reverse threading

the path back is the path forward

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prevailing winds. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

when d’s sweet dad died a few years ago now, i told him that the grief he would feel was hard to explain. grief is not tidy nor is it linear. it has prevailing winds that sometimes are at your back and sometimes are right in your face, pummeling you. i told him that it will take him by surprise – moments when, all of sudden, grief – in all its glory – arrives and slams you, taking your breath away.

and there are other times. when grief kind of sails along with you. it oddly softens the blows of other hurtful things – for, grief asks, what it is that could be more hurtful than the loss of someone you love. and so, by sheer comparison, grief puts all in perspective.

i told d that, though he may be pounded by grief on certain days, they will not be the predictable ones – not the birthdays, not the anniversaries of hardships that befell columbus (or another beloved), not the hallmark-card days.

instead, they will be the regular days, the days in which you are just living and doing and suddenly the light will line up and the sounds will echo and the scents will waft by and you will be – figuratively – or not – on your knees.

tomorrow – merely 83 years ago – my parents married. to say that i am grateful for that day would be an understatement. where – on this earth – would i be without that day, i wonder.

i can feel them around me. some days most definitely more than others, but always, always, there is a presence that informs me somehow.

in these times – absolutely dreadful days when our democracy is being assaulted by our very own government – i can feel their horror, the kick-some-ass my dad-the-ex-mia-ex-pow is pissed enough to wish for, my mom’s be-kind philosophy railing against this vile establishment.

and i totally miss them. i wish to have a conversation with them. i wish they could tell me that everything will be all right. and, with the schisms in their own family thanks to this heinousness, i wish they could be here to comfort me the way only families can comfort each other.

no matter what, the grief of missing them – even after fourteen and eleven years – is sometimes kicking my butt.

but love prevails.

despite any perceived boundaries that different existential planes may present.

it’s hard to explain, but it’s there.

and its prevailing winds stay with us.

*****

YOU’RE THE WIND © 2005 kerri sherwood

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stressed. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

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.

*****

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particularly now. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

for years now, walter and irma have had an ongoing spat about our backyard. they have argued over and over about whether or not we would everrrr get a flat feeder for them – this beautiful pair of cardinals who are loyal to our address.

every time walter would moan and complain irma would reassure him, “i know they will get one. just be patient,” she’d tweet at him, admonishing him for his lack of faith.

we have a “regular” hanging birdfeeder and we have a handed-down standing birdfeeder (which, right now, we aren’t stocking since it has been a source of sustenance for a very large raccoon family who are likely the culprits doing damage to our roof and our neighbor’s.)

but the flat feeder we had in our sights was a bit out of reach for our budget – wild birds unlimited has a really fabulous set-up: a pole that discourages even acrobatic squirrels (of which we have plenty), a little umbrella and flat feeder, various other feeders for various other species of birds and all in recycled plastic that should last throughout the seasons. just not really in the line-up of things-to-buy right now.

so walter was kind of right – his kvetching about our slow response to their flat-feeder-needs might have been well-earned.

until this week.

d and i love to watch our birds. particularly in these times. we sit on the deck or out on the patio (or even in the sunroom at our bistro table by the window) and watch them fly in and out, at the feeder, on the top of barney, at the birdbath or the pond – getting sips of water. they warm our hearts – these innocent creatures. they calm our spirits and they do us good.

it suddenly occurred to us that we might be able to just simply build our own flat feeder – out of scraps of wood in the basement – in order to at least tide over these cardinals and finches – particularly walter and irma – who like to eat their schnibbly seeds while looking all around them to keep safe.

we can totally understand the need to look all around to stay safe. we are all in that mode these days, i’d say. this country is giving us a run at what we can make our own efforts to save our democracy – to push back lurking authoritarianism that is the apex predator for us all.

and so we went into the basement and found the exact right size piece of scrap wood. some paint, glue and four screws, some hooks, some jute, screen that was rolled up in the rafter, and a shower hook later, we were ready for the royal couple.

d did the honor of hanging the feeder on the pole. we clapped and sat back and waited.

nothing happened.

not one bird even ventured near it.

here we were, trying our best to address their needs and not one of them even explored our new flat feeder.

the next day was the same.

and so was the next.

it was somewhat depressing.

and then….it happened.

suddenly, there was a cardinal on the edge of the feeder. and then he moved INTO the feeder. and then he started to munch on the safflower in there!!

not a big moment in the overall scheme of things – particularly now – but a moment nonetheless.

for we saw a need and we tried to address it. even the creatures and critters around us have needs. it may not be fancy – or the most perfect flat feeder – but in these times if we just all do the best we can, offer the best we can – in every way – it makes a difference.

walter and irma perched on the fence at the back line.

irma glanced over at walter, “see?” she said.

from the patio, i swear i could see walter rolling his eyes.

but i also could hear his tiny brain, “she’s always right.”

even so, he turned toward her. and with a belly full of safflower seeds, he chirped to irma, “i love it.“

we each have a chance to make a positive difference in these days. whether big or small – or even tiny – everything counts. in our own homes, in the backyard, in the ‘hood or our community, in our state and in our country, in this beautiful world – which desperately needs us to participate in goodness. particularly now.

