Sunday, September 21, 2014

Our World Tuesday: Back on that Trail

 Della and I took the dogs to Bethlehem again.  The light was soft, and the dogs were happy for an adventure.  I saw things a little differently this time around.  The wall leaning at the same angle as the tree down a ways.  How'd that happen?
These big, old pines made me dizzy when I took a look up.  Three muses, graces, sisters?

September's a crazy month with the start of school.  It's a good busy, though.  Just makes me a baaad blogger!

Our World Tuesday

Thursday, September 18, 2014

Skywatch Friday: Three Minutes Every Day

My neighbor told me today that we are losing three minutes of daylight every day now.  Depressing, he said.  Possibly, I think.  Another neighbor said she is glad for the end of summer.  The coolness and the soft light agree with her.  Still, the raccoons are plumping up, the (newly discovered) beaver is busy in the pond doing something, the egrets make a show of avoiding us, and the Canada geese are still here.  The neighbor who welcomes the cool also promises a very cold winter.  That will come soon enough, and we will snuggle up inside with the puppies and the blankets.  Life passes quickly by.  It seems an art to flow with it, to accept what it is, rather than to fight the tide.  There is no time for the madness.

Skywatch Friday

Tuesday, September 16, 2014

Wordless Wednesday: The Power and Value of Attitude

Wordless Wednesday

A Poem at the end of Summer

The time it takes for a green melon
To become dessert on a summer evening
My great uncle had to give.
He’d bring home one melon at a time,
And he’d mark the end of it with
An X and a Y axis
And he’d put that fruit in the window
Rotating it one quadrant at a time
And he’d feel it, pressing his fingers into the flesh
To measure ripeness
And after as many days as necessary
He’d take a knife to that melon, and he would have dessert.
The same way with acorn squash.
He taught me to scoop out the seeds from a halved squash
To add brown sugar and butter and to let it be
For as long as it took to savor a martini
And then to sit down to this marvel of autumn
With a spoon and to ladle for myself
So much summer sunshine, so many breezes, so much rain,
The taste of the earth, the feel of the thick hands that pulled the weeds,
That made this squash happen.
You stop and you rest. 
You drink the martini and you think about a summer day,
And you taste it.
That is so much better than tolling the cost of war in dead or damaged brothers.
The heartbreak of your mother.
The swallowing of your son by a merciless river.
The passing of your wife.

Just a few days can turn a green melon into a summer dream.
Just a few days can ransom your soul from the shackles of loss
And the hell of others’ dreams.

This September day, I remember my great uncle,
His home, and the squash in the oven we waited for
As he savored his martini and  I nursed a Coke.

He asked me questions I could not answer.
He taught me to wait as he waited.
As we waited.

Eventually, we sat down to dinner,
And we tasted sunshine and forever and the end.

Right now, I wonder if I could taste the forever of my dreams,

If I could let him go.

Monday, September 15, 2014

Our World Tuesday: Time Waits for Some

 We took a walk in the Old Bethlehem Cemetery on Sunday.  We stopped there last fall but never got back.  Until now.  It's a well-maintained, peaceful little patch at the far end of the Bellamy-Ferriday House property.  At the far corner of the cemetery is a path that wanders around the property.
 These damaged stones made me think of how stories go on and on despite time and the Connecticut weather.
 This stone near the path onto the property is the base of a cairn now.

 The trees do what they do to get to the sun.  The effect is lyrical.
 Little Maeve enjoyed a change in scenery, so she wasn't up for posing for the camera.
 The cool areas in the woods were still rich with summer flora.
 The stone walls are perfect yet.
 Here are two sisters basking in the sunshine.
 Back at the cemetery, we stoped for a moment to honor the Revolutionary dead.  There were many.
 We figured this engraver was paid by the letter.  There's a geography lesson in this woman's story.
 The sunny view on the way out was very nice.  It's a welcoming place in its own way.
 Down the road and around the corner, Adella found herself a pumpkin at March Farms.
She's very patient with me and my camera.

Our World Tuesday