reverse threading

the path back is the path forward

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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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ferny. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

it looked sickly hanging in the garden section of the home improvement store. there it was – all dry and twisted – a boston fern with no one to love it.

our sweet potato vine had given it up on the old vintage ladder that leans against the house on the deck. it was not handling life well there. we moved it to the top of barney and it came back to life, its lime green trailing around barney’s keyboard, its heart leaves offering company to all the birds and squirrels that frequent the top of barney’s upright-piano-ness.

we were sort of looking for something else for the ladder, though it was not with fervor – it’s only an old ladder on a deck leaning against the house – it is not necessarily a priority as summer wanes.

the sickly fern was in and amongst lots of other sickly ferns. this one, however, made it into our hands. “‘it’s $7.50,” i complained, “that’s a lot for a fern that looks like it’s not going to make it.” plus it felt like so many plants there needed people to care for them. i felt a little overwrought looking at all the dried-up herbs and annuals, perennials outgrowing their pots, the potted canna lilies and small ornamental trees fallen, laying on the concrete.

we pondered it – like we do most purchases – and decided to adopt the fern, bring it home, nurture it and hope for the best.

when we checked out, it rang up at $3.75 – half-price – making it a bit more palatable.

we placed it carefully in the backseat of big red and told it we were bringing it to a new home. we told it we would take care of it and not to worry – the first item of business was to get it some fresh water and sprinkle its crunchy-dry fronds.

it doesn’t really take much to take care of a fern. “ferny” as we dubbed it (because we are clever like that) perked up as soon as it started drinking in much-needed water.

devising a way to hang it from the ladder (three old shower curtain hooks did the trick!) we placed it in its new home. it immediately looked proud and we decided that next year we would go straight to the ferns for the ladder-on-the-deck.

now, as summer continues to wane, we are watching our tomatoes and mint start to lose their exuberance. the jalapeños are still trying to make new little baby peppers and the chives are pretty much going strong. our licorice plants all seem happy and so do the vines growing from the actual sweet potatoes we planted in dirt. but the other flowers are showing signs of fall coming, the ornamental grass plumes are changing color, the day lily flower shoots have browned and are ready for pulling. we are gearing up to enter a new season.

i wonder how ferny will do as time goes on – and september becomes october. i wonder if it will survive moving indoors as we are not necessarily intuitive green-thumbers.

no matter what, we will do the best we can. and if calling it by name (along with all the other named plants in our home) and cheering it on – best-guessing its care with the help of our horticultural friend google – will keep it nurtured and thriving, then we have set our course.

i am convinced of the direct relation between nurturing and flourishing. and that – nurturing – we can do.

*****

NURTURE ME © 1995 kerri sherwood

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keep it straight. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

when i was sixteen and seventeen and eighteen i spent a lot of time hanging out with crunch. he and i worked together at the dive center and were close pals. his fiancée lived a bit of a distance away so she left me to “keep an eye on him”. crunch didn’t need any eye kept on him – he was a straight-up good person. nevertheless, he became a part of the family and we had grand adventures together, most of them out on the water somewhere.

in the way that people stay with you through the decades of your life, there are certain things – expressions – behaviors – you take from them. there are several i cannot even begin to describe that i learned from crunch. one, though, came from spending a lot of time with him and our constant companions: our cameras.

because of crunch i am obsessive-compulsive about my horizon line. i can hear him in my head – keep your horizon straight, straight, straight. it has haunted me for the last almost fifty years. that’s a long time to hear someone in your head. but it never fails – every single time i take a photograph – whether it’s on water or high in the mountains, canyonlands or a wildflower meadow adjacent to a hiking trail – i can hear crunch’s voice: keep it straight.

there are worse things. things that have stood the test of time that i hear other people saying, things that are deflating or hurtful. so keep-the-horizon-straight is harmless and, actually, good advice…even over and over and over.

we are fortunate to be able to walk along lake michigan any time of day or night. a few steps and we are on the path that takes us past the rocky shoreline to the beach and the marina. every day we try to walk at least a 3.5 mile loop – and every day one of us comments about how lucky we are.

i have only been out on lake michigan’s waters once. on a sailboat a long time ago. i don’t remember much about it – it was an extraordinarily busy time of life and i think my sail got lost in the shuffle of other memories to remember. i’m fairly certain it was lovely – to set sail and be adrift in this lake-that-looks-like-an-ocean, this lake with so many personalities and moods, this big lake whose very energy we can feel at our house.

i always thought i would grow up to live on the shores of long island sound…somewhere along the rocky cliffs that fall to the beach, sunrises and sunsets over the horizon of water a part of my every day.

it didn’t turn out that way. i left long island prematurely, fleeing trauma and fear.

in recent days i have been back there – restoring my relationship with what was my beloved home, the water that grounded me for all those earlier years.

i still don’t think i will end up living on the shores of long island sound now. but here i am, mere steps away from a beautiful great lake – with access to it for day’s beginning or day’s end.

and as i stand on the rocks alongside the water’s edge, the sailboat – adrift – is lit by the west-sinking sun. i snap photos of it as it glows and i hear crunch – ever-present – “keep the horizon straight!”

