reverse threading

the path back is the path forward

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how one comes to the table. [kerri’s blog on flawed wednesday]

the plants are stressed. you can see it. there are yellowing leaves, limp branches, tiny fruits. even the sweet potato vine is doing a dance for survival with the intense heat and humidity, storms and wind.

we are trying to be vigilant as we take care of all of them – the ones on the potting stand and on the deck. i carefully try to determine if they need more water or less water, more sun or more shade, a little fertilizer. this is not an exact science, i find, and i am not necessarily an intuitive gardener. i do, however, come to the table with good intentions, wanting all our plants to flourish and have all the nutrients and circumstances they need to thrive.

i imagine that the growing season on our potting stand will end sooner this year than we wish it to. even so, we will have totally enjoyed its cherry tomatoes, basil, jalapeños, cilantro, parsley, chives and mint. i wonder if next year we will try a few new veggies or herbs. (had we not already tried lettuce, i would think that might be a good choice – since lettuce is on the do-not-fly list these days.)

in the “weird things category for 100”, we are now washing our produce again. after we get home from the grocery store, we have gone back to taking out the large stainless steel salad bowl, filling it with water and scrubbing everything with the vegetable brush. it harkens us back to the pandemic – and not in a good way. those memories are filled with stress and the grief of separation from others, too many devastating stories for all of us to have to go back in any way.

frustrated by lettuce-and-so-many-other-things, i feel like the leaders of our government should come to the table with intelligent solutions and goodness, instead of self-centered rapacious destruction and chaos, so much of which is cruel. we need clean water, clean air and clean food as the most basic of things – the most basic of our good health – yet there is some serious intentional undermining of all of that by this administration. and so, more trauma.

we are witness to the shedding of authentic responsibility these days when people in power are asked to come to the table. though there are those of us who come to the table in good faith – with the intent to do the right thing, to navigate together – there are others who absolutely absolve themselves of any culpability and come to the table empty-handed and empty-hearted. nothing can grow in that space.

the squirrel somehow discovered that we had a few tomato plants. we watched him upside down in the tomato cage, plucking choice cherry tomatoes off the plant. he then scampered – tomato sticking out of his mouth – to the fence, where he perched and munched on his snack. and then, he repeated the whole thing all over again. his intent was clear. he was a hungry-bunny squirrel and gave no illusions of minding boundaries – the ones between what was his and what was ours.

the thing is, we really don’t expect squirrels to be mindful that way. we don’t expect them to be respectful or to honor others or observe any kind of discipline. squirrels are not goody-two-shoes.

people – on the other hand – have every capability to be straight arrows. we expect them – particularly those who have been given authority, those who are supposed to hold the high regard of others, those who have decision-making power – to come to the table with good intention, wanting all to flourish and having all the nutrients and circumstances that all – ALL – need to thrive.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this WEDNESDAY

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a good takeover. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

sweet potato black bean chili was on the menu, so we went to the hanging basket in the stairwell to get a couple sweet potatoes.

lo and behold, one of our sweet potatoes had sweet pink tendrils growing, growing. we giggled as we recalled last year’s pink-tendril-adorned sweet potatoes and how we planted them in big planters and they took over the world.

because the world could use a good takeover, we decided to plant our little catalyst and watch goodness grow and spread and blanket every single everything.

it didn’t take but a few short days and, already, this sweet sweet has leaves.

i have to say – it gives me hope.

nature – despite all the contrarians out there who don’t care about it – will prevail. and deep down – underneath all the evil intent and the scripted corruption and the yuck that is distressing those of us with moral centers – there will be goodness.

the sweet potato will vine. the tomatoes will ripen. the trees will turn in autumn. the hummingbirds will migrate. stars will explode with light and galaxy dust will scatter. there will be symphonies of sound in the woods and by the shore. love and compassion, empathy and altruism will roll in on the tide.

we need to believe. we need to stand steady.

the sun will rise.

our sweet potato told us.

