Archive for September, 2010

September 23rd, 2010

EVERYTHING NEEDS TENDING

 

Today I want to learn how to load the gun.

I want to know where to aim.

How it will rebound in my body as I fire.

How loud in my ears.

How soon life will cease.

I want to get my hands dirty.

Do a job that should be done.

Today I drag the heifer’s tank from paddock to feedlot.

Today my hands grow greasy as I assist my father. 

(At 88 his tremor makes most simple moves a challenge.) 

Pneumatic hoses spit and ooze, as we hook flail chopper onto tractor.

Today I wrest barbed wire attached to broken handles.

Call “Come, Boss”, as ‘the girls’ thunder home on hooves 

to a wagon full of green chop.

I pull up long, thick carrots.  Leave a track of mud.

I feel sturdiness rise up.

A confidence from taking hold of things that must be done.

Yet, I cannot shoot this red fox next to the gravel road,

her dark and lovely legs laid straight,

jaw and eyes clenched tight.

Her breathing is too full.  Too deep.

At 4 pm.  7.  9 o’clock.  She waits.

Today I need to do a job I don’t know how to do.

I need you here to teach me.

How to load. Unlock.  Aim.   Fire.

Release with her a final breath.  

For legs to spasm, then unfold.

Silent.  And peaceful.

No more enduring as crickets creak and elk bugle 

in the dark autumn night.

 

September 16th, 2010

OCTOBER FRIENDS

The trees were turning amber in the grove below the hill as two friends were overheard conversing.

“Hey, Tux?”

“Yes, Pom Pom?”

“I wish that you could scratch my back.”

“I’ve never scratched your back, Pom Pom.  We never touch.”

Her beak quivered in an imperceptible pout.  “You’ve forgotten everything.  The rain, the heat, the snow, while perched for years in your yogic pose has made you daft.”

Well, then,” Tux grumbled without moving a non-muscle “why don’t you talk to the blistering table, or the creaking willow, or the dusty sundial?”

“I do.  I just do it in a different way.  But I want to talk with you.  I want you to remember the times we touched, because we did as surely as we were manufactured.”

“Born.  You mean born.”

“Ha!  Like the crow that flies right on by and doesn’t even recognize us as the same species?  That’s because we’re not the same species.  We’re alien.  Made in China.  Have you taken a look at yourself?”

“If I could move I would.” Tux sulked “So I’ll just stare you down instead.”

“But we can’t blink anyway, so that’s no contest.  But  what I’m trying to say is…”

“I’m not listening.  I’m not listening.    I’m not…”

“Shut up, Tux.  Tell me, why am I lying on my side and you’re stuck on a stake that’s stuck in the ground?”

“Hmm” He replied, as a leaf cascaded onto his head, making a jaunty hat, “You were injured, weren’t you?  Did I do something to you?  In a drunken rage when the moon was full?”

“We don’t drink, my love.  No.  It was when we were  guarding the garlic field, wired onto our lookout posts.  My foot broke and I slipped out of the stake.”

“Cheap made-in-China shit.”

“Don’t be disrespectful, Tux.  I was the one hung upside down for weeks in a most degrading position while you never even noticed me.  To set you straight, China is our land of origin.  And, we’re kin to dinosaurs.”

“Us?  Pink plastic us?”

“Yes” she said,  with invisible excitement.  “Plastic!  That goes back to the dinosaurs!”

“But we’re not related to them.  We’re just as old as dinosaurs.  Well, our basic stuff was made back then.  Interestingly enough we were designed right here in America” Tux said, as he puffed his chest out zero millimetres.

Pom Pom almost sighed.  “And that’s where we ended up.  You don’t remember being cast at the same time?”

“Cast?  In a play?”

She ignored that remark, continuing, “I liked you right off, and when we were sealed up in that crate together it felt so sweet and safe nesting next to you.  And here we still are!”

Another leaf cascaded on Tux’s head as the pile around Pom Pom grew deeper.

“I like this time of year.  Same time of year as our train ride with that human.  It was almost like being human!  That’s what I wanted you to remember.  We sat side by side in a big soft seat, and the conductor complained that we didn’t have tickets.”

“He was joking, right, Pom?”

“Of course, dear.”

“Pom?”

“Yes?”

“Do you think we’ll stay in this grove forever?” he asked as a box elder bug explored his left eye.

