Something About Sunsets

There is something about sunsets that always makes me melancholy.  Dylan Thomas whispers in my ears.

 "Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should rave and burn at the close of day;

Rage, rage against the dying of the light."

Yet, nighttime has its own magic, especially in winter.  Snowshoeing through the woods at night, with a bright moon on the snow, owls hooting, stars glistening, is so exhilarating that morbid feelings about night fade away.  Maybe I can develop a change of feeling about sunsets if I try to perceive them as about drawing in for a pause or respite from the day, for reflection and contemplation.

Just had to throw this in here.  I had the opportunity to grandmother-sit my granddaughter for the whole day on Saturday, and we had a blast.  There is nothing like baby cuddles, little hands in yours, and watching the marvels of discovery in a bright new mind and soul. 

Weelll...not so fast

The aforementioned, well loved, but declared nearly dead pet has made an astounding recovery.  After vets proclaimed he had hours to live, with a bleeding and ulcerated spleen, Lisbon rebounded.  He's up on his feet, eating well, even frisking around.  Just goes to show you... that's why I'm not ready to sign a living will just yet.

Another Goodbye

We're saying goodbye to another dog.  Lisbon, 13, seemed off yesterday: he had trouble walking, breathing and did not want to eat.  A trip to the vet, some x-rays and ultrasound revealed a malignant tumor in his spleen, and his spleen was leaking blood into his abdominal cavity.   Nothing to be done to save him, but he was (so they said) not in pain or great discomfort, so we brought him home.  They did not expect he would survive the night.  Today he is still here.  He is eating and drinking, and even took himself outside in the fresh 22inches of snow to relieve himself. 

Although we realized it can't be too long now, this dog has already beaten a prognosis of death by cancer.  Three years ago, he was diagnosed with cancer of the nasal cartilage.  Then he was given months to live.  Well the vets still can't figure out what happened because, they say, dogs do not survive cancer.  I guess it's catching up with him now. 

Poetry

Today arrived the first books of poetry I have ever purchased. (And,this the first post I have written from my iPad. Relation?). I bought two disparate poets: Dylan Thomas and Charles Bukowski. I'll let you know how it goes. I can tell you now, though,that typing on an iPad is quite anti-creative. Blah!

The Promise of Spring In November

The secret is - bulbs.  This small patch of bare earth and dead leaves now looks desolate and uninviting.  Yet it is one of the places in my yard that holds the secret promise of Spring inside its heart.  I planted about 100 bulbs about the yard.  As I planted on a sunny but raw and windy day, I thought about the hopefulness of planting bulbs, the belief in the future, in the cycle of life and return of warmth and color. 

Those bulbs, those small brown packages of hope.  They look dead.  All boxed up in dusty packages on clearance racks of large monocultured chain stores, underneath florescent lights, with bits of themselves flaking off like a bag of onions in the grocery store.  The bulbs are on clearance racks this time of year because the chain stores are eliminating the outdoor gardening sections to make way for Christmas.  The population's attention has shifted, again.  But, it's not really past the season to plant bulbs quite yet. 

And, there they sat, the silent promises of beauty and scent, of rebirth and rejuvenation, nearly religious chalices, all but ready to be tossed aside.  I reclaimed a few packages, knelt in the wind, dug through dead debris and cold earth for hours.  I measured the correct depth for each type of bulb, and laid each in its rightful place.  And smiled.  What better ritual for accepting oncoming Winter and the loss of daylight savings time?

The arrival.  That stroller is loaded with 2 cats in 2 separate cat carriers and a full diaper bag with enough toys and food to address a 7 hour trip.  And still she smiles.

The first weekend home, we feel the need for open spaces, sunshine and views.  We climbed the hill of the orchard.   Aaaahhh.  Let New Hampshire sink in.

Big Day

Today is an exciting day.  One of my daughters is arriving by plane today - and she is not going back!  She is moving back to New England.  No, sadly, she is not moving in with me.  My daughter and her family are going to live in Massachusetts with my Mother, a shorter commute to Boston where her fiance has a new job.  But she is now only an hour away, instead of 1600 miles and a half day airplane ride away in Florida!  Plus, she (with granddaughter Sophie and fiance Joe) might come up to my house on the weekends!

Photos on next post....  

Wish I Had My Camera

I supposed that is nearly every bloggers' lament.  How many times do I have to think it before I put my camera bag in the car?  The past two mornings have been visually stunning.  We have had many cold nights and even frost, so the lakes and ponds have cooled down.  Then, the weather turned amazingly warm and humid with rain and thunderstorms.  Then, the last 2 mornings were clear skies with thick fog blanketing the woods and ponds.  The morning light through the mist setting the autumn colors aglow has been absolutely amazing.  Yet no memorable photos here!  The best I did was a few terrible shots from my cell phone as I am driving down the highway on the way to work chiding myself. 

This is why you should always have your camera with you!

I Feel So Rich

It's about the ripeness of fall.  The garden's bounty.  The color abundance.  The clear, fresh air.  

Combine that with almost liquid pleasure of a good book, its cornucopia of language tumbling into my brain and filling me like rich dessert.

Combine that with the luxuriousness of Sunday, all that time to indulge yourself in doing whatever you want.  I get to peruse the garden and gather the vegetables I want.  This Sunday I've made carrot cake from the carrots I pulled, potato and beet soup with sage and mint.  Orange, cream, purple and green.  All creations from things I've pulled out of the ground. 

Nourishment for my body, delight for my eyes, richness for my soul.

Wasn't it Just August?

When I think of posting, I find myself going back to the same theme: time passing quickly.  I picked up a carton of something from the fridge the other day that had a "sell by" date of August 28th.  I actually started to use it, thinking, "that's not so bad, it was just August a week or so ago!"  I practically plopped right down on the floor right there in astonishment when I quickly then realized August was 2 MONTHS ago.  I mean, really, what happened to September?

I know I am repeating myself.  How many times can I say "where did the time go?"  This time, though, I nearly felt as though I must have been in a coma or something.  I literally stopped a moment to go over the events of the last few months in my mind to make sure I really did not step through a time portal.  And, no, I did not.  We went to our local annual fair - which I blogged about last year - and the annual boat show - we stayed at a fancy hotel in Newport.  I remembered being sad I missed my granddaughter's first birthday since she is in Florida, but she's moving back to New England next month so I'll get to see her all the time!  Weekends were full of harvesting and processing food from the garden and soaking up the beautiful weather and scanning trays and trays full of slides which cataloged my entire childhood.  Yes I remember, it was a good September.

This is my Austen Powers impersonation.

I was not responsible for my hair!