*****

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to see for itself. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

there were fewer people as we walked along the harbor. it was a weekday and school was back in session. some of the big boats were being lifted out of the water for dry dock. the minks were scurrying around and the gulls were likely frustrated with fewer available schnibbles readily accessible. the light is golden, the sky is azure. it is a stunning day. we spent time with the bees out on the patio, until the bees were just too much. so we took a walk.

the alien showed up on our way back. we had made the big loop – along the sidewalk, through the park, hugging the beach, around the point, along the harbor and then – east – onto the walk along the lake’s rocky shoreline, down the channel and back along the marina.

and there it was. just standing there. it wasn’t scary. it was actually quite cute. and it held up two fingers in a galaxy-wide understood symbol of “peace”.

we flashed peace signs back to it and it grinned.

we pondered why it was there.

i’m thinking that it must have shown up because it had to actually check in on this earth…to see for itself.

it had to jaunt over – like, perhaps, many of its cohorts – to “normal” places in these united states to view how it is that we-the-people are continuing to allow the utterly dangerous ravings of the leader of this country, how it is that we-the-people are continuing to permit our very lives, our resources, our land, our rights, our allied loyalties, our respect to be desecrated – to be shat upon – by this administration. it had to jaunt over to see for itself the decimation, the schisms, the lunacy of this time – when – last it checked – when ET stopped in – we were a relatively good people.

i’m not sure if it found any answers, this cutie-patootie alien.

i’m pretty sure it left with as many questions as it came here with. “why?” is a big question but, apparently, there has been much heinous and clandestine planning for this shocking, morally-devoid takeover. it goes way back. the corruption is rampant and generational.

every now and again since, as we walk on our walk, we look for our alien friend. it hasn’t been there but we pretty much know the reasons.

i mean, i can certainly understand why an alien wouldn’t choose such a place of disunity, of dismantling – of disgrace – when it could simply stay where it was, hanging out with ET and sharing peace.

*****

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spikelet awns in the house. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

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.

*****

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😮 [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

two saturdays ago – on the 26th – we noticed on our weather app that the total daylight – for that very day – was 11 hours 59 minutes. the sun rose at 6:43 am and set at 6:42 pm. almost exactly half and half. we missed the actual half and half day, but we were still astounded by these numbers and nodded our heads, honoring the equinox.

i’m not sure we are really ready for the aftermath of the equinox. not yet. as these days get shorter – and the nights get longer – my wistful grows. so we change the timers on the garden lights, the living room lights, lamps in the bedrooms upstairs. we turn on the happy lights sooner and light candles. we mitigate the darker season that will arrive, anticipating and alleviating the impact earlier darkness has on us.

we are getting closer and closer to the midterms. the halfway point between big presidential election cycles. where time that came before is what is to come. so much in the before. what will be the after? it literally makes me sick to my stomach.

so much is riding on this election. our country is being destroyed, brick by brick by brick. it is blatant. it is mindbogglingly breathtaking. thinking about what could come is both paralyzing and numbing. it is not as simple as the amount of daylight decreasing. it is the amount of LIGHT decreasing.

at this point – on this day – there are precisely 29 days left.

my sweet poppo – a man who dedicated part of his life to the united states army air force, who was missing in action and then taken prisoner of war in world war II, who earned a purple heart and has his story told in the records of the smithsonian – this man is freaking the hell out as our democracy teeters…even from the other plane in which he exists. and with him are all the others who have fought for this country’s freedoms, rights, constitution. all the others who have resisted, protested, died for this country and its republic. all the others who have pushed back against all manner of authoritarianism.

and i am with him. my pompoms are solidly in the stop-this-takeover camp. i no longer have any tolerance for anyone who is cheering on the madness of the current administration. they have clearly not anticipated the impact that kind of darkness will have on us.

*****

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notice-wonder-mode. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

sometime in the two-thousand-aughts my girl and my boy gifted me with a tall bamboo vessel filled with feathery ochre and barn red reeds. it immediately found its way into a special spot – any gifts they give me are so very cherished – and it has moved around from time to time.

its last long-term place of residence was in our sitting room, but we did some rearranging a couple years back and it found its way into our bedroom, right between the gingham wingback recliner and the windows. the east windows. and there it has stayed – this place where it welcomes the sun each day and holds steady as light streams over it. from our perch on the pillows, it is a beautiful fluff of color and light and shadow. i can’t imagine it in a better place.

on a morning recently, the sun was coming up at just the right angle to tiger-ize these dried plumes. stunning. the things you notice when you are in notice-wonder-mode.

on a walk recently we talked about our life together. things are pretty simple these days – as we hold vigil for our dogga – not venturing out too far for too long. some days are better than others for him. some days he has puppy-face on and he is strong and vibrant and enthusiastic. some days he has old-man-face on and he is slow and tired and his stomach is upset and it is clear that he is uncomfortable. the difference in these days is striking and there is no way to predict which day it will be when the sun is rising.

