animal vegetable mineral • mineral vegetable animal
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COLOR
WHAT NOW?
There are the things we are not doing just now, but more interesting are the things we may never do again, the things we might do less often, and what we might do instead. But first, confession.
Yes, it’s true I ordered yarn. The colors at left are close to how they will look when they arrive tomorrow, except the color at the bottom is not gray (as it might appear); it’s a pale smokey violet, one of my favorite colors that I use often in warps of all colors. And the terrible thing is that none of these colors works into either of the warps I am considering next. “Strawberry” wants reds and pinks and a particular soft sage green. “Carnival” wants variegated super-bright primaries plus spectrum green all in the same yarn.
We have not attended a party or traveled more than we absolutely must to get food and mail and for my root canal. We venture out in masks and sanitize before touching anything. We strip down and wash all our clothing when we get home again. We have not seen any family members except online, and not often enough even there. We have, once each, been handed things on the beach—a shell, a scrap of paper—by people we know and who have been self-isolating. We held our breath while that exchange occurred. We washed carefully after. We did not touch our face.
I think we never need to enter Safeway again. When we were in college in Seattle, the local Safeway was a terrible place, Pike Place Market was perfect, but there were no local farmers markets as there are in Seattle now. Safeway was always being sued for unfair and illegal employment practices, losing those suits, and then going right on doing underpaying women employees or violating other laws. Gary went to the local Safeway the other day for the first time in over two months. As a former grocer he was genuinely distressed by both the running of the store and the carelessness of customers. Costco and Natural Foods and even Freddie’s have offered better shopping experiences. I miss the Portland Farmers Market very much, and we might go again someday. Someday soon, I hope. A day trip the way we used to two times a month to buy vegetables. The Market is set up with fewer, spaced-out stalls and with limits on the number of shoppers allowed in order to maintain distancing.
We do not need paper napkins ever again, and we’ve been using the same roll of paper towels for three months. It is only half gone and I think should last us through the summer. Gary uses a paper towel to wipe out my cast iron pans. I use a piece of a paper towel to wipe up egg white from cracking eggs on the counter. The sponges and cloths and napkins go into the washing machine.
Gary has not bought a lottery ticket since January, but he probably will again when it’s safe to touch a keypad. We rarely ate out—not at all now—but probably even more rarely in future. Hotels? Will we visit the Kennedy School and The Sylvia Beach Hotel? Drive to Victoria to stay at Elaine’s? Perhaps we will. Movies in theaters on the other hand? Good riddance. I have always thought that films people insist “must be seen on a big screen” must also be weak if that is the only way they are impressive. I can sit closer to the my TV in a dark room, turn the sound up too loud, and mimic the movie theater experience without people talking behind me or a man coughing on my neck. Live theater on the other hand will revive, at least I hope so. There is a critical connection between performers and audience, an experience impossible to replicate at home.
“A huge majority of respondents in The Post’s early May poll — 82 percent — said they opposed the reopening of movie theaters more than any other category of business (with gyms not far behind). Another mid-May survey found that even if the cost was the same, only 13 percent of respondents would prefer to watch a first-run movie in a theater as opposed to their living rooms.”—The Washington Post
We obviously have internet, though no cable or other regular television. That decision was made last summer. We paid to stream a movie the other day, the first time we’d done that. Though we watched at midday and the room with our television is bright with windows and two skylights, the experience was good. We will likely do that again. We also have Netflix and Acorn and BritBox at the moment, which collectively cost considerably less than our old cable bill. Amazon is a concern. We have Prime, but are trying to use only the videos and MarketPlace for Gary’s used CD orders. Eventually, despite a future without Mrs. Maisel, we will cut Prime. Putting entertainment where our voice says?
Going forward, I have been running. Saturday I managed eight minutes in two minute intervals. This morning I will pull out new shoes and try for ten minutes [I managed eleven and am now running every other day with very gradual increases in time]. I have running tights and my Ghost 12 shoes and will fake the rest. Though I kept gear, I discovered that I have no sport bras, not a single one saved. So I went online to Title Nine the other day and ordered a bra. It will be June before I have it. In the past, I always felt I had to earn the right to purchase gear, and I did myself harm by not starting out with the right shoes, bras, and running tights. Not this time. I will do better.
Today is Memorial Day, the day we are supposed to honor those who fought (and died) for the safety of our nation. Among my immediate relatives are my father who fought in the Army as far as Germany, and my aunt who was a Marine in San Francisco. My mother-in-law and father-in-law also served during WW2.
For all the flag-waving and whining about “freedom” I think the people protesting the lockdown mean for others to die for them, while they refuse to rise to this challenge. I know some people who are barely inconvenienced at all while others work in hospitals and grocery stores and delivery, dangerous occupations. I know people working from home and families with no income at all. I know people who ignore the rules about travel and distancing and also those with preexisting conditions that make them particularly vulnerable and cautious.
