I didn't believe this would happen to you

i kept looking at her face in the picture. i kept thinking about who she was. i kept thinking about how what they said and who she was didn't match for me. the obit talked her age, mother of 4, wife of someone, but they didn't macth. my interactions with her included a fan that she needed to have fixed and various work order passed from her to me. i thought she was fine. i though she was ok. she worked the program she walked out the door.

i was in the supply room checking my mailbox,. paycheck, ok cool i pull d it out and looked up and i saw her obituary. i pushed my check back in the slot and i looked at her face and i thought what happened? does that make sense? nothing you can do about it.

iam happy to be here and sometimes it is like gosh you are my friend, don't go away. what it always means to have my friends, and to my friends, please always come back. just know you can come back . i know you may not want to but there are worse places to go you know?



there's my dog. you are my good dog. thank you my friend.

three fly masks, two old dogs and an unwelcome stomache flu

My last morning here in the valley started out before I did. It was early and I thought I was snoozing and then the pain came and I won't say what else happened. I rolled and wretched,took a shower and packed, and then thought about the two and a half hour drive to Nashville, the final fun stop on my journey here. Oh boy! Sights and sounds! Music and beer and then a plane ride! And then a three hour layover and then another plane ride!

Oh my dear God.

A couple of phone calls and $59 dollars later I was opening my suitcase and pulling out a pair of shorts to nap the afternoon away on the porch. I don't like changing plans, and I want to go home, but why don't you just admit that sometimes things change, and that is ok. Got it, Draze?

After a snooze, I took a walk around the pastures with two old dogs and three lovely horses, all of whom are now friends of mine and I am their friend, too. I have learned a lot about old dogs and horses these last few days, and while the brown eyes of those tall babies melt my heart, they do get bothered by flies, and so that is why today they are wearing masks. They didn't seem to mind when my girlfriend put them on them (god she knows her stuff about horses!), and they were instantly calmer, even though they look a little like bank robbers.

I rode one of them yesterday, he is my favorite. He is a Tennessee Walker and a worrier like me, and so we get along very well. He loves to snuggle and gave me neck nuzzles after our ride. And so I will excuse the lite bruise on my left cheek where he gave me a little nip as I walked away....

You have to groom a horse before you can ride him. We don't want any crusty dirt on their coat where any of the straps or girth will be - that will irritate their skin. Grooming involves a hard curry brush first to loosen the mud, a soft brush next to brush off the dust, combing out the mane and tail, and finally, digging the mud out from their hooves. I did not do that part, but I did all the rest. It is important to let them know what you are doing all the time, where you are, what your intentions are, and what comes next, and then they happily oblige, and will follow you, and trust you, and maybe even love on you.

I have learned a lot from these boys, and as in every new learning, look for the lesson that is hiding behind the moment.
Maybe my stomache flu is a flu, and maybe there is a bit more to it than that. And that is all I will say about that for right now.

Home home home, I am on my way to you. I thought I had left all anxiety behind when I started out last Tuesday, but today I find I am wrong, but perhaps a good grooming will dust you away when I get there.

I miss you!

Waking Up

I can't remember the last time I saw a surise but I did this morning and I can't stop thinking about it. It was a cool morning, dark and peaceful in the Valley, the best time of day for sleeping. I was waking up thinking about several delightful adventures I had just had, and relieved that my head had been full of dreams again,instead of dust and misery as it seems to have been lately when I slept. Country air clears the cobwebs, I guess.

There are two old dogs that live here, and by old, I mean OLD as in 16 or so years each. One is a cartoon character and other is a giant panting bear, and he is the one who I heard in the hallway. He pants a lot. Like Darth Vader. I opened the door and there he was wagging his butt and asking me to open the french doors to the upstairs porch for him, but when I opened them I realized he was asking me to open them for me, not for him.

Good dog.

Pink and blue and gold and orange and salmon and grey, all of these colors squirted and splattered over the mountains. Fuzzy clouds of silver mist floating over the pastures, and horses horses. Two of them across the way were lying down, snuggled like cats, and when they sensed my presence (although at least a hundred yards away and way up high), their heads shot up like two kids who just got caught making out. Everyone around here has horses, you can't look and not see them, and they are strange and peaceful beasts who sleep standing up with one hoof cocked and both eyes open.

