Easing Into Septuagesimatide
The world outside is measured in gradations of russet.
It snowed during the night and I was surprised when I looked outside this morning and saw the white expanse. The heeler twins enjoyed their romps in the stuff until mid-day, when the staring sun and the resultant rising temps did away with all of it. And now what remains is a stretch of pine needles and cones atop the soggy ground, beneath the leafless trees and the lichen-covered fence posts, and the sun is easing down in the west, and all is muted and brownish and earthy. Gradations of russet. The color of oxidation, of disuse. And all things will melt into the soil and feed it, and in some loping weeks, the sleeping green embryos — but they are listening to us even now — will yawn and stretch and push upwards until they take in the spring air and the intensifying sunlight and the balm of birdsong, and they will say to me, This is us, grass and weed and leaf, and we will be with you for a while. But today, this evening, this winter twilight, all is rust and orange and ochre.
And russet.
***
In this pre-Lenten period, this intermediate section of time in which the year’s young air wants to celebrate but the wood and stone whispers and frowns at its exuberance, I am a grateful man.
I secured a new job, a position that will allow me to work at home. It is a full-time position with full benefits, insurance, 401(k), the whole enchilada, and the pay is only a tiny bit less than my current pay. Factoring in the fact that I will no longer be commuting down into town and paying over $3.00 per gallon for gas, I will probably be banking slightly more than I am with my current and soon-to-be-former job. And I will be sitting in my little farmhouse instead of interacting with diseased narcissists and their compulsive talebearing tendencies.
But more than anything else, the emotional and spiritual toll my job has taken on me the past several years has been lifted, and it is a physical sensation as well as an inward one. I go to work at my old job tomorrow and again on Tuesday, and that’s that, and that’ll be that, and that’s the end of that. Today is the first Sunday in memory that my heart has been light and I have not had a case of The Sundays. Knowing that I am for all practical purposes already gone has soothed me and lifted me. And it just may be that I won’t even finish out these last two days. The last few staff members who resigned their positions with this organization were told by the office manager that they could go ahead and leave…no need to finish out their week. I’m confident she did this because she wanted to avoid not a bad scene but rather the opportunity for the rest of the staff to express sorrow at their leaving. So if the human toothache masquerading as an office manager even hints at something like this for me, I will toss my keys at her and walk out laughing before she finishes her sentence. I’ve already cleaned out all my personal effects except a framed picture of the Blessed Virgin, a rosary, my Dollar Store reading glasses, and a tin of breath mints.
Let me say a hearty and sincere “Thank you!” to all of you who have prayed for me during this trying time, those of you who have offered me suggestions and sent me links and leads and resources, those of you who were genuine friends, even though we have never met in person. Thank you so, so much, and may our Father bless you richly for your unfeigned and cherished friendship.
***
For a few weeks, we’ve had some Carolina wrens bedding down at night under the eaves of our back porch. We started out with four of them, and then a couple of nights after we noticed them, one went missing, and there were three for a couple of weeks, and then just a pair. And for the last four nights, just one of them has returned each dusk and tucked herself between the metal roof and the rim joist. I named her Bernadette, and she is now the lone occupant of the back porch aviary. I wonder what happened to her mates, and I wonder if they will ever return to her, and I wonder if she looks for them during the daylight hours while she flits through the backyard and takes seeds from the feeders.
***
Writing about birds brings a pang to my heart. My crows at work…what will become of them? I have been feeding those corvids for more than fourteen years, and I have watched them come and go, but the leader, a large raven-sized fellow named Dinnerbucket, has never left me. When I arrive at the office in the morning, he always glides across the parking lot above my head and calls to me with four sharp caws. Then he alights on a light pole and watches me while I scatter crackers or bread in the usual places, and he calls seven caws to the others, and they join him, and they tuck into their breakfast as I walk to the office building.
