Heaven's Gate
The Vallejo
Self Portrait, Inadvertent
Bending over to photograph a face in the planks, an affliction, while walking my bike down the dock, horrifically chagrined by a face that appeared on my screen.
the Light is everything
Still what I want in my life
is to be willing
to be dazzled—
to cast aside the weight of facts
and maybe even
to float a little
above the difficult world.
I want to believe I am looking
into the white fire of a great mystery.
I want to believe that the imperfections are nothing—
that the light is everything—that it is more than the sum
of each flawed blossom rising and fading. And I do.
Mary Oliver, The Ponds … from House Of Light
Fathomable
The secret to kayaking I discovered is to fall in early, get wet, get it out of the way. You can't get more wet after that, or dry your sunglasses. But sunglasses are apparently overrated. Not so family. Not so friends. (backyard photo by neighbor Dennis Bayer)
Masks & Books
Recently I posted a request for N95 masks on Next Door. Knowing how scarce they are, I knew I might be asking the impossible. As a father 3000 miles away from his son, who is wading into risk everyday, it seemed a small but essential act. Our son works in an Infusion clinic. His patients are high risk, many come from nursing homes. His hospital had initially given him one mask, size small. Not enough, not a fit.
Generous responses from kind strangers buoyed me. Today I sent a package of unused N95's to our son. Even if the hospital won't allow him to use them on the job, he'll have them when he shops and does necessary errands, to protect himself, his young family, and others in his community; and/or to share them with others in need. One kind stranger left N95's zip locked in a sack by her gate. Gloved up, I zip locked a copy of my recent book, dedicated to our grand daughter, and left it for the donor with a note. When I returned home, an email - she was stoked to find the copy of Edible Grace! Books & masks as currencies between strangers who will never meet. The ripple effects of generosity astonish me. Sometimes the impossible is possible if you ask.
the blue heron's cry
from before time was measured
stirs this morning still
Shelter In Place
We had an impromptu social distancing social last night in the common area, 6 ft. apart, scotch on the docks style. The light was extraordinary. Scotch hit the spot. Started with Alan and I cashing an old raincheck, and grew from there. While not an every night affair, as some suggested after two or three, we may do it again, staying smart and separated and outdoors of course. And keeping it under 8, not counting Johnny B.
