fall progressed and the number of spikey jabs increased, it occurred (slowly) to us to remove the source – and so we reluctantly trimmed the plumes out back, even though the way they catch the sunlight is remarkable.
nevertheless, they somehow sneak in, these tiny posers. and we heroically hold up one or two showing each other that we have literally saved the other’s life.
it’s those sneaker-inners that plague us…like needles from a long-gone christmas tree…they show up…and the longer they are around, the dryer and pointier they get. so it is important to try and eradicate them from inside the house as soon as possible.
ahhh…speaking of eradicating them from inside the house – we are ever closer to midterms and the big house – that-white-one-that-no-longer-has-an-east-wing – the one that every single one of us owns – that house needs big time eradication of the posers lodged there.
any reason to continue to tolerate that which brings pain is not acceptable.
they are seeding nothing but cruelty, bigotry, gluttony, self-serving agenda. and it is all at our peril.
we are wise enough to remove the spikelet awns from our comforter, our rugs, our socks.
we must remove the same from the leadership of our country.
the tidbit server is an etched clear glass tray – vintage fostoria from the 30s or maybe a tad closer to mid-century – with a fleur-de-lis finial in the center. though difficult to store, it is a lovely piece passed down to me and i keep it at hand so that i might use it from time to time. i thought about this tray the instant we passed by the canna lily on the sidewalk by the art center. the brilliant orange-red petals – aglow with noon sun – curled back from the center, revealing nature’s fleur-de-lis, right there, just waiting for us.
we walked home and i looked in the corner cabinet built into our dining room – just to say hello to this piece, remembering my sweet momma using it on special occasions and recommitting to using it any old time.
we were at old navy browsing. they were having big sales and plain black sweatshirts were a part of the sale: $20! – less than half price! it’s been a long time since we each got a new sweatshirt – years, really – so we looked for a couple in big, cozy oversizes, and splurged. just the idea of a new sweatshirt for the fall days and nights rapidly approaching made us excited. we know there is a low bar for eliciting our excitement, but, heck, new yummy sweatshirts would make anyone pretty gleeful.
we imagined walking in all our favorite places with these new sweatshirts. and, though we are not traveling these days – instead, staying at home with our aging dogga – we could well imagine wearing these in the mountains, on the coast, up north, in canyonlands, out in the desert after sunset.
it also means, maybe, that some of our ancient sweatshirts may move on. well, except for the north face clearance ones that are falling apart from close to a dozen years of wear and tear. or the old zip-up that d uses when he paints in his studio. or the cropped zip-up i wore on every single solo roadtrip i took for years – like a reassuring, protective guardian – my support hoodie – now at least 25 years old – with no cuffs left to be found and a paper clip as a zipper pull. yeah, these will not go – no one else would want them, nor would we even give away such shoddy shirts with so much meaning.
but there are others – sweatshirts i collected over the years touting places or universities or organizations. some of those are in very good condition and still have lots of wearing to be done.
it’s a funny thing about old stuff. a few years back i thought that this fleur-de-lis glass tray might be a good thing to move on – to sell to someone who might really relish its vintage beauty, who might use it in regular rotation.
and then i realized that person is me.
the etched glass tray and the tattered papercliphoodie are in different classes entirely. but they are both expressions of who i am, where i have come from, where i might be going.
as soon as the beakyrule has run its course – and i can wear the brand new thing – i’ll be wearing that new black sweatshirt, being all cozy-like. hopefully it will feel just right, right away.
in the meanwhile, it’ll just have to wait for its wings, sitting patiently on the cedar chest in our room, on top of the old quilt and under my sunhat.
the next time we passed the canna lily, it was no longer in fleur-de-lis position, a ballerina in positions of grace. it had withered a bit, its petals less reaching-for-the-sun, more cuff-less and zipperpull-less, but, i noted, no less of a blossom.
scrolling through IG i came across a post with a series of memes – positive words we’ve all heard before, but all succinctly placed as text boxes in appealing photographs that tug at our attention. words like: “be grateful that you slipped through the hands of people who had no f-ing idea how to hold you.” and “i hope you heal from things that nobody apologized for.”
there were more – i took a couple screenshots but then just became lost in this slew of (some really touching) reminders – things we all need to hear from time to time, things that – in the right moment – have the power to make us stop and think, lessen any ever-present pain, stop any perseverating we might be doing that might be harming us or taking away precious time of which we have not-enough.
it was the music that did me in. judah earl’s sand drawing was playing as the soundtrack music for these thoughtful emotion-elicitors. it was all at once striking and familiar. atmospheric and haunting, it reminded me of arvo part’s spiegel im spiegel with a soaring cello line and supportive simple piano. omg. just gorgeous.
