Walk instead of going back to bed after I finish my morning coffee. Done for today – I took Lil for a walk on the W&OD trail (a rail trail) that runs through my neighborhood and all the way into DC.
Done. Lil and I have walked every day since last Monday. Somedays have just been around the block, and twice so long that I broke her and had to carry her part of the way back; I won’t do that this week, I’ve promised her.
Start a new embroidery or new spinning project.
Started, made progress, and ruined. But I have a similar, better idea for the next one.
Write a post about Spinzilla.
Nope. But I did change the poem on my refrigerator to e. e. cummings [hist whist].
And, unexpectedly, I found the perfect kitten while browsing Petfinder, which replaced my Twitter feed for a while. I convinced my husband, with some wise words from my 13 year old who said “Dad, just give in; you can’t win an argument with Mom!” and I filled out the adoption application for this guy, who’s current name is Spider.
Carry on with walking every day, but not so much that I break Lil and have to carry her.
Go to TKD twice.
Carry on knitting (S)urge, the new shawl and read Brazzaville Beach while doing it.
Start another new embroidery project using lessons learned from the scissor catastrophe.
Spinzilla. I’m going to write about it as soon as I post this.
Spider-kitten: wait patiently. My contact at the rescue is out of town until Wednesday.
Saturday we’re going to Morgantown for my oldest’s birthday. I think there will be hiking and cake. And lots of car knitting.
I want to go swimming in the brook
like we used to, getting lost in time
until we couldn’t feel our fingers and toes,
only getting out when our lips turned blue.
Wrapped shivering in towels
we’d try to get warm on a rock in the sun,
talking and giggling and imagining.
The no-see-ums or the mosquitoes or the horseflies
finally chasing us home to find
only an hour or two gone
out of the longest short season: summer.
Now that you’ve learned the songs of 100 birds,
your task is to learn the sounds of 20 trees.
It is especially easy when it rains:
“a splatter of metallic sparks”
or “a low, clean, woody thump”
or “a speed-typist’s clatter.”
This acoustic world is open to everyone,
but most of us never enter it.
Through sound, we come to know the place.
Life is about relationships;
not just networked, it is network.
The self degenerates into the network.
Roots draw nutrients from symbiotic fungi
and communicate with bacteria.
Leaves sniff the air to detect the health of neighbors
while releasing chemicals that summon
Photosynthetic cells harness the power of sunlight.
Seeds are dispersed by far-flying birds.
Fame came late in life,
to the tiny two-room church-owned apartment.
Her simplicity was sculptural;
photos of her parents and siblings, some religious images,
anti-aging cream she applied every evening.
“The doctor told me to change air, and I’m still here!”
She would sneak out at night to go dancing.
A jar of grapes with grappa and sage.
“I didn’t want to be dominated by anyone.”
She kept rosaries by her bed
near a photo of her only child, buried with her.
She loved clocks that chimed like Big Ben.
She was very house-proud,
she would put newspapers on the floor
so their feet wouldn’t dirty it.
Verbania thanks you. We are proud.