Be Careful What You Sign Up For

When my son was still very young, imagining convivial meetings where persons of similar interests would gather to listen to and discuss their favorite music, he signed up for a certain “record club,” which shall not herein be further identified. What a rude disappointment when he discovered that the only activities of the club were to be his receiving and paying for the monthly selection! “The club isn’t nearly as much fun as I thought it would be,” he observed sadly.

Years later my husband reached the age when he was eligible to join a very large, well-known and powerful association promising many discounts to its members. The unwelcome consequence was a flood of junk mail stuffing the post office box day after day.

Not long ago someone suggested that I join a certain online organization because I would find the discussions interesting. Well, unhappily for me, this group does not conduct conversation on a website but via e-mail, and the majority of these e-mails seem to be conducted in “reply all” mode, with all previous correspondence on the subject still attached. Help! I’m drowning! I need to unsubscribe asap—if only I can figure out how!

There are times when un-joining a club is much more exciting than joining. The thing is, relinquishing membership usually takes a lot longer. Sigh!

And one more thing--

One STANDS on a PODIUM. One places lecture notes, sermon, book, etc. on a LECTERN. If you're trying to stand on a lectern, you're riding for a fall, and if you try to rest your arms on a podium while you're speaking, you'll be lying on the stage floor, and you'll look pretty funny.

Glimpses Near Home

There are beautiful things happening in my front yard if you look close 

...and looking closely in the woods yields surprises, too.

Along with the new, however, there is still the old from last year,

beautiful in its own way.

And all these could have gone on my photo blog, if I didn't have

something else going on there today....

My Winter Garments of Repentance

Begin with a warm coat. Forget the ski jacket. You want a coat that goes at least down to your knees, and it must have a lining. Pockets are essential--

the deeper the better.

Heavy barn coat with warm lining and deep pockets

But on the coldest days even a long coat isn't enough. 

You need leggings 

(over cozy, drawstring exercise pants 

over your jeans over your tights).

Leggings

Keeping hands warm is important. 

You can't keep your hands in your pockets outdoors and get very far, 

so good, heavy, lined gloves are a must.

Gloves

Then there are the days when a little cap isn't enough--

not if you're going to stay outdoors any length of time at all. 

That's when you throw all concern for fashion out the window and-- 

dress like a lumberjack! 

This wool helmet is fleece lined and has earflaps and a fold-down forehead visor.

Wool helmet and warm scarf

Face mask

David thinks my face mask looks scary.
Doesn't it appear to be smiling?
There are days outdoors when I would not be smiling without it!

The "Outfit"!

And there you have it--at least from head to knees....

Boots--ESSENTIAL!

But don't forget boots, and they must be lined, waterproof, and warm! 

If head, hands, and feet are warm, you'll be fine.

Options for warmer days

Of course not every winter day is an Arctic day,

and on warmer days a light cap and less bulky mittens will do,

especially in the sun.

Not pictured here are the warm socks or underlayers for body and legs.

The rest of my outdoor kit included 

a folding beach chair (carried in its own case with shoulder strap),

binoculars,

sketchbook,

pen, pencils, eraser, and pencil sharpener.

Cold Medicine

This is the kind of cold medicine I believe in. Real chicken to make a rich broth and lots of garlic in the broth. Onions and carrots. A spring of fresh rosemary. Simmer it all very slowly for hours. Do not boil, or you will turn the broth cloudy.
For dessert, fresh oranges and hot tea with honey.

Has My Mind Been Blank Lately?

Comfort in Trees

Word came last night of the son of friends, dead at age 27. We could not take it in. We recalled the boy as an infant and a toddler, his first birthday, friends cheering as he crossed the room with lurching baby steps and a big grin. “If he falls down, will he cry?” I asked. Our friend, answered, “He never falls. We always catch him.” David speaks on the phone with his old friend. The parents are stunned, hardly yet comprehending. Will they ever? How can anyone?

At three a.m. I wake in the dark, the place where death and loss begin to take shape. I remember this from other times and know that what I feel is the palest reflection of the pain that stabs our friends. As they come out of numbness, their minds will begin to thrash about the cell of grief, seeking escape. 

Two things come to me--and this is only for me, not a recommendation: First, images of trees, both outdoors, in the snow, and on the pages of the drawing books I pored over before going to bed. Dead or alive, trees do not try to explain anything: they simply are. Ritual words and words of wisdom come, too, but not as explanation—only as formulae, to be chanted silently over and over.

 ...Sancta Maria, ora pro nobis.

The Tao that can be told is not the eternal Tao....

These phrases repeat themselves over and over in my head, a disjointed litany spoken against the branches of trees.