the other day we passed by a couple who in the past have deeply hurt us. though they had posed as good friends back then, they were involved in some serious backstabbing behavior, sheer hypocrisy to their stated belief system, the antithesis of what they (piously) claim to be. it pains me to think about it. as we passed, the female of the couple cheerfully said, “hi guys,” as if nothing had ever transpired, as if they had never been betraying to the bonds of friendship of which they had pretended to have.
it was a gut punch for me.
i completely ignored them as they passed within a foot or so on the sidewalk. it was strange to be in such close proximity to someone who had never apologized for their wrongdoing, had never even offered contrition, clearly never had any remorse whatsoever. i imagine that you have had an experience or two like this as well…the reason for my sharing.
it was a couple days later that the reassuring memes came across my screen.
the timing of the universe is sometimes exquisite. it gave me time enough to ponder what had happened but not enough time to immerse fully back in the hurt.
the golden cord in the cloud was there and then it wasn’t. it dissipated as our relationship with the sun changed, light moving in the sky.
the cello line soared and then dropped to a whisper, the piano steady behind it, chording a base harmony, structural and necessary.
the universe stood steady for me, for us, as we processed – once again – what these people had done – people who we trusted, to whom we felt connection, with whom we shared community. it reminded me – it reminded us – that – just as in the IG meme – we had slipped through their hands and that we should feel gratitude instead of loss. some things are just not meant to stay the same. including relationships.
and the mixture of emotions joined the whisper of cello and slipped into the shimmer of gold dust in the cloud. and the cloud moved through the sky and just as quickly as it had shone up, suddenly the gold dust was gone. looking for the next heart that needed it.
there is a company that has captured my attention, a small family-owned business. i don’t own anything made by this company – yet – but every single time i browse through their website, i find myself completely happy. each product – floral sheets, boho skirts and pants, some trinkety trinkets i usually don’t purchase – every single thing textural and colorful – a kaleidoscope of happy – is an item of thoughtful and intentional beauty.
in these times, it would seem that a kaleidoscope of happy is mighty valuable.
the jalapeños at the farmstand (as well as the sweet peppers we photographed and purchased) have the same impact. such happy colors, so unassuming – just doing their i’m-a-pepper thing, delighting us.
the quilt on our bed is like that as well. the colors make us happy – year-round – and when the east sun streams in across the foot of the bed, there is not much that feels quite so reassuringly warm.
in an effort to – every now and then – not watch the news, we take to youtube to see whatever else is out there – thru-hikes, mountain summiting, house-buying, rockclimbing, rvs, van-life, restoration projects, bigfoot, tiny houses, zen videos – whatever will take our minds off what is actually happening – at least for a little bit of time.
there was a video of a guy who had distilled the ten most important things about cleaning out your stuff (which now goes into the same pile as my sentimental-people-getting-rid-of-stuff book and the intense konmari methodology). if you are looking for a dopamine rush, i suspect this is not the way.
anyway, on this video one of the things he said – which I’ve only heard about a zillion times before (though i do not heed it regardless of how many times i’ve heard it i-blame-my-mom) – is to not save things “for good”. instead, he encouraged using things that we have – clothing, china, heritage pieces or things just purchased.
we’ve been trying to do this lately – we have moved all the handed-down fenton hobnail serving pieces and the leaded glass bowls and such into places that are easy to access. instead of serving things in plasticware or ordinary stoneware, we now choose the milkglass hobnail for happy hour charcuterie or the crystal bowls for slices of cucumber and hummus. “use them,” i remind myself, “today is important.“
clothing is harder.
he urged – on the video – to not save clothing for fancy events – to just wear these pieces – perhaps consider that every day is a fancy event.
as a person who gets stuck in patterns of clothing-wearing (if you know me you are nodding here) this is much more difficult. i need to take the flowy boho pants of out my closet and put them on. i need to wear the oversized overalls, the daisy sneakers, the maxiskirt i got in colorado. other than an spf sunshirt i bought on $9.97 clearance at costco a couple weeks ago, i can’t remember what else i have bought in recent times – clothing-wise. oh…a pair of shorts, at the beginning of the summer. (i actually detest shorts now, but feel like i need to own a pair or two anyway.) though it doesn’t count as an article of clothing, my really colorful REI pride crossbody/waist pack has made it to the front of the class and i use it everyday walking or shopping…a piece that manifests happy as soon as i strap it on.)
anyway, i’m losing the point here – which was??? – oh yeah….wearing – and using – the things that make you happy.
likewise – if something does not make you happy – if it no longer fits into the picture of your life – you can give it away. this guy gives you permission (so do the author of the sentimental-people book and marie kondo and every other clearing-out guru).
