Archive for the ‘May’ Category
And so we reach the end of May, and tomorrow June and, unofficially, summer begin. The weather has got a jump on the season though and it’s been 90+ for the past couple of days. I nudge all my projects forward a bit and then relax with a friend in the cool of the evening, sitting out on my back patio enjoying the breeze. Next week I’ll begin prep for my summer projects, carrying on with those unfinished from spring. But summer always seems an easy season to remember to stop and enjoy the zen of the moment, to appreciate– amid all the turmoil– simply being here now.
you’ve lost relevance as this tragedy
grows old and fading regrets turn to dust
dissolving into fledgling dreams that must
have always been here though not so shiny
life tastes better a path I didn’t see
until I stood alone at the door just
glistens in the sun beckoning and trust
-ing myself seems incredibly easy
today the light smiles beautiful flowers
bloom riotously pain doesn’t matter
though it took awhile to believe it so
I find joy in solitary hours
and with strength turn the corner now that you’re
just somebody somewhere I used to know
The hum and whir of summer is upon us. Not simply because we have passed Memorial Day and school is out, for me if not for my public-school-teaching friends. But because of a certain settled nature of the greens and an omnipresence of insects. No more the pale yellow-green, the blush of spring-red leaves, the exuberant hectic displays of flowers. We have settled into the lushness of a new season, putting away our winter coats, thinking, almost, of banishing the down comforter, sunning in our backyard chairs, pretending to read, dreaming of nothing more.
I have been trying for several days now to get the perfect photo of my gorgeous purple iris and yellow bush. But though I snap away in varying degrees of light, angle, and bloom-to-bud ratios, I never come close to capturing how amazing they are. I did learn early in my blogdom that the best photos are ones that have an attitude, a perspective, and don’t simply simply try to flatten nature to 2-D. Because those are doomed to pale in comparison to the original held firmly in the mind’s eye. But I finally have to resign myself to posting a less-than-inventive photo if only to be reminded of this magnificence in a few short days and the many months to come when they will be gone. And suddenly I nearly forgive the transgressors of interminably described vacation slideshows of my past. They were simply trying to render their memories more radiant than the facsimiles thereof. I sigh, and hit Publish.
Cold and rainy today but I have new flowers in mind, and vegetables and herbs, so I’m off to a local nursery, dreams of fresh-picked tomatoes dancing in my imagination. Planting a vegetable garden is a rite of spring, and tomorrow– Memorial Day– is the traditional day when danger of a frosty night is past here in New England. We can hardly wait!
Bleeding hearts– one of my childhood favorites. Not in my own yard, but I do think I’ve spied some of their distinctive leaves on a small plant in my garden. Today is a planned solitary day and I go shopping for seeds, containers, and a few plants for my still-just-imagined kitchen garden. Raining off and on all day, so planting itself is postponed and I hit the boxes, sorting through the last of the sheetmusic to file, stopping to play a few pieces along the way. Also momentos– music and family– programs, letters, cards, memories that make me pause and reflect. I”m throwing away alot of the saved treasures– having just moved my mom twice in 5 months I realize that not everything is interesting to others over time. And now that I am past the mid-point of my projected life (who knows how far actually) I don’t really need these things to convince myself I have a career. It is what it is and what it has been– my life. Joys and sorrows, proud moments and hours of despair, everything is reflected in where I find myself today. Simply me, for all the better and worse.
When I was growing up I used to admire the ditzy girls, the ones who couldn’t keep their minds on a task or see where the road ahead was leading in time to change course if need be. They always seemed to be having so much fun, and never had to bother with weighing the consequences they couldn’t forsee. I cursed my ability to predict what lay around the bend, to extrapolate the future possibilities of a current situation. As I grew older, of course, I realized that my “curse” was actually an important ingredient in success. But sometimes, like right now in these transition days between the academic year and whatever summer may bring, I remember those long-ago girls and smile, to think I have joined their ranks and become the air-head I always wished I could be, if only for a couple of weeks.
I’m beginning to live with future tense
once more expanding my conjugations
to will and shall and verbs like hope the ones
I’ve been afraid to say out loud no sense
tempting the subjunctive when a sequence
of events in future perfect beckons
besieged still by emotional demons
I wobble precariously the pretense
of the conditional implying that
the ground could give way any minute and
I’ll be plummeting through the past again
insecure disillusioned railing at
imperfect while trying to stop and stand
on the crust of could-be despite was-then