Things that matter…

***

Holidays are hard. There… I said it. As kids we rarely pick up on the nuances of family gatherings, we’re just there to see our cousins and eat fun stuff. And then life changes, as it is wont to do, and we learn how to celebrate on a different scale, how to hold room for our memories and feelings, how to appreciate everything. It’s a lot.

Some years ago we stopped trying to live up to the noisy food-laden holidays of yore and brought the house down a little with simple, and simply wonderful, comfort food, the National Dog Show, football, the chill weather, and much laughter. So as it turns out life is in great part about taming expectations. Kim and Rita cook and bicker in the kitchen while I keep myself available for mindless tasks, and behold, a luscious meal appears. It works seamlessly, and we’re appropriately thankful for various things all day, no stress required. I love it. The mood couldn’t be more comfortable.

Still. Our hearts remember the old times, and we think of them as having been magical… everybody happy and full of love, hugs all around, nothing but peace and goodwill. With everything hanging in the balance this year, we yearn for the unity and unconditional love we think we remember, and we try to go back to a place that was never really there… kind of like Brigadoon. Silly us.

If you’re still with me, thank you for indulging this minor fit of melancholy, which I shall now attempt to put back in the box with the double-secret code on the lock. Nobody needs that stuff on a day we’re just grateful to spend together, alive and well, so tomorrow will be about the right-now, the life we have, and the people we love.

I wish the same for you, complete with everything you need.

**

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Fall fell and handed it back to summer…

***

It’s officially fall and the weather has been changing for a while now, by which I mean every day into something different from the day before. Apparently we’ve just emerged from a season called False Fall and are now into Second Summer. We’ll see where it goes from here, observing as spectators while Weather does what it will do.

Fall is always a melancholy reflective season, and true to form my thoughts have been a concoction of things heavy and light, happy and sad, profound and sublimely ridiculous. In the midst of all that I started a list the other day of personal do’s and don’ts in life’s third trimester. There’s no place I yearn to return to, so life has just one direction… forward. And I needed a little self-help with that, thus the list. The points are for me, not for advice, but if something resonates with you don’t hesitate to claim it for yourself.

So, in no special order, as they popped into my head:

  1. I’ve stopped going to funerals, for all the reasons. My all-time personal hero oncology nurse showed me I’m not a bad person for skipping out. Do life while it’s here, no regrets, because if you’re not careful the ceremonies will overwhelm actual living.
  2. I don’t give money to politicians unless they’re running at grassroots level and don’t have big resources. The rest start with kajillions and then ask ME for money? And then for MORE, repeatedly??
  3. I try not to schedule morning appointments because they’re an unnecessary assault on my senses. There’s a window between lunch and dinner when I’m fully awake and human, so life outside my door is best if it happens during the afternoon hours. You know, if possible.
  4. I don’t take advice from people whose moral code I can’t respect. People say lots of words, but when they give legs to their coldheartedness I walk away.
  5. I don’t chase people. If you’re my friend you just are, end of story, and we always pick up where we left off.
  6. I don’t argue online or anywhere else except for the shit I give Kim. Arguing is a demeaning process and rarely produces anything positive. People think what they think, me included.
  7. To save misunderstandings and exhausting back & forths, I spare most people my presence most of the time. This Pollyanna has gotten over the delusion that we’re going to land on the same page and feel comfortable together again, if we ever were.
  8. After being around older people forever, and taking care of six of them for twelve years, I had a pretty clear idea what aging would involve. Ha, ya’ think? Every day brings a surprise you weren’t waiting for, every year new challenges, things aren’t static, they change constantly, your body betrays you and so does your head. You can experience these things second-hand without absolutely KNOWING them, so expect the unexpected.

**

9. Very little anymore requires my complete and undivided attention. I can still pull it up when necessary and I take it out for the occasional walk to keep it in shape. It’s on reserve, just behind the lala-life I prefer. But since complete and undivided usually denotes a problem of some sort I avoid it every way possible.

10. Mail is the bane of my existence. Doesn’t matter, snail mail or online, I can’t stick to my resolve to open every piece of information every single day, so I’m left with bulk mail that means nothing to anybody… except for THAT ONE PIECE that can’t be discarded on penalty of law!!!

**

11. I have no energy for trying to convert people to a life outlook that begins with kindness. Those are the people who will talk their hair down trying to convince me how Christian they’ve always been, while fearing and despising everyone and everything not like them.

