A new carol for the season

For something new and different, travel without an airport or sitting next to strangers. Jerry and I drove to Toronto for Christmas. It's only about ten hours from here. We planned the trip in early November and had planned to do a day trip to Niagara Falls one day, but as world travelers, we're always ready to shift and roll and change. And then the storm came, closing all of the Niagara areas as it was hammered with snow. Toronto got a little snow but heavy winds and it was very cold. Of course, things closed and we hunkered down. Then Jerry didn't feel well. And then things started to go downhill...so I've written a song about it, my song for Christmas. I can't wait to go back to Toronto, explore under better circumstances, and have dim sum in Chinatown. 

Happy new year, be safe, be kind, be well.

 

Didn’t the border agent say,
“Going to Toronto for something different, eh?”
With no idea how prophetic that would be…

The dogs at the doggy park
in boots and parkas
the Hockey Hall of Fame
decked out too, its

Christmas in Canada
with a winter bomb-cyclone
Christmas with Covid and you

The ice on Lake Ontario is shining
The hotel uncomfortably warm
The 4 am alarms and the weird overcharges
and the final night room change assured
We'd never try Christmas away from home again…

BUT it was Christmas in Canada
with a winter storm
Christmas with Covid

Christmas in Canada

though not the best Christmas 

but ... with .... you!

Deep, dark music

Last week I was closing the curtains at the end of the day, the end of light and a doe was tipping the bird feeder in the backyard like a kid trying to get that last peanut out of a box of crackerjacks. She froze as I came to the window and tried oh so nonchalantly to walk away. I’ve been wondering who or what has been busy emptying a few of these raccoon-proof feeders, and now I know.

Today I had to move that same feeder so I could see it from the desk in my office. It was windy and cold out, so I refilled all the feeders this morning and left a few hefty handfuls of seeds and peanuts around the yard then was rewarded with a series of little creatures visiting including this downy woodpecker.

Here’s a poem I read last night at the open mic for First Draft, one of the poems I wrote over the summer. I’ve got some poems bubbling about I can work on now.

How is the house so alive?
So much shifting during the day,
cracking into the night.

Skeleton and exoskeleton
within its walls muscle
& still thin bones
that are holding them
helped again by shingle
& shake or log filled
with mud or mud from
hard clay baked all-day
under the heat of the sun.

I want to believe we are its heart
but once built the house doesn’t need
us except for a little maintenance –
if the house is lucky to not be
poorly built or neglected – it does not need.
This house would be happy to shed
its skins and listen to the animals
& wind move through
with their deep, dark music.

Good things should always be shared, a repost from last year

When I was younger, I thought I would never marry, I wanted to travel and write and write and travel. In high school I remember a class with Mr. Cosgrove, he had so many stories and we got him off topic so much (he also loved to have trivia battles rather than teach!) I remember once he said, in answer to a question about marriage, he knew he wanted to spend every day of the rest of his life with the woman he did marry; once he realized that he didn’t need anything else. That seemed a lofty thing though.

When I thought about love it was abstract and unknowable. And then I met someone who changed my mind. I thought about sharing a life with someone but didn’t see how this worked, (constantly recalling my father’s words when we argued about bedmaking (mine) “You don’t make your bed!” “I married someone to do it for me!”. It was so dismissive of my mother, his wife.

But then I remembered I did know of a partnership that seemed right, a model that made me feel like it was possible to, well, be in a partnership. I saw this model when I was 18; certain images stay with me, the passing of a hand over the loved one’s shoulder, a shared memory, and laughter; genuine care, and respect. Gentleness with each other. Kindness as creed. And I have been honored to be a part of this family, Dean asked me to be his daughter, happy to oblige. And Bette has been a teacher, mentor, and friend. They have given me so much. Support. Cheer. Many a meal. Poetry. A place to rest so often.

And they are the quintessential married couple. They’ve had highs and lows like us all but always seem to look outward. Yes, we carry on, but how are you? I’m so happy to know them. I’m so happy to wish them a happy anniversary.