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Winter Completed
You think winter will never end, and then, when you don’t expect it, when you have almost forgotten it, warmth comes, and a different light. — Wendell Berry Last night before bed, I let the dogs out into the back yard. I tracked them with the flashlight, wary of what might scamper away from them in the dark, setting up a chase and an opportunity for noise. In the beam of the flashlight, I saw what looked like little snowflakes. I stuck out my arm and tiny white crystalline dots clung to the fabric of my sleeve. Huh, I thought. Two days ago, it was almost seventy degrees. That can’t…
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October, Enter Stage Right
The hummingbirds are gone for the year, I think. We saw a couple yesterday, and heard them as they were droning around in the trees, but that was earlier in the day. By early evening, they were not to be seen. This morning, no hum nor squeak greeted me when I opened the back door. We watched all morning for them but no hummingbirds. I took down all the feeders and replaced the nectar except in one, which was mostly being used by wasps, anyway. All the day long while we were outside, we strained our ears and eyes, but never heard nor saw any of the beautiful little paint…
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The Only Day
Today marks the ninth anniversary of the day my mother departed this life and went on to the next one. My sister and I chatted about this last night, remembering some of the happy times and some of the not-so-happy times we shared with the stoic, flinty old woman who gave us life and fed us and sheltered us and tried to guide us. I miss you, Mother, and I love you. I hope to see you again when my own time comes to sail into the west. *** It’s still hot here and will reach 90 today and for the remainder of the week, but the mornings have been…
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The Thirteenth of August
Today would have been her 103rd birthday, and her absence these nine years has left a divot on my life’s surface. I miss her, and I am glad she isn’t here to see what has become of her country and her region. Seeing such ugliness would have grieved her tough, hidden old heart. Her middle name was Viola, which she hated. I always loved it, thinking it had a Southern literary lilt to it, like Eudora or Flannary, and I would sometimes address her by it, which enraged her. “Viola,” I’d say, “Reckon what it would take to get you to make me some bacon for supper?” And she would…
- Bluebelle, Church Life, Daily Life, Dixee, Holy Days, Jinx, Movies, Mrs. Orr, Paintings, Photographs, Prayers, Reflections
Maundy Thursday
Tomorrow is already Good Friday, and what a wonder it is to be this far along in the year already. Our weather has been quite warm, and we had to actually break down and put on the air conditioning last night after the sun baked the house all day long. I am enjoying the lack of pain in the joints, but I will confess that both Mrs. Orr and I sleep better in the colder weather. We both tossed and turned a lot last night due to the closeness of the room, even though we did have the fan on. It’s supposed to be cooler the next three days, and…
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Mothers Day
The rhythms of our life together are easy and harmonious. For more than a week, my wife and I have moved in a steady cadence of digging, planting, sowing, watering, trimming, taming. We are tired but pleased with the overall effect. This year, being outside together has become a series of luminous hours, hours in which we are as rooted to our little soil & rock tasks as surely as if we were branched and barked and leafed ourselves. Over the weekend, what time we didn’t spend gardening was spent on the back porch, where we took our meals, rested, and watched the cascade of different varieties of birds as…
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Like The Corners of My Mind
I planted the phlox last night, evenly spaced along the rock wall in the front garden. I think they will do well. I also planted a pot of English lavender, bought because I liked the soft frondy leaves and the thick, forest scent, and another purplish flower whose name I cannot recall. Right now, a curtain of rain is drawn across the farm, and everything, including the potatoes, is getting a good watering. The miniature azalea is in full bloom. It has a few dead spots inside, and will require some brave and judicious pruning. I want to take photos before I get at it with the shears. And now…
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Late, Maundy Thursday
Jinx and I just went out into the back yard for his final restroom break of the night, and we were surprised to step out into snow. The porch and grass were covered in white powder, but it is clearing because the stars were shining down , one of the last of those cold, clear nights that I will miss when the weather finally warms and the air is less crisp, less sharply defined. I think I’ve neglected to mention recently that I am growing potatoes this year. In old automobile tires. This is a technique I’ve heard about for years, one that has been recommended to me by many…
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Weeding Waltz
Weeding Waltz Before the sun could turn its engine over I worked my blade between the rows of plants My shoulders pulling, slicing weeds and clover The rhythm of my motions like a dance; The earth my partner as we spun and dipped And music, green between us, urged us on Until I balked, surprised the hour had slipped Away, renewed and blinking sweat at dawn. ~ S.K. Orr [inspired in part by Francis Berger’s musings on manual labor]