12. I’ve loved people all my life who have silently hated everything I care about while also finding me an entertaining source of gossip. That’s okay, Karma knows. The true challenges come when people I care about hate people I love. Simply a bridge too far, so adjustments have to be made.

13. If everyone suddenly liked learning new things and putting new ideas to work, the world would look shinier overnight.

There. A baker’s dozen, take or leave.

And one more: Everyone who doesn’t want fascism to replace democracy on American soil should have a current passport at the ready because we can’t see the immediate nor long-term future. The German population, right about now, thought everything was going to be okay. It wasn’t. Things are changing rapidly across our nation, which has been instantly reflected on social media, but all optimism has to be tempered with the memory of past horrifying October surprises and other killing disappointments.

The United States may continue as an intact entity or it may not. Either way, the election will be over someday, we must assume, and I’ll revert to Ms. Nice Person Who Doesn’t Talk About Things We Simply Don’t Talk About. And if the good guys win I’ll be a more accessible, less irritated old girl, more inclined to entertain the lighter side of living. What I will never be able to do is forget what so many people showed me and the rest of the world about themselves, people we once thought we knew and identified with.

It’s been an unnerving era, with ugliness abounding and hate winning out a lot of the time. I’ll open the door to my 80s in three years… how many of the wounds, how much of the heartbreak, do you think we could heal in that time frame, just for starters? I so hope the world won’t feel as cold and lonesome as it has over the past ten years and more. I’ve learned this much: being a nice person doesn’t cut it anymore, the world has changed. I’ve changed too… but I was raised to be nice and it feels okay as long as I don’t forget what truth looks like. Does America remember?

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Lemme tell ya ’bout the birds & the bees…

***

… and the flowers and the trees
and the moon up above
and a thing called Love.

**

If you’re a regular here, you know that we hosted a mourning dove couple last spring and summer, watching them raise and fledge four sets of chicks. Kim named the parents David and Darlene Dove, and he subsequently gave monikers to each chick as they hatched. One set of babies was named Durwood and Donna, I remember. And then, right on schedule, D&D showed up here again in April this year and hatched Willie & SnoopDove… but lil’ Snoop failed to thrive. After that, D&D put one more set of eggs in the nest before they inexplicably disappeared, leaving the eggs to languish and making my Mama heart hurt.

So when a young skinny pair of doves started scoping us out in May, I feigned disinterest. Not gonna hurt me again, ‘k? Totes unaware of my sulky mood, they bypassed the wooden dove house to nest deep in the east end of the fern baskets… and kept their own counsel. Fine with me, don’t wanna know, everybody just stay in your own lane. One day both parents, whom Kim had by now named Bonnie and Clyde, were out of the nest, and a casual look-see told us that there was one tiny white egg. On a subsequent day, we saw that there were two. My interest was piqued, of course, but far be it from me to precipitate another vanishing act via simple curiosity. We’ve been stellar landlords to this point, sensitive to Bonnie & Clyde’s comings and goings, and taken care not to startle them overly much when we’re on the deck. Kim’s judicious about watering that end of the fern basket, so it’s a bit of a balancing act.

The picture looked a little like this when we finally caught on that the nursery was in business again.

**

Kim went out yesterday afternoon and there was just one fat baby in the nest. By evening there were none, so a new generation of Smith-hosted mourning doves has fledged and is likely somewhere in the East Lawrence forest. They looked a lot like this before they left… shockingly “huge,” when we weren’t even sure they existed at all!

**

Kim named this year’s inaugural chicks Batman and Robin, may they thrive and prosper. One of the parent doves was still hanging around at dusk yesterday, so we hope there will be eggs in the nest again soon. Que sera sera. Whatever will be will be.

In the interim, some lovely summer blossoms for all that ails our spirits.

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E’erbody still here?

***

Hot town, summer in the city
Back of my neck gettin’ dirty and gritty
Been down, isn’t it a pity?
Doesn’t seem to be a shadow in the city
All around, people lookin’ half dead
Walkin’ on the sidewalk, hotter than a match head…

**

Summer officially arrives here at 3:50 this afternoon, but as usual we’ve had a few show-off previews before the official date. I don’t mind the heat, I like the pace, love the sense of lazy freedom, so it’s all good. And warm. Eighties, nineties, how high will it go, boys and girls?

