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.
i look at this photograph – of the manmade jetty, a breakwater out by the harbor channel heading east into the lake. the black boulders, the white boulders – both granite, i suppose – built up to somewhat protect the channel from the potential intensity of the lake.
these giant rocks, their color, their purpose – they bring two randomly different things to mind – both of which i have written about.
first, the quote: a ship in the harbor is safe, but that is not what ships are built for.(john a. shedd)
second, the song: the ink is black, the page is white – a child is black, a child is white, the whole world looks upon the sight…a beautiful sight….(david arkin/earl robinson)
and right now? right now both make me tired.
ships – and people – and countries – weren’t built to be insular, to pull up the sidewalks, turn off the lights, lock the doors. instead, they were meant to go out, to explore, to break bread with others, to protect one another from dangerous energy or rogue waves, to raise up the infinite number of ways that we are all interdependent, to love one another.
children weren’t born insular, holding each other at bay, pointing fingers and spewing hateful rhetoric. instead, they were born with the ability to love in their hearts, learning to recognize how important interaction with others is – regardless of any physical or social or ANY differences – acknowledging we are all spokes in a big giant wheel living on this mother earth, we are all worthy and can – and should – work together to stay safe from any kind of harm. inherent goodness. any other messages – messages of disdain and cruelty – children are – devastatingly – taught these.
i’m not sure how many times i have written – ranted – about such things.
and while we are on the subject of ranting about really offensive – evil – stuff, i’m not even sure how many times i have been vocal – totally appalled – about those freakish people who find the current administration’s twisted vileness charming or entertaining or the least bit acceptable.
it all makes me really, really tired.
the breakwater – positioned close to the lighthouse – is there to help protect the harbor channel, to ensure safe passage.
it is not to keep people in or to keep people out.
what kind of pitiful world needs that kind of limits? what kind of world needs finger-pointing bigotry, limits on the freedoms promised in the constitution, an insularity based on extreme racism and ethnocentrism? what kind of world needs hatred as a guiding light?
“some days, you’re just tired from needing to be stronger than you feel.” (unknown)
we have been spending a lot of time near home these days. with the uncertainty of our sweet old dogga, it is nearly impossible to make any plans to go away. we need to be here with him – through all the challenges his senior roller coaster presents.
and so, our hikes-for-miles are exchanged for walks-for-miles and are from our backdoor.
we take them at different times of day and in different weather. it is truly gobsmacking what is right nearby and, on these days close-to-home, we are taking care to notice that and appreciate it.
late on a stunning late-september afternoon – delaying dinner prep for a couple hours – we took off from home.
walking east along the marina we could see the smallest softest-pink half circle rising out of the lake. as we got closer, the pastel palette of sky continued to change hue – and the harvest moon began to make its way into the horizon.
we did absolutely nothing to help this moonrise – we simply stood in awe, staring at its stellar performance, soaking in the sheer beauty, the predictability of a moonrise, the comfort of something so normal yet so entirely gorgeous.
after a bit we noticed that many people had gathered on the rocks to watch, also obviously enchanted by it, also photographing it.
a sailboat was heading north and passed directly in front of the moon. as it continued to sail, people were comparing notes about their videos and photos of this moment in time – a moment we had all shared.
it was as if everyone was – for these minutes – on the same page. we could all agree that this soft-pink harvest moonrise was glorious.
if only all the rest of life-these-days were as aligned.
just a block or so east, around the bend and a bit further south is the southport beach house. built during the years 1936-1941, the united states department of the interior has since declared that it is on the national register of historic places. a bit up the shoreline is simmons island beach house, built around the same time, also a designated historical site. both are stunning eclectic examples of tudor revival buildings on the shoreline, architecturally beautiful.
we are deeply connected to “our” beach house for many reasons, including that it is in our ‘hood. it was the site of our wedding reception – so it is filled with memories of people we love, toasts, a food truck, music, a bonfire, hula hoops and daisy cupcakes. we will forever feel connected to that art deco place and love that it has undergone renovation and preservation work, just as the simmons beach house has as well.
it isn’t all that complicated. protecting history and historic sites for this-land-is-your-land-this-land-is-my-land seems pretty basic.
but we live in a country with an administration that struggles to embrace truth – the truth of history, the truth of how historic sites inform us. instead of telling an honest story, they are choosing to whitewash anything that gets in the way of their extremist-male-dominated-white-supremacist narrative.
instead of preserving all of which has made this nation both beautiful and ugly, both stunning and stunned, both rich with hope and deeply wounded by the lack of this-land-was-made-for-you-and-me civil rights for all, this administration chooses to move forward with dumping history, banning books, paving and mining our national parklands, decimating the peoples’ house, rescinding the endangered species act, tossing environmental and wildlife protection management, eliminating mention of slavery and climate change… the list is expansive – all brought to you by this gluttonous administration and its wildly-bowing – and – wildly-profiteering sycophants.
the same department that listed southport beach house on the historic register: the department of the interior – whose mission statement is: “the u.s. department of the interior protects and manages the nation’s natural resources and cultural heritage; provides scientific and other information about those resources; and honors its trust responsibilities or special commitments to american indians, alaska natives, native hawaiians, and affiliated island communities.”
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
