I learned to cross-country ski from a student of mine about three years ago, on an excursion with a bunch of other novices and a few ultra-experienced daredevils who could launch themselves off the side of a hill, spin in the air — skis flashing like juggled knives — and land upright. I fell a […]
Read moreFirst snow, new light.
The first snow of the season started coming down as I hurried to substitute for a colleague’s 8 am class this morning – Seamus Heaney-esque sleet-milt came in pats and splats against the umbrella, white rims thickening. By the time I left the building it had thickened to actual snow, soft and fast and intent […]
Read moreTo autumn.
“How fine the air. A temperate sharpness about it. Really, without joking – chaste weather – Dian skies.” – John Keats, Sept. 1819 In autumn the world is tipped between flower and seed, between glorious life and the turning of that life back into the soil, into sleep, into waiting. Klondike cosmos folds into itself […]
Read moreSpring waters.
Blustery raw wind, gray sky, cold. But I’m glad, because it’s raining. Not snowing. Raining. All the gutters and downspouts are trickling, cutting channels through the grungy continents of ice now going soft and grainy everywhere. Dark and muscular, our river fills its bed from bank to bank, rumbling under the bridge and carrying melted […]
Read morePigs among the windfalls.
September, with the smell of fall caught and blowing around in the trees as Keats inevitably rustles inside my head: season of mists and mellow fruitfulness…. One afternoon I take a break from my massive sabbatical writing project — which features among other things Keats (of course), John Cage, Marina Abramovic, yoga, gardening, pottery, snails, […]
Read moreA sweet, savory summer salad.
So while maybe it’s not terribly original, I was proud of this when I threw it together, with an experimental tweak or two, last night: lettuce from the garden, cold deep-red plums from the fridge [pause for silent William Carlos Williams homage here], goat cheese, almond slivers, and one of the last handfuls of strawberries […]
Read moreLet the garden be itself.
When the flash of orange caught my eye from the upstairs window a week ago, I knew what it had to be: the first orange poppy of the spring, risen from the thick tangles of sawtoothed leaves and fuzzy buds that get thicker every year. And it was. This has been a weird spring, eerily […]
Read moreA general Cheapskate update.
Ah, loyal readers, where to begin? So much has been happening offscreen lately. Bidding gleeful goodbyes to Rick “Torquemada” Santorum (as Bob has dubbed him.) Gearing up for some local action on May 5 (stay tuned.) Ending a Lenten Facebook fast with the desire — which I don’t see changing any time soon — to […]
Read moreMary, Martha, and cheapskate intellectualism: the New Year’s organizing dilemma.
Every year, fresh from days away at my family home where there are friendly differences about — shall we say — organizing styles, I return to my own little house and see the place with fresh eyes. Somehow, as good as I usually am about filing and purging, the place just looks full. The line […]
Read moreLittle bitty Christmas trees.
“I’ve been a pastor for more than 15 years, and I am still amazed at folks in nursing homes, many unable to remember the majority of their own lives, who will begin to sing and nod and clap when they hear Christmas carols. O the power of music, on them and on me.” – Amy […]
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