It is first tranche clematis on the Flower Clock. And cornflowers and the early Japanese Hydrangeas. The iris that survived the late snow, (the colorful bearded iris were hit the hardest) are coming on now too. The tall ones and the water irises.
It finally stopped raining for a few days, and it is so nice to have a break. I would share if I could. We had the crazy dry spring last year, so I feel the unease that ensues. Our snowpack is still below normal, partially because of the crazy dry weather last year. And sadly, the prediction of fire danger is high again.
Thanks for all your notes about the books that influenced you and made you… you. Our discussion was low key but revelatory. Somebody mentioned folk music and that got us down a rabbit hole, and movies and all the guys told their stories about the years the draft was in effect here.
These are mostly theater people actually; I think everyone on the call this time was a theater person except me. There was talk about the realization that came to each of them that they weren’t going to win a Tony, or an Oscar or… the equivalent of me longing to win a poetry prize. One of the guys, a lovely fellow in his early 80’s said… well I had the opportunity to make space for someone else to win.
On one level it was a joke, but I think he also meant it.
I can hold that thought. The books I never published, making space for someone else too.
This morning I have been thinking about all the things I haven’t yet done. Today is the 12th anniversary of Mr. Finch’s death. I miss him (and Sammy) everyday in some way but today it seems like a “what have you done with your one wild life”, kind of reflection.
I have certainly done a lot of wild life things. It is not like I haven’t had adventures. No doubt about that but does it add up to something to be proud of? Does that even matter?
It took me a couple of years to get my feet under me after he died. I did try writing some poems, going to some readings, met some lovely people, but then the job started to be problematic, and I started training to do the yoga teacher thing and got that all going.
And retreated. Way before the pandemic I retreated. Teaching, working, trying to have a modest family and social life. Everything else just stopped. I still have work to do every day for my classes and marketing and record keeping but the teaching is established.
This fall, I am going to be the Unit Discussion leader for “my” League of Women Voters group. That will pull me in to more meetings and more activities. (Including an opportunity to march in the Rose Parade in a few weeks.)
We are getting a dynamic younger activist senior minister at church in the fall. She is a mother and has a compelling story of herself having a rare form of cancer as a tween and coming close to not making it. She is warm and an intellectual powerhouse, an unusual combination. This will be interesting.
My students are starting to travel and eat in restaurants and resume social activities. It is a heartening thing to see. None of the students that are still with me are pushing for in person classes, so I am relieved about that.
Yesterday I was taking this live online class on posture for longevity and the teacher was watching us all carefully and I got a correction. Old school, but in a nice way. Tomorrow I am taking a live online class with my most favorite teacher in the world, who is a big deal, and Thursday another live online workshop in the series on Movement and Mental Health.
All these classes on platforms I have already paid for, which is cool.
Mr. Finch supported my taking yoga wholeheartedly. He would have supported my teaching it too. But at the same time, he, often unreasonable, would have expected more of me as well.
I need to find my way through all of this, but in the meantime, I’ve got these two large heirloom tomatoes in my box that are ripe and I need to figure out what to do with them.