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Tag Archives: this season


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the infinite. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

(about this week: there is a peril, it seems, to writing ahead these days. we had decided that this week – the first full week of a new year – we wished to use images of light as our prompts, we wished to linger on the possibility of light, of hope, of goodness. though our blogposts might stray from that as we pen them, it was without constant nod to the constant updating of current events – a mass of indefensible, unconscionable acts. we pondered what to do about these blogposts we had written and decided to keep them. we hope that – whether or not any absence of the happenings of the day, whether or not the chance these written words seem somewhat inane at this moment – you might know that those events – of corruption, illegality, immorality – do not distill or distort our intention – to bring light and hope to this new year – the first days of which bring more insanity and unnerving instability. we are still holding space for light.)

and so…

it is almost a week prior to this day that i am writing this.

i just found out that my cousin tony died. my dad’s sister’s son, we had only reconnected in the last few years and had not – yet – re-met each other. this makes me inordinately sad today. in a busy world that sorted its way through the pandemic and then hence, a visit together had not yet happened. time did not wait.

i didn’t know he was ailing, and maybe he wasn’t. maybe it was sudden. either way, it came as a shock to me and i could feel it contract my heart, squeezing it and eliciting regrets.

i hope – now – that we will someday meet cousin tony’s family…his children, his grandchildren. i hope to hear some more stories. i hold onto his older postings, politically in alignment with my own thoughts and beliefs, grateful for his assertiveness and candor. i hold tenderly onto those moments we had on the phone together – two cousins who missed out on sharing life together.

my dad’s sister – my aunt helen – had four children. with the exception of cousin maria, they were all older than me by years. that rift thing that fractures families sometimes – that I’ve written about before – took most of the years. the remaining years and months and days that have passed have taken three of my cousins. my cousin linda remains. in a tiny family, it seems important to travel east and spend actual moments together.

this has been a season. there has been much loss for many people around us. every single time we think we have time – in the future – with someone, i feel as if we learn that might not be so…we are reminded that there is no lock on – no tenacious hold – we have on life itself. we can try our best but these moments keep ticking and we are just lucky enough to be in them.

the sky was brilliant out the front door. i called d to come and see it.

the phone’s camera doesn’t really capture it. the colors were so much more vivid. the dusk so much more palpable. the intake of breath so much more visceral. falling into the pause – a moment of the infinite.

and we got to see it.

that’s the thing. it’s all there to see – always. connection, beauty, love.

it boils down to standing on the front porch, gazing at the sky.

what more is there, really?

*****

in honor and memory of my cousin tony.

read DAVID’s thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

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less and less sand. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

about this week: there is a peril, it seems, to writing ahead these days. we had decided that this week – the first full week of a new year – we wished to use images of light as our prompts, we wished to linger on the possibility of light, of hope, of goodness. though our blogposts might stray from that as we pen them, it was without constant nod to the constant updating of current events – a mass of indefensible, unconscionable acts. we pondered what to do about these blogposts we had written and decided to keep them. we hope that – whether or not any absence of the happenings of the day, whether or not the chance these written words seem somewhat inane at this moment – you might know that those events – of corruption, illegality, immorality – do not distill or distort our intention – to bring light and hope to this new year – the first days of which bring more insanity and unnerving instability. we are still holding space for light.

and so…

on the coldest of days, in any weather, we have gone down to the beach to dig a big contractor-sized pail of sand. once you have waxed bags, sand is the first thing you need for luminaria.

we’d add a couple cups of grainy sand to each bag and then center a votive candle into it for a flame that would linger for several hours.

for a few years we’d line them up on the sidewalks along our street – on both sides – to bring light in the latest of christmas eve hours, to gather a whole bunch of people together, to celebrate around a couple bonfires in our driveway.

even on the coldest of nights, we loved our new tradition.

until the pandemic.

since then our luminaria have been set up in our backyard, small groups of dear ones or just us watching them glow into the night.

this year – a rainy eve – we lit them inside our house. and we simplified.

waxed bag, glass votive, tea light candle.

no sand.

there was no reason to believe that our luminaria might tip over or blow away. so, we simply didn’t need the sand. we didn’t need anything to weigh down the bags. they were still ever-so-captivating.

