TODAY (A Corn Salad)

    Three (or four, or five . . . I lost count) 100-degree days in a row. Even the dogs would begin the u-turn back toward the air-conditioned house, just a few minutes into their normally 10 minute-plus long walks. 

But, today, TODAY . . . 

    we had a nice, morning rain. It began as a heavy downpour - a parental pounding on the roof, prematurely waking me before the alarm, before settling down into a steady rhythm. It rained for several hours, turning all of the dips and ruts in the country, gravel and dirt road into tiny rivers and ponds. This made driving Logan to school a bit more of an adventure, maneuvering the car this way and that to avoid all of the camouflaged potholes. During the ride back home, I pressed the buttons on the radio, until I found the right one. Something about the rain always makes me go back to my roots, and the desire to listen to classical music. 

On my way home is the local vegetable stand. Every Thursday, I stop by to pick-up my prepaid allotment of farm fresh vegetables and fruits. This has become my favorite kind of shopping. By the time I arrive, the symphony of rain has come to an end, giving way to whimsical, white clouds and an iridescent blue sky. 

The stand is more of a market - roof covered walls, with openings on three sides. And, as I am greeted by the reds and yellows and greens of tomatoes, squash, and peppers; watermelon, cucumbers, and basil, there is an incredible cross-breeze blowing through - a breeze so pleasant that it makes you stop what you are doing, breathe it in, and envelope it, as if it's the best feeling you've experienced in a long, long time. 

After filling my bag with all of the wonderful colors and scents, shapes and textures, I continue down the road toward home. Just before turning into the little hamlet where I live, I pause for a mother deer and her two fawns. They nervously stare for a long moment, before safely tucking themselves back into the tree-line, from where they came.  

Minutes later, the dogs greet me at home with their usual enthusiasm - as if I have been gone for days, not just hours. "Hola, mis perritos! Como estas?" I say to them. I have been brushing up on my Spanish skills, this summer, and trying to put them to practice. The dogs are a forgiving audience. 

I lay my bag full of goodies on the table and, like a child at Halloween, begin to plan and prioritize my loot. It will all get eaten, but the corn, red peppers, onions, and cilantro will be just perfect for a salad to go with the local sausages, thawing out in the fridge. I just love it when a meal comes together, as if the meal chooses me, not the other way around. 

After I finish sorting and organizing, I take the dogs for a walk. With the temperature much more comfortable and pleasant, I would have thought the dogs would be more energetic, but Max, especially, stood, still as a statue, and lifted his nose into the air. It was as if he was taking in the same experience as I did, when I was standing inside the market. "Are you catching a good scent, Max?" I asked (in English - I haven't learned that in Spanish, yet). He seemed to be smiling, and answered with a wag of his tail. I kept the dogs outside a little longer than usual, before going inside to begin cooking the corn.  

4th Try is a Charm - Coronavirus Times

Current day circumstances require that I plan for a trip to the local market.

There is no spontaneous "running up to the store" for milk.

And, these days, I never bring my purse with me -

just my credit card and driver's license, usually in my back pocket.

First try, they were closed.

It was a Friday, and I had forgotten that the family-owned,

Jewish market closes at 3:00, in observance of Shabbat.

Home, I went.

I tried again on Sunday.

I parked the car, and began to gather my stuff - empty milk bottles (to return),

mask, credit card . . . SHIT!

I FORGOT MY CREDIT CARD.

Home, I went, again.

Don't have it in me. Not today, I said to myself.

Try number three happened Monday.

I walked out of the house with my mask (empty milk bottles, still in the car),

made it halfway to the car before I realized I had left my credit card behind, AGAIN!

Fortunately, I remembered early, this time.

I retrieved my credit card, and drove to the market.

I parked the car, and began to gather my stuff - empty milk bottles (to return), credit card, mask . . . mask . . . mask . . . WHERE is my MASK??!!

SHIT! FUCK. REALLY??!!

After frantically searching around the car, between and underneath the seats, 

   I realized it REALLY wasn't there. And, I had a moment when I thought,

it won't kill me (or anyone else) to not wear my mask this one time.

Shame on me for thinking that.

Home, I went. Again.

I found my mask on the walkway, between the garage and the house,

rolled my eyes and scooped it up.

I am NOT dragging this out another day!

I went back to the market, again.

I parked the car, and began to gather my stuff - empty milk bottles (to return), mask,

credit card . . .

YES!!!

I can hear the voices of my "twenty-something" kids, but these days it is true -

I just don't get out enough.

4th try was a charm, though.

And, at least the drive to and from the market is a pleasurable one.

With Appreciation and Sympathy

Though the sound of the wind from inside the house made me hesitate,
   the morning was calling to us (me, and the dogs).
Winter's playground was looking for a friend.
The sun shined brightly above the snow;
   sparkles of light upon the star of the show.

The beautiful, white landscape, with its lines and its curves, edgeless and never-ending.

