it was a big day in america. i was a bit distracted all day. all i had in me was this swoop of a leaf, feeling itself, feeling a return of something that has been missing for a while, something like optimism.
prairie tall grass leaf
scribbled notes to the end of a season
today it reached 78 degrees in minnesota. this is usually the beginning of winter, but it looks a lot like summer. what do you call a season that is neither the season it should be, nor the season it looks like? i suppose you call it annus horribilus 2020. may it soon die a horrible death, and give birth to a regenerative 2021.
this nest, with two eggs, has been sitting on my piano since spring. it was a a gift from my walking partner and best friend since college, kristin. the unfortunate mama robin made the nest in the light beside kristin’s front door–the main and busy entry to her home. eventually, mama got scared off, and never came back. so the nest became a melancholy gift to STILL. i know from experience those eggs won’t hold up forever (i never emptied them). eventually they will deteriorate. but in the meantime, i will leave it on my piano like the ephemeral art they are. thank you mama robin. i hope you have made more babies.
robin nest with eggs
will you walk into my parlor…
…said the spider to the fly. ’tis the prettiest little parlor that ever you did spy.
red pine needles
i am going to bed not knowing. i can’t read the tea leaves. i will wake up and make a cup of tea. and, with joy or with sorrow, i will make another still blog, and resign myself to four years of whatever my compatriots have voted for. it is the only way to stay sane.