*****

THAT MORNING SOMEDAY ©️ 1996 kerri sherwood

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make-do-ers. [kerri’s blog on not-so-flawed wednesday]

i always feel like i have to explain – to people new to our kitchen – that our kitchen is old (like our almost-centenarian house), that the range is at least sixty years old, that – yup – all told, we have some significantly old stuff.

we are make-do-ers. we’ve been make-do-ers all our lives and we will likely be make-do-ers the rest of our lives. it is a mindset. not a bad thing or a good thing, it just is. and neither of us can imagine a different way.

the heat and humidity and rain of the last months have made our basil go crazy. we have two plants and i have cut them back – which actually makes them grow more. we’ve made pesto and tabouli, pizza margherita and tomato soup with fresh basil – it is caprese heaven.

the other day – on one of the days of tornado warnings and severe thunderstorms and torrential rain – i went out and snipped off a whole buncha basil, placing it in water in ball jars and small vases – so that later in the day we could make basil cubes. how lovely to have a harvest so plentiful that we now have both basil cubes and pesto cubes in our freezer for the winter. pretty amazing.

so she was here only for a day – and as we showed her around our house, chatting about the basil cubes we made the night before – i got to see our home through someone else’s eyes.

and for a moment or two, i took in her truly delightful comments about what she saw. for her enthusiastic words about our old kitchen, her laughter about our chunks of concrete and repurposed “furniture”, her “awww’s” when we told stories about rocks or branches or tiny baby shoes or old suitcases – these were so welcome, particularly for two people whose cars have ages that add up to 100 years right now.

we make-do. we are kinda proud of it. some of our best stories are stories about how we made do. we are convinced we would have nothing to talk about if everything were just … you know … perfect.

the suntea is out on the deck steeping now and the mint for it is at hand; the basil is ready for another shearing. we used the tomatoes on some homemade pizza last night and have all the ingredients for jalapeño poppers – both of ann’s recipes. we are soon to make another batch of tabouli and are – rightly (right now) – staying away from (as they say in colloquial wisconsin) “boughten” lettuce and other dangerous parasite-dwelling produce. our range is ancient; we wash all our dishes. we take back roads and turn our shampoo and conditioner upside down for weeks before calling them done. we have a window a/c unit, there are clamps on the edges of our roofing (waiting for the roofing guys), and a zip-tie holds the rocker molding onto littlebabyscion.

but heck. we wouldn’t be interesting any other way.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this NOT-SO-FLAWED WEDNESDAY

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the view. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

and in lessons that remind us:

our out-of-town guest had never been here before. not to our state, not to our town, not to the shores of lake michigan, not to our home.

staying at the local hotel right on the harbor channel, she sent photographs right after arriving, stunned by how beautiful it was. she repeatedly expressed this – along the lakefront, on the channel, by the rocks, in the gardens, in our neighborhood, in our old house, on our patio.

through her eyes we saw Home.

this week i passed through my 37th anniversary of living in our old house. more than half my entire life, it’s longer than i’ve lived anywhere else.

sometimes – no matter where you live – you stop seeing it…really seeing it.

and you get caught up in every everything else.

and you miss the sweet creak of the floors, the breeze off the lake, summer sunlight streaming in all the windows, the fresh basil in ball jars in the kitchen, the dogga-holes in the backyard, the giant pots filled with flowers in the parks, people out sidewalk-walking together, the birds lined up for grape jelly, sunset’s eastern sky over the water, the sound of children giggling in the surf at the beach or an amplified live band drifting over from by the harbor.

it might benefit each of us – even for just a few minutes – to just follow the advice of this chalk artist:

“sit down and enjoy the view.”

*****

THE WAY HOME ©️1997, 2000 kerri sherwood

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a minute or two. [kerri’s blog on not-so-flawed wednesday]

the day became inky black. we spent a lot of time in the basement, tornado sirens blaring, the skies ominous.

we put backpacks with important stuff and a few clothes into the basement, because, well, you just don’t know. d carried dogga down the steps and we had flashlights and a lantern handy.

rain fell in buckets – torrential – unstoppable. we mopped up in the basement, laying out old towels to direct the flow of water into the floor drains.

we could hear it whipping around above us from the basement. the alert came for baseball-sized hail. we hoped they were wrong, maybe overestimating a bit. they alerted fierce winds and we hoped the trees out back would be steadfast.