“Yes, I think we will.  Unless they fix my leg and put us back in the field.”

“Either way, as long as I’m with you, I’m… well, I’m proud to be whatever I am.”

“Flamingo, dear.  Pink flamingo.”

“Are you sure?”

“Sure, I’m sure.  I read the box.” she said, as a dancing breeze brought down a wealth of golden leaves.

That was the last time they spoke.  Or at least that’s what the faerie reported to me.  And faeries are very reliable.

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September 7th, 2010

FEEL THE CHANGE!

THE FARM: Many hints that fall is on its way.  A single maple tree shows off her crimson hues.  Our neighbor Kevin’s bunker pit is heaped to full with fresh silage, just in the nick of time between heavy rains. A different breed of brooding clouds hang overhead.  Crickets hide in the stair well, singing to us all night long. The cleaning/clearing spirit is still at work in me, so my home is a temporary mess as I turn things upside down and make piles of ‘keep’, ‘clean’, throw’ ‘recycle’.

See those amazing colors?

The carrots are called Atomic Reds, and the onions are Red Zeppelins.  Raspberries are screaming at me to pick them yet again as our freezer grows fat with goodness.

MUSICAL THEATRE & THE BROTHERS GRIMM: According to artistic director Dennis Whipple of GREAT THEATRE, my script of THE BROTHERS GRIMM: A MUSICAL ADVENTURE is in shape for auditions – with just a few minor tweaks. Next step is to orchestrate the songs!  I want to get more proficient with my Finale program to create scores the way this show will demand of me, so I’ll be taking steps to increase my skill in that area.  Interesting how fall energizes us to learn new things.

WHAT I’VE SEEN LATELY: I saw the movie EVENING back in June when I was in Oregon, but shared it with my family the other night.  It certainly was worth a second viewing.  It’s a lovely film, drenched with the visual magic of low angle lighting. Claire Danes,  Glenn Close, Meryl Streep and Vanessa Redgrave are just a few of the great actors in this story about being possessed by the power of the past.  One of those movies I savor for days.  

September 2nd, 2010

TOMATO ROAST EXTRAORDINAIRE


Directions:  

Pick large juicy heirloom tomatoes and heap onto kitchen counter. 

Remove Grandma’s biggest roasting pan from cupboard.  

Swat 7 flies.  Deposit bodies into compost bin.

Chop into chunks (on largest cutting board) any combination of garden fresh veggies and heap into roaster pan:

tomatoes

peppers

eggplant

onions 

lotza Jerry’s garlic: Music or Armenian

whatever else (jalapenos, beets, carrots, beans, celery)

Douse liberally with olive oil, a few T’s balsamic vinegar.

Add salt, oregano, more herbs or curry.

Roast at 400 degrees for at least 3 hours, stirring every 40 minutes until reduced to a thick fragrant paste.  Turn off oven and let it sit for another hour.  Cool and freeze.  Pile it onto everything all winter long.

REALITY CHECK 

I realized this week that my “stuff” has started to get the better of me. This came as a surprise, but looking back I see that I have been bringing in more stuff than clearing it out.  Why this attachment to so many things?  Why this need to make more stuff mine?  It’s time to purge my home and mind.  Hence the rhyme:

I’m going to kick the thrift store habit and bring home not a thing. 

I’m going to clear out closets, killing mold with soap and sun.

I’m going to drift out with the kelp until I drown in green.

I’m going to throw that tacky couch and chair into a dumpster.

I’m going to beat up musty rugs and spread them on the lawn.

I’m going to to dive deep into my dream, discover if it’s breathing.

I’m going to purge old polish from my nails, scrub my skin with salt.

I’m going to finish the laundry or at least get a decent start.

I’m going to plunge into a clear pool wriggling like a fish.

I’m going to organize all sheets and towels, throw out what’s torn and stained.

I’m going to let go of what I sort of like but do not cherish.

I’m going to fall and fall into the depths and touch the ocean floor.

I’m going to find a way of being without trying to make it mine.

By the way: My favorite decorating book of all time is “NO COMPROMISE DECORATING” by Lynette Jennings.  From time to time I get decorating books from the library to stir my imagination and look at my home with an eye for new possibilities.  This one makes the most sense and is most inspiring.  Here’s a blog about it: http://southernhospitalityblog.com/lynette-jennings-no-compromise-decorating/