in these days now since the holiday we have continued to clean out, to sort, to ponder things to keep, things to no longer hold onto.

each and every thing we donate or sell or discard has made me feel lighter. even the tiniest bric-a-brac that finds its way into the “go” pile has given me reason to celebrate.

space.

more space.

less begets less. it’s invigorating, refreshing, addictive.

each new piece i am pondering ends up on our dining room table. it has become the staging ground for decision-making. it has become the weigh-station…the place to weigh if what is weighing us down holds weight for us.

this will go on for a while. there is much to sort. as you know, thirty-six years in one house – a house with a basement and an attic – means there is a lot tucked in all the nooks and crannies.

but there is time. and in this time during which i am touching all these pieces of the past, i have a chance to touch all the emotions of these times-gone-by as well.

and so, it becomes a time of letting go. letting go of stuff, letting go of unnecessary goopy angst, letting go of emotions that get in the way of greeting the new days of what’s next.

the three luminaria in front of our fireplace stayed lit for a couple hours. without the challenge of the wind, they burned brightly. we turned off the room lights and sat in a living room illuminated only by happy lights and tiny tea light candles.

sinking in under furry throw blankets, we reveled in this place we call home, grateful and cozy.

with less and less sand.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this MERELY-A-THOUGHT MONDAY

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intend light. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

the pitter-patter of dogga’s feet is what will wake us this morning. he has no awareness that it is christmas morning, no concern about santa claus or light or manger scenes or presents or even non-stop holiday music radio. he just wants us to wake up, to turn the coffee on, to feed him breakfast, to let him out. his routine is the same every day – every single day. it is most definitely an aussie thing, even over and above being a dog-thing.

and we’ll sit under the quilt and the comforter and sip coffee, leaning back against a pile of pillows, watching as the sun rises in the sky out our windows. the skinnytree will be lit in the sitting room off our room so that we can gaze at the happy lights in the dark room as we talk, with dogga curled on the bed at our feet.

when d goes to make breakfast, i will sit and ponder previous christmas mornings, thinking about our daughter and son when they were little, when they dove into the bed trying to wake us, to convince us to open the louvered doors into the living room where we could see if santa had actually come to our house. and then, as the years started to go by, we would wait for them to wake up, to stumble with pjs and maybe blankets, to open stockings first, to rip into brightly-wrapped gifts and hear the glee of such a morning.

it’s quiet here today. all the happy lights will be lit, the trees gleaming, the music playing. we’ll cook and eat heartily, go for a hike in the woods. hopefully we will talk – even briefly – to our girl and boy and perhaps a few other calls. maybe we’ll play rummikub. maybe we’ll have a bonfire out back. maybe we’ll sing at my piano. it will be our intention to have a day of light.

in the midst of everything – everything – going on with us, around us and in concentric circles that widen out to include our community, our nation, our world, we will continue to intend light.

because – ultimately – “goodness is stronger than evil. love is stronger than hate.” (desmond tutu)

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

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so much. so little. so fast. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

though i haven’t worn them out-out yet, i have new boots. with a rubber outer, they will keep my feet dry and, hopefully, warm. as i write this – ahead of the calendar – i’m not sure what i am saving them for or why i am saving them – it is a quirk – this save-it-for-good-thing – i’d like to give away at some point – but, since it is still mine, i am still saving them – at least at the time of this writing (way ahead of today).

it seems it will be a white christmas. at least partially, with bits of snow. though it has warmed up a tad since the polar vortex came through, there are still the ever-present piles of snow in parking lots and along the edges of daily living.

so far, we haven’t walked in the snow as much this year as in past years. i’m guessing the combo-platter of the frigid temperatures and the fact that we have been consumed with – guess – yes! – ice-damming have taken the zeal out of our zealous hiking-in-the-snow. i am hoping that more mild temperatures both melt the rest of the ice and rejuvenate our outdoor juju.

last weekend – when the vortex was at its most vort – we stayed in. we wrote, we researched, we read, we decorated, we made soup, we overplayed george winston’s december and hans christian’s door county christmas albums, and we watched the denver broncos squeak past the pack. it was – frankly – too cold to go out. plus, big red had just gotten home from its new fuel-pump-installation and we were less than anxious to test it or our confidence about not having to wait for yet another tow truck. littlebabyscion was way too pleased about staying in the driveway so that iced the cake on staying in, so to speak.

