All in Miscellany
“Imagine a group of people tasked to accomplish important things, but who do not share much in common. They tend to take one of two sides when controversy comes up. Common ground is not common… Terms like “leadership” and “judgment” and “consensus” bubble up… It realizes that it is time to find a better way.
“On June 8, 1965… Paul Petzoldt, a renowned mountaineer in his late fifties by then, brought his dream to reality: to start a wilderness leadership school where people could learn the skills to thrive in remote locations, to lead and teach others safely, and come back to town without causing harm to the environment. He called it the National Outdoor Leadership School...”
“The heft of the fruit in my hand heralds the arrival of a highly-anticipated annual event: the intensely sweet juiciness that comes from a Palisade peach. With my serrated knife, I cut into the firm skin and quarter the peach all the way around from the top, then around its equator.”
“Suddenly, it has been twenty years since our first adventure. My Travel Buddy and I have done some pretty cool stuff…”
“Either way you go, from home to town or back, it’s a twisty uphill haul for half, and a twisty way back down. Eventually, near my road, the terrain levels off, but, wow, it is a fun ride… Coming from town, it all begins with a “Michigan left turn.”
“I do not know anyone who loves doing their taxes. I deeply admire those who prepare tax returns for others, for I am one of those needy souls who does not trust herself to get it right–and the specter of being summoned for an audit feels too Kafka-esque even to contemplate…”
“It was nighttime when I heard suspicious noises coming from outside. I rose from my chair to find out what was happening. As I approached the window, a person crept into view carrying a shotgun in the ready position. As she turned to look in the window, I could tell she had seen me. She instantly lifted the gun and took aim at me.”
“Now it is November, my favorite month. November calms me. It comes, blessedly, before the rising pressures of Christmastime. It brings soup season, and a good book by the fire, and brisk walks. Whatever the year has held, things seem to exhale in November. The projects and chaos and messiness of the inevitable activities of spring and summer tend to be winding down, at least here where the snows of winter arrive to muffle the bustle.”
“It was a perfect day for splitting logs: fresh breeze, cool, sunny. I enjoy this sort of work, with its rhythm and sense of accomplishment as the pile of large pieces is processed into a pile of more usable sizes. Pick up a log, place it on the splitter’s horizontal surface, pull the hydraulic lever, wait. Let the machine do its job. Easy-breezy.”
“Well, my goodness! It’s been months since I have written a blog. At first, back in July, I fretted about losing my twice-a-month goal, and letting down my faithful readers… What a summer it was, one of abundant (self-induced) chaos and disruption, on the heels of a fairly disruptive spring (also self-induced). Autumn? It’s been a little nuts, too.”
“About forty years ago, I gave myself one of the finest gifts ever: the reframing of an interior life that was dark, depressed, and negative. Learning a new habit to choose a fresh, upbeat approach to my days was demanding work… Gradually, I was able to build a new way of life…”
“Think back. All that isolation, all that fear. All that mask fashion! All the neighbors, coming out at 7pm to make a grateful racket for the first responders and essential workers. The clear skies, and wildlife sightings in places which had seen none for decades. The empty streets and highways and airports. The Zoom classes…”
“As my mind slowly rises from the depths of sleep, I awaken in a state of pure, leisurely relaxation. The birds outside my windows are singing, but otherwise, I am surrounded by stillness of the sort that fuels my soul. More than a quarter-century of rising to the rhythm, the feel, the air, the sounds of this place has made of it an exceptional spot to call home.”
“Having a sense of belonging is an embedded human need. Family is the first and, for many, the closest group any of us has. It is certainly where we first learn what it means to belong. Whether a family is spare in numbers, like mine, or ample, like this one, each is unique…”
“…Ever since Friday, February 24, my extended family has had the joy and trepidation normal to all that comes with greeting a newborn into life. Yes, what everyone has told me (and which I never doubted), it is life changing. Along with her parents, her other grandparents, her aunts and uncles and cousins, and her other many admirers across the globe, this little girl has been heartily and happily received.”
“I treasure the way Thanksgiving is so unassuming. It is outward-facing. It is simple, and demands nothing in return. It offers space for quiet gratitude for the positive and good things of the world and its people. Thanksgiving is about so much more than gorging on a dressed-up meal and getting out the door to the Black Friday sales.”
“…I have always admired Queen Elizabeth II. Say what you want about the monarchy, the woman herself was truly special. Her reign of seventy-plus years included giving birth to four children while (oh by the way) serving an Empire. Time and world events pressed in constantly, but somehow she maintained steady, reliable composure in the face of innumerable governmental, personal and social conflicts. Impressive.”
“…like water, life moves in waves that are mostly akin to normal tides, coming and going the same regular way we move along our everyday baseline routines. Some of our life-waves are gigantic and crash hard… Then there are those that rise like a surfer’s dream, higher and higher to be ridden with joy and pleasure…”
“The contender arrives at the start of the event believing in the possibilities, and more often than not goes home without “winning.” The contender is a lost name, over time. Who ever remembers even those with the silver or bronze medals, much less no prize at all?”
“From low in the eastern sky, the waning crescent moon shone into my window at 3:18 this morning. After an hour, I decided to get up and have a good long visit with this moon. It beckoned me, first through the eastern window from my bed, and, once I yielded, through the south-facing glass slider door by the fishpond.”