I know that none of my coworkers will feed them, and I know that I cannot coax the crows to follow me to our farm where I would happily adopt the lot of them. I know that they will survive, and that they will eventually realize that the old man is not going to return, and they will stop coming to watch for me and my offerings. I know that some would accuse me of being foolish and sentimental, anthropomorphizing these black birds out of some inner need of my own. But I do not believe I am foolish or deluded. I know with rocklike certainty that these crows know me, that they recognize me, and that they trust me. I know that I will miss them, and I strongly suspect that they will miss me, after their own fashion. Who can say whether or not they will follow a certain fragrant current of air in a northeasterly direction and soar into the fields at our little farm? Who can say that I will not see them again on the other side of this life? Who can say whether or not they have a name for me and that they speak this name to themselves in raspy whispers when they see me? Soon, they will see me for the last time, and I them, and we will be lost to each other in this life. If I had any influence over the birds of the air, there would be no last time.
***
Mrs. Orr is bustling around in the kitchen. Fried pork chops for supper. And then reading and perhaps a movie or a documentary, and then time for sleep. And when the morning comes, I will rise into the last forty-eight hours in which I will have to be exposed to the corrosive stench of a place that has become tainted with pettiness and coarseness. And then I will leave that place and look up at the little tree under which I have parked for years, and I will scan the sky for my crows, and I will drive away.
And my heart will be glad at the moment of leaving. I think my heart will be at ease.
Be warm and safe and blessed, my friends.
~ S.K. Orr
23 Comments
Wm Jas
Fantastic news, SK. I’m very happy for you.
admin
Thank you so much, William. I appreciate it.
I hope all is well with you and your family.
NLR
Glad to hear the good news.
admin
Many thanks, NLR.
James
This made the day for me my friend. Congratulations!
When I retired, I left a job, a cube, and a dozen friends I had worked with and been close with for nearly 25 years. It felt strange knowing I would not enter that building again.
admin
James, thank you so much…I really appreciate your support.
When I leave at the end of tomorrow, I will leave a job and a bunch of strangers I’ve worked around for 15 years. I will miss the crows, and the pretty mountain I daily stared at while sitting outside and eating my lunch and reading, and the tree beneath which I parked. I am ecstatic that I’ll never have to work with or deal with any of these people again. The word “toxic” is overused these days, but it’s the most appropriate adjective I can think of. These people are petty, coarse, small-minded, caffeine-bound, surly, suspicious, and squint-eyed…truly of the resinous heart.
Thani you again, brother.
Carol
Congratulations on the new job – so happy for you!!
It is really quite wonderful to witness God’s goodness in responding to prayer!
I think your crows will miss you, and since they are among the smartest of avian species, it is entirely possible that they could find their way to your farm!
Love that photo of Jinx and Bluebelle…
admin
Thank you, Carol…I really appreciate your happiness on my behalf. I’m grateful to God and to all those who interceded on my behalf.
I completely believe the crows will miss me. I would be overjoyed if one or more of them were to mysteriously wing their way up here…
Jinx and Bluebelle continue to be shameless hams. Good thing they don’t know how to use a cellphone. They’d probably have their own TikTok accounts. Bluebelle would be making the trout pout, and Jinx would have dancing videos posted…
Craig Davis
Congratulations S.K. I hope the new job works out well. It’s interesting how even at the worst work situations there are things which make leaving poignant.
admin
Thank you, Craig, for your thoughtful words.
I definitely feel a heart-tug at leaving my crows and my favorite tree. They were my faithful friends. None of my coworkers were EVER my friends.
Genie
YAY!!! YAY!!! YAY!!! Oh my goodness, I couldn’t be happier. I have been praying for you and Mrs. Orr ever since learning of your unhappiness at work – I can empathize. 😉 I have another 54 work days, 76 total days until I can hit the done button myself. And I have 35 days of leave and 15 days of sick leave – so I’m at 50 days. If I have a bad day, I call J and ask, have I reached the GFY day yet? And after this week – I’ve made it!