and from social media online in the basement, we knew that other parts of our state were being devastated by these winds, by a callous tornado.

once we are down there, it takes a lot for me to want to come out of the basement. i am most definitely more afraid of storms now than i ever had been. but the storms are worse, they are more damaging, they are unrelenting. that is clear to me.

when – finally – the sky began to clear – the day had mostly gone by. and even though the sun tinged the clouds in pink lemonade – and it was beautiful – i know, that for people who suffered in the storm – this storm or any other kind of assaulting storm – it was not much solace.

the storm took its toll. everyone is exhausted.

there is so much more work to be done now.

but, for a minute or two, it is time to rest.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this NOT-SO-FLAWED WEDNESDAY

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facts and fire. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

i read these words recently:

“facts are stubborn things.” *

no matter what someone wants you to believe about something, facts will stand the test of time, they will rise to the surface like a bobber on a lake, floating in incandescent shine into the air, ready for discovery. facts will – and should – lead the way, speaking loudly, burning down all the detriment of machinated false narrative, twisted stories that serve no purpose to truth.

facts. the intense combust of silence.

facts. silence. fire.

i have chosen facts.

i have chosen fire.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

66 and 19 (mixed media)

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*heather delaney reese wrote these words in a recent post, but they are also attributed to president john adams in the history of this country.


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freshstart. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

they will come back to grind out the stump. the crew said it will likely be a few weeks before the grinders get around to it, but eventually they’ll come and remove the last vestiges of our sturdy old tree.

after that we can get on a list for a new tree, the cost partially underwritten by the city. there’s a list of tree varieties one might choose from, depending upon availability. we’ve printed the current list and have begun studying trees – like one studies refrigerators or washers and dryers when you need one – immersing in photographs and information and reviews.

when we are officially on the list we will request our tree; we are actually hoping – with all the space out front – we might be able to purchase two. we’ll see. and then, maybe in the fall (or next year?) it (or they) will be planted in our parkway and we will start a new relationship with our tree or trees. it will signal a new time, a new era. and, in the way that these things go, it will also mark time. a new tree for both of us in this time of daisy-pathing.

there is something about a fresh start, something inviting, even compelling. a chance to write new narrative, from a different starting gate.

i can feel it – that fresh start – peeking out from around the corner. it has showered me from time to time with its freeing grace. and when it does, it is euphoric, a buzz of sorts – intoxicating like dopamine. releasing all harm that has been tightly held – stored – a toxic i did not choose but which has stayed with me through all the silent times.

and i hope – against hope – that soon i will also be a new tree. soon, there will be a sapling i can nurture. soon, there will be new growth, new branches and leaves. soon, all manner of the old pain-inducing stump inside will be gone.

and our new maple – or honeylocust – or ginkgo – and i will freshstart together.

*****

HOLDING ON, LETTING GO ©️ 2010 kerri sherwood

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a heart. of course. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

just over a month later, the tree crew came back.

our treasured tree had been shorn but its main trunk and some branches remained after the city arborists cleaned it up post-storm that split and felled it.

now they were back.

i knew as soon as i saw the trucks pull up that this was the day. this was the day that i would say my final goodbye to this beautiful tree, the guardian of shade in our front yard, the stalwart maple next to our driveway’s apron. this was the day i would whisper – once again – “you didn’t do anything wrong. you did everything right,” to the tree that pre-dated our family here by at least four decades and still grew up with our children. this was the day i knew would be hard. last goodbyes are like that.

they showed up around 11 and, even with a lunch break, they were deft and efficient and the last big piece of sturdy trunk was lifted into the bed of the dump truck at 1:15. they raked and blew some of the sawdust off the driveway, got in their trucks and, before 2 or so, drove away.

when i brought them bottles of water i asked them, “do you guys get attached to trees, too?” they all said, “no” and i wonder if that’s because they aren’t thready or sentimental or if that’s because we are only talking about trees or if that’s because it is their livelihood to trim and take down trees. any way you look at it, they knew that i was really sad – and they were actually quite kind about it.

