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Mother’s Day
First things first — a happy and blessed Mother’s Day to all of my dear readers who are mothers. May your day be peaceful and may your hearts find some happiness in thoughts of your children or of your own mother, even if you are in the midst of sadness today. I remember Mother’s Day in churches in my younger years. Many of the Protestant churches had a tradition where all of the mothers would receive a red rose, and the non-mothers and the adult men would receive a small rose bud…red for those whose mothers were living, and white for those whose mothers had died. Several years ago, I…
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Nearing The End of April
The days are longer, walking in with soft daybreaks and shuffling out with glowing coral sunsets, and the early, surprising heat has modulated itself back to where it should be, and it would be easy to unwind at least eighteen of the hours of the day outside under the dome of pollen and barnswallows and floating spider webs. I’ll get this out of the way first — I haven’t even tried to work on my memoirs for a while. There are some things, some images and events that are too evocative of too much rawness, and my instincts tell me to sidestep them for a little while until it’s time…
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Saturday Before Holy Week
The day was odd. After mild temperatures all week, today saw snow all day, on and off, until about 5 pm. Sunny one minute, confectioners sugar in a tornado the next. It frosted last night and I covered Mrs. Orr’s new roses. I will do the same again tonight, because they are leafy and lush and thriving. One dislikes seeing good work undone. I’m uncomfortable in the shackles of the awareness that I’m almost three days late in posting my most recent memoir entry. I have half a draft ready and will, unless books and dogs and chores distract me, finish up tomorrow night and post it. I don’t listen…
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The First Sunday in Lent
Another glorious day. I think it got up to about 72F today. Started out cloudy and gradually cleared through the day, with the breeze intensifying every hour. The weather people — none of whom are fit to touch the hem of my maternal grandmother’s apron when it comes to weather forecasting — are saying it’ll be snowing by this Friday night. Mrs. Orr and I had a lovely, leisurely, reading morning, settled in chair and sofa with dogs all around, our new used treasures piled before us, and we dipped into them like a all you can eat dim sum restaurant. I spent part of the day outside planting bulbs…
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The Breeze So Warm and Mild
A rainbow split the warm sky yesterday evening while we were enjoying some porch-sitting out back. The birds very active, as was our chipmunk, and the 75 degree air was a welcome relief to arthritic stiffness and the inactivity that frigid weather imposes. But today the temperature is dropping steadily, the rain will resume again in a couple of hours, and by morning, we’re forecast to have lots of heavy, wet snow. The kind that snaps power lines and turns mountain roads into luge tracks. May it not come to pass. I thought I’d share a cute video and a beautiful song, if you will indulge me, dear readers. First,…
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What Matters As Advent Approaches
It felt so cold this morning that I could feel it working in my bones, as if little ice crystals were forming in the synovial fluid of my knuckles and knees and ankles. The world outside was a frosted sheet of patched russet, an expanse of the leaves weighed down by the same sort of tiny ice crystals. While Jinx and I were walking (Bluebelle sticking close to my wife in the warm house), I saw a large red oak leaf detach from the tree over near the cemetery and glide like a paper airplane down, then over, then back this way, then down a little more, then that way,…
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Let It Stay
The sky was as blue as a cornflower marble, wisps of cirrus clouds high in the ceiling, and there were no vapor trails, no intruding airplanes. There were only hawks up there, and Jinx, sky-aware as always, sat with me and watched them in their fixed-wing thermal soarings. We were in the cemetery grass, and it was warm and soft there in the green, on the carpet that covers the sleeping remains of fathers and daughters, mothers and sons. The carved and lettered stones stood around us as if watching, and they were speaking, though not in voices a waking man can hear. I watched Jinx as he watched the…
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First Day of Fall
The summer is gone, and it will never return. Until next year. But that summer will not be the same as this one was, and nothing is ever the same, but there is nothing new under the sun, whether a summer sun or a winter one, and the full moon waters the earth with its silver light tonight. Silver light tonight. Mrs. Orr and I sat and talked for a long time about the forces that are prodding this country and this world down certain paths. It’s difficult to talk about these things, but it has ever been difficult to deliberately choose to defy evil. Hamlet defied augury; Mrs. Orr…
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Consider the Birds of the Air; Consider My Random Thoughts
The day was muggy and hazy, ushered in by rain and a good, belligerent breeze. Everything got a good watering, but by mid-afternoon, the sun pushed through the canopy of clouds and microwaved everything into a steamy glare. The breeze remained, though diminished from the morning hours, and made things tolerable. Jinx offered his opinion that the paucity of birds is due to the Coopers hawk who is still hanging around. Thinking on his approach, I realized that the non-seed eating birds like doves and robins have been as scarce as the feeder birds. About noon, I saw the hawk gliding through the back yard, about twenty feet off the…
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Tuesday In Holy Week
My sister sent me happy news, an announcement that my nephew, her youngest child, will be getting married next month. She reports that he and his betrothed are happy with each other and ready to take this step. While I am genuinely happy for my nephew, I have mixed feelings about the situation. The world is different, as it always is, age to age. Marriage doesn’t mean what it once did, and among young people it seems to have taken on an aspect of gladiatorial combat. And the watching world is either ho-hum or avidly watching with gleaming eyes, not wanting to miss a single extraction of pain. I pray…