So much for this being the best part of the day for sleeping. On the other hand, now that I have seen this painted sight, perhaps it's time again for bed, and dreams.

Big Truck, Great Friend, and a Lemon Tree

I wasn't sure exactly what I was getting myself into, only that a lovely friend needed someone to ride shotgun as she drove a truck towards nashville, and I was selected as good company and someone who needed to get out of town. Cheap vacation to a place I had never seen, and that is about all I knew.

After a late start, due to a missing and necessary prescription that needed filling, my partner assured me we would be there shortly after midnight. Ahhh, the romance of a road trip -- great tunes, light traffic, and a heavy engine to roll us through the Wyeth painted Iowa cornfields. Beautiful! So many cornfields! Wow, look at all those cornfields. Really, there are so many cornfields...

Indianna finally crept up, and with it, more cornfields along with a casual remark from my partner that maybe we should have take the Wisconsin route after all, as were now about 253 miles away from half-way there. We oughta make it my 3, she said.

THREE?! IN THE MORNING AS IN TOMORROW MORNING? Hmmm. Approach with caution. I am the guest here, after all. Mustn't bite the hand that feeds you, or in this case, the hand of the gracious hostess who got me into this in the first place. A few choice words were politely exchanged, including a some that intimated that if our "departure time had not been delayed due to a medication situation" that we could have gotten there by at least TWO not THREE.

By that time we were laughing so hard we could barely breathe, and 253 miles flew past us into the dark, and by midnight we were singing along with Peter, Paul and Mary as we admired the sparkling night lights of Louisville, Kentucky.

Lemon tree, very pretty, and the lemon flower is sweet
But the fruit of the poor lemon, is impossible to eat.

Four more hours to go.

In the early morning hours the semi trucks - hundreds of them, kept us company for miles of kentucky and into tennessee. I had never seen so many! Huge beasts of steel and lights and shiny panels, loud and determined and very polite as they made their way to whereever they were going, and just as many cozied up next to each other in oddly poignant scenes by the side of road, dozens of big loads who decided to catch a snooze before sun up. It was a slumber party for PeterBuilt, tires tucked under massive rigs like sleepy paws pressed into tired bellies and dimmed headlights like sleepy eyelids.

Finally at 10 to 3, eastern time, we rolled into the valley (as they call it) to the sweet smell of hay and the welcoming tunes of crickets and frogs. There were horses out there somewhere, we will see those tomorrow, but for now, a glass of wine and then to bed.

In the morning I found myself a guest in a gracious southern home, with one refigerator filled with wine and the other , food, and a note about chores and "please make yourself at home". My darling traveling partner is happy tending to outdoor chores, and I am happy to sit and read and write and nap and find something useful to do with some fresh tomatoes, fettucini, and plenty of garlic for our dinner.

In my 50's I am finding that so many things that never used to feel like me are defining everything I truly am in a way I could not have imagined. Where are we going? South. When will we get there? In "several hours". Where are we staying? Someplace nice. How am I possibly going after an adventure like this with so little information? This is SO not like me!

Surprise on me! Yes it is.

And it turns out that the fruit of the poor lemon may indeed be impossible to eat, but squeezed on a little fresh pasta and argula, it is quite tasty, especially with a Biltmore Pinot Grigio.

Cheers.

Use Plenty of Caution

Ella was a handful. She was born on a farm in 1843, but didn't pay much attention to farming, or even to domestic chores that young ladies were prone to do in those days, so as to ensure their future. She was a beauty and a flirt, a terrifc horsewoman, and always had her way. She had long, thick, black hair, black eyes to match, and a contra-alto voice that sent men swimming. Her curves were soft with strong muscle underneath, and she stayed out late most nights. She went to parties and sweated eggs in old haunted houses, then fell too deeply asleep for much too long, and had to tiptoe her horse into the barn, making certain there were no snorts from him nor creeks from the stall door. Her practice of this came in handy many years later when she advised her favorite grandson, Roland, how to sneak in the house after curfew.

She married a very hansome and well-loved man named Robert Wilcutts, of the Kent County Wilcutts. He was sweet and much more of a gentle soul than she, and many wondered why she left the gaity she loved for this kind man.

Perhaps she fell in love with him.

