Heavenly Plumage

Feathers stroke the sky,

Painting billows of angel air

To soften the world below

With downy comfort.

Morning Promise

Pinto-shadows blanket the yard,

Marbling morning’s sun;

Fog's down comforter rolls and rises

From the shivering lake.

A call to life echoes:

“The promised land is everywhere!”

Daily Bread (without the bread)

Yesterday I ran errands in The City.  At the same time, my husband and his fishing buddies threw hooks in the lake all day long, coaxing slimy creatures with gills and fins into the boat. They've been doing this together for 34 years, and as usual, created plenty of fond manly memories to last them until the next time. 

My day also was memorable, but in an entirely different way; it had nothing at all to do with stinky, cold-blooded, scaly fish. My favorite incident actually occurred at Barnes and Noble when a young father and his 7-or-8-year-old son were headed out the door as I entered it.  The boy pouted and lagged behind, complaining about how he reeeeealy wanted a toy he’d seen in aisle by the children’s section. 

His father’s response was epic.  Instead of trying to talk the boy out of his desire (an impossibility anyway), he said, “I’ll tell you what.  I’ll buy you a book anytime you want one. A book! Anytime you want one!” This was said firmly, and yet also with underlying tenderness.  What a great dad, I thought, to use a sticky moment to reinforce value for the written word.  His comment encouraged me; I admired his quick thinking and shared his priority. It was food for my soul.

I drove from store to store to store for hours, robotically checking things off the to-do list.  Around 3:00 my stomach growled a serious reminder that I’d skipped lunch, so I stopped at our new Earth Fare grocery store that also has the best salad-and-food bar in that neck of the woods – no contest.  I sat at a cute elevated round table next to a window with gorgeous blue skies staring back at me from the other side, and enjoyed the best lunch ever.  Or at least one of the best ever.

Back home, the fisher-guys stayed out on the lake until they almost couldn’t see anymore.  When they finally pulled up to the pier, I'd already been home a couple of hours.  

Dusk had fallen.  A quarter moon hung in the deep lavender sky overhead.  They were starved, and we’d already predetermined it was my “night off” in the kitchen, so it didn’t take long for them to head for our local bar and restaurant. I declined the kind invitation to join them – it’s deliriously noisy in that place with sounds echoing all over the place, which puts my sanity at high risk.  And what man wants to deal with a deranged woman gone psychopathic because of noise?  Not a single one I know. So I stayed home and made myself a late-night spinach omelette with sliced avocado and raw, fermented sauerkraut.  It was sooooo good.

I thought to myself that I wouldn’t mind repeating this day all over again - running into the father with his kid (I would pay more attention next time), eating another Earth Fare lunch and fixing the omelette dinner.  Of course I’d want to top it all off with a slice of gluten-free, sugar-free blueberry pie.  Just like I did.

Lakies Forever

We’re wringing out the days of Injun Summer, getting the most out of current sun-struck afternoons with their clear skies, soft breezes, and just-right temperatures.  All-too-soon they will yield to autumn’s chilly demands on the other side of the September equinox - September 23, when the sun will shine directly on the equator and the length of day and night will be nearly equal. 

Several days recently we headed out for an our or so in the pontoon boat (which will come ashore for the winter next week) like a couple of teenagers with nothing to do but enjoy.  We anchored in our favorite private spot, and my hubby fished for the big northern pike that unexpectedly grabbed his bait around this time last year - the one-and-only of its kind he’s caught in our lake - knowing the chances of catching him again were slim and none. Meanwhile I sunbathed on the front platform of the pontoon boat while he tossed his line over me, casting a tiny string-of-a-shadow with each throw. We didn't have to do much to be happy out there...just being was enough.