*****

ADRIFT © 1996 kerri sherwood

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long island sound circa 1977

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tending boundaries. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

the gardens on the side of the backyard where barney is are not fancy, but they are lush. they are full of daylilies and ornamental grasses, three peonies and a volunteer hosta or two. it is the side of the yard where squirrels scamper and hide with stolen cherry tomatoes, finches and house sparrows and cardinals gleefully dine on birdseed, barney ages into mellow beauty with wild geranium at its feet. back in the corner there is an old firepit with burgeoning red salvia, surrounded by dwarf sedge grasses, a few dark green-leafed hosta, and one struggling pampas grass by the back fence. when it all gets away from us, there are a few weeds scattered into this garden, a little more wild than the rest but well-loved nonetheless. with a very few exceptions, all of these plants in this side garden have been generous gifts from others – from their own gardens or purchased at nurseries for us – and we value and cherish each and every one.

we also value and cherish peace, so the metal peace sign we purchased at a garden shop in the little town a smidge north from where dogga was born is an ideal addition to this wild and verdant garden.

one of our neighbors needed to clear off some vine from the garage that runs along the second half – the further half – of this garden. naturally, granting permission for access to our yard, he came equipped to do the job – with a ladder and a bucket and snippers and bio-bags. as they are avid gardeners i did not feel like i needed to be out there, managing his work. we were keeping dogga inside during his task on this sunny day and so i did glance out the window often to monitor his progress.

watching him step – with both feet and sans any sensitive awareness – over the little garden edge-fencing into our garden and directly onto our daylilies – crushing them – was shocking. he moved around in our garden, his foot placement of no apparent concern to him.

i did not go outside to admonish him. i just couldn’t believe what he was doing. i guess i didn’t want to create conflict, but i was most certainly feeling the conflict.

when he was done, the brick of their garage was clear of vine, but our little garden next to barney was trampled. the daylilies lay on the ground, their fronds broken. there was no mention of any harm done to them, no apology, no contrition whatsoever.

i couldn’t help but wonder why it was that our garden was not good enough to protect in his effort to take care of his own property.

i couldn’t help but wonder what he would have done had i literally traipsed all over one of his gardens.

i couldn’t help but wonder – after – why i did not go outside and demand that he stop immediately and to be please be careful.

at what price is keeping the peace?

fancy or not, our garden counted. whatever was this disregard? i literally cried looking at our flattened lilies, what was lush and standing now mushed on the ground.

and, mostly, i was utterly upset with myself. in an effort to not stir the pot, i allowed this man to enter my yard – and to be ruinous – and i did not stop him or hold him accountable.

and that is not ok.

we mustn’t just stand back and allow any single person – or, for that matter, any administration – to crush that which is ours. we mustn’t permit others to run over us, to expect us to grant them undeserved or undue authority or accommodate any higher priority in which they cast themselves (or is it “caste” themselves?), to trample any part of the precious home we have created.

that is not peace.

peace: a state of harmony marked by the absence of hostility, violence or mental anxiety.

relational peace: treating other people with respect and kindness

global peace: respecting the earth and all living things

every bit of what happened here translates – from the smallest act of irreverent ruin to the most heinous – lack of respect is lack of respect. where is the line?

and now, we will be tending what-were-our-intrepid-daylilies, our boundaries, and the loss of a bit of our peace, hoping for them all to come back.

*****

BOUNDARIES © 2010 kerri sherwood

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

i found myself both infuriated and blubbering. it all suddenly became too much, much too much.

the daily corruption, the cruelty upon cruelty, the absence of any morality or conscience, the vapid extolling of this administration by sycophants – it is just too much.

and the fact that i have family members who agree with this – who cheerlead it – who believe in the extremism and the horror – who WANT this – and this: who have chosen all of this over their lifelong blood-related relationship with me – makes me ill.

it is heartbreaking – as i am sure it is for you as well…you who are dealing with this same sort of schism in your family, friend groups or community. i have lost family as a result of this administration. and that makes me feel rage.

we had survived a growing-up lifetime of memories, moments of utter joy, moments of anger and disagreement, moments of good health and struggling illness, moments of wondrous new birth and moments of despairing death, moments when laughter was the best approach to tension within the family, moments when forgiveness was necessary for betrayal. we had survived all of that – for almost six decades – with the bruises to show for it and the love that sustained it.

but this country’s twisted and irreverent leadership – its sadistic, bigoted, reprehensibly warped, narcissistic, gluttonous leaders – accompanied by cowardly, self-serving members of the cabinet and legislature, concentric circles doing the unconscionable – THIS has blown to bits this family.

there is silence in its wake.

and we are left like flotsam and jetsam – estranged – the detritus of a country-that-was – destroyed – we are floating around – isolated and grieving – without each other because of this.

because playing on the team of hate and division apparently became more fun than the hard work of love and unity. i can’t bear to think that the depravity was just more in alignment with them all along.

it is ALL unforgivable.

just what is our ancestral family legacy now?