and as i went up and down the stairs, picking through holiday decorations and sorting through stuff, i fell into the unavoidable review of time and life.

the viewmaster of my mind’s eye threw me back: into ice storms and nor’easters on long island, crab meadow beach in the snow, footie pajamas, my parents’ living room, the den fireplace and my growing-up family, eggnog and krumkake, midnight christmas services, caroling, luminaria around our block, open-one-present-christmas-eve, christmas in florida for a few years, arriving in december ’88 wisconsin without a winter coat, being warmly-adopted by linda and bill, our tiny babies, christmas cantatas, a donkey in the church, christmas tree lots, sewing and crafting presents, plates of cookies for santa, 3am gift-wrapping, running the videocamera on christmas morning, wrapping paper and boxes in the fireplace after chopper-dog tore them all up, toddler stocking glee, noisy morning-of mayhem, recording christmas albums in NYC, shipping gifts, shipping albums, concerts, christmas eve brats, choirs, teenagers, santa-lists, cranberry-orange relish, greenbeancasserole, too many decorations, non-stop christmas radio, and then – christmas-tree-on-a-stick, tiny trees, happy lights, more cantatas, more choirs, ukulele carols, more pipe organ, turkey roulade, luminaria and bonfires, more shipping, facetime, quieter mornings-of. and so many other things mixed in.

it has seemed to be a time of some review, a time of serious thought, pondering and ruminating, wistful rising every so often.

looking back – far and near – the long view and what-seems-merely-seconds-ago – and i step into an array of emotions that change like iridescent bubbles in the sun. held by all the memories of before, i glance in front of me, in front of us. i look forward to what’s next – even to this holiday when we are just the two of us on the morning-of, when our grown children celebrate elsewhere, happy for them they are with their dad and stepmom on this day.

if we take a walk – and if there is snow – i will turn around and photograph our prints – steps at a time we have discovered is fluid like all the rest.

the world isn’t stopping. the axis keeps spinning. the moments arrive and then quickly disappear into the eddy of our memory bank.

there’s just so much. there’s just so little. it’s all sooo fast.

good is now.

yep. i’m just gonna wear the damn boots.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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$1.25 [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

the ornaments in the locked display cases were phenomenally expensive. it was a bit shocking. but we know many people collect things that are quite valuable and these definitely were perceived as that. the low end was just shy of $100 and the high end…well, rather high. we browsed them a bit, curious. i honestly cannot say that i wish we had purchased one or, for that matter, had even been able to purchase one. their ornateness did not appeal to me. too much. much too much. more is more is not us, especially when it comes to the baubles of the season.

i guess it echoes my sentiment – my heart – this simple-ing-down of it all. it is – for me – about the most basic things – this holiday season…regardless of religion. for me, this season of light – for which we have waited – reminds us that god (or whatever you call a greater deity) is with us. and i believe basic tenets are basic tenets, no matter what any book says – no matter if it’s written in red – no matter who said what – no matter the stories told. basic goodness – love, generosity, equality, kindness, grace – is basic and no scribed stuff should twist it into agenda.

in a time that celebrates peace on earth we are less than peaceful. in a time of gathering we are torn apart, divisive. in a time of generosity, there is greed beyond imagination. in a time of grace, there is marginalization. in a time of good will, there is monstrous evil. this is – most definitely – a world of hypocrisy. we need to seek light each and every day.