A cautious bit of news: We have doves again. A young skinny pair checked us out for a couple of days and decided to nest in one of our fern baskets. Our last glimpse told us there was one egg in the nest and we assume there’s another one by now, but they’re being very coy about the reveal. After Dave and Darlene disappeared I was hesitant about attaching names to any more of them, but Kim has christened these two Bonnie and Clyde and here we go.

BONNIE

CLYDE

It feels good to have them here and we’ll be looking forward to the babies. The sweetness and continuity are nice in a world where everything stays chaotic 100% of the time.

Welcome to summer, ENJOY!

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First this, then that…

***

This morning it’s in the low 40s and raining intermittently out of gray skies, so winter is proving to be like many of us when it comes to letting go. Spring will gradually assert herself, however, until we’re finally in it for another cycle. Meanwhile, the yard people have been here all morning in the drizzle, mowing, raking, trimming, covering all the flower beds in rich black soil, creating the ideal environment for all those new little seeds that are just bursting to… burst forth.

Remember David and Darlene Dove, our faithful renters from last season? They’re back, big and round as robins, and in a rush to find housing. They scoped us out for several days running but we weren’t sure they’d stick around. The baskets of asparagus ferns they lived in last year aren’t planted and hung from the railing yet. Our frost-free date is still at least a couple of weeks out, so we provided temporary accommodations, anchored to the rail, and finally this morning they’ve been making themselves comfy. And when the baskets do go out, they’ll have a yard with its own canopy, lucky ducks!

**

We hope they stay. They’re no muss, no fuss, the babies are cute, and they add to the general sense of peace, with their soft cooing and their willingness to share the space with us.

Now the sun’s shining and I’ve written myself happy. Hope your day has been just as sweet.

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Wake-up call…

***

Where all my morning people at? And how you faring with the recent time change? Word on the street is that it could be one of the last times we do this… but I’ll buy that line when I see it in action since the wheels move at a glacial pace on most anything we care about.

Adjusting to change is a skill I don’t want to lose, especially since life is all ABOUT it and ya’ gotta keep up. That makes certain things unavoidable, at which point I tend to disappear for a while, a great luxury that is mine in this third trimester of living. Deep rest for mind and body adds to quality (and maybe length) of life. Worth a shot anyway.

And if one day is good, how can four or five not be BETTER? Why invite needless risk?!

**

The week ahead looks promising in terms of inner peace. Only two appointments scheduled so far and both on the same day, a twofer. I’m allowing myself one last day… today… for being utterly useless in the world. Tomorrow I’ll hit it again, with intention. Meanwhile I’ll watch the wind blow as spring and winter battle it out.

**

I made a very interesting discovery last week. Details soonest.

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Is this the bleak mid-winter?

***

We’re in mid-winter thaw here, false spring, whatever description fits. It’s a gray rainy morning in the 50s, all our snow gone, a few people actually walking around in shirtsleeves. We’ll no doubt pay for this nice little hiatus but it’s sweet for now.

We have Jayhawk men’s basketball in the Fieldhouse this afternoon. Houston, new to the Big 12, is favored over us by a hair, so we’ll hope DaJuan, KJ, Kevin, Johnny, Hunter, Elmarko, and the rest of the force have more than a hair’s worth of difference in reserve today.

It’s been a good week here, in spite of a few mitigating circumstances. Monday was stitch-removal for the Mohs surgery on my nose and I walked out no homelier than when I walked in last week so I’m counting that as a win.

Speaking of wins, we got another one in the Fieldhouse on Tuesday night against OSU. Needed that.

Wednesday I had a consult with a doctor Kim sees and for whom he has tremendous respect. The medical part of the visit turned out to be a mere sideline, but what struck me all over again is how fortunate we are to live in the midst of the KU Med Center community. The professional level of care we’ve received here and the innate kindness we encounter in every office can’t be acknowledged enough. The dedicated and talented medical personnel we deal with month by month add a crucial layer to our quality of life that can’t be bought.

Wednesday evening brought something I’ve waited years to see… my husband not just playing guitar with other people, but singing with them. Out loud. I’ve been a little mouse behind the amp over the years as he’s steadily gotten better through hours of playing every day… but he’s always said he can’t sing. Welp, as God is my witness, if you pair his voice with one or two others that hit the right marks, I’ll listen all night. He can sing. On his own terms. It was a sweet evening.