the guy on the lift had a giant chainsaw. there was one more big branch to remove from the trunk – a big branch whose upper branches they had already trimmed. this branch arced upward from the main trunk, up toward our house. it had been the branch responsible for shading our front garden, the branch that towered over much of the yard, that shielded the daylilies from too much sun, that held a bit of a flat space where it met the center trunk – a perch for weary critters. this was the branch on which the kids would grasp to try and swing up into the tree. this was the branch i saw the best when i rocked babies in the nursery and gazed out the window. this was the branch i looked out upon – in all seasons – from my studio – composing, practicing, answering the muse. this big branch was central – a sturdy, steadfast piece of a long-beloved tree.

the big claws swung around to hold this branch as the arborist began to cut through the dense maple. it took a surprisingly short time for the chainsaw to make its way through – and then the big branch let go of its tree and it swung freely, held by the claw.

and then you could see it.

right where the branch had met the trunk – right where the branch separated from the tree and the very last offshoot from this very old tree trunk was gone – was a heart.

of course.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

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a bit much. [kerri’s blog on flawed wednesday]

our daughter sent a text message which read, “i recommend not going outside today.”

the air quality indexes (indices) in our general area – stretching from milwaukee down to chicago – were off the charts. smoke from wildfires in northern minnesota and canada had arrived – on top of heat indexes (indices) well over 100 degrees. it was a bit much.

i could – now – go off about climate change denial, the denial of global warming, the denial that humans are responsible for the extreme weather pattern changes, the denial that sustainable energy is clean energy, the denial that wind, geothermal, water, solar power are all positive innovations that make a generative difference in caring for our mother earth.

i could – now – go off about those perpetuating the destruction that is caused by fossil fuels, propping up cohorts with unthinkably large investments in coal, gas and oil, stripping protected lands of protection to mine and drill and clear-cut, ignoring conservation efforts and wildlife habitats, unburdening the current administration from anything conscience-driven relative to the relationship between humanity and our mother earth.

our daughter lives in the high mountains of colorado where no matter which way you turn it is a stunning view. just standing still in this grand, glorious space makes you feel rejuvenated.

in last weeks, she, too, has been dealing with the intense hazards of fire and smoke. she is a healthy and strong young woman, adept at all manner of high-mountain-raging-whitewater-river-red-rock adventures and challenges. but in these past weeks, it made her sick to just be outside.

i cannot imagine what this means for wildlife. i cannot imagine what this means for health-compromised people. i cannot imagine what this means for older folks or small children, for infants. i cannot imagine what this means for the next generations on our mother earth.

it doesn’t take an expert to know that we must get proactive, that we must guard for the future, that we must push back on the absolutely irresponsible.

unless, of course, we don’t want to go outside anymore.

it’s all a bit much.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this FLAWED WEDNESDAY

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dragon in the sky. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

three million acres is no small thing. three million acres that were protected. three million acres that were grand staircase-escalante and bears ears national monuments. three million acres now open for business.

gluttony is alive and well in this nation.

it’s absolutely sickening.

and the dragon in the sky roared – fire coming from its mouth. because “these remarkable curiosities [ ] have required all the cunning skill of nature thousands of years to prepare.” (the house committee on public lands – circa 1871)

and it brings me back to this, to which i have arrived before: reverence.

they have no reverence.

and today – a few days before you will read this – the land around the boundary waters is on fire. photographs depict enormous infernos. it is all burning up.

and in colorado – fossil-fuel-fueled-climate-change wildfire in beautiful forests and on mountains and racing across open land.

and alaska and utah and florida and the pacific northwest and the southwest and the northeast and…

and major flooding in missouri, in texas.

and the mid-atlantic east coast and the southeast and the northeast and…

and cyclospora making its way into the food and water of americans across the nation. no lettuce and no berries and no produce and…

and people – on their way to work – executed by government officials who – mistakenly – identified them as targets.

and war.

and insane announcements eliminating medical research.

and social programs.

and voting rights.

and the decimation of wildlife protections.

and military spending way, way, way over the top.

and public adoration of brutal authoritarian figures by this administration.

and heartless sycophants, a conscience-less cheering squad, a team dedicated to the destruction of democracy.

and all manner of evil intentions.

no wonder there is a dragon in the sky. i can’t imagine how pissed the universe is.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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