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October Settles In
A week ago today, Mrs. Orr and I spent the afternoon on the back porch with a fan on, swatting yellowjackets and watering the flowers. Today? The promised cold front swept in night before last, and we are snuggled in the living room, wearing sweaters. We finally fired up the furnace this morning and it was pleasant to feel the chill melt out of the rooms. Putting the flannel sheets on the bed will be the final sob in our season of grieving the loss of warm weather. But…this is life, and we are grateful for it. Can one describe an October day without using the word “crisp?” The day…
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Labor Day
The humidity was heavy in the air this morning, much more pronounced than yesterday. It will be an oppressively hot day, but looking at the calendar, I am mindful that this will change more quickly than I like to believe. The sun is beginning to get that Emily Dickinson “certain slant” to it, and the days and evenings feel slightly different, as though there has been some subtle but great turning — which there has. This earth is moving and tilting in preparation for the months that will bring winter to this hemisphere. When I look at the skies, whether in the blue of day or the pinpricked black of…
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Before Winter’s Solstice
Early this morning, I dreamed I was standing at my mother’s grave, down there in the flat delta where the cotton fields stretch like bolts of corduroy for monotonous miles. In my dream, I wanted to say some words to Mother, because I knew that she would be able to hear and understand me, but I could not bring myself to speak. There were leaves blown against her little tombstone with the hummingbird carved into its sleek surface, and they seemed to be telling me that it was all gone, my life and difficult relationship with that haunted little woman, that no matter what I might say to her, none…
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‘Tis October
The hurricane/tropical storm took an eastward cank as it approached the eastern states and so most of the rain missed us. We had some on Friday evening, then overnight that night pretty hard, but yesterday it only sprinkled a time or two, and today is dry but blissfully cloudy. Friday night, Mrs. Orr was driving home and texted me, “Look at the rainbow.” I went outside and looked west, but saw only a golden sky, lit from behind the rain clouds. When I turned back to the house, there it was, a double rainbow in the northeast of our little world, and my heart sang within me as I stood…
- Bluebelle, Daily Life, Dixee, I Never Thought I'd Be In This Situation, Jinx, Mrs. Orr, Photographs, Reflections
Little Things
I sat up late Friday night watching Kenneth Branagh’s Hamlet. Fatigue forced me to watch the conclusion the next day; I awoke at 200 am with my head on Bluebelle’s hip. I believe we were both snoring. My heart is sad this morning, but it has nothing to do with the brooding Danish prince. Yesterday morning, while the sun was slanting down through the trees, I went to walk in the woods. The beams of light from our life-giving star were as solid as blonde pine joists, as substantial as anything into which I might drive a nail, as anything onto which I might hang an old family photograph. I…
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Bears All Her Sons Away
I stepped outside with the dogs into a morning blanket of warm mist and fog, a sultry Woden’s Day in the mountains, and I breathed deep. The fog muffled the cow-calls and the birdsong, and the dogs disappeared into the gray air as they went to do their business. One of the female hummingbirds zoomed out of the gloom, right up to my face, cocking her head with a curious gesture that drew a laugh from me. She retreated to the feeder and breakfasted while I stood and absorbed the last quiet I would probably know on this particular day. I felt a tinge of sadness, and wondered why. And…
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Almost Dog Days
The heat of August seems to be steady and unmoderated all over the United States. I’ve talked to people from all over the country lately, and I can’t recall a single exception to the “It’s very hot, and even worse, it’s very humid” remark when I ask about the weather in someone’s locale. Mrs. Orr was talking to the kids and grandkids in Texas last night, and I spoke briefly to Numbah One Grandson. I asked him, “Is it hot there?” And he replied, with eyes cast up at the ceiling fan, propellering above his head, “Oh, it’s real hot.” This from a Texan. ‘Nuff said. Yesterday was a two-shower…
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Night, On the Feast of Saint Patrick of Ireland
First thing I did when I rolled out of bed this morning was to confront Mrs. Orr and see if she was wearing green. Foiled again. I usually do some sort of Saint Patrick’s Day post, but after reading Laura Wood’s collection of recent Hibernian posts, I decided it would be better just to link to what she’s written. First, a thoughtful and reverent entry about a prayer some say was written by the old saint himself. Next up, a grim and needful post about the state of Ireland today. And then finally, two items to leave a lighter feel in the heart, here and here. This day has been…
- Bluebelle, Books, Daily Life, Holy Days, I Never Thought I'd Be In This Situation, Jinx, Photographs, Reflections
Lent’s Edge
Surprising to step out on a day like today and pull warm air into the lungs and feel the spongy earth beneath the boots and listen to the disagreements and opinions of two hundred of birds at least and to walk to the weeping willow and pull a strand to the face and see up close the little lettuce leaf buds dotted along the limb, the limb slender and useful as a pencil lead, the limb pliable but cold still, drooping towards the warming earth, conserving its energy, gathering its strength, biding its time, talking to itself as I do when I walk in the fields. Surprising it is. Yes.…
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Winter Begins
And now we sit in the deepest pocket of the year’s darkness, with the night air so still that even the nocturnal predators do not dare to disturb the hush with their cries. We have reached the farthest point on our yearly circle around the great light in the sky, and are now beginning to swing back to complete the ring, spinning always, the great seas and the vast acres containing numberless bones slipping in and out of light and dark, and so it has ever been since ages ago, back when certain words were spoken. It’s difficult when I stand in the yard to remember that this bleak patch…