The interesting thing about the foregoing is that it all took place under a blanket of depression that dropped onto me before I woke up Monday morning. Happens often enough that I’m used to the drill: cry first thing and get it over with; set that soul-suck package back and to the left where I can’t see it; proceed with living. I’ve learned that there’s no way to explain depression to people who’ve never really been there. They want it to be ABOUT something because that sounds fixable. There are contributing factors, but mostly depression just IS and for me the best cure is to wait it out and never let it win. I like a challenge, so don’t tell the person doing it that it can’t be done.

Three hours until game time and I’m seeing the overflow from Mass Street. Lots of cars, more than the usual number of people coming in on foot from East Lawrence dressed in KU colors, a certain buzz you can feel here even on overcast days. I love it so much, and what I tell depression is “But look how happy I feel underneath all the unwelcome angst. Look how grateful I am for life. You can go away now and save us both a lot of time and trouble.”

And if you think that incantation works like magic I still have a little bit of swampland left to sell.

Happy Weekend, my friends. I appreciate you.

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Mid-Winter Thaw

***

Thaw sounds a lot like thoughts and here we are. It’s been gray for days, nudging even Mrs. Pollyanna toward the ledge, but after all the snow, rain, sleet, fog, and plain ol’ gray skies, look what the weather gods are telling us this morning. Well, um, still quite a bit of gray, I see that now, but look at the temps! Spring Break, people! Keep a good thought.

**

Some of this morning’s thoughts have been about love/hate relationships, of which there have been many along the way, the concept of hate being a relative thing and used almost benignly here.

  • I love the quiet of winter. I don’t love the bone-chilling cold nor the relentless gray overhead. Even a dedicated recluse feels it after about so many days.
  • I’m loving the insights I’ve picked up over seven-plus decades of daily living. However, I abhor some of the fallout those years rained down upon myself and others. Learning the hard way is hard.
  • I love the freedom inherent in having made it past 75, with license to tell most anyone “You’re not the boss of me.” Or as a little girl in the restaurant booth behind me shouted “I don’t have to! You’re not my REAL daddy!” On the flip side, I’m genuinely not thrilled about how suddenly everything stops and there you are. Whatcha’ gonna do with yourself ’til you die, anyway?
  • I love having survived this long against all odds (yes, there are stories) and having had time to absorb and use a lot of what my grandparents imparted to me. But it’s fairly crushing to realize how little the basics of human community have altered for the better since the 1950s and 60s. Three-quarters of a century on, we’re still fighting all the same battles.
  • I love that at this age I care very little about the accoutrements. Give me some comfy leggings and a sweatshirt and life is golden. On the other hand, my lack of caring stems primarily from the fact that basically nobody (except long-suffering Kimmers) sees me, which is either not good or the healthiest thing possible, I haven’t figured it out yet. My spidey senses tell me the world is grateful.
  • I love life, all of it, the good, the bad, the ugly. I don’t love how brief it all is. On the other hand, maybe I love that it isn’t even LONGER. And now I’m out of hand(s), but what I truly love this morning is that I AM NOT IN CHARGE, not of my world or anyone else’s. What a relief. What a grace.

**

Great advice I stole from a friend today:

**

Speaking of whack. I didn’t do this, but I would have.

**

Have a day you’ll feel good about as you’re falling asleep tonight…

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Checking in…

***

Hello, and how’s your year going so far? Does it still feel “new” to you, or have the same-ol’ same-ol’s set in? I hope your intentions for 2024 are holding and that you’re encouraged. I boldly set five Intentions this year, not to be confused with Resolutions. Broke one before the holiday weekend was over, but I swear it wasn’t entirely my fault and the other four are maintaining… so far. The little oops still teeters precipitously, but don’t we all need that one thing that kicks us in the butt and keeps us on our toes? Motivated? Moving forward? Okay… so on we go.

