ISN'T IT GOOD JUST TO BE ALIVE?

Mr. Wiggles

Wigs is not a fancy dog. I groom him myself, which really should be "groom" in quotes.  An uneven haircut and bath in the laundry room sink, especially needed after he's found a bit of who-knows-what to roll in.  I need to Google "Why do dogs roll in stuff that stinks?" [OK, I looked it up.  Called "scent rolling,"  the responses range from "because they're disguising their own scent" to "because it feels so good."]  

Last evening standing with Mr. Wiggles by the back door I could see my husband in the window light clearing the dishes.  What a lovely scene I thought.  But Mr. Wigs and I could hear the coyotes and they were too close for comfort. Once it's dark, even if it's only 5 o'clock, we go out with him to ease his fears.  He stays close by then, not venturing beyond the trees that border the driveway.  There was barking last night where there are no houses or pets, nothing but woods and train track.  It was too early for that mad howling we hear some nights late, but Mr. Wiggles knew. 

I heard a sound like a hiss then, close by, maybe under the tree house.  I told myself it must have been the out-breath of a startled deer, nothing more.  But my light picked up only trees.  

Wiggles is a brave boy, routing deer during the early morning which always amazes me.  Such skittish creatures that a 10 lb maltipoo can scatter a herd and they both know it.  He plays his part and they play theirs.  Running and barking while they gracefully leap and dodge.  He can't chase them far.  

By the time we came inside the kitchen was wiped down and it was time to watch another episode of one of those exciting series all of us get hooked on. These are the simplest of pleasures.  In North Carolina a mild autumn night, the dog, dinner over and a little TV.  When I walked out with Mr. Wiggles again at 11 pm he made quick work of it.  I bet you're finding simple pleasures too.   

 

 

 

 

 

WHAT STILL LIVES

 

What Still Lives

     I always slept with my head at the foot of the bed because that's where the open window was.  A hot breeze in summer with Grandma's large rotary fan facing outward at the porch door.  The sleeping porch, upstairs, in the old house where we all lived.  Better in rain, my face wet.  Better still in winter, my face cold. Window cracked, covers bunched.  Comfort every night; every night content.  What can you hold from your childhood?  Who were you then?  Think it, write it, believe it.  It still lives. 

     Did you play outdoors?  Did the dog follow you to the creek?  I could hang by my knees upside down from a bar and swing. Climb the ladder on the home-made swing set and sing show tunes to confound the neighbors. Make my way down a hill covered with cacti for no reason.  Dress like a cow girl in rawhide vest and boots. Climb trees.  Oh how we love to climb trees.  Do you hold memories dear?  Remember them, write them, believe them.  They still live. 

     Live a large life.  Live a small life.  Who can tell the difference?  It's your life.  Live in one town in one house on one street or one apartment in one building on one block or one old house that your father cannot repair for love or money.  Live with grandmas or parents or brothers or pets or anyone who shows you love.  Loud homes or quiet, books or no books, trees or sidewalks, fried bologna or fresh fish.  You still live.

 

THERE'S A REASON TO LINGER TODAY IN AMERICA

 Live your life in such a way that the

entire planet doesn't dance in the

street when you lose your job.

               Anonymous

This quote is making the rounds.  People are in a playful mood.  Not everyone of course.  Some Americans today feel like other Americans felt four years ago when the election was over.  But most of us have been trying hard to find our calm this Fall.  Americans have been planning how to safely vote since early October at least.  This week we've been counting on our latest essential workers to get the job done.  And they have.  Poll workers in all 50 states have repetitive-motion aches and pains from opening and tabulating thousands of ballots.  Under stress to be careful and thorough, Republicans and Democrats have sat at tables together and counted votes. They deserve our thanks. 

So often we have taken pride in busyness, in checking things off our lists.  But there's a respite now.  Last night people were celebrating in the streets like children.  Yesterday it seemed no one could sit still.  Dancing, fireworks and speeches of a lifetime, one by our first woman Vice President-elect, the other by a man who promises to tackle the virus and work for unity.  I awoke with a sense of lightness I haven't had in a long time.  

When we were children our lives were simpler.  Maybe because we didn't have smart phones or Fitbits and could hang out in person rather than on Zoom, a technology whose very name is synonymous  with rushing.  Or because the grownups did the worrying.  But for this moment, like children, we want to play.

Friends just texted to stop over for a glass of wine in their garden.  Other friends are coming to our patio tomorrow morning for coffee and cake.   So right now, let's linger in this moment and let our lives be simpler.  Let's enjoy our democracy.  Court challenges or no, everything is working.  There's a reason to linger today in America.  

Local Celebration, Lucky Strike Tower

 

 

 

FINDING SOMETHING NEW IN THE FAMILIAR

 

Fort Macon State Park, Bogue Banks, NC

Finding something new in the familiar is happening more and more these days.  We know why.  The familiar has become our all.  We're staying put and valuing our routines.  This often happens as the days shorten.  But even more with the virus still making many of our decisions. Today I found something new in my familiar.  

We alternate between home in the North Carolina Piedmont and home at the beach, where my parents lived before my mother's final illness.  So much it became home to them that they asked for their ashes to be commingled and scattered in the ocean.  Many of my beach memories include my parents.  I feel them as we cross the causeway onto the island.  So yes, it is a familiar place. 

There's a fort at the eastern end of the island, Fort Macon, built between 1826 and 1834 further inland from the site of an earlier fort subsumed by water when the high tide line advanced.  Everyone goes there.  The Fort for years protected Beaufort Inlet; Blackbeard's pirate ship, Queen Anne's Revenge, lies in just 20 feet of water off the shoreline.  We have lots of pirate re-enactments around here.  Fun for everyone.  