One hundred years ago communities struggled to cope with a disease that had no vaccine or reliable treatment. The communities and entire cities that practiced rigorous social distancing, isolated the sick, and those that took these unpopular precautions longest, faired best. Fewer people died and local economies bounced back faster where the isolation lasted longest. We have, in fact, a great deal of evidence to support a conservative approach to reopening. It isn’t merely computers modeling what the future is likely to bring, it is the lived experiences of great and great great grandparents.
Human beings have always existed in groups. We are not solo individuals but communal. We agree to rules in order to better support one another. One of our rules should be that we do what is best for everyone over just what is good for ourself, that the old and sick and frail should not suffer due to the heedlessness of the young and strong and selfish among us.
We should follow the rules established for everyone, even when we think we know better because most often we do not know any better.
I was afraid to take a photo of the entire halo for fear of damaging my camera. But that half circle at the top of the image? That was a circle around the sun. “RIngs around the sun are caused by cirrus clouds — high altitude clouds that form above 30,000 feet. Cirrus clouds form when water droplets condense around tiny mineral particles in the air, then freeze. The clouds appear to form a ring around the sun — or the moon — when light reflects off the ice crystals and refracts by passing through them.”
THE NEW WARP
An alpaca chalked onto a concrete wall.
The new warp is green, cool, the color of lichens and shaded moss, the color of celadon porcelain, all the watered hues of seaglass found tumbled in basalt on my shore Continue reading
BIRDS BIRDS BIRDS
By the time my watch alarm went off at 6:30, we were already on the beach. Not much luck with glass today, but two dozen whimbrels. (Gary counted fifty-one gathered the evening before in front of our house.) They moved out of our way as if we were just another harmless animal. And that is what we are. Gary will tease seagulls by calling “Kitty kitty kitty” but we are both careful not to disturb the whimbrels. They were not here when we first moved to the coast in 1979. They had been here, of course, but many of the birds we treasure each day had mostly vanished and have begun reappearing in the decades we have walked the shore.
one whimbrel and part of the large flock of very fat sandpipers.
Yesterday we saw a large flock of Western sandpipers and were hailed on twice during our morning walk! When I was a runner, I was always too hot and I enjoyed cool, damp days. But even then I drew a line at hail. Yesterday we came home soaked but the little hailstones did us no harm. The sun burned off all the clouds before we’d fully warmed back up in the house.
The rest of the day was all blue skies and tourists. Today there are high clouds but no sign so far of rain. If the beach remains empty, we might even get our second walk.
Three “Marigold” shawls
I also finished the “Marigold” warp yesterday, washed and hung the three shawls to dry. This morning I folded them and put them in the cedar chest. Each one has gorgeous hand-painted handspun yarn in the weft, which I should steam press to flatten, but I tolerate a bit of ripple. I meant to make a mostly black-and-white Indian black print quilt next, but what I really want to do is put the next warp on. I have yarn for green or brown, but I am waiting for more Koigu. I might try for another peacock warp.
Gary rebuilding the bottom ten feet of our path, washed out last night.
The high tide wiped out the bottom ten feet of our path, but Gary has already rebuilt it. We (or really I) used to build the path the end of March each year. Sometimes it would wash out entirely and I’d have to start over. This one is wide and softened with sand Gary hauled from the beach.
TWO DEER
A few days ago Gary was out on the road when he saw the first deer. He backed up against the garage door while she passed. He felt sure there was another. He didn’t want to spot them, though they had passed him before—running straight past as if he were not there.
There have been two does in the neighborhood so he was halfway expecting to see the other one come along.
And then it did.
She seems to be moving along just fine.
The second smaller one came trotting by and Gary thought it might be lame, seeing some small hitch in her movement, and wondered if it was the one we’d seen in the surf a while back. The pair is known. We often see their tracks in the sand heading north. Last Sunday we walked two miles north to Arcadia Beach and followed their tracks most of that distance.
The top half is nearly clear and colorless. The bottom is basalt, I think.
In the mean time, we’ve had long walks and found sea glass and agates. This one is milky quartz still attached to matrix. Each of us has found these on occasion and labeled them “teeth.”
I think today might be a day to ignore the news. Neither of us slept well last night, and we need a break. Since we do not drive anywhere except to pick up mail and groceries and drop off recyclables (no mail delivery or recycling pick-up in our community) and we are trying not to order from Amazon, we’ve saved some money. But Gary ordered a CD box set yesterday, and that might mean I can order a couple of pieces of kimono silk on Ebay.
I have a couple in mind. I go visit the silks sometimes.
The horsetails are coming up too. I started seeds for squash, green onions, kale, and tomatoes.