The wind, more energizing than biting,
   blowing ripples across the water in the nearby pond.
The day, with all of its brightness and beauty, making me feel alive
   in the way that one should feel alive - full of energy and awareness,
appreciation and presence. 

And, in another part of the world, the star is burning.
Not in the way that sparkles and shines in the warmth of the sunlight on a winter's day,
   but in the heat of a life-threatening battle - a flame-scorching, take-no-prisoners, relentless and destructive, heart-wrenching fire.

Oh, how I wish I could send our blanket of snow your way, to sooth and ease your burns. 

The Gift of Silence

It was a beautiful, crisp, Autumn day, though it felt more like winter.
It was the first cold spell of the season, so I was bundled up more than usual.

The dogs and I were walking our normal, morning path.

We like to walk toward the back corner of the property, where the wire fence begins,
and a single tree sits. I am not sure what kind of tree, but it is beautifully shaped,
and has large, almost whimsical looking leaves that, come October, turn a golden shade of yellow. Now, midway into November, the leaves have long since fallen from the tree, exposing its bare branches.

On the other side of the fence is a cow pasture that spreads out, over rolling hills,
toward the horizon. On this day, as we were walking,
I noticed some movement in the field, far ahead. And, as my eyes focused in,
I saw that it was a deer, full-grown, running and leaping through the tall grasses,
as if her life depended on it. We were almost at the fence line,
and her path was a straight line toward us.

The dogs had not, yet, noticed, so I stopped, and stood as still as I could.

I was sure she would see us and change her direction, but she did not.
Seconds later, she, effortlessly, leaped over the cow fence, and flew past us so quickly,
and so silently, that even the dogs were caught off guard.

As the dogs let out their delayed responses of barks and growls, I stood there in awe.
I live in a place where I see deer almost daily,
but I had never witnessed one so close, moving so swiftly.

  And, the silence of it - wow.

Had my attention been drawn elsewhere, I would not have even noticed she was there.

I thought to myself, whatever happens with the rest of my day, I have this.

Nature is awesome.

Falling Leaves

Look up!

at the 
    falling leaves,
beautiful colors on a breeze.

Drifting and sailing, 
   dancing and floating,

gracefully landing . . . with ease.

Winter Canvas

Stark white, 
against the grays, 
   against the blues; 


the curve of the gravel road, 


the distant mountains, 
   painted with snow; 


branches - reaching; shadows -seeking.

Chatter in the Night

It always happens in the middle of the night.
Charlie noticed it, first, immediately bringing it to my attention by frantically walking all over my face. He is a small dog, but, nonetheless, it is somewhat disconcerting to wake up to.
I tried to ease his fear by putting my hand on his back,
telepathically sending him "calm vibes", but it didn't work. His entire body trembled.

This isn't going to go away, I thought. I am going to have to fix this. 

I fumbled around on the nightstand for my glasses, and gracelessly forced myself into a standing position. Now, both dogs were awake. Max, however, was completely unbothered by the annoying disturbance. Any time his people are moving about means the possibility of playtime or outside time - the two things he lives for.

Leaving the dogs in the bedroom, I began my search on the main level, slowly lurking from room to room. I cautiously listened upstairs, but the noise seemed to be moving further away. I made my way toward the basement. It was definitely coming from down there.
Finally, I found the culprit, and I stared it down.
Or, should I say "stared it up", as I was clearly staring at the ceiling.

You little SHIT, I thought to myself.

I went back upstairs and grabbed the stool, from the kitchen. Back into the bedroom, I went to the drawer in the hutch that contained batteries. I could not remember which type this particular problem required, so I gathered a bunch. Tools in hand, in my sock-covered feet, I marched back downstairs. I set my batteries on top of a dusty chair that was conveniently located within reach. I unfolded the (one and a half foot tall) stool, and stepped my (five foot, two and a half inch tall) frame on top. Arms, stretched above, there was still no way I was going to reach that thing.

Sigh.

I went back upstairs, and back into the bedroom. I hovered over Mike, willing him to wake up. Clearly, I needed to work on my telepathic skills.
I gave him a little poke, and said (in a pathetic, "I give up" kind of way),

"I need your help. I can't do this."

Apparently, he was already aware of the problem. I mean, I don't know how he couldn't have been, but the man can sleep through anything. He slowly stood up, without question.

"I have a stool, and batteries," I told him.

"We need a 9 volt," he said.

9 volt. Of course, I said to myself.

I went back to the hutch and was able to find one hiding out at the back of the drawer.
Mike, the dogs, and I went down to the basement to take care of the problem.
Five minutes later, we were all back in our beds. The problem had been resolved, Charlie was no longer walking all over my face, and there was silence. 

Until . . .  

"You realize," I said, "all of the other ones are going to start chirping, too."

"Huh?" Mike asked.

"The smoke alarms. Once one battery dies, they all die," I responded.

"Yep. Better replace them all, soon," he said.

"I'll buy more batteries, tomorrow," I said.

"Okay. Good night. I love you. No more talking," he said.

"Okay. Good night. I love you, too," I replied. 

And, there was no more chatter, in the night.