which would suggest that if you see something that you know would make you happy, then you should consider getting it. (this is also a hard part for me – i know you are nodding emphatically here – as i am not a spontaneous shopper. always belabored by budget, conscience and indecision, i ponder and ponder and ponder before i purchase, if i purchase…)
but there are those gleefully happy floral pillowcases and those incredibly happy floral sheets and…
and maybe, just maybe, someday…
but first – practicing….things out, things out, things out….the gurus are clapping.
and in the meanwhile, before any things-in, the corked jalapeños and the sweet peppers will have to suffice.
they make the happy zone and join in my kaleidoscope of things-beautiful on this day…this important day.
every day we walk our hood-harbor loop – whether we extend it beyond 3.5 miles or not – we pass this tree. on this particular day – with this particular sunset and this particular western sky – it was particularly striking. it stopped me a couple steps beyond it – whispering to me not to miss it – and i went back to photograph it.
wow.
the silhouette.
i remember a very specific photograph taken of me when i was (very) pregnant with my girl. i was sitting and teaching a piano lesson and, for some reason, there is a photo of this. looking at that picture after it was developed (as in film-developing) was eye-opening. i couldn’t believe my profile. it didn’t have the inherent softness of a silhouette, flaws blending into dark and inky . it was just – well – a straight up picture – no softness, no blending, no depth of field out-of-focus. good grief…i was gigantic. all, of course, worth it in the end. it makes me laugh now, but the day i saw the photograph – in one of those envelopes of prints/negatives you’d get back from the photography store or walgreens or wherever you might mail them away to – that day i shed a few tears. i was just shocked. one rarely sees oneself from the side. and, like, wow.
this morning – a few days before this is publishing – we watched a video of buddhist quiet wisdom. it was about aging – which is yet another time of life that our photographs look less and less like we think they should look.
i think the main takeaway for me from that video is the very simple message: you already have enough.
what we bring to this moment – letting go of all the other moments – is enough. the ultimate in presence. a profile of peace and acceptance and utter appreciation.
last week there were a few days when the combo platter of actual temperature and humidity yielded ridiculously high feels-likes outside. we decided to stay in.
and somehow, in our staying-in, we decided to clean the kitchen cabinets…you know, the ones with plates and bowls and cookware and platters and plastic storage with too many lids and not enough containers and dipping bowls and servingware and cutting boards and tupperware and handed-down mid-century glasses and corningware and pyrex mixing bowls and platters and trivets and jam jars that are now everyday glasses and those multi-colored plastic sippy-cups (with lids) and tervis tumblers and (have i lost you yet?) voila! two gravy boats and the plastic shaker thing in which you mix the flour and water.
so.
it was a ginormous task.
i said to him: i don’t want this to turn into a big-deal-like-all-day-thing.
ha.
it turned into three-big-deal-all-day-things.
but, in the middle of extracting everything from the cabinets and laying it on counters and then washing it all and d washing out every single old cabinet and shoring things up a bit and taking stock and thinking through what should stay and what should go and how it should all be stored – what makes sense for day-to-day life – we found ourselves inside very present days.
the silhouette of our days profiled narrative of the last forty to fifty years – old things, new things, things we purchased together, things i had from my previous life, things that had been handed-down.
it was a gorgeous sunset in our kitchen each day we worked on this project – lighting up stories from long ago to now, laughter and joy.
we worked both quietly and raucously. and, at the end of each day, we each had some pretty achy muscles from the up and down on chairs to reach cabinet shelves, the constant on-our-feet washing, washing, the belly laughs about curly straws and sippy cups and a yellow ceramic platter – to which i am still dedicated though i haven’t touched it in at least a decade. we were horrified at the dust and the far reaches of old contact paper and the sheer volume of stuff that had fit into cabinets that looked like it would never pack in there again.
in the middle of our giant-but-not-supposed-to-be-giant-which-yes-caused-a-ruckus-or-two task, we never once gave specific thought to how our aging bodies looked. we never once questioned where we are in life or where we think we should have been. we were just where we were. and it was most definitely gratifying.
it was enough.
and it was backlit by the sun, setting on each of our days, the north sky out the big picture window over the sink illuminating a hot day ending.
it’s that time of year when the wistfuls arrive. school has just started, a little bit – albeit, the tiniest little bit – of fall is in the air, notebooks and filler paper and mechanical pencils fill the supplies aisles, the lakefront is quieter.
i sort back to my own growing-up and how northport harbor went from bustling to a bit sleepy, how crab meadow beach went from crowded – the smell of coppertone lingering in the air – to deserted with a few people walking its shoreline. things reorganized and people got back to it…structure.
even so, even knowing about the impending wistfuls, i had trouble understanding what was happening when i spent the day close to tears.
i knew i had written another blogpost about the wistfuls – last year – and i just looked back at it. i’m not sure i could say what i said in that blogpost more succinctly:
and is it any wonder that i wonder what the wistful is about???
oh, i imagine that when the wistful hits, it will be with some degree of force. for everything is changing – not just the leaves.
