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Layers of Sadness
I just walked past the calendar and realized that a very important milestone came and went today, unnoticed by me, who was thinking of the wretched Marine Corps and of our new dog and of some issues that have arisen lately. Two years ago this morning, our beloved Bonnie died. We always said she was the best dog in the world, and we still believe this. Her passing hit us hard; that day was one of the saddest and most difficult in our married life together. I visit her grave in the woods behind the house regularly, and I still talk to her, and I still believe I will see…
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As The Winds Cool The Earth
That’s another picture of Jinx’s likely sister, taken from the shelter’s Facebook page, which I was able to access even without having an account there. The resemblance is remarkable. Same slightly worried facial expression. Due to their very limited hours, the first day we’ll be able to visit the shelter to see her will be Saturday at one pm. We’ll see how it goes. I asked Dixee how she’d like to have a little big sister. She said, “Knee grow, please,” and walked away to watch Mrs. Orr cook supper. Supper was homemade chili and cheddar & garlic biscuits. Perfect fare for a chilly night like this. *** I saw…
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Numbering The Stones
If you look carefully at the photo above, you will see a daddy longlegs in the upper left quadrant. I took this picture this past Saturday while Jinx and I were exploring in the little country cemetery near our farm. We were there explicitly to count the gravestones, something I had been meaning to do for some time. The gravestone itself is one of my favorites, the marker of a Jesse Lane, who served the Confederacy in a regiment from his home state. The stone is simple and dignified, like the ones at Arlington National Cemetery, and I usually touch it in passing. On this particular cool day, it radiated…
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Leaves Change, Dogs Lie
As I write these words, Jinx is sleeping in the recliner on the back porch. I came out here to do a bit of writing and he came out with me. As is his custom, the spotted menace hopped up in my lap to snuggle, and so scribbling with my pencil in my notebook became nigh impossible. We rocked and watched the rain and the birds and the chipmunks, and we rested. I needed to go inside at one point so I could put clothes into the dryer, and when I stood up, Jinx got back into the chair and made himself comfortable. When I returned, he was asleep, but…
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A Friend Remembered
Nine years ago today, my friend Roger Hathaway departed this life and entered into his eternal rest. There was no one like him. I’ll see you one day on the other shore, Roger. ~ S.K. Orr
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Backhoe
Backhoe Man and dog walked on around The yellow monster parked nearby Waiting to open up the ground Which would receive the local who’d died. ~ by S.K. Orr
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Small Mysteries, Large Voices, Small Mention
Behold — I shew you a mystery. We have several hummingbird feeders in our yards, some of them mounted on metal shepherd’s hooks. We’ve learned that the only hummingbird feeders worth having are the ones with a water dam in the top, a sort of cup that holds water and keeps ants from getting onto the feeder. I have to keep careful watch on the feeders, replenishing the water in the dams because it not only evaporates, but also because some of the smaller songbird will drink the water in the tops of the feeders. The other day I must have missed checking on one of the feeders, because when…
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A Wanderer Forever in the Streets of Men
Ever since I discovered him by playing book roulette at the local library, Loren Eisley has been one of my favorite writers. An anthropologist and nature writer, Eisley was “discovered” by Ray Bradbury, who read one of Eisley’s essays in a science magazine and wrote him, saying, “You need to write a book.” Eisley took Bradbury’s advice, and I’m grateful he did. Eisley’s brooding prose saturates my mind every time I pick up one of his books. My favorite of his works is his guarded, haunting autobiography All The Strange Hours: The Excavation of a Life (1975, Charles Scribner’s Sons, New York, NY). I want to share a portion of…
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Fright And Grief
When I arrived home tonight, Mrs. Orr was cooking up a feast of salmon patties, new potatoes, green beans and a cucumber & tomato salad. We ate, and then Jinx and I went out for our evening stroll. A couple of years ago, one of my readers helped me identify a type of milkweed I’d never seen before. That same strain of milkweed is everywhere this year. As Jinx and I walked, I counted more than eighty of the plants along a twenty yard stretch of our road. The butterflies will be well pleased. Back at the house, I decided to set all of my wife’s pot flowers (as in…
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Little Things Find Their Beds
I had the day off due to yesterday’s holiday falling on a Sunday, and I made good use of it. Jinx and I moved half of a load of wood I’ve been putting off, and then I built a new door for the goat shed– another procrastination project. Mowed the front meadow and decided to go ahead and cut the entire yard, since it would be needing it by week’s end. By the time the sun was slanting down across in the west, my feet were sore and I was out of steam. So I sat and read the rest of the day, procrastinating on my correspondence, too, watching it…