On Memorial Day

On Memorial Day

Comments 0 Comment

On this Memorial Day, I’ll find time to be grateful for all who gave their lives so we might be free. I’ll listen to a patriotic song or two, and hang my little American flag out by the mailbox.

I’ll think, too, about the almost 100,000 Americans who’ve lost their lives to Covid-19, the 245,000 who’ve succumbed to the disease in other countries, and all those who grieve for them.

But mostly my thoughts will flow to the hillside in Kentucky where my parents lie. It’s a sunny peaceful spot.

Rest in peace, Mom and Dad.

Mapping My Walk

Mapping My Walk

Comments 0 Comment

Inspired by The Writer’s Map, which I mentioned here a couple weeks ago, I embarked on a map-making project of my own. The result is “May 16th Long Walk,” an amateurish work if ever there was one, but the first in a series, I hope, as I record the walks I take not only in words but also in cartography.

It was an interesting experience, chiefly because I haven’t done anything like this since, oh, about seventh grade (I can’t recall drawing any maps since high school other than ones scrawled on the back of envelopes in the old pre-GPS days) and also because, as is quite evident, I can’t draw.

Creating this map called on that other side of my brain, the one that involves spatial relations (a perennial worst score on the SATs) and whimsy (which, though not tested, is far too often neglected).

But once I began creating this little map, I realized I could put anything on it —even silly things like the chain-link fence I had to climb and the large drainage pipes I call Snake Eyes. I realized I could be creative in a way I hadn’t been in a long time. Mapping, like writing, is a way to make a place your own.

Brilliant Air

Brilliant Air

Comments 0 Comment

Up early for a walk in a luminous fog that seemed to be glowing from the inside out. It was as if the pinpointed radiance of a rising sun was smashed and diffused throughout the air.

Air we now see differently than we did a few months ago. A miasma, virus drops in an aerosol of danger.

But this morning the air was an invisibility cloak, a brilliant one that hid me (or at least I pretended it did) in a mantle of unknowing, so I could stride beneath the dripping oaks and into another day.

Going Nowhere

Going Nowhere

Comments 0 Comment

I’ve considered and forgotten several post ideas as this rainy day makes me sleepy. So far I’ve spent way too much time reading the newspaper. I’ve looked up recipes, made vague notes about what ingredients I would need to make them, then decided salad for dinner again isn’t such a bad idea.

I’ve answered emails, tidied the kitchen, refreshed the cut flowers, written in my journal, eaten yogurt and strawberries, and brought my crocheting downstairs — though I’ve yet to touch the hook.

I tell myself that when one is normally a tightly scheduled person, it’s healthy to do nothing for a few hours  — but of course, I don’t believe it.

Outside, the world is green and dripping. I was out in it early, committing to the walk before I knew it was drizzling and not wanting to miss the birds calling to each other at daybreak. My shoes won’t dry for hours.  But that’s just fine — I’m not going anywhere.

(A rare photo of the house without cars in the driveway.) 

Ascension Thursday

Ascension Thursday

Comments 0 Comment

Today is Ascension Thursday, a liturgical marker that I often forget but maybe, because of the strange way I’m “going to church” now (which is online), I noticed.

I heard an excellent sermon on this topic last Sunday, one that talked about the way Jesus leaves his disciples before he ascends to heaven. He says “I will not leave you orphans,” explained the minister, who zeroed in the use of that word “orphan” with all the abandonment and grief it entails. She shared stories about the loss of her own parents, who died 11 months apart, in particular the passing of her father, whose death was the most difficult and yet also the most spiritual.

What the minister emphasized is that Jesus wasn’t leaving his followers without a helper. He was sending them the Paraclete, which in this case means the Holy Spirit, part of the Triune God. The word paraclete, lower case, means “advocate” or “helper.”

I like to think about this day, then, not as one of clouds and trumpets, or of loss and dismay. But rather one in which assistance is foretold, is part of the package. In Greek the word “paracletos” means “one who comes alongside.” What a lovely way to look at spiritual help.

Rough Winds

Rough Winds

Comments 0 Comment
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May 
And summer’s lease hath far too short a date.

So go the third and fourth lines of Shakespeare’s Sonnet 18, which begins with the lines “Shall I compare thee to a summer day?/Thou art more lovely and more temperate.”

They’ve been in my mind lately as the brisk winds continue to blow and the gray clouds continue to blot out the sun. It’s been one of the coolest springs on record, and is beginning to bother me — not that there’s a thing I can do about it except try to see the positive side.

And that brings me back to Shakespeare. Because the buds, though shaken, are staying buds longer than usual. They aren’t flowering and fading as quickly as they would if our temperatures were topping 80 each day.

A cool spring may try the patience of one who loves warm weather, but it will, for a few days at least, keep time at bay.

(If the bottom photo looks blurry, it’s because the wind was indeed shaking these fully bloomed knockout roses.) 

Running Start

Running Start

Comments 0 Comment

Animals, in their vigor and innocence and lack of self-regard, often hold some deep and true lessons for humans. I was thinking of this today while watching Copper climb the deck stairs. He doesn’t do them slowly and gradually, but quickly — and only with a running start.

There must be a physiological reason for running starts, something in the motion of muscles and mobility of tendons. But the psychological component is large, too.

There are the running starts that precede a dive off the high board, the quick steps that introduce a tumbling run — and then there is that scene I’ve always loved from “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid,” where Paul Newman and Robert Redford dash and then leap off the cliff into the roaring stream below to escape their pursuers.

The running start is not always easy — I can see Copper pause at the stairs, as if to gather his energy before the effort. But there is much to be said for it: how it screws up our courage, helps us hew to our original intentions, how it commits us to action.

Roaming Free

Roaming Free

Comments 0 Comment

What happens when a post idea flies through my head while I’m trying to participate in the meditation  program my office offers at 9 a.m. most mornings?

It flies through, that’s all … and is lost to posterity.

Meditation means clearing the mind of not only worry and clutter and pointless rumination, but also of the ideas that are sometimes worth developing in this blog.

There’s always a chance that this idea will reappear later, of course. Ideas do that sometimes. But there’s a greater chance that it’s never coming back. And that’s all right. Harvesting thoughts can be a tiring business. Better sometimes to let the mind roam free.

Sunday’s Rhyme

Sunday’s Rhyme

Comments 0 Comment
Monday last was frantic-paced
Tuesday slowed, was still a race.
Wednesday came and went so fast
And Thursday zoomed by in a blast.
Friday to-dos meant more working.
Saturday had no time for shirking.
So now we have the Sabbath Day…
I hope to slow down, fi-nal-lay!
(With apologies to the nursery rhyme.)  
Speeding Along

Speeding Along

Comments 0 Comment

There are fewer cars on the road than this time three months ago — but more on the road than this time last week. And many of the automobiles out there are apparently speeding.

Not to condone these scofflaws but I can understand the lure of empty pavement. It’s such a departure from our normal state of affairs (see above).

I found myself putting the pedal to the metal a few weeks ago when driving down an almost empty Dulles Toll Road. But I slowed down after I spotted this sign:

“Speeding tickets available ahead.”

At least the police had a sense of humor about it.