He was a farmer but also worked at odd jobs in the off-season, things like oystering, carpentry, logging and store keeping. They had two baby girls, and named them Laura and Annie, but soon there was so little work that Ella and Robert sent the girls off to live with relatives, who could better afford to raise them.

Soon after, they decided to take in a border to help with their situation, and a young doctor named Blocksom took the room. He was new in town, just setting up a practice, and found himself quite comfortable in the home of the Wilcutts.
He especially enjoyed the excellent care, attention, and affection Ella offered. And of course he never refused her hospitality.

Mrs. Tucker was a neighbor on one side of the Wilcutts and Mrs. Buckson was a neighbor on the other side. Being generally curious about the neighborhood, they habitually peeped in to the windows of their neighbors as necessary, just for the good of all. It was not long before they reported seeing Ella and the Doctor in "situations of closeness" clearly meant for married people.

Oh My.

Baby Robert, named after the man Ella swore was his father, died shortly after he was born. It was common in those days, for infants to die, so no one thought much of it, save to express sorrow.

Except those neighbors, of course.

Suddenly Ella announced to Robert that she needed some time away, and off she went to keep house for a retired widower in Willmington. Coincidentally, the Doctor also had freqent business in town. Robert knew this, and became very depressed, and starting keeping more and more to himself.

One afternoon, Mrs. Buckson and Mrs Tucker were concerned that Robert had been so quiet. No opening or closing of windows, no trips out to the back house, nothing at all. They peeked in the dining room window and saw him collapsed on the floor, chair upturned. The Doctor ordered them all out of the room once he'd arrived and broken down the door, but of course our ladies were excellent peekers, and so they peeked.

Robert had taken some poison whether by fate, intention or accident, but he was still alive. The Doctor leaned over to work on him but the peekers could not tell whether his hands were intending to strangle the man or help him to vomit.

To drown the accusations, the Doctor moved almost immediately to a new town, and married a woman named Sally Fisher.

Ella never married again.

But she was never alone again, either.

Cape Myrtle

When Dad used to tell us stories, he always included a description of the landscape in which the story took place. The woods were very dense, and very dark. There was an english robin who nested in that magnolia tree each year. There were three large crepe myrtle trees on the back of the property.

Crepe Myrtle -- I imagined an old southern lady, named Myrtle, wearing a cape as she rocked in the breeze on her front porch in June. I knew it was "crepe" not "cape", but perhaps Myrtle wore a cape MADE of crepe, which would suit the playfulnees of the breeze. Her crepe cape would wisp up and into those breezes with elegant little puffs, and she would wave a Chinese paper fan across her rose petal skin as she greeted tpassers by.

Myrtle had lived in that plantation styled house for 84 years. She was born there, grew up there, and ,even as frailty started to test her old bones, she was there for the rest of it, the entire rest of it.

Her father had been a captain in the Merchant Marines and spent the better part of each year at sea. Sometimes she went along, but mostly she stayed home and loved her gardens and tended to her studies and friends. She married a dashing sailor at 17, but he died in the War some years later, and she never loved again.

She sat rocking in smart white shoes with dainty strings, and enjoyed the feeling of chiffon on her hosiery. Her hair was radiant silverwhite and perfectly coiffed and she loved this time of night. Neighbors with ice cream crusted children would pass and wave. The final deliveries of groceries and mail and ice always meant a chance for a wink from a hansom horse, or even a nice young man.

That was Myrtle and I have always wondered what happened to her, and I realized recently that I have never actually seen Crepe Myrtle, that is until i walked into one.

Well, drove into one. No, drove past one, in the parking lot of an outlet mall in Orlando. I had never seen one!! Delicate lilac blooms on long thin bowing branches with bright green paintbrush leaves.

Perfect!

That tree did look like my Myrtle after all, face to the sun and arms swaying in the breeze

So now I know what happened to her, and it is a lovely ending.

6 Weeks and 70 Years

Six years into the beginning of the last century, a baby boy was born to a delicate little lady with bright blue eyes and a Captain of the sea. The baby boy grew into a strong man who commanded the ocean himself, and navigated the deep waters that became his life. He loved three woman, and lost the first two before the the third one lost him. Two boys came along, and later, two girls, and we all belonged to him, because he was our Dad.

