Happy Birthday Merwin (The Dog)

Merwin's birthday came around again on Monday. We have no idea when his actual birthday is but September 19 is the day we adopted him, so we chose to celebrate it then. I've been a lunatic about it every year. I've also gotten less and less creative. This year I had dinner plans so rushed home, constructed a horrid looking treat and peanut butter tower and shoved it under his nose. Luckily, my thoughtful parents had sent some presents so the poor hound actually had something to open. Saved the day. Simon made fun of me as I was fretting about the (lack of) plans. He said "Oh yeah, if we don't have anything for him, whatever will he think!? What if we celebrate another day? Gasp!" I finally admitted that obviously this birthday nonsense is not about him. It's about me. 

Screaming In Your Car

It took two hours and fifteen minutes to drive to work this morning. With no traffic, the trip is an hour and ten minutes. With normal traffic it is an hour and thirty minutes. When I finally battled the stop and go nonsense along Route 1 and emerged into Cambridge, I found myself behind a garbage truck. Completely stopped. In a long line of traffic. This was a full half hour after my GPS had optimistically declared I would arrive at my destination. I lost it and belted out a primal scream behind the closed windows of the Outback. Not proud of it. No sir. At the time, it felt like the only way to emit some of that irrational anger that had been building since the guy in the black Camry cut me off as he chatted away on his cell. 

I should be used to this. I should be better equipped at dealing with the stress of these situations. It is useless to get angry. I know it's a waste of energy and emotion. Not to mention how the experience framed the entire day. Upon finally arriving at work, I had to evacuate my cubicle and roam to the stationary shop down the street to drown my sorrows in pretty papers and the scent of hard cover journals. Desperate times. 

I want to be better at not letting these irrelevant things under my skin. They're irrelevant and it's impossible to change them. There are so many more worthwhile endeavors to apply my passion but in the moment, it is incredibly hard to let the silly ones go.

When The Raft Comes In...

...you know summer is truly over. We pulled our floating raft to shore this weekend but not before soaking up the dwindling summer rays on a last sunny afternoon. Even once we had grunted it onto the sand, we lounged on the raft Sunday afternoon after a storm passed and the sun emerged. Can't let it go I guess.

End of summer is always slightly melancholy, but instead of pondering the end, I should reflect on an amazing summer of happy guests, excellent weather, and the surprising realization that despite trepidation in early May, this summer managed to be better than the last. This past weekend was our first since mid-July without friends coming to stay so we cleaned up the shoreline, power washed the deck in advance of a fresh coat of paint (cross your fingers for color success...third time's the charm!), and did a heavy indoor cleaning. The start of school also brings an end to the power boats, jet skis and live-free-or-die target practice as well as the return of the great blue heron and two massive bald eagles stalking the pesky ducks. There is beauty in endings I suppose.

As you can tell, I find it a bit hard to let summer go. Every year, I marvel that season transitions are so difficult for me. After all, it happens every year and I've had plenty of years to practice. Not to mention we all have to face it. Just another example of how change just isn't my thing. 

Sneak Peak - W.S. Merwin's Garden Time

The Wild Geese
W.S. Merwin

It was always for the animals that I grieved most
for the animals I had seen and for those
I had only heard of or dreamed about
or seen in cages or lying beside the road
for those forgotten and those long remembered
for the lost ones that were never found again
among people there were words we all knew
even if we did not say them and although
they were always inadequate when we said them
they were there if we wanted them when the time came
with the animals always there was only
presence as long as it was present and then
only absence suddenly and no word for it
in all the great written wisdom of China
where are the animals when were they lost
where are the ancestors who knew the way
without them all wise words are bits of sand
twitching on the dunes where the forests
once whispered in their echoing ancient tongue
and the animals knew their way among the trees
only in the old poems does their presence survive
the gibbons call from the mountain gorges
the old words all deepen the great absence
the vastness of all that has been lost
it is still there when the poet in exile
looks up long ago hearing the voices
of wild geese far above him flying home

"The Wild Geese" is from Merwin's new book of poems, Garden Time, due out this coming week. According to the summary on Amazon, Merwin wrote this collection while he was slowly losing his eyesight (he's turning 90 at the end of the month). I first read and loved the poem without knowing what he was experiencing but now it seems more powerful. From studying his poems in college, I remember that Merwin often weaves loss of language into his work. That idea that language is inadequate and that ancient tongues are at risk of disappearing with death. Language comes back in this one. The idea that humans have the capacity to communicate with words, we can grieve with language when we lose each other, we exist in words even after we go, but without speech, animals are only present when they exist. He's also alluding to extinction, referring to the "vastness of all that has been lost," whether that is species or trees or language. In the end, "the poet in exile" seems to be Merwin, imprisoned in blindness, hearing the geese fly above.

There is so much wonderfulness in this poem and naturally, I can't begin to adequately dissect it. It has quickly become one of my all-time favorites. There are thematic nods to his other works and the evocation of such loss, in myriad ways, with such beautiful imagery had me at "It was always for the animals that I grieved most."