How’s your weather? I ask because we’re part of Operation Deep Freeze 2024 here, and it’s exactly what we requested … a true winter. The reality is, of course, that after a certain number of single-digit days and subzero nights the cold permeates our concrete, steel, brick, and glass building, giving it an ill-tempered vibe that isn’t present any other time of year. This month’s electric bill will leave a mark because even with the fireplace switched on during all waking hours, the furnace can’t keep up and my little under-desk heater has no effect unless it’s close enough to set my socks on fire. Not complaining. Let me say that again, I’M NOT COMPLAINING. I have the sweet option of NOT GOING OUT THERE, but whatsoever gods there may be, those entities need to protect all living creatures whose home is open-air right now, s’all I’m sayin’. Wind chills in the -30 range are the real deal, and #lfk’s homeless population is in no way prepared for this. AND, sometimes I see a bundled-up citizen walking a dog that has no protection on its feet from the frozen sidewalks. I worry, I fret…

… and it’s snowing again. I love it. Try not to use those words against me, thx. It’s very cold out there. I went with Kim on a dead-battery mercy mission after lunch, and then to the grocery store, and was instantly reminded how we dress around here in the winter, and why. Layers, you need layers, insulated layers, because the shocking cold penetrates very quickly, all the way to the bone. There are too many human beings right around us without adequate clothing or shelter for this kind of weather. I worry, I fret.

**

And speaking of worries… the things we fret over…

**

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Moving right along…

***

We woke up to a dusting of snow everywhere except streets and sidewalks, and now (9am) the flakes are falling thick and fast. A few hours late for a white Christmas, but welcome anyway, soothing, and predicted to last into the wee hours on Wednesday. We MAY see some accumulation out of all that, but so far it’s settling like rain.

The Day After any major human observance usually provides for a bit of downtime, thanks to the inevitable sudden stop, when my thoughts turn to years past, other times, things seen, lessons learned, memories made. This Christmas Day was beyond sweet, other than the ignominious losses by all our football teams, but ce la vie. Rita suggested the menu, Kim cooked it all to perfection, and it was so stellar as to temporarily wipe the taste of defeat from our mouths.

  • Grilled Salmon Filets
  • Pasta in Creamed Pesto Sauce
  • Roasted Asparagus
  • Crostini

After dinner and between football heartbreaks, we played a hilarious game of Ransom Notes, which Rita won. We had two lifelong reader/journalers and a songwriter vying for best/funniest/grossest/most offbeat phrase, and it worked like it was scripted. Our reward, both winner and losers, was the VERY SPECIAL ICE CREAM, of which my baby sister became an instant fan.

A sweet time. We knew other family members were spending the day scattered but happy and cozy, which makes everything all the better. I hope your holiday was and is what you need it to be, here at the close of 2023. And I hope 2024 will be very good to you and yours. Keep it simple.

**

And keep it real…

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Pre-holiday procrastination…

***

It’s a rain-ish day here after a steady overnight soaking, good for window-gazing, watching car and foot traffic, waiting for inspiration to overcome ennui. With a couple of things in progress in the lower right corner of my monitor, excellent coffee at hand, and nothing dragging on the guilt chain, this is feeling like a sweet little ordinary Friday. It helps that we’re Christmas heathens, indeed name a holiday and we’ll most likely have a ho-hum take on it. We’re careless like that, except that any excuse to make and eat amazing food suffices, secular or otherwise. Also, of course, any opportunity to be with loved ones. Both will happen on Monday, blessed be.

Because you’re so good about dropping in here, I’ll share a tiny Christmas gift with you. My inspiration comes from a multi-talented friend who knows many things, not least among them how to create the ultimate bowl of ice cream, highly addicting, of course. That isn’t the gift, though, because the recipe isn’t mine to share and the True Christmas Spirit has yet to visit me in the middle of the night, delivering guilt enough to last well into 2024. So… anyway, try not to think of this as a consolation prize, but Kim showed me a coffee trick this morning that will no doubt prove as habit-forming as the ice cream. It’s… Ta-DA!! … several heaping teaspoons of … wait for it… Chocolate Malt Ovaltine in a mug!! Fill with steaming coffee and enjoy the simplest possible nice addition to your day. Not too sweet, just enough to feel the love, which is what I wanted to say in the first place because I love the gift of your presence here. Merry Christmas, Happy Year to you, sincerely.

If you find yourself in a quandary this morning, wondering what you could possibly get for that one person on your list, a cool thing to give is something from the heart…

**

A simple wish: That 2024 will somehow be kinder, more benevolent, than the preceding decade has been. That we’ll be increasingly conscious of what it means to be human living on a rock hurtling through the universe with not one ounce of actual power to our name. Seems like it wouldn’t hurt to give kindness and benevolence a real shot, maybe for just a year, maybe the one directly ahead of us. Who’s in?

