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.

The world goes on

Outside the chickadee and Carolina wren, the cardinals and the tufted titmice, sparrows galore, the Blue Jays and the flicker (that has decided this year the bird feeder is the best thing around) surround the house sharing the peanuts and birdseed, the suet blocks and the abundance of this mild rainy day. Yesterday on our ramble there was a particularly plaintive cry that only the squirrels make, and I always ask, “What’s wrong, Gerald?” (I call all squirrels, Gerald), but this time looking up I saw what was bothering Gerald, the two hawks in a neighboring tree looking down! “Good luck, buddy,” I said as we walked on.

Around the corner at the house on Vine (occasionally it flies a Union Jack, but right now a Ukrainian flag) none of the cats were around. Typically, at least three cats are lounging, but not yesterday. It was a gorgeous day, sunny and warm, so I’m sure they had other things to do. I had one class on Wednesday and felt like finding a warm quiet place myself, but I’ll play cat another time. When we got home the black cat was out front pretending, she is shy, but she isn’t running any longer.

We woke yesterday to the news of another round of death and destruction due to America’s free-for-all with guns. The frequency of the carnage is such that even the calls for thoughts and prayers are being neglected. The cowards who have the ability to change the laws but are too enamored of money and power to do more than pay lip service to the problem are silent. Let’s call every bullet an abortion and see how quickly they pivot. Prolife indeed.

And while we’re counting the dead, in the past week Covid numbers (at least those reported) fell below 300 for a day or two. But it didn’t last long, right back to 311 today. And the confusion on the pandemic continues a sampling of headlines from this week: we’re heading into a triple threat of RSV, Omicron and Flu; Omicron surge is coming; more vaccinated people are dying because the efficacy has worn off, and hey, it’s all over.

If there’s something we are really good at here in America, oh like forever, is following these awesome and exceptional narratives about how awesome and exceptional we are. Go team America.

Well.

I’m grateful for the birds, and the man, the Bambina and her man, my boy wherever he is and my friends. My big family is gathering elsewhere, and the new family is safe and sound as well. I have a good, warm house, some wonderful food cooking (right now) and a gentle rain falling.

Be safe, be kind, find a warm place to rest. Read some poetry.

The sky puts on its clear
face just a dawn blush
and golden shine as the sun
is met on the horizon,
the earth’s rotation
this old globe’s tilt.
In the fall cold, birdsong: 

the world goes on.

Take a picture here in the daylight, oh-oh And it's a wild, wild life*

Just a quick note on the animals in the area. Last week we encountered a coyote and a fox in the neighborhood on the same ramble. The coyote was slinking across a lawn backlit by streetlights but the fox was scurrying right in front of us over where the old dog Willy lived way back when. Then the deer stood and watched us from the neighbor's yard as we headed out one evening. I've seen two bald eagles in the past week as well. And so many hawks, so many hawks, as I drive toward school.

And because I have no pictures of those friends here's a picture from two years ago:

Be kind, be safe. 

* Talking Heads: Wild, Wild Life

That one jewel

It was open all the windows and enjoy the day day. Today was harvest the rest of the tomatoes day. They were transplanted late from the Aero garden and the box of them still looks like gooseberries on steroids. Then it was clean the raised bed day (but leave the cosmos for the bees). Then on the front porch it was trim, repot and bring in the begonias and geraniums day. Then it was make some bread day. It was watch the chickadees at the feeder day. And stand quietly trying to see what bird is singing in the ornamental pear tree day. It was admire the sunflowers day and read some poems day. It was stand in the sun day.

The palm held to the sky
holds the sun, that one jewel
that outlasts all others.

 

Rutabaga!

Most afternoons as I'm driving back from school I pass Randy's Rescue Ranch. Randy's Rescue Ranch is an animal sanctuary at the edge of town. As I go by I roll down my window and yell "RUTABAGA!!!" 

Rutabaga is a pig that lives at the ranch. The pig is a local star. I think the rescue ranch is pretty cool too. Just a little animal kindness today.

Rutabaga the Pig