*****

LEGACY © 1995 kerri sherwood

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our little pando. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

and suddenly, we are witnessing a generational family branch of our aspen tree.

breck has sent out roots and has established a tiny clone just next to our pond. this baby seedling has tentatively sprouted – with its pink stems and littlest aspen leaves – merely feet away from breck, growing in the shade that breck provides when afternoon sun is filtering through its branches.

seeing pando is on my bucket list…the ancient, interconnected organism that is more than forty-thousand aspen trees – all sharing the same root, the same dna. it is in utah and i can only imagine the profound hush that is – standing in thousands of quaking leaves, one of the largest single living organisms on earth.

what would it take for people to have this kind of awe about the interconnectedness of real live humans? what would it take for a hush to descend upon us as we stand in the midst of others, gathered together? what would it take to recognize the utter importance of preserving such a connection, of honoring it, of absolutely cherishing it? what would it take for humankind to acknowledge its ancient roots, its depth of wisdom, its trembling resilience, its soul?

what would it take for the family tree of humans – people all across the globe – to understand what family – all-inclusive-family – means, what family can accomplish together, how being truly connected – despite any differences – could perpetuate goodness…in a world that desperately needs goodness?

we will watch baby breck closely, tend to its safety, listen to the softest vibrations of its tiny leaves quaking, always aware of its quiet wisdom.

*****

CONNECTED © 1995 kerri sherwood

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and then what? [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

after my album as sure as the sun was released, the song slow dance was promoted to adult contemporary radio. listeners seemed to really like the song and it did fairly well on radio – eventually charting at #13 on the secondary market. i traveled to a lot of cities to be featured on radio shows – it was the early 2000s – and radio was still where it was at.

a very big radio personality in new york city – the program director of a big fm station there – invited me to dinner after our meeting. i met him – carrying the backpack full of music and clothes i needed for those recording/radio days in the city.

the bistro was veritas and it was way above my pay scale. the wine list was 3000 selections long – a full binder of choices with a wine cellar that had about 75,000 bottles of wine. it had earned a michelin star and three stars from the ny times. it was late 2002 and i sat down at what-i-remember-as a stainless steel bar, out of my league.

that evening the chef had a special offering – french truffles, just flown in – and my host – who was apparently a regular – ordered for both of us. i had never had a meal with courses that had their own wine offering before; it is not likely i will have such a lavish meal again. when the bill came – and its total announced itself off the check – i couldn’t help but think how many hungry people that amount of money might have fed right in that very city.

but the truth of it was that this was the core of things, how things worked, how things work.

and though i believe that people nationwide did indeed like my song, the inordinately steep price tag of radio promotion – for which i – as the owner of my recording label – was paying – was merely machination for the game. and my charting song was choreographed by a group of men who enjoyed eating at michelin star restaurants – on their radio tabs – around the country.

now, this enlightenment didn’t come to me sitting on that barstool that evening, having careful conversation and eating divine foods, sipping wine. that was all part of the design – to create a tapestry of reality around me – and every independent artist – so that we might continue to over-invest further and further into a system that was, at best, rigged and not real.

it seems more than ironic to me that the place of this learning – in retrospect – was at an establishment called veritas. veritas – the latin word for truth or reality, representing honesty, moral integrity and the alignment of one’s actions and words with facts or core values.

the restaurant was – in and of itself – lovely, though i stand firm on my thoughts about how better to use that kind of money.

but that word – veritas – has been coming up for me a lot lately, sort of stuck in my head, like gestures of songs get stuck on repeat, time and again.

as i look around – in the challenges we have faced and face – it would seem imperative that truth should be the basis upon which decisions are made, that truth and integrity should actually dictate actions and words, that facts should matter, should set the stage for accountability.

it would seem that all manipulation of the facts, warping of narrative, revising of the truth – to escape culpability – should fail in the end. ahh…perhaps we must be patient.

i sat on the barstool at that high-brow bistro – trusting a process that was not to be trusted, wined and dined, my very cautiously spent independently-owned-label’s marketing and promoting budget exploited by a system. i was one of the little people, taken advantage of.

and just as we look around in our current country and its circumstances, just as i – or you – deal with other personal matters of trauma – we can see the grooming systems – the skewed-to-one-side systems – out there – not to be trusted.

all too often, these words speak the truth: it happened. it was wrong. it matters.

and then what?

from my place off the barstool i’d add this: vincit omnia veritas – truth conquers all things.

*****

SLOW DANCE © 2002 kerri sherwood

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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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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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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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