Browsed by
Author: Anne Cassidy

People of the Path

People of the Path

Comments 0 Comment

In my neighborhood, I might know their names. There’s Peter, whose long arms swing like windmills, and his wife, Nancy, who has been walking regularly for decades now. I’ve seen  Arturo not only in this area but also on the Reston trails. I could name Eileen, Wendy, Maureen, Dave, Doug and many others.

But for every person I know there are hundreds more anonymous fellow travelers. Dog walkers and young mothers with jogging strollers. Long-distance striders who carry water bottles on their belt, like gunslingers. They are short or tall, plump or lean, fast or slow. 

Some folks don’t look up or acknowledge contact; they’re lost in thought. Others catch my eye from far away, wave and smile. 

But in one way we are all the same. We are people of the path. 

Passing into History

Passing into History

Comments 0 Comment

I didn’t set an alarm to watch Queen Elizabeth II’s funeral at 6 a.m. Eastern time. But when I woke up anyway, I quickly tuned in. 

What pomp and grandeur, what an outpouring of love and respect! “It’s been a solemn day, but not a gloomy one,” said the BBC commentator.  

As I write, the queen has left London for the last time and is on her way by hearse to Windsor Castle, where she will be laid to rest in the family crypt. Thousands of citizens have lined the way, throwing roses in her path.

“To everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven.” Today, the queen passes into history. 

Not So Fast

Not So Fast

Comments 0 Comment

I took Thursday’s late-day stroll at a faster pace than usual, so yesterday I paid the price. Nothing serious, just some soreness and tightness, a reminder that I let the cooler air and that fall feeling push me into moving more quickly than I should have.

In my defense, it was glorious weather. I wasn’t slogging through humid air for a change, and there was an autumnal industriousness afoot, the kind of energy that sends squirrels scampering for acorns to store.

Like the squirrel, I was driven — only it was an experience that I was after, one more walk in a summer made rich by them. 

Almost Equinoctical Evening

Almost Equinoctical Evening

Comments 0 Comment

A late walk yesterday, after I finished a class assignment. I drove to a favorite Reston trail itching to move through space after a computer-centric day. 

The path did not disappoint. There were the familiar markers of fern and stream and swamp. There were the dog walkers and stroller pushers and trail talkers, those who first appear at to be muttering to themselves but are revealed upon passing to be wearing those distinctive white ear pods.

The second leg of this walk is a segment of  the Cross County Trail, with its dips and valleys, already crunchy with brown leaves and blowsy with stilt grass gone to seed — but beautiful in its roughness. Laser-pointers of light struck the thin trunks of the understory.

Scampering through the lambent air in the almost-equinoctial evening was an excellent way to end the day. 

Call Them By Their Name

Call Them By Their Name

Comments 0 Comment

Names carry power; they encourage reverence. In some branches of Judaism, one writes G-d to show respect for the Creator. 

I found it ironic, then, as I walked through the yard with an arborist yesterday, to learn the names of the trees on our property. Ironic because several of them are ailing — and two of them have died. 

Oh, I knew there were oak trees in the front, had even learned last year that one of the sick trees is a pin oak. But did I understand that pin oaks are a member of the red oak family? No, I did not. Nor did I know that a chestnut oak is sitting right next to a tall holly in the side yard. Or that, wonder of wonders, a sassafras tree is thriving alongside the fence by the trampoline. 

From now on, the trees that remain will be cared for more diligently. And no wonder: Now, they have names.

(No problem naming this beauty. Crepe myrtles well in these parts. We may be planting more of them.)

Toddler Time

Toddler Time

Comments 0 Comment

Over the weekend, I had a toddler’s eye view of life as we watched our two-year-old grandson. He was delightful, as he usually is, and of course completely unaware of the life change that awaited him — a baby sister.

With him, I ran up and down the street holding onto his shirt as he careened on a balance bike, a contraption that wasn’t around when my own children were young. 

With him, I ate pretend hamburgers on plastic buns with plastic tomatoes. Unfortunately, he did eat some very real play dough while I wasn’t looking.

He “checked my ears” with the jack end of a baby monitor, “talked on the phone” with our portable, and covered me with his baby blanket. With his giggles and grins he reminded me of what I’ve been missing since my own kids grew up. 

Doing Nothing?

Doing Nothing?

Comments 0 Comment

As I’ve probably made more than clear through the years, I seek variety, changes in routine. They keep us out of ruts; they keep us young. Changes of scene, of workout and workload. Even changes in cuisine (though I’m not as good about that one). 

Lately I’ve been juggling short-term to-dos (writing here, completing schoolwork) with longer-term writing projects. 

I enjoy having both until deadlines loom. And then … the only change in routine I crave is to do nothing all day. 

It’s a Girl!

It’s a Girl!

Comments 0 Comment

A lot can happen in a weekend! We have a new grandchild, our fourth in two years, a little girl born on September 10, under the full Harvest Moon. Her middle name is my own, an honor I wasn’t expecting and which means the world to me. 

As my sweet daughters build their own lives and families, I watch in joy and amazement. I marvel at the energy required, which I had too in that phase of life and can still summon. And I marvel at the love and dedication with which they tackle each new challenge and phase of life.

I tell them often how quickly it goes, knowing they won’t believe me. But it will. And it has. 

Moon Over Wolf Trap

Moon Over Wolf Trap

Comments 0 Comment

A last gasp of summer, an outdoor concert at Wolf Trap, where cellist Yo-Yo Ma and clarinetist Paquito D’Rivera played together like … beans and rice, which they explained briefly before they played are their nicknames for each other. These names also showed up as titles for movements in the piece they performed, which D’Rivera composed. 

At Wolf Trap it’s never just about the music but the experience: picnicking on the lawn, waiting for the performance and the darkness. 

Last night a pale waxing moon appeared just as the hall was filling up, and as the players tuned (so different to see the National Symphony in its shirtsleeves), the moon rose and brightened. By the time we left, sated with the music and the evening, it was high in the sky, lighting us home.

R.I.P., Queen Elizabeth

R.I.P., Queen Elizabeth

Comments 0 Comment

I’m late posting today, which means I can use this space to express my condolences to the British people upon the loss their monarch. Queen Elizabeth reigned for 70 years. As recently as Tuesday she was photographed at Balmoral Castle in a sweater and kilt, smiling as she greeted Liz Truss, the 15th prime minister of her tenure as queen. 

I’ve spent some time looking at that photograph today, wondering what sort of pain and discomfort she may have been hiding, may often have been hiding, as she went about her duties. There are the sensible shoes, there the ever-present handbag, a detail I always found noteworthy and today find especially touching. 

My impression of Queen Elizabeth has been formed not only by history books and newspapers, but also by the Netflix series “The Crown,” which has emphasized the Queen’s dedication to duty. And surely she maintained that dedication to the end. 

Newscasters have been exclaiming that immediately after the flag was lowered at Buckingham Palace a rainbow appeared in the sky. I checked for images, thinking it seemed too hokey to be true, but yes, it really happened. 

(Photo: Leon Neal, Getty Images, New York Times)