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The pause…

***

It’s another HumpDay, boys and girls, and we all know what that means: GET OVER IT ASAP! In truth, it feels like a very laid-back pre-Thanksgiving Wednesday, no big deal, which is the way I like my holidays. We’re creatures of habit in this house, rather than tradition, and a nice habit to cultivate is good food with great people, so tomorrow will follow… um… tradition. Rita will be here and each of the three of us chose a favorite dish to make, plus a few other goodies. It’ll be fire and we’ll congratulate ourselves on pulling off yet another cozy half-assed national holiday on our own template. Meanwhile, our middle sister should be on her way home today after major surgery, which is another tradition we dislike but adhere to in this family on a far too regular basis. And John will be working the holiday, as is his usual tradition.

This morning has sounded industrious and preparatory outside my doors. The yard crew arrived early to finish putting all the landscaping to bed for the season, at decibel level. There were fire trucks running north and south while city police cars screamed east and west, in response to what, I won’t even contemplate. The #lfk street sweepers have been out in force. Cars and people are roaming to and fro on errands unique to them. Kim’s home from PickleBall and is in the kitchen chopping a new load of fresh pepper and onion mix, his not-so-secret ingredient in most everything but desserts. The sun’s shining. The wind isn’t blowing. The day stands ready, holding out possibility. Might have to check it out… after one more cup of coffee.

A happy and grateful observance to all who celebrate. It’s never a bad time to stop and give thanks.

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Slouching toward winter…

***

A month away from the official solstice, the house has hit its chilliest fall morning so far, and the fireplace felt like instant benevolence after I crawled out of the blankets. The temps don’t qualify as true cold yet, but their nighttime consistency is soaking into the concrete, bricks, steel, and glass, finding our bones for shelter, and it all feels very coldhearted indeed. But fireplace, coffee, Sunday omelets, hugs, family… all is well.

The fall-back time-change is kicking my butt this year and my biorhythms are decidedly not cooperating in a “let’s sync this up” plan of action. I’m heavy-lidded by 8:30pm and still a little googly-eyed when morning comes, so I’m more than ready to kick the ennui and sluggishness to the curb and crank up the energy a notch or two. If you have helpful tips for readjustment this late into the process, please share!

The good news is that despite da’ bote of us being less than stellar physical specimens at the moment, 2023 has been what we declared it would be… the year we got it together enough to make our entire loft clean AT THE SAME TIME, reroute what we no longer need, replace a few time-worn necessities, and focus on the here and now in intentional ways. This morning the floors shine, the refrigerator is spanky-clean inside and out, my closet weighs many pounds less than it did a few months ago, and my head is starting to follow suit. Since it’s always my biggest problem, we’re talking REALLY good news. The cleaner surfaces and absence of objects sitting in spots they don’t own are freeing my mind in precisely the ways I knew they would, so the elbow grease has been entirely worth it.

With a turn toward rainy days and colder temps, an early-winterish routine is setting in. I’ve been sleeping at least an hour past my usual wakeup because why not. Savory food adds even more to quality of life than usual. The news, awful as it is, comes to us as if trying to cushion us against psychic damage… it all carries a faraway feeling of being not quite real. Exercise, the idea of it, the thought of it, the necessity of it, is soaked in a fresh sense of “do it now” after John’s recent visit and timely medical counsel. I’m playing my piano again, something that’s been my go-to for comfort and homey warmth since I learned my first song at age five. I’m trying to write something meaningful, if only to me, every day. I spend a lot of time pushing words around “on paper,” rearranging the furniture, but increasingly now, my muse and I have a breakthrough worth celebrating. Cold gray days are highly conducive to all of the above, so no dread here, just the age-old struggle against the dark.

I’ve relinquished a lot of old ties over the years, but I’m still hanging in with social media, partly since the only other person I’d talk to most days otherwise would be Kim, and there aren’t enough earplugs in the world once I get going. But he’s loving, longsuffering, and hears very little of it, so I guess we’re good.