He told us stories about the first time he saw an electric lightbulb ("Don't look at it son, you will go blind"), and about building a radio out of a 5 cent crystal and an empty container of Quaker Oats. He went to war and sank a Japenese submarine, ran from an angry tribal chief on Papua, New Guinea, was the first to navigate the waters of the China Straits, at night, with nothing but a map from the 1800's. He loved Gunsmoke and always had a garden, he fed the birds and shot squirrels and told great stories and loved us all, each differently, each in a way that only belonged to he and each of us.

I heard a song today called "Closing Time" and part of the lyrics tell us

Closing time
Time for you to go out
To the places you will be from.

Closing time
So finish your whiskey or beer.
Closing time
You don't have to go home
But you can't stay here.

It was closing time in our family, and it closed slowly more than 30 years ago as one by one we went off to the places we are now from. Through the decades we came together in bits and pieces when someone died or another married, but always because of something and not because of us. Some of us raised families and some of us changed families and most of us have found our way and are enjoying the content of our own lives, and as for me, I am struggling a bit, and searching to find something I haven't yet found, but I am looking and I am getting closer, especially after

Last week.

Brother John, the second of the four, was the brilliant creator of a week like none of us has never known. We arrived in Orlando two by two and four by four, and when all were counted there were nearly 30 of us. One of us was 6 weeks old and the oldest almost 70, and in between we were were 2, and 4, and 5, and 7, and in our 20's, 30's 50's and 60's. We poured over Dad's papers and photos, pieced together stories, and remembered things that others had forgotten. We decided the life of Roland should really be told, it should be a book or a movie. I was nominated to take the first crack at this but I am not certain I am up to it, and anyway where would I start?

Maybe I should start with Orlando. We drank wine and swam at night and cooked and dined and laughed and laughed. Big cousins tossing little cousins in the pool, talking about Star Wars and princesses. Sisters and brothers and nieces and nephews and great nieces and nephews, meeting for the first time and hugging and smiling. Every day was more fun than the last and every morning the phone would ring and even without caller ID, I knew the person on the other end was someone I loved, some one of my family, and someone I would spend at least part of the day with. And at the end of the day, the family swim in the moonlight brought more stories and songs and conversations about Tom Waitts, faith, and baseball.

And so, we are a family. Most of us have experienced the enormous joy that is a family, but each in his or her own way, with their own kin, but I have not. I have loved them one at a time, but have truly felt for so many years that I really didn't have a family, and felt sad and envious of something missing from my life.

It is not missing any more.

Last week was the perfection of hope realized and the probability of our arms around each other forever. It was comfort and rest, and common blood realizing the spirit of our family.

We are the Blocksoms, and we have finally

Come home.

you know what daddy would say...

i don't like putting things away. i like getting them out, but i am not very good at the follow-up. loading the dishwasher is fine, unloading is boring. the thrill of christmas decorations being dug out of boxes is so much fun, but the manger scene loses its' magic sometime in march. so to manage that, i find it is best to leave things be, not bring them out, shhhh! stay there.

on mondays for four years, i would pick up mom's groceries and take them into her apartment kitchen and do my best to put things away. it took her a while to wheel and waddle out to the table, she in her crinkly sleepy robe, all out of plans and opinions except for one: "linnie, are you going to close that cupboard? are you done in there? oooo you know what your daddy would say... you are going to hit your head on that door if you don't close it.....oooo you should shut that cupboard door, linnie.

which is why i left it open.

daddy was there when nightmares appeared and he chased away those bad cupboard monsters. he just did, he was brave that way. today i learned that monsters and nightmares show up in more places than dreams, they show up in your waking times, too, just as scary and just as threatening if you dont' happen to be looking. just like a kitchen cupboard door left open while you prepare a grilled cheese sandwich for your mom....raise your head and smack your eye on the corner of that faux wooden door...yes, just like that. bad dreams show up in broad daylight and slam you good, only because you raised your head at the wrong moment. you should have been looking but you were not, and now you have a black eye whether you deserve it or not.

my head is aching and so are my eyes and so is the rest of me.

hey daddy, will you close that cupboard door for me, please, so i can sleep?

ok fine, i'll do it myself.

but only if you promise to chase all my monsters.