The middle garden Gary has been working on is looking beautiful. The daffodils are done, but my irises are budding, the daphne is still scenting the air, and the rugosa roses look like they are happy. In the “front” yard facing the ocean, we have done nothing, but volunteers are making a show with lamb’s ears, snow-in-summer, and violas.
I am weaving a new warp called “Marigold.” The second shawl is nearly done. I might take a break before weaving the last one with more yellow. I feel like sewing.
In preparation for that next quilt project, I have pre-washed vintage batik and block printed fabric from a favorite store in Portland, which is filling online orders. Cargo has marvelous, odd and wonderful things and they are good people. Calli wrote us a note and urged me to send photos of the quilt I make from the fabric she sent out the other day. I will certainly do that!
I am also taking a break, of sorts, from creative nonfiction and fiction writing beyond this blog. All my submissions are done, I have only a Brevity blog post coming up in a couple of weeks. I want to debrief about “Butterfly Fontanelle” and then maybe I will post a couple of off-the-edge short stories that need homing. I have one particular short story that means a lot to me. I often receive personal rejections in response to this one, but always rejection (close to 70!) every time. Editors have suggested revisions, but have not reached consensus about what is not working. (Tipped my hand too late or too early?) I’ve revised it dozens of times and stopped counting drafts after thirty-eight. Maybe a reader here can tell me what’s wrong with it. I’d like to get it right.
Assignment #5: color poem
Three shawls woven on the “Carnival” warp.
This last assignment is poetry. Below are two 20-minute poem prompts. Choose.
IMPORTANT: My 20-minute exercises were inspired by prompts provided in the back of Dorianne Laux and Kim Addonizio’s marvelous craft book, The Poet’s Companion: A Guide to the Pleasures of Writing Poetry (W.W. Norton, 1997). Their original exercises are much better than mine. (You should buy the book.)
1st option: Metaphor & Simile
COLOR: What it is & what it’s like
DIRECTIONS: Write in response to each bulleted item in order:
- Choose a color such as blue or yellow or red, black or white, violet—whatever. Keep your color in your head for now and don’t write it down on your page.
- Without including the name of your color, make a list of 6 things that are that color.
- Now stretch and add three more things to the list that are the color, then three more, but these should be more complicated things that you have to explain in a phrase—“a four day old bruise” might be yellow, but it’s not the first thing most people think of when they think of that color. (But still don’t say the color.)
- Complete the sentence: If [someone famous—name them] had a [something—name it] it would be [write your color].
- Complete the sentence: When [name someone] feels [some emotion—name it] in his/her sleep, she/he dreams [describe your color, again without naming it].
- Complete the sentence: When I am [name an emotion] I feel that [describe an object or a place you care about] is [name your color].
- What does it sound like? “It sounds like…”
- What does it smell like?
- What is the texture of your color?
- When or how is it terrifying?
- When or how is it loving?
Revise, rearrange, & rewrite your list. There’s a poem on Bracken‘s “Hopelings” (sparks of hope in the time of social distancing, which are each lovely in themselves) that might have begun with this assignment called “A Pair of Gloves” by Rebecca Hart Olander. I urge you to click the link and have a quick read.
2nd option: Persona
The River-Merchant’s Wife
by Ezra Pound
While my hair was still cut straight across my forehead
I played about the front gate, pulling flowers.
You came by on bamboo stilts, playing horse,
You walked about my seat, playing with blue plums.
And we went on living in the village of Chokan:
Two small people, without dislike or suspicion.
At fourteen I married My Lord you.
I never laughed, being bashful.
Lowering my head, I looked at the wall.
Called to, a thousand times, I never looked back.
At fifteen I stopped scowling,
I desired my dust to be mingled with yours
Forever and forever and forever.
Why should I climb the look out?
At sixteen you departed,
You went into far Ku-to-yen, by the river of swirling eddies,
And you have been gone five months.
The monkeys make sorrowful noise overhead.
You dragged your feet when you went out.
By the gate now, the moss is grown, the different mosses,
Too deep to clear them away!
The leaves fall early this autumn, in wind.
The paired butterflies are already yellow with August
Over the grass in the West garden;
They hurt me. I grow older.
If you are coming down through the narrows of the river Kiang,
Please let me know beforehand,
And I will come out to meet you
As far as Cho-fu-Sa.
This poem is an English rewrite of an Italian translation of a Japanese translation of a very famous Chinese poem. Depending on who you talk to, it’s a mediocre translation of a great Chinese poem or a great poem inspired by a conventional Chinese original. I have talked to two Chinese-born American poets who gave me these widely diverse opinions.
Regardless, this is a persona poem—written by a man from the point of view of a child bride who has grown to love her husband. At the end she promises to come as far as it takes (Cho-fu-Sa might as well be the moon) to reunite with her now beloved husband.
