The "sunset" shot, taken in the back yard, also includes power lines, so there's an additional aspect of symmetry; I usually stand atop chairs and other furniture to try and avoid them. However, I wanted to submit something to Skywatch Friday for the first time in ages [as usual, thanks to the crew--and do go see what folks from all over have posted], so here we are; what you see is what I got, and I'm making do.
As I am with all manner of things these days. I will not be viewing any of the inaugural festivities tomorrow, and since the weather should be warmer, will instead be doing some early garden prep, reading some Wendell Berry and Joseph Wood Krutch, and watching a couple of episodes of Netflix's wonderful adaptation of Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events. I can't imagine anything more appropriate, given the state of the Union. Thus, the photos seem to hold out a little promise for a not completely bleak future, but I won't be holding my breath.
Despite my usual less-than-optimistic view of things, I've decided to find ways to muddle through the next four years. I'll be rethinking and redesigning my website (and changing the name from Owldroppings to Owl's Farm; this blog will be linked to it), clearing out the detritus in the garage and attic (in case we decide we just can't abide Texas any longer), and finding more ways to live more sustainable lives.
Inspiration for all this has come from several places, including my new subscription to Australia's Slow magazine, ecopoets like Krutch and Berry, and even the latest issue of American Craft. The editor, Monica Moses, has written a wonderful little essay on the role of craft in keeping one's sanity in uncertain times: "The Tough Make Art," in which she describes her own plan:
Like a lot of us, I’m looking for ways to cope with the
discord, to feel hopeful again. I’m returning to the basics: eating well, exercising,
trying to sleep, spending time with loved ones. But I’m also doubling down (as
the pundits would say) on art. (American Craft, Feb/Mar 17, p. 10)
My
own map of the next few months includes efforts to accomplish much the
same sorts of things, including the art part. Her sentiments are in tune
with much of what I read among the thoughtful writers whose works I
frequent, now that I find myself sticking to the Arts & Life section
and the funnies in the Daily Poop, and the Books and Trilobites
sections of the New York Times. Never have I felt more grateful for the
library we've amassed, because it should prove most valuable over the
next four years, reminding me that sanity might well prevail.
So, for what it's worth, here's what I have in mind:
Eat Real Food.
I stole this designation from my Whole Foods Market newsletter, which
offered its customers meal plans in several categories. But it's really
what I've been trying to do for years, with the help of Michael Pollan
and Mark Bittman and others. I've become rather more serious about it
since my retirement awarded me with more time for contemplating and
planning. We also recently invested in a smaller refrigerator, which facilitates
consciousness of how much we buy and where we have to store it. It's also a terrific deterrent to food waste. The
Beloved Spouse gave me Lidia Bastianich's new book, Mastering the Art of Italian Cuisine, and The Big Book of Kombucha for the holidays
(plus Cooking With Loula, a lovely Greek cookbook I noticed while
shopping for other people's gifts). I have always loved cookbooks that
are more about history, philosophy, and culture than technique, and
these are all inspirational additions to the "food" segment of our
aforementioned library. Over the last two weeks I've spent more time
planning meals and enjoying the process than I'd been able to do for
several years.
Get Real Exercise.
The realization that the new, pricey drug I'm taking is likely to
prolong my life significantly (and my favorite cardiologist's reminding
me that exercise won't do squat for my cholesterol but will do massive amounts
of good for my brain and overall well being) has made me more conscious
than ever of movement. What finally got me perambulating the
neighborhood was the death of our sweet dog Woody last summer. His
brother Arlo no longer had a reliable source of exercise, so I started
walking him, dropping him off at the house when he got tired, and then
continued on my own several times a week. TBS would join me on weekends
and holidays, and we've gotten to know the topography of the
neighborhood better than we had in the previous sixteen years. Over his
winter break from teaching we kept up the dog walking, but neighborhood
exploration slacked off due to weather and family obligations. But a
movement-tracking app on my phone has helped keep me from being
completely sedentary, and as the weather warms up and I get into the
garden more (as I plan to this afternoon), I should hit the "active"
category much more frequently (now "lightly active" rescues me from
couch potatohood). The goal is to use my body better, get stronger, and
get out much more.
Make Stuff. Some time ago I bought a lovely journal with a William Morris design
on it (actually, a sketch for a wallpaper design) in which I've been
writing down and sketching out ideas for art books and other little
projects. I'll try to get some of these done--including the redesign of
my web pages. But I've been wanting to go back to painting and "making"
things, which I haven't done since my children were small. This
includes working on the house and garden--painting and plastering and
staining and the like, along with general homekeeping, mending,
knitting, and quilting. Using one's creative juices seems to be a
particularly satisfying way to make it through trying times.
Write More.
Having received my first rejection slip (for a story in a science
fiction anthology), you'd think I'd have sworn off any desire to publish
more than for myself (and my one or two faithful readers). But I've
decided to do what I used to urge my students to do: take the criticism
to heart, and use it well. I'm not sure I agree with all of the
comments, but I'll have them in mind when I revise the story and submit
it somewhere else. I also need to work on More News From Nowhere,
and to go back to the old-bats-in-space novel I started working on a couple of years
ago. I actually posted on the Cabinet recently, and have lots of ideas
for more entries. Letters to friends are on the list, too.
Read Even More. I probably read more than I do anything else, but now that I've made it through the entire run of Midsomer Murders
twice on Netflix, I've got no afternoon distractions from the telly.
TBS and I have stuff we watch when he gets home (because he's too brain
dead after teaching to accomplish anything more impressive), but when I'm
not out moving and growing things, I have a huge stack of books to
begin or to finish. And then there's always Cat-watching time in the
garden, which will need to be extended as the weather improves. Emma
likes company when she's out, and I can't leave her entirely
unsupervised. In addition, there's nothing quite as peaceful as
watching a cat and a dog snoozing away in the afternoon sun.
This is all very ambitious, I know. But since I'm too old and tired to be politically active any more, if I get even a little of it done, I'll have accomplished something. And so, Dear Reader(s), may the future be better than we have any right, at this moment, to expect.