9.19.15 Just Me, Jimi Hendricks, and The Green Arrow

Today I was on my way home, at the light on Rt.9, and switched on the radio to a Jimi Hendricks song, which was intense and amazing as all get out, of course. I sat there, my 63 year old self, and suddenly, I remembered my 20 year old self, sitting at the wheel of my Willy's in New Mexico, leaving the little tiny barrio house on the dirt road, to go waitress. I could just feel the dry blistering heat of the day, the sun's glare, the steering wheel beneath my hands, the weight of my young tiny body upon the seat, leaning back , switching gears, rounding corners, just loving the day. I could remember that feel of the smaller newer body, how it felt to be so brandy new and clueless in so many ways, tempered by the intensity of the pulse of youth, too. That impulse, do you remember? That push that erupted from far within you, mediated by no aging or cautions, just spiraling out the best it could. And then, bam, I was feeling my 63 year old body, its larger size, the weight pressing into the back of the seat, the midday sun's light with the September shade down across my eyes, the ac on flowing comfy cool air across my face, as the sky sent forth small immoderate clouds overhead, the light turned, and I got the green arrow to go.

9.19.15 Slowly, as we walk down the dusty road

Dante Woo and I went down to the Eagle Sanctuary for an evening stroll, eyeing the disappearing corn from the fields, revealing all the mouse burrows and Coyote prints going round the mouse burrows, and the Coyote paths through the fields and the Coyote scat. Danto stops to sniff, and I murmur "Coyote" so he pairs the word with the animal he hears calling out back down by the outwaters, and the animal that killed the bunny that sought final refuge by the shed, and the animal that strolls through the yard come winter and visits the compost near midnight in the cold cold moonless nights. He watches me and sniffs, gathers the information at the paths and glances at me again, as he learns which word for which animal.    

Bunny, Chip (munk), Mouse! Squirrel! are all part of his studies, as he grows up and wonders about things and tries hard to learn what to fear and what not to.

Slowly, as we walk down the dusty road, he is becoming accustomed to his size (80 lbs lean, not real big, but there as a Shepherd) and confidence (pretty fearful but coming along) and somehow, his place in his yard, his house, his world.

                                    

I remember Shiva Louisa at 10 really beginning to take charge of her domain here, her land, as she told off the Coyote in the distance, and marched about on rope, day and night with me by her side (her being such a great candidate for a nice bear or Coyote snack) to pee ceremonially and territorially , and then howl her mini Husky assertion to the day and the night.

And so, he too is growing up, and learning his own ways, as the sliver of moon rises clear and white in the dark blue sky, and the dappled cloud moves along the horizon, while we come back from the river once again.

9.19.15 There they've been

Down at the OK Corral, there are zillions of people with kids running all over the broad lawn, overlooking the Connecticut, while people visit and laugh and talk and say goodbye after a long summer of RV's parked in a row, and boats out upon the waters, everyone in this little village alongside the river. 

There they've been, through hot humid summer days and torrential rainstorms as the river rose and then fell. As they go out in their boats from the Marina, or just enjoy their summer village time together.

 Tonight they'll have music and dancing and laughing and the billion cars will be gone in the morning, the RVs clearing out at month's end, as the lawn begins to hold all these big wrapped up machines, and the neighborhood begins to prepare for winter's entrance.

9.19.15 The small things that shine on an early fall morning

As is was before 7, we went out to the local reservoir, to hike about before bikes and runners and students and other dogs (he's afraid of them all, and fire hydrants L  arrived in the misty Saturday morning. He was elated to be there once again, to race down to the waters, to hear the warnings of chipmunks all through the forest. There were people in sleeping bags waking up beneath the pines by the water, but he didn't notice, and we circled back to wander up another path, the forest shining in the mist. 

We came upon a second reservoir I'd never had the energy to get to before, up and away from others, and he delightedly jumped into the cool waters. Tossing a stick to him, not too far out, he began to swim, for the first time, really looking so surprised that somehow his paws were moving by themselves, that he was afloat, that he could move himself most magically toward the stick out further that he really truly wanted. What ensured was no small thing, but big time young dog delight, racing back in and shaking off and tossing me the stick and leaping into the air confidently and off into the water with a big splash, over and over again.

Smiling. Up at me. Me saying "Yeah, you can!" as he turned to do it again and again. There were tiny mice living in the small mound by the water, that for some reason kept running out and then back, to my surprise.
Wonderful wonderful how small things that shine and fill and warm your day.

9.19.15 Peering and listening and visiting

I was once again wandering about in my flip flops early this morning, peering down into the brush and beneath leaves and out across the fields, listening and visiting and being in the garden and yard and new day. Beneath the towering Elecampagne, it's beautiful yellow blossoms gone to see now, I looked up to watch it's tufted small ones fly off, into another tomorrow.

9.19.15 I came to learn

More than ten years ago, I bought some fall chrysanthemums, including one purple aster. I had no idea asters would grow, over the years, to be a plant 5' wide and 6' tall, that the blossoms would close upon sleeping bees at night,and open to feed them and let them dry from the dew and then be on their way.

I came to learn that Praying Mantis would come stay on them in the fall, wander about day and night chowing down on dew-grounded bees, be approached by a smaller, very tentative male, somehow driven to to go her; give birth to an amazing egg sack, and then slowly lose color and die.

So much life is held in a Milkweed, a thistle, a mullein or an aster. Like the child's story Horton Hears a Who, it is so easy to underestimate the importance of all these lives.

9.19.15 That time again, when small ones eat and eat and become flying miracles.

9.17.15 Who knew

             ripe cherry tomatoes, picked off the vine, warm from the sun, popping open sweetness in your mouth, could be such a profound source of pleasure.