dogga wakes us around 4:30. he is hungry from the overnight fast and so he recognizes that his sensitive belly needs breakfast. after he eats, we sleep for maybe another hour – maybe – but then he wakes us because, well, we think he wants us up, he wants our company, he wants to start what he knows is the morning ritual – “put the coffee on,” he urges.

like people with sensitive bellies or dietary concerns or various other health reasons, he eats little bits every few hours. it seems to really help him. we make special meals for him and try to read him best as we can.

we were invited to go away with friends recently. not only was the weather going to be perfect but we love our adventures with these friends and so getting away with them would have been perfect as well.

we struggled with leaving dogga.

and ultimately decided we couldn’t go.

we don’t know what will happen to our old dogga as these days go by. we know we are very lucky to still have him with us. no matter what, our commitment to him has to outweigh anything we are doing just for ourselves, outweigh any fomo, outweigh any uncertainty. this sweet aussie has given his whole life to us – he has ridden the roller coaster of the last thirteen plus years with us – he has been steadfast and sensitive and intuitive and our rock. we stand in all these moments now with him, without knowing the course that things will take.

and so, we will be in notice-wonder-mode. the moon rising over the lake, the last cherry tomatoes and a bit of remaining basil, the edges of the aspen leaves changing, an exchanged glance yoga-mat-to-yoga-mat as we exercise in the living room, the bazillion blooms on the black cherry mum, the taste of an oven-baked baked potato with just salt and pepper, the crunch of homemade salsa on a chip, first morning coffee, the coze of our new sweatshirts, dogga grinning at us during a belly-belly, an unsolicited text from the kids, the first jeans day of fall, and, yes, the golden light on the plumes by the window.

*****

as it is © 2004 kerri sherwood

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fleur-de-lis thoughts. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

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.

*****

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a little more mum. [kerri’s blog on not-so-flawed wednesday]

after all the rain – followed by some big dashes of cold – i thought that the potting stand would be done-in. i figured that any tiny cherry tomatoes would have fallen off the vine, that the basil would be drowning, that the mint would have given up, that the jalapeños would stop being-a-pepper. i was concerned about the rest too…the sweet potato vine, the fern, the licorice plant, the tiny purple flowers in planters. i wasn’t sure i was ready for what that would mean – the end of summer – even though we are now past the official date for the start of fall.

i haven’t really been a mum person. truth be told, i’m not sure what a mum-person is, but i just know I haven’t gravitated toward mums. despite their unrelenting determination to bloom and to flourish in the roller coaster of autumn, i think it might be how structured a mum tends to look….a tight little ball of green with lots and lots of buds just waiting to burst into color. now, i don’t know if there could be anything at all wrong with such a plant – we all need that kind of steadfastness, that kind of dogged dedication to blooming. there was just always something stopping me from mumming.

until this year.

our friends have a black cherry mum on their front steps – its blooms the color of deeply ripe bings in the summer, the color of the name of one of my favorite “sodas” growing up, the only color of choir robe i ever thought was aesthetically appropriate for everyone in a choir (should robes be necessary at all). their mum…stunning.

i commented on this mum and they promptly told me they had gotten it at the local grocery store, which has a plethora of them out front – all different colors.

the next day they texted that the price had been reduced – to $12. now, this is a really big plant. and full of potential blossoming mum-flowers. and so…

we went to the grocery store that morning and chose our new mum-plant to come home with us, gently placing it in the back seat of big red.

it has exploded with gorgeous blooms and has been absolutely steady and unperturbed all through the torrential rains we had after its homecoming. like it is…carefree.

now, “carefree” is not a word i would have used to describe a mum – unlike the wildly growing ornamental grasses in our yard, it seems to have more framework, more parameters for its growth, a tad bit more structure. hmmm.

we have recently discovered that – in lieu of doing chores as needed – there are some things that work better within a charlie’s-plan kind of plan. certain days or dates for certain things – a tad bit more structure – it takes away the spontaneity yet – surprisingly – frees up space.

in essence, we have found that it can be effective to be a little more mum.

and so, our little black cherry plant sits on our deck and giggles, “and they thought they weren’t mum-people.”

*****

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

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little by little. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

it seems impossible. how did we get to the end of september? where has all the time gone?

in the middle of the chaos that is now this country’s daily life, we have lost time. it would seem we have lost more than that.

the leaf is on the sidewalk. it looks like someone has crayoned around the edges.

little by little chlorophyll is lost from the leaf, brown steadily moves inward, closer and closer to the stem.

little by little the chaos seeps into the country’s veins, the inhumanity is normalized, the rights disappear, the constitution is ignored.

little by little necrosis seeps toward the innermost part of the leaf.

little by little authoritarianism seeps into the heart, the law of the people.

little by little the leaf curls to its cells dying.

little by little people are silent – or – are silenced. little by little air is removed from the populace.

how is this even real life?

the leaf is browning – from stress, lack of water, damage. it is dying – from the outside in. it feels too metaphoric to even write about.

the goodness is fading – from gluttony, grift, damaging corruption, out-and-out cruelty. the country is flailing.

how much green is left? where has all the time gone?

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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