Twitter is an increasingly weird place where it feels like no one is actually in charge and the inmates are running the asylum. So I block the people I don’t want to see and stick with longtime friends there who make me laugh, think, cry, and rejoice in being human. If whatshisname adds a subscription bounty, or the baddies far outnumber the goodhearted, I’ll bail. For now, I can still go there and let my freaky side out for a walk, and my loved ones’ lives are the better for that.

Facebook has been part of my life for fifteen years and I’ve made lifetime friendships there with people I’d never have met any other way. They enrich my life every day, encourage me, give me a sense of still belonging to a tribe, laugh with me, cry with me, check on me… it’s so much like “real life” it’s uncanny, no? Couldn’t possibly leave yet, they’ll have to pry it from my cold, dead hands… oh, sorry, lost the plot for a second there.

Even the most solitary soul has been known to find “society” in unexpected places… we’re simply made that way. I rode shotgun with Kim while he did errands yesterday and at one point, sitting outside a grocery store, I came face to face with the greatest example of society and community I’ve witnessed in a while. It was a beautiful afternoon, with the parking lot packed, and Kim pulled in just across from the entrance, giving me a front row seat for the parade. I lost track of nationalities and ethnic groups represented in the constant in-and-out through the doors. Everyone was there… Southeast Asians, Native Americans, African Americans, Hispanic Americans, Latin Americans, East Indians, Pacific Islanders, a smattering of “white,” and plenty of Heinz 57. Have I ever mentioned how much I love this university town… in Kansas, America, of all places.

Winter’s coming, boys and girls, but we’ll be okay. Again. Some more. Happens every year and many live to tell about it. December 21st, the Winter Solstice, has the fewest hours of sunlight in the entire year, so make sure you have a book or ten laid by for snug well-being.

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Nature… purest portal to peace

***

Three days ago our little corner of the world was on fire in varying shades of red, orange, yellow, gold, and green. By yesterday evening, most of the vibrant hues had morphed to dull and drab, and now this morning’s wind and rain are sending drifts of leaves to the streets, yards, and sidewalks. Soon the naked trees will reveal that the houses directly across the street are still in existence after spending several months hidden within the forest.

It’s a fall day in all its glory… the weather, the ever-changing flora, and the aromas from the kitchen, where Kim’s making a batch of chili. This needs to be filmed as background for any feel-good movie you wanna make… all the beauty and none of the angst, isn’t that what we’re after? I felt sad the other day, knowing that all the blazing colors I was seeing from my balcony would be gone in a heartbeat and winter will follow, but sadness doesn’t quite fit the natural tumble of seasons, the roll of the tides. Those things simply ARE and are necessary to our existence, so it’s my outlook that has to change, and as it turns out change is what it’s ALL about. Everything. We don’t come here knowing how to live, and we aren’t allowed an excess of rodeos for finding out, so it’s a scramble to pull it all together within the allotted time frame. The role played by change can’t be overestimated. There ya’ go… musings from someone who’s observed a few autumns… just a freebie.

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Unsolicited advice from here: Roll With It. Whatever comes in, put your head down and go. There’s so little in life we can influence in any measurable way, it seems wise to choose our real battles carefully. Fall taught me that. Those unbelievably-brilliant leaves were there for the seeing all weekend, but when they fade, that’s it… ’til next time.

There are two things I hope for you:

  1. That your autumn won’t be overly-blessed with melancholy, and
  2. that your heart will remember spring.

***

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Sweet, sweet autumn…

***

It’s the weekend again, with another Farmers Market underway by the time I woke up, bringing hearty breakfast aromas to my balcony. The “fallness” in the air made it all even better than usual so I took extra time to appreciate it before the first freeze takes its toll.

We have one remaining Dove chick in residence, but we expect him to take off any time now. After his sister Dinky didn’t survive, all the groceries clearly went to Dante because he’s huge for a fledgling. He sits in the nest like a junior potentate while David and Darleen leave him on his own for long stretches of time. Lately he’s been perching on the balcony rail next to his hideout, looking very ready to get the heck outta Dodge, so our hosting days may ACTUALLY be coming to an end until spring.

As our available daylight shrinks and some of us inevitably turn introspective, I’m resolving to use the resultant melancholy and reflection as building blocks this time around. Feels like a refreshing take on things so I’m here for it and I hope the “sleep and renewal” season will be just as positive for you.

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NOTE: Kim just checked the nest. Empty. Dante is either out for flying lessons or has said his goodbyes already. Godspeed, tiny Buddha.

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