and we are suddenly thrust into a world – a country – where freedom and rights are being usurped, where the administration is upholding the secrecy of sexual predators, where school shootings – with children and adults dying – dying! – elicit merely passive thoughts and prayers, where xenophobic, racist, homophobic, misogynistic leaders wish to eliminate – eliminate! – actual people they consider superfluous, unwelcomed, expendable, where the premise of warmongering seems to be a sport and the propensity to further lethality and offensive actions on those they perceive as disposables runs rampant, where healthcare and the ability to have enough food is considered elite, where having more gets more and having less doesn’t matter.
we usually leave our house – and arrive at our house – through the back door. it all started when, years ago, i was having trouble with the front door – the key wouldn’t work in the lock and – at the time, and for some time – it was too pricey to have a locksmith either fix it or install a whole new handle assembly on an old door with a really unique and beautiful vintage brass handle. so i used the back door instead. exclusively.
now, clearly i went to the front door to answer it, to check the mail, to exit directly into the front yard. it was just more secure to leave through the back and it was impossible to enter through the front.
phew. enough about that.
anyway, the other day – mid-afternoon – i went to the front doorto check the mailbox. dogga always comes with me to “check the mail with momma”. glancing out, i could see this bright yellow flower – just one – happily growing next to one of the big ornamental grasses between our front sidewalk and the old brick wall.
all perky-like, it totally captured my attention – this little stranger in the midst of all the green fronds around it.
it didn’t look unhappy in its lostness. on the contrary, it looked completely at ease.
when i was little i had this inordinate, oversized fear of getting lost. i was completely not at ease with it. and my big brother fed this fear (just like my big sister fed fears of mine – for they were both a decade older than me and i was an easy target.)
i would be traveling with my dad and my big bro – in our pink camper van they converted from a long island lighting company (lilco) fleet-van. this van had a propensity for breaking down and it always seemed to be while we were upstate somewhere, forcing us to get off the highway onto these side roads to nowhere – woods and fields everywhere and no gas station to be found. my heightened angst about being lost would kick in – egged on by my beloved brother. i was little enough to be convinced we were never going to get home from the place-in-the-forest we had ended up, always stuck on the side of the road in a pink camper van, forever and ever more.
because my dad and my brother were both male – they were not inclined to ask for help or directions or a tow. instead, they did things like cut bits of barbed wire from random fences to resecure whatever it was in the engine that was falling apart. they’d drive and drive for miles – using the sun for guidance – to try and find their way back to an entrance to the highway. you know, various brilliant avoidances of utilizing the rest of humanity to help them.
to their credit, we always did get home safe and sound. and – to their credit – they truly were brilliant themselves – resourceful rube goldbergs – creativity and mechanical savvy combining to make every journey a success, no matter what.
i do think, though, that there are many people who – like this beautiful yellow flower – find themselves out of place, lost. out of place and lost can make one feel increasingly frantic and afraid:
“i think a lot of people are like this – lost, confused, and looking for directions but too scared or embarrassed or ashamed to ask for help.” (valerie bertinelli)
in all the adult travel i have done – particularly the solo travel – i have, like you, not really wanted to get lost on the way. but something about always arriving – when i was a child who was fearful – taught me to just take a breath. i have found that i talk aloud to myself as i drive through confusing territory – reminding myself i can always turn around and retrace my steps, i can always go back over the bridge the way i came, i can always pull over and regroup. and these days – with GPS at our side guiding our every veer and turn – this is even less imperative.
that doesn’t cover existential lostness, though. it doesn’t help with the out-of-place we feel in situations or circumstances – crossroads – of life that have nothing to do with traveling or maps.
” so many travelers say that sometimes you have to get lost to find what you’re looking for…”
maybe it’s those early days in our pink van that helped. the laughter and the tears, the ribbing and the comforting, the getting lost and the finding. it all somehow balances out.
in just a few days our little yellow flower was no longer there. it was almost like it had moved on.
but i do believe it was supposed to be right there – right out the now-keylock-accessible front door – waiting for us to see its happy face.
a little drop-in flower that reminded us of the raw of lostness and foundnessand the time in the middle.
the sweet potato is growing by leaps and bounds – it’s almost mind-boggling how quickly it has become so large. more accustomed to plants that grow slower, we wonder how it is possible. it’s only been two weeks since we planted the entire potato in this planter, its tiny pink tendril sprouts sticking out of the dirt.
now – merely two weeks later – this sweet potato is vining everywhere. this photo, taken a few days ago, is already outdated; the vine now reaches up onto the deck and is twirling around the pot that holds one of the basil plants. it reaches out to the lavender, over to the tomato, and forward onto the patio. it – seemingly – has no bounds, and these amazing heart-shaped leaves are multiplying, multiplying, multiplying.