Write a poem in which you briefly describe defining moments in your relationship with another person. You might consider choosing a parent or friend as well as a lover. You might choose, as Pound does, to inhabit the character of someone other than yourself. In any case, these moments you describe should demonstrate an evolution in your relation to that person. Your initial response, how you came to know the person, how you came to care for and miss their absence. Address that person directly as “you” in your poem.
NOTE: At each stage you may improve the poem. Weird revision strategies later this week!
SPRINGING
Gary and I used to run up this hill. I’ll call it a 30° angle, but I’m just tossing out a number. It felt like pretty much straight up. (At top you can see the concrete barriers blocking the parking lot.)
We went for a long walk the other day—two miles from home and then back with another mile or so of up and down shore to hunt for agates and sea glass. I finished the pair of socks I’ve been knitting and washed and blocked them. I should have baked bread but we got by with the last slices. The moon really was lemon that night. Continue reading
SUCCESS
“A successful shelter in place means nothing happens.”
This Chicago doctor spoke the words of reassurance I’ve been waiting for. If that link doesn’t give you the story and video, try this one. You might feel better. I do.
In the mean time, I am following good advice. We have time to accomplish goals. Continue reading
WEAVING STORY
When my children were very small, and a long walk on the beach was not practical, I used to sing a little ditty I’d invented out of parental desperation: “Mommy’s going to run around, run around, run around. Everybody run around, run around, run around.” We would jog in circles from the living room to dining, past the kitchen and into the hallway to the entry and then back to the living room—all the while shouting that line over and over.
In the mean time, I am weaving.
January I wove three shawls on a blue warp. February I completed a red one. Last Wednesday evening I began winding a purple warp of over 300 ends from my stash with one handspun skein from a spinner just a couple of hundred miles north. Less than 48 hours later I was weaving the first shawl with blues, teals, ands gold. Yesterday I began weaving the second shawl using mostly purple weft. I begin first thing in the morning and continue until after sunset.
The work is going well. These shawls are intended for a group show in December. That gallery is closed just now. The schools are all closed. Events are cancelled. One of our sons is working from home. The other who works in the theater is completely out of work. Gary kept talking about getting fuel for the car, and I stopped him right there. We are not leaving the house except for walks on the beach. Mail will have to pile up at the post office. We have plenty of food in the freezer, fridge, and pantry shelves. I am not hoarding, it’s always loaded. Gary only worries about running out of coffee. I want pasta and jarred tomatoes, coconut milk and pesto frozen at the end of last summer. I have half a bag of onions and a few sweet potatoes, and an entire dozen untouched eggs. When all of this is gone, we will go out to see what we can find.
My husband is 70 and I am 67. Neither of us have health issues except thinning bones. We walk for an hour or two each day on the beach without coming closer than ten or twenty feet from anyone other than dogs. Both of our tenants are over 65. One just had a triple bi-pass. When emergency vehicles showed up yesterday, we feared they were for him, but no. It was another neighbor who is also over 65 and had a heart attack, then a more serious one and was eventually Life-Flighted to a Portland hospital yesterday.
If you or someone you love has a high fever and other cold or flu symptoms, you might just have the flu (colds generally present with only a slight fever, if any) or you might have covid-19. You are unlikely to be offered a test to determine what’s going on because despite what other countries have managed and what the president keeps promising, our country is not yet, after two months, up to speed.
In the mean time, many people should be practicing social distancing. Many local governments are closing schools across the country, restaurants and malls, gatherings of all sorts.
Stay away from public places, avoid touching others or surfaces that others might have touched. Small children are as likely to become ill as anyone, but are unlikely to die. (In over 72,000 closely studied cases, China had no deaths of children under the age of ten.) But children are still carriers while they are sick. They can transmit the disease to more vulnerable populations, and we are all assumed contagious before we are symptomatic and for at least a day or two afterwards. There is also some evidence that even if it does not make a person ill enough to be hospitalized, covid-19 weakens the immune system and makes people more susceptible to other illness.
So be careful out there. Turn to your inner resources. Read. Tell your children stories. Run around the house. Make a mess.
Once the purple warp is completed, I will start another.
I will note that a friend’s son has a fever of 102°. They could not get a test (of course they couldn’t), but have accepted that their child’s having covid-19 is a possibility, and that it has likely spread everywhere. They are self-isolating.
GATHERING
We gather trash and treasures from the beach most mornings: plastic twine and bits of flattened plastic foam the size of a dime. We look for agates and glass worn smooth in the rocks and sand. In and out the ocean throws its skirts up on shore. The twice-daily wash of water tumbles the basalt, lifts and shifts sand into a new landscape each day.
There is a bit of polystyrene foam a couple of inches in front of my shoe. I picked it up and also six more bits of plastic shown in this photo. The green is seaweed.
IMPERFECT PATIENCE 