Author Archives: deemallon

Where we are — fall equinox

All the junk that goes with being human — the sweaty parts, the sour refusals, jealousies ocean-sized and petty, the worm of veins as aging wears out the body. We try, though, don’t we? We try to manage expectations, to overcome the vast array of annoyances, to face our fears as we watch the burning hellscape that is America.

To get up and fight.

It might be our turn to fall. If so, it won’t be from from hubris, but from a toxic blend of corrupt greed and epic stupidity. Plus Facebook. While Oleg Deripaska funds aluminum plants in Kentucky, a passel of white people in Pennsylvania storms Target yelling about their freedom not to wear masks.

Huh?

Outside, a pounding — perhaps a new deck for a neighbor? Maple leaves ruffle in the wind. They will crisp and yellow and before long, fall and litter the fence line. How do your hold your suffering? With what secret thoughts or unsustainable compromises? Winter, as has been said, is coming.

By the time the neighbor’s new deck is nailed together and stained and holding chairs and company, the election will be upon us. The massive efforts to steal it, already in motion. If only this… if only that… How to do enough?

How many things have you lost of late? What of them matter? Where does Hope dwell in your body?

I think Ruth Bader Ginsburg would want us to hold fast to Hope with a ferocity past all reason. Don’t you?

Collage made WHILE in labor

Prompt: write for five minutes about all the junk that goes with being human.

Willowpark Forest sighting

So this happened. We walked five miles in looping trails through a state park yesterday — just what the doctor ordered. We saw tons of fungus, early-stage swamps, and a handful of mountain bikers. Not much wildlife. At some point I said to myself (as I do now and then), If I see a deer, I’ll know my mother is watching over me.

It didn’t seem particularly likely or unlikely, but after an hour-plus, I said outloud, The deer are probably sleeping at this hour.

K turned to agree and spotted — not twenty feet from my right shoulder — a huge, solitary deer.

Can you believe it?

Hi, Mom.

This morning, it was too cold to finish the puzzles outside — even bundled up with blankets and down!

Rage donating*

A click. A clack. I throw my few bucks into the blue bin.

It’s sweatshirt cold this morning. Last night I dreamt about a murder in the woods, knowing that we are planning to go to a wooded park on the North Shore today. It wasn’t really a nightmare, somehow.

Three-eighths of binding done on C’s quilt. Agatha Christie Miss Marple the choice of the afternoon.

A 4.5 earthquake in Southern California hours ago. I wish people would stop asking, Can 2020 get any worse?

Because of course it can.

As much as the anxiety of these final weeks is a metallic tang in my mouth, I am also genuinely curious to see how the judicial nomination plays out. Careers will be made and lost over this.

*not my term. Twitter, of course.

Rage donating*

A click. A clack. I throw my few bucks into the blue bin.

It’s sweatshirt cold this morning. Last night I dreamt about a murder in the woods, knowing that we are planning to go to a wooded park on the North Shore today. It wasn’t really a nightmare, somehow.

Three-eighths of binding done on C’s quilt. Agatha Christie Miss Marple the choice of the afternoon.

A 4.5 earthquake in Southern California hours ago. I wish people would stop asking, Can 2020 get any worse?

Because of course it can.

As much as the anxiety of these final weeks is a metallic tang in my mouth, I am also genuinely curious to see how the judicial nomination plays out. Careers will be made and lost over this.

*not my term. Twitter, of course.

“It’ll start getting cooler”

It’s 60 degrees here. Crickets sing their autumnal songs. Hard not to feel blessed, with zero hurricanes coming at us and zero fires raging nearby. The finches are feeding on the echinacea seed heads near the side door. When I come out, they fly off, startled and pretty.

K went to work today for only the second time since March 13. There were 313 Covid cases in Massachusetts yesterday, so I don’t know? Finn understood the change and stayed up in bed with me.

I am adding batting to the single-layer sections of the global warming quilt. Tricky. Fussy in a way that would be avoided if I were a Point-A-to-Point-B creator. Believe me, sometimes I wish I was.

But just look at that amaranth! It is one of the few glorious results of my seed planting efforts this year. Exactly ONE of the dozens of sunflower seeds I planted survived the rabbits.

The huge squash leaves came from a rogue seed that took root when a piece of compost fell into a yard waste bin and took off! I love how surprises arrive in the garden with a casual regularity that defy their miraculous nature.