“and now you’re here in a world of hypocrisy and your love will heal us all…” (you’re here ©️ 2019 kerri sherwood)

it’s not the fancy stuff that makes me stop, get lost, offer a prayer. it’s the dollar tree $1.25 tiny metal wire tree ornament hanging in our kitchen. it’s the little foot-tall fold-up $1 tree in the middle of our dining room table. it’s the crystal ornament catching the light in the living room. it’s the old pickle on the tree. it’s the galvanized star hanging on our branch.

there is more brokenness to come; there are more shattered dreams. this is a season where we need support each other, heal each other – best as we can.

love one another. the simplest of things. and the hardest of things. ours to do – to exist – as humankind.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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indulging out, indulging in. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

we were talking about what it used to be like – out holiday shopping.

we both individually remember the out-and-about of windowshopping and browsing and pondering and findingjusttherightthing as including the time and space for stopping, for a nice cup of coffee and a treat, maybe for lunch out.

it was sheer indulgence the other day when we used a long-saved gift card for dinner out after a fun day of shopping. and yesterday, we did a thing.

we actually – mid-day-mid-shopping – stopped at a bakery to pick out a danish (yes, sacrificing the usual gluten-free-ness) and then we went next door to starbucks to get a christmas blend coffee. we shared both – jubilant at the “old-timey” tradition we were re-enacting, pretty happy with ourselves that we chose to take the time and splurge on coffee and a treat.

it’s beginning to look a lot like christmas!

i spent a-couple-years-less-than-a-decade celebrating christmas in florida. though everyone still decorates and the holiday rush is still pushing you forward, it never quite felt the same as christmas up north. i suppose if i had grown up in the south it – the traditions and rituals and things i associate with christmas – would be different, but having grown up in the northeast, i associate the holidays with being bundled up, the cold, the snow, pink cheeks and noses, mittens and scarves. there is a different sparkle to twinkle lights in snow.

we here in our neck of wisconsin may not have a white christmas this year. but it will be brisk enough for the deck to make cracking noises as we walk to our backdoor, for the radiators to clunk a little, for the wood floors to creak under our feet. ice will paint beautiful images on a couple of the north-facing windows, the stars in the bitter sky will seem brighter and dogga will be in his glory laying outside in the cold. it’ll be cozy inside, surrounded by the glimmering trappings of the holiday.

maybe – as we continue our march toward Christmas Day – in-between bits of shopping and wrapping and shipping and clearing out and giving away – we will take a few minutes here and there to celebrate the right-now of it all. maybe we’ll consider another coffee out, another pastry. maybe we’ll bundle up and go see some special lights. maybe – just maybe – i’ll play some carols in my studio. this is the time of year i especially miss creating a space – with and through music – in which other hearts might open to the spirit of the holidays, to sink into that which they feel but cannot see.

as adults – whose bars for enchantment are higher than in childhood or for whom perhaps reality has life-light-dimmed – we all sometimes struggle as these times roll around. we know it’s up to each of us to create any magic in these holidays, to recognize it, to linger in it. the tiniest bit of indulgence goes a long way. indulging out and indulging in.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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these gifts. [kerri’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab.]

it is impossible to not feel it. it swirls around us. it stirs us.

this season. a season of light and hope and generosity, a season of consideration and thoughtfulness and compassion, a season of simplicity and complexity, a season of love and grace and possibility. a season of deep gratitude.

we sit still – eyes closed – and take it in. 

wishing you these gifts now. wishing you these gifts every day.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this SATURDAY MORNING SMACK-DAB

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

“but it’s the holidays!” you protest. and yes, it is.

yet – in these days, in this community, this country, this world – there’s more going on than simply jingling bells and twinkling lights, a sleigh of gifts and eight reindeer, manger scenes and menorahs. and even now – in the middle of all of this – even in the middle of festivities – we need to pay attention. 

it’s risky to disagree. it’s risky to push back. it’s risky to declare that which has or those whom have wronged you or others. the membrane is thick and unforgiving, even vindictive. it’s risky to break the code of silence.

but it’s necessary.

to speak the crime/the wrong/the slight – the action or inaction – is not a crime, though those within the bonds of the code would want you to believe that. it is either impossible for them to see the forest for the trees or it has come to the time that no longer matters to them. to step out, to speak out, to speak against, to speak for – all are looked upon as deviant when silence is broken. righteous pontificators rail against the sole “deviant” – the one who stops the actual deviance, the one who holds the actual deviants accountable. they gather troops around themselves, searching for – or convincing – others of their sanctimonious correctness. they are invigorated by the quest to maintain the code – no longer merely complicit – instead, enabling – involving themselves in the dirty deeds of the codemakers.  their silence is active, perpetuating the wrong. and the circle exacerbates itself – concentrically outward – into an organization, a community, a government, a country, a world. and it is ugly.