The other day I found a 3.3 mile trail winding through the sand dunes, maritime forest and wetlands in Fort Macon State Park.  I had never seen it before.  Just a narrow path of wood chips on sand.

Most of Bogue Banks is developed so there aren't too many spots where the dunes are high enough to obscure any sight of the ocean.  Here they are.   

We had a wonderful leisurely hike, except when pockets of tiny black salt marsh mosquitoes assaulted us in the wetlands.  We picked up our pace then, slapping our arms and legs and necks as we hurried on. Somehow we had forgotten that even in late October we might need bug spray.  Still it was worth it.  We saw a lot of Painted Lady butterflies, a few herons daintily stepping across the wet grass and a corn snake or two. 

When the trail we were on crossed the Fisherman's Path we could see the ocean and the rock jetty.  (See "Visit North Carolina for the Simple Pleasures," 2/23/19)

These days this was more than enough adventure for me, something new in my familiar. The pleasure seemed out-sized.  I still feel it.  A walk through a local neighborhood, a different part of the city, an adjacent town, a forest trail, or a bike ride somewhere new.  All safely outdoors and socially distanced.  Perfect. 
 

AUTUMN FORAGING

 

 My foraged fall tablescape came out just right.  Just a handful of acorns, autumn leaves and a couple of blooms from red-tipped mums.  Treasures from a brief walk outdoors.  I also found some coral mushrooms for the first time in my woods.  

As you can see from my bare toe-for-scale, it was a moist warm afternoon.  I had to look these mushrooms up.  Clavarioid fungi they're called.  There were quite a few in this cluster, some yellow, some white,  springing up from decaying vegetation.  The part we're looking at is the branched coral-like fruit body.  I watched a YouTube video, "Cooking with Tam" which included how to harvest, but decided to leave mine alone. 

I'm also hoping to better capture the turning leaves this year.  This is a scrawny old dogwood, but still the hints of red drew my attention.  A hanging basket of mums brightens the foreground.  

I'm following up on all the pleasures I wrote about in "Note to Self," 9/26/20.  That post ended with the admonition "Vote. Pray. Create. Love. Believe."  I've done a bit of each today--even voted.  We stood in a socially-distanced outdoor line for 2 1/2 hours to cast our early ballot.  How good that felt!  As you can see, in North Carolina tangled undergrowth encroaches even on polling places.  We vote in Hillsborough, a historic pre-Revolutionary War town located on the Eno River.  Beautiful in the fall.

Don't you love the changes follow the seasons? Funny how many years we can live and never tire of the simplest pleasures of them all.  Sunshine, rain, falling leaves, bright berries, birdsong, breezes . . . .  As I write these words I actually feel them.  How the sun, rain and leaves in autumn rest so gently upon us.  Breezes not too warm, not too cool. By our walkway the late-fall camellias are a breath away from blooming; the ready buds dip impatiently.  Soon, soon ready for a picture.  Ready for my tablescape.

I'm not sure what foraging is a metaphor for.  I know sometimes we forage not just outdoors, but in the attic of our own thoughts.  Gather, collect, manage, craft, build . . . . We can forage anywhere.  

Enjoy the season!

DAYS OF LONGING, VERSE FOR TODAY

 

It was quite chilly today.

It reminded me of my longing for Christmas.

For the coming of God in the humanest form.

Amid presents, greenery, ribbons and love.

Love all around.

Love in the Hallelujahs,

Love in the sweetmeats and drink,

Love in the loneliness, even there.  

Even there where someone worships alone, all alone.

Longing for Christmas, longing for love. 

 N.N.

 

It was quite sunny today. 

It reminded me of my longing for peace.

For the coming of Christ amid sunbeam and shadow, 

straw and the braying of donkey and fool.

Love all around. 

Love in the dust motes, the warmth of a touch.

In the languor that clings to a quite sunny day.

Alone or together we seek it.

Alone or together we find it.

Alone.

Or together.

N.N.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

FOR THE SOULS OF THE DEPARTED, TODAY AND TOMORROW

Trinity Church, Copley Sq. Boston

For the 218,746 souls of whatever faith or none who in our land have as of this day lost their lives to this virus let me offer the following: 

Isaiah 3:1-3

But now thus says the LORD, he who created you, O Jacob, he who formed you, O Israel: Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine.  When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you.  For I am the LORD your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior.  

Romans 14:6-8

Those who observe the day, observe it in honor of the LORD.  Also those who eat, eat in honor of the LORD, since they give thanks to GOD; while those who abstain, abstain in honor of the LORD and give thanks to God.  We do not live to ourselves, and we do not die to ourselves.  If we live, we live to the LORD, and if we die, we die to the Lord; so then, whether we live or whether we die, we are the LORD'S.

Salat al-Janazah

O GOD, forgive our living and our dead, those who are present among us and those who are absent, our young and our old, our males and our females.  O GOD,  whoever You keep alive, keep him alive in Islam, and whoever You cause to die, cause him to die with faith. . . . O GOD forgive him and have mercy on him. . . . 

May they rest in peace. May the hundreds who will die today rest in peace. May those who stand before their GOD on a day that for many could have been avoided rest in peace. For each of us who will die from this plague, whether by carelessness or of necessity, whether preventable or not preventable, may we find rest eternal and perpetual light. May our memory be a blessing.  In peace let us pray, Nina Naomi.