on the gad

mothers

In more coffee on October 9, 2021 at 2:43 pm

the weather report promised doom and gloom but the mighty sun ignored instructions and kept showing up to bless every day of our short visit up north to visit our birthday-girl mom. we successfully got her to her beloved beach. where she found a bounty of drying kelp. to gather up, bring home, and eventually weave into baskets and sculptures. creative juices are flowing again. which is good for arthritic joints. mom is eighty-eight years old.

four generations of family live in this small town but mom spends most of her days alone. we worry about her; she worries about us. and once a week the fun ones show up at hers for game night! we are a close-knit bunch. not overly demonstrative but we care deeply and try to shore each other up. two kinds of people and most of the tribe are pie people not cake. we had apple walnut streusel and pumpkin.

it is a difficult time to imagine our futures. but we all try to remember to not get too caught up in anxious predictions and instead gaze clearly at the moment we are in right now. and right now. and now. am i okay today? are you?

sheltering

In more coffee on October 6, 2020 at 3:24 pm

we left home, promising the hunter and the hibernator we would return before dark. more than an hour into the drive, my brother teased, “are we there yet?” siri replied, “don’t be silly.” our destination was tomales bay; four of us were going kayaking in three boats, one of which had to be unfolded first.

never in the habit of doing stuff, and certainly not for the last half year, it was quite heartening to paddle out into the mist. we traded the constant barking of ravens and crows, the frequent sirens of rescue trucks zipping past the house, and the debilitating threat of virus, fire, and discord for quiet water lapping. we saw seagulls, egrets, cormorants, a kingfisher, and gangs of pelicans flew right at us and then over in balletic arcs, wings whispering. seals bobbed up for curious looky-loos. i remembered that the bay is reported to have sharks. and that is precisely where ominous threats belong: in the dark waters below. we have always known how to live with monsters of the deep.

we paddled for hours. we paddled for miles. the smart cookies brought sardines and mussels for their lunch break. we turned back when we could see ocean waves on the horizon. the sun broke through just enough to bless our upturned faces and we searched the ridges for elusive elk. twould have been nice to go out for coffee and such on the way home but i was soaking wet and we knew the hunter was wondering where her dinner was. we old ladies expect to be fed long before dusk. and the hibernator needed her hood down and heating pad on.

now we are back in the garden. the extroverted squirrel likes company with lunch and nibbles his nut next to me, the eugenias hurl their hard purple berries with good aim, and a hummingbird conference has been called just above.

birthday wishes

In coffee on October 10, 2019 at 4:17 pm

the sunflower queen was having another birthday. from her clifftop home perched above the dazzling winking sea, she summoned her children, grandchild, and great grandchild. dutiful eldest son and daughter hurried north on flying goat (coffee). the others lived closer and timed their arrival for just after the summer pies showed up.

sunflower

pies

the prickly daughter and the youngest one of all compared notes: we prefer cake to pie, weather makes us nervous, and we never answer phones. because the voice at the other end might have questions that need to be answered.

art

baskets

room

after pie, there were stories told, sandwiches offered to those who are always hungry, and, when the sun went down and the moon came up, the prince provided a magical feast. the grandchild kept asking what the plan was. she likes to know what her lines and cues are and whether or not she will need to come up with an identifying walk or accent. alas, the queen’s clan is hopeless at making any plans at all. ever. but we did make it to the beach.

beach

coffee

then the sun faded and a big wind came up. clocks stopped, water ceased to flow, and trees toppled. family scattered and the queen was all alone again. when she has quite recovered i am sure she will summon her people again. and we will come.

sprite