Reflections
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Second Sunday Of Advent
We’ve looked everywhere in this region and still can’t find old-fashioned icicles for our Christmas tree. Is there some connection between the CO-vid and thin strips of shiny mylar? If we manage to find any icicles, we’re going to buy many, many packs of them. Our tree always has icicles. It’s just the way things are done. We drape them, toss them, hang them, throw them…we need them. When I stepped outside this morning, I could smell the coffee in the pot, and I wanted a gallon of it, but duty and companionship called, so I walked with care on the deck boards and felt the grit of Jack’s sugar…
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And Suddenly It Was December
The new heat pump is working splendidly, which is a very good thing, given the teeth-chattering temperatures we’ve had this week. I’m grateful it wasn’t this cold and windy while the fellows were here installing everything. I think I neglected to mention that the gentleman who owns the HVAC company brought his father along for the second half of the festivities. He inherited the business from his dad. While they worked, I chatted with the father, an amiable man with a quick smile and penetrating blue eyes. Turns out that he actually installed the original furnace in our basement. He described doing the work all those years ago, and spoke…
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Comfortable And Peaceful
It just came to me. Two days ago, our heat pump, aging and creaking thing that it was, died on us. I discovered the problem on a morning when it was 26F outside. By that evening, it wasn’t much warmer inside. To say that Christmas will be lean this year is to undersell the truth. Almost six grand to replace everything that needs replacing. Tomorrow morning, the HVAC fellows will return and install the new unit. Or as my wife and I have begun calling it, our joint Christmas gift to each other. Some people take Caribbean cruises. The Orrs get big, heavy objects that heat and cool their…
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Despicable Week
His name was Bill, and he meant something. We weren’t close friends, but I enjoyed Bill’s presence and appreciated his gentle, self-deprecating manner. The last time I saw him, he was walking with a cane, like I do now in the evenings when Jinx and I go for walks. He always had a smile and a shrug and a clear, blue-eyed gaze of friendliness and curiosity. He died a few days ago. An observant neighbor, noticing that a yard-putterer like Bill hadn’t been outside on a fine, mild November afternoon, went to his door to investigate. She found Bill in his bed, and the medical examiner later determined that he’d…
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Turning Away But Not Away
The dogs let us sleep in a bit this morning, so by the time Jinx and I were out for our walk, dawn was just about to break. We stopped long enough for me to take a photo just before the sun peeked over the mountains. When the big star appeared, I took one more photo and then we turned to continue our walk. When I turned around, I saw the sunlight touch the far ridge to the west, above the cemetery. As I watched, the light traveled across the earth towards us, like a curtain of gold being drawn down. I could almost taste the air at that moment,…
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The Fabric Of Sadness
I have a friend — we’ll call her Lydia — whom I haven’t seen in several months. The last time we met, Lydia told me about her brother, Jake, who had recently had a massive, debilitating stroke. At the time of the event, Jake had been caring for his girlfriend, who had suffered a similar stroke some months prior. While describing their sad plight, Lydia said, “They’re all each other have. They pretty much just lay in bed and comfort each other by talking to each other.” I promised to pray regularly for all of them. Yesterday, I saw Lydia again, and the first thing I asked her was how…
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Six Caws
I love the magic of the mornings at this time of year. Driving to work in the damp dark, lights like paint strokes across the black asphalt, twisting devils of leaves writhing in the headlights, passing the sleepy pockets of light that I know are houses hidden in the hollows, where coffee is dripping into a clear, clean pot and the news is buzzing on some device in the background while stiff spines try to loosen and heavy eyelids attempt their lifts. How many secrets, how many stories I pass as I glide past in the dark, in the morning, in the stillness of November. And then arriving at my…
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One And Two Hundred Forty-Five
In my younger years, today was always significant, as it marks the birthday of the United States Marine Corps. This year is the 245th birthday of Mother Green, the Killing Machine. And while I have mixed feelings about my beloved Corps and the path she’s taken in recent politically-correct years, I will forever be proud of my association with the epitome of masculine insanity I lived and breathed for six years. Happy Birthday, Devil Dogs! But today marks a sadder anniversary. One year ago today, our beloved Bonnie left us in the early morning hours and left a void that will never be filled. I am grateful for my rambunctious…
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Harness On Our Back
I gin to be aweary of the sun, And wish the estate o’ the world were now undone. Ring the alarum-bell! Blow, wind! come, wrack! At least we’ll die with harness on our back. MacBeth, by William Shakespeare (Act V, scene 5) We went down into town today to do some grocery shopping and to buy a new vacuum cleaner. Truly, appliances and tools are no longer well-made. They are disposable junk, without a crumb of craftsmanship in an entire acre of store. While in the store, I heard my wife mutter something with outrage under her breath. She pointed out a woman who looked like Oprah Winfrey’s big sister,…
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Remember, Remember
One of our neighbors has a serious problem with maintaining the integrity of his fences. That’s a polite way of saying that he doesn’t check his fences frequently enough, and his cattle routinely end up in other peoples’ yards. The local cemetery was forced to put an electric fence around the property after weeks of roving cows knocked over several tombstones and trampled flowers and memorials. Rumor has it that the owner of the cows was pressured to pay for and install the fence. I don’t know. What I do know is that Black Angus lives matter. At least to Jinx. I infer that he loves the cows because he…