Niece Cuteness

With all of us spread around the country it's rare for the three of us siblings to be in the same place at the same time. The stars aligned this past weekend and though it was a short visit for me and Simon, it was great to get some time with my bros, nieces, parents and extended family. I didn't get snaps of everyone but Claire and I took a selfie, which takes the favorite moment cake for me. Hard to believe she turns 4 tomorrow and even more difficult to believe my older brother turns 50 today. HAHAHAHA!!! Happy birthday you two!

Scenes From The Weekend

Best weekend ever! My good friend Sharon (we met in second grade) and her husband Garrett flew up from Florida to sample all NH has to offer. We relaxed at the lake for the majority of the weekend but snuck out early Sunday afternoon for a drive up the Maine coast, savoring some delicious seafood in Ogunquit, meandering along a cliffside walk, taking squinty photos at the Nubble Lighthouse, then critiquing multi-million dollar homes on a scenic ride back to Portsmouth.

While it's always hard to drag ourselves away from the lake during a sunny afternoon, jaunting off to the oceanside was a breath of fresh air. It's a unique situation to be able to enjoy lake life but also have quick access to the sea. It was nice to take advantage of both enivrons and even nicer to spend the time with these two.

A Poem For The Weekend

A Dog By The Sea
David Salner

Just after dawn, we get up,
without coffee, and let the dog lead us
through a grove of wind-stunted trees,
spiked succulents, red-berried holly,
and over the dune ridge out of the gray
of still sleeping minds. A line of pink
from the not yet risen sun
reminds me of the lilac shadows
caught in the radial grooves of shells.
I take up your hand and feel the blood
warming your fingers, as the dog bounds off
dragging her leash through wet sand.
She's after gulls and a line of waves
that repeat themselves, she seems to think,
because they want to play.
                                          A morning breeze
stirs the now turning tide, breathing over it,
sighing toward bayside. As the waves come in
whorls of light unfold on the sand. How I want
for us to repeat ourselves, on and on,
you holding the leash of a silly dog, me
feeling the beat, the blood in your hand.

The Sunsets Of Vacation

We spent last week lazing in the sun, gaming on the deck, swimming and floating, eating deliciousness and enjoying the company of great friends. I realized that I didn't leave the lake once...arrived on Friday evening and departed for Portsmouth the following Sunday, not once getting into a car. Nearly every evening included a lovely sunset display, all pretty stunning and somehow different each night. That appears to be the only time I bothered to photograph the week so here's that.

Book Report - Her Royal Spyness Series

As you may recall, I recently deviated from my modus operandi of the past 6.5 years and abandoned post-apocalyptic literature. I'm not sure why I can't be a normal person and pick up various types of books here and there, but no, I am already deeply ensconced in two new but related genres: historical mystery and historical romance. Don't judge my fascination with tales of British aristocracy...lords and ladies of the mid 1800's through the Downton Abbey era of the early 1900s. Romances, murders, mysteries, you name it, if there are dukes and earls, I'm into it.

I especially like when I find a series. This both limits the amount of time spent searching for more tales of royalty and also creates a nice arc of relationships among the characters, particularly enjoyable if there is a clever little romance threading from book to book.

I'm loving the Royal Spyness series by Rhys Bowen. It's a slightly implausible set of cozy mysteries where the main character Georgiana is 34th in line for the throne and the Queen enlists her to help with various tasks, usually inadvertently resulting in her investigating one murder or another. Her love interest Darcy appears in each book and though it seems to take ages for their relationship to gain traction, it's nice to see that develop from book to book. There are currently 9 books in the series with the next installment due out August 1. All in all, this has proven to be one of my favorite series of late, and I highly recommend it.

Bad Dreams

I've had my fair share. I'll remember two particular nightmares from my youth forever. Both involved being chased, one in my parents' backyard as a man turned those he could catch into stone while my mom played bridge up the hill inside the house. I could see her playing cards in the window but of course, couldn't call out for help. Classic dream scenario where you can't run and can't speak. Similar themes prevailed in dream #2.

The other night I had one of the worst dreams I can recall. I don't remember why but Simon and I were trying to kill Merwin. I still get cold chills when I think about it. Simon was tossing heavy books at him and I was repeatedly picking him up then dropping him on his head. He didn't show any effects of our attempts and I remember telling Simon "You're going to have to shoot him in the head."

WHAT THE HECK!? I'm not sure anyone understands any type of dream but what was going on there? Any dream analysts care to tackle that one? Yikes.

As I continue to mull this over, I'm putting new pieces together. When we woke up the next day, we discovered some, um, "gifts" that Merwin had deposited on the dining room carpet overnight. Perhaps part of me was aware of his naughty actions while I was slumbering. Or maybe this was his revenge poop for my macabre sub-conscious thoughts. Either way, I'm glad both of those incidents are behind us.

So cute and innocent!