Too bad it wasn’t last Monday, when my boss called me in to tell me that one of my co-workers had complained that I wasn’t wearing my mask in the hallway and to please comply with the rules so she would feel ‘safe’. SO close. So close. Oh well, I’m sure there will be another opportunity.
Your turn to pray for me, please. 😉 I AM SO HAPPY FOR YOU!
admin
Genie, a delight to hear from you, as always. Thank you for being happy for me…I’m happy for me, too! Tomorrow morning at 0800 I will have achieved my GFY day.
The mask anecdote is eye-rollingly foolish. And all too common. We wouldn’t want her widdle self to feel unsafe, would we? Oh, heavens to betsy NO! Does your boss or your rat-fink coworker have a fainting couch? Perhaps they could order one. Or a therapy gerbil.
And you have my prayers, sister. Promise.
Thank you again for being so joyful on my behalf…
James
Genie, I have a sneaking suspicion that your co – worker will never actually feel safe no matter what the circumstances.
Some guy on the internet
Congratulations on the new job, and good luck!
admin
Thank you so much, Some Guy. I appreciate your kind regards.
Annie
So very happy for you. And maybe you can go check on your corvid friends now and then. I’m starting to watch for our resident red-tailed hawks, who set up residence in early spring in a nest at the end of the pasture. Life goes on, and I’m glad your heart is lighter.
admin
Thank you, Annie. Mrs. Orr and I have talked about paying a visit to the parking lot, perhaps on a Sunday, to see if my old friends show up. If so, they’ll get some good treats.
Thank you for your good wishes. And I hope your hawks have a grand springtime.
Michael Wirth
Praised be Jesus Christ!!
I have been missing you these last 2 weeks. What a wonderful return gift you have given us. I am so thankful that you are able to work from home now and avoid that toxic environment that weighed so heavily on you. What a glorious Easter this will be for you and Mrs Orr!
It would not surprise me one bit 6 months from now to read a new post from you about Dinnerbucket and friends showing up for lunch.
Great picture of the twins also!
admin
Thank you, Michael, for your encouragement and support and prayers during this grim season. Yes, I think this Eastertide will be a joyous one indeed.
Isn’t that a wonderful idea, that Dinnerbucket and his crow-hort might show up here at the farm! It would give the heeler twins something new to wrassle about.
Thank you again, brother.
Lewis B.
This is exceptional good news! I am very happy for you. You didn’t mention it, but it appears that the Covid spared you and the Mrs.
I don’t know much, but I suggest that you take it easy as you enter into your new job and get a feel for your new situation. It’s sometimes the case that people are still somewhat negatively affected by their former bad job for a short while. Time now to drop it and keep on keeping on.
Pork chops and a new job! Wow!
admin
Lewis, many thanks, my friend. Yes, we made it through the China virus, though Mrs. Orr is still battling a persistent cough that awakens her and prevents her from getting sufficient rest. We’re still trying to find the right combo of expectorant during the daytime and suppressant during the night.
Your counsel is wise, I think. I plan to place my old job in the mental dustbin and focus on learning my new duties and responsibilities. To do otherwise would be, to me, a show of ingratitude. I’ve burned enough emotional calories over that wretched place. No more. I’ll let the dead bury their dead.
Good to hear from you, sir.
Genie
Do you have an herb shop nearby? If you put a couple of teaspoons of mullein, eucalyptus and licorice root – 3 to 4 total – in a pot of hot water, it should help the cough, coat the throat an help you cough up what’s left. Tastes good as is, but I add some slices of ginger. Steep for 5 to 10 minutes, and you can cool what’s left and put in refrigerator with a little honey stirred in. (They will miss my herb teas at work, methinks.) I hope she’s better soon.
admin
Thank you, Genie. Mrs. Orr is going to investigate. I’m not sure if we have an herb shop within easy driving distance. There are people near here who sell, um, herbs, but I don’t think mullein, eucalyptus, and licorice root are in their inventory….
Mrs. Orr sends her sincere thanks for your kind wishes.