It has been a rich and full summer, and now we are here … on the precipice of fall. We’re at the ragged edge of hurricane Florence, with three or more swirling eyes growing out in the ocean. 🐔
I can’t stop thinking about Melania and her message jacket, seen only from her backside. What does it mean? Does it mean what I think it means? It really looks like an act of rebellion of a newly separated woman, a big “screw you” to whomever is oppressing her. White sneakers instead of stilettos is another clue – she looks ready to sprint, to flee, with her last message fading into the distance: “I really don’t care, do U?”
A fourth Nor’easter is blowing toward us, and the day is gray. Yesterday I rearranged many of my branch-and-twig wattles that I like to make. The windfall of raw materials is abundant, and now a new snow blanket is forecast and our woodpile and twigpiles are secure and covered.
I have been luxuriating in the internet, learning about Cambridge Analyitca and deciding on how to make firestarters from dryer lint, toilet-paper rolls, and melted candle wax. Yesterday I made a mouse feeding station right outside our back door.
You get a little shell-shocked when the power goes out unexpectedly, and since power is as subtle and as necessary as breathing, when it stops, it is always unexpected. Therefore, it’s taken me a little while to again trust the powerful laptop I usually disappear into, wandering down long lanes of archaeological research, complete with color photos, or playing at movie fan sites packed with entire rooms full of like-minded chatterers, or just reading-reading-reading. Your trips into Computerland might vary, but they are probably just as mind-cradling.
So, hello again!
Just had a few magical days with my daughter. It was so much fun that I never for a second – not for a minute or even a passing thought – did I think to take a picture. We both carried our camera-phones with us constantly, and we each took a lot of photos … but they were mainly of mushrooms or moss. We sort of hiked in the rain, going uphill slowly and cutting a path through sweet but prickly raspberry tendrils. We found and freed a nice walking stick with a burly wood knot, and that was just one part of one day.
But the best part, for me, was gaining my daughter’s approval for many projects that seemed, on the surface, to be sort of stupid. But no! My own child is mother to the woman … and if that makes any sense to you, you might also understand how the child can be father to the man. Nonetheless, today I’ve started in on a number of new and exciting tasks, involving rotary blades and boiling wool and worse.