Mountain People

 We live in freedom by necessity,

A mountain people dwelling amoung mountains.

--W. H. Auden, from Sonnets From China, "XVIII"

Hiking Haul

We went in for one thing.

Waited like an anchor

The afternoon chores are sorted.

There's nothing to do until gloaming, closing the hen hatch against varmints, just before the whippoorwill bids adieux to the day. Two bees danced about my head as I walked through the hen yard, convinced I needed pollinating. And then, in the greenhouse, there was a red-spotted purple eastern swallowtail lazing about on one of the panes, supervising me as I watered the beds, reminding me not to forget the apricot tree. I had forgotten the collection basket, so I set the eggs (four again, regular as clockwork) into the fold of my shirt and made my way back across the field, where the cottage waited like and anchor. 

Back inside I found a little piece of treasure, a book on the  shelf of the coffee table. I had mistaken it for a birding book, an understandable assumption given the wealth of nature books and local lore that welcome every nook. But no. 

 

This book, with its goldfinches and gold letters, The Lost Words, proclaimed itself a book of spells. 

 

The first two sentences captivated me. "Once upon A time, words begin to vanish from the language of children. They disappeared so quietly that at first almost no one noticed - fading away like water on stone." 

 

The idea of the language of children, and the disappearance of it "like water on stone" cracked open a whole universe, and I closed the cover to sit with that image for a bit before reading more.

 

The back cover told me this book of spells was written in response to the then-recent edition of the Oxford Junior Dictionary —I flipped to the title page, which was curiously located in the far back of the book to find the publication year: 2017. The new edition had dropped over forty common words, most of them dealing with nature. In their place, I read, were words related to human-computer interaction, including blog, broadband, bullet-point, and voice-mail. The authors of the spell book were dismayed, and crafted this work to introduce children again to the magical living world.

 

I sat, thinking about the "insiding" of childhood that has happened in the last quarter century. I thought about the profound shift in our relationship with "outside" that has happened in this past year and a half. I thought about the "virtualizing" that has happened in so many lives, including mine.

The Mad Painter

Confession:
I love graffiti.

I spent miles of film taking photos of Graffiti in my teens. A misspent youth, on the lam for art. 

Something about graffiti on trains attracts me the most
I'm here! I'm now! it seems to shout as it speeds by and disappears.
I used to sneak out in high school when nights were too hot to sleep. I'd cover vulgar drawings on cracked plaster with my tag. I had no idea I could have gotten into serious danger. My biggest fear was that a cop would find me and tell my mom.

I was so naive!

I had two cans of paint in my backpack, the ball rattled against the aluminum when I walked, so I kept them wrapped in an old OSU sweatshirt my grandfather had given me and that had become sort of a surrogate security blanket by ninth grade.

I'd put the sweatshirt on inside out, and a ball cap on to do the paint. I was frustrated at the decay happening in the neighborhood, and in my life, and the sea of apathy surrounding both that threatened to drown any real sentiment or connection. I'd describe a black rectangle around the offensive drawing or word, then paint my tag in silver on top of it.

I still use it, the tag I mean.

And I still go out when I get frustrated and feel voiceless against the apathy or, worse, against outright hatred.

Only these days (and for many decades now), I use chalk instead of spray paint

This was at the neighborhood temple after a defacing of a synagogue

And sometimes it shows up just for fun, wherever there is craft paper, just waiting for me.

Today's events

Today Graeme and I hauled stuff to the basement, assembled two sets of shelves, cleaned up the kitchen, set up the Roku and piled up empty boxes.
Vivian had two baths, her favorite activity, and somehow in the middle of the night I did something to make my left shoulder ache.

Update: here are a couple pictures of the results of the day, with a bonus of kids-in-sunshine (because they are wonderful).