really?! deal. sweet dreams.

this is why we live here

oh the things we find when all the windows are open for the first time in 7 months. the dirty snow finally gave up and disappeared into the march mud just like the wicked witch of the west. hey there is my other garden clog! that dirty wet candle reminds me of a warm night long ago and i hear us laughing and smell the fire. oh and a broken and trampled string of lights, but weren't those pretty on the fence last Christmas?

in minnesota we live for this. we know that the shortest season of our growing up and old is only a few months long, and when the first day dawns we go a little crazy. we see how big the kids up and down the street have grown, we raise our faces to the sun and think about what to grill and where are our shorts? it's 55 degrees ladies! time for a pedicure.

dear today, thank you so much for being the most perfect day, even though it is one hour short. i am so loving the way you look today.

great job, linda

dear heart

a friend suggested i might enjoy a website she found, because of the whimsical writing. the website is thxthxthx.com and it is filled with tiny thank you notes that a woman writes to somethign she is thankful for every day. today she thanked a yellow highlighter for keeping her focused in her reading and she also commented on the pretty color. once she thanked her pounding headache for reminding her that whiskey before bed is not such a good idea. and once she thanked london for being easier to fly into than paris.

gratefulness was trendy a few years ago, wasn't it? books like simple abundance encouraged us to keep a "gratefulness journal" and add to it every day. oprah swore to us that it would improve the quality of our lives. it would give us a way to call attention to the good fortune we have through friends and loved ones and good food fresh air and clean water. and i used to do that, either in writing or before falling asleep, and the gratefulness experts are right, it does focus one's perspective for the better.

and yet i really think Leah, in thxthxthx is on to something much smaller and much bigger and grander. she points out the little things that play a role in her day, things that tease her or test her or help her or hate her, and she finds something that each thing or experience pointed out to her or taught her or reminded her of.

here i sit in bed on a fragrant march saturday, waiting for my heart to settle down after a long, long time of it being steady and dependable. i can't blame it for feeling confused because i have done a great job lately of confusing myself.

and so my thank you note today is this

dear heart, thanks for reminding me that letting things get to me the way i have is not moving me towards anyone i hope to someday be, and i must work on that. so you just go ahead and flip around a little longer and that is ok with me.

you are terrific! xox, linda

silence is blue

why do they say silence is golden? day 2 of my retreat and i am finding silence to be much more than golden. silence is blue like the lake and the astonishing peaceful sky above it. silence is crackly maple logs popping in the fireplace, tiptoe-y like the little drips of coffee making their way into the pot, silence is a smile from a stranger, a hot cup of soup, a long night's rest.

yesterday at the lemon wolf restaurant in beaver bay, i sipped my soup wine and watched three old best lady friends celebrating something or nothing over lunch. "she'll have a chardonnay and i'll have a cabernet and she'll have coffee cause she is driving - haw haw haw!" she instructed the waitress to put the wine on one bill, the food on another, and the dessert on a third, as that is how they decided to split things up.

they had on pretty pantsuits and bright lipstick and they talked about wi fi and someone's neice in colorado and how if anyone calls you up and you don't know them and they ask for your credit card information, why that is a scam and you better run!

it feels so good to be quiet and observe, take notes in my brain and just rest rest and rest.

today's adventure includes a long walk at gooseberry falls, a hot bath, long nap, and more observations

about silence.

dreaming north

i wonder where the words have gone, i think i know but i still miss them, and i am spending some time up north trying to get them back. they used to tumble around like puppies and eventually straighten themselves into pretty patterns of thought, and sometimes they even meant something.

snuggled in bed on a gorgeous morning, smelling coffee and looking out on lake superior, wondering if the quiet i am finding here will stir something up and bring me back to earth, or to home, or at least to some place normal and familiar so that i can get on with things. there has been no getting on of late, only getting by, getting sad, getting tired.

today i am going to try again for the millionth time to ice skate - a simple thing but something i am bad at, and have always wanted to be able to do. i took lessons once (what a disaster), but i have never been able to relax enough to glide. sometimes i can scoot a little, but no gliding. so many things i want to do but i don't believe i can so i give up and put my head down and forget about it.

i think all of that is about to change, and very soon, and i think it will start with a nice skate.

or a broken hip,

we'll see.