for those out there who are questioning and breaking the code of silence, for those who are pushing back against injustice or inequity, for those who are pulling back the curtain exposing, revealing wrongs – whether small or overwhelming, for those who are not fostering complicity or harboring or sustaining wrongfulness, for those who have reached the place of “enough!”, for those holding fast to the values of goodness, for those who are actively pursuing democratic freedoms of choice for all peoples – i hope this season of light would grant unto you courage and fortitude, empowerment in vulnerability, the ability to stand tall and proud, others to stand with you, trust in the process of bushwhacking your way to revealing truth, accountability in the end, recovery and peace. i hope this season of light reminds you of your value. i hope this season will touch you beyond your wildest imagination and that jingling bells and twinkling lights – and all the other trappings of this season – will dull in comparison to the light you have brought in your deviance – breaking the code of silence and bringing forth truth and justice. you are necessary.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this MERELY-A-THOUGHT MONDAY

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in this season. [k.s. friday]

we are firmly entrenched now.

yes. entrenched in the land of hallmark christmas movies. ’tis the season.

two years ago we actually purchased one – our favorite hallmark christmas movie – a season for miracles. and, though we know it by heart – much like my big fat greek wedding or love actually or about time – we watch it over and over, never tiring of its sweet story.

weeks ago, we walked through downtown to mail our voting ballots. having proximity to town and the waterfront – all within walking distance – seems to be one of our leanings for all potential future places to live. the other is to be far away from everything hectic. it’s a toss-up. that late fall day with golden leaves, we walked along the lakefront and then cut in west – past the historic library and library park.

i must never have looked up there, because it took me by surprise.

an angel statue.

there’s history to this statue, but that wasn’t what it brought up for me. instead, it was a reminder of this ultra-sweet hallmark movie, with a very similar angel statue at the center of the fictitious town of bethlehem and a person who looks strikingly like this angel – an angel who is cast as multiple characters in the movie. it’s a heartwarming story.

we spent the rest of the walk, wondering about never noticing this angel statue before and talking about the generosities and grace in the movie we love. it cast a magical quality to our walk that day. we were surrounded by what-felt-like a gentle cloak of hopefulness, of light.

we’ve held off so far. but soon. soon we will pull out this movie and the fleece sherpa blanket on the couch. and we will sit and watch – once again – knowing exactly what is going to happen and still getting teary-eyed. both of us.

it will remind us of those around us without whose goodness we might be lost.

indeed, we are surrounded by these angels.

in this season and always.

*****

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read DAVID’s thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY


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here, he gazes north. [d.r. thursday]

on island he gazed south. here, at home, he gazes north.

it doesn’t matter that there are inches of snow piles on the deck. ever the snowdog, he lays in it, relishing the cold, and gazes north. i wonder what he is thinking.

dogga is rarely still. he seeks the bark-back of other dogs in the ‘hood, standing in the middle of the backyard. he runs around the opposite-traffic-circle sign, around the pond, to the fence, then the other. scoping out, trying to get the attention of simply any other canine.

but there are those moments, in the middle of his self-initiated fray, that he is quiet and still and he poses, like the lions “patience” and “fortitude” flanking the front of the new york public library. “patience” and “fortitude” have been trademarked and are featured in the logo and all of the library’s marketing shenanigans. perhaps dogdog is the branding of our backyard, of our home. gazing north. or – simply – gazing.

for we, too, are gazers. we sit and ponder. we gaze and wonder. we watch the backyard change seasons as we change seasons.

the other day dogga was laying on the bed when i walked into the bedroom. i sat down next to him, his wagawag-tail thumping. i told him all the stuff i was thinking about, because isn’t that one of the reasons we HAVE dogs?

he listened. thump. listened. thump thump thump.

he did not solve anything. he did not answer any of my questions nor did he ask any questions. he did not agree or disagree. he did not argue for reason. he just listened. with patience and fortitude.

were i to lay in the snow with dogdog on the back deck gazing north perhaps i would also have more patience and fortitude in this season of time. at the very least, i would be in the best of company.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

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