The blueberry and apricot are almost bare, their leafy colors beneath them. The grape is a mass of brush I’ve already pruned in my mind. The fig is yellow, with many leaves yet to fall — too late for Adam, too late for Eve. The ground is yellow too. I cut down the dahlias; we’ll be digging and storing them soon. The pine has shed almost all its yellowed needles, […]
Down to every last grumble, every last ache and pain, I’m doing exactly what I want to be doing. Every smile, every silence, every sigh; every kindness, every slight — all are mine to choose. So why should I pretend otherwise? Why should I pose? Why should I lie? . Stop saying, “The secret to happiness is . . .” There is no secret, only these nuthatches splashing in the […]
John Barrymore. See, among others, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1920, silent); When a Man Loves (1927, silent); The Beloved Rogue (1927, silent, in the part of François Villon); and Svengali (1931). . Read Bees and Their Keepers, by Lotte Möller, Pages 135-146. For the month of October: Brother Adam Remembered and the Scandal He Managed to Avoid, with a note about Saint Ambrose, patron saint of beekeepers. Read J.I.M. […]
Yesterday evening our eldest son was here, and, as we often do, we talked about where I might put more bookshelves, even though there doesn’t seem to be any place for them. I said I thought we should go ahead and build several, and that the simple truth of their physical presence would answer the question. There is room, in other words, but more shelves are needed to find it. […]
My way is not the way. The way is your way. My way can never be your way. Your way can never be mine. I can follow your way. You can follow mine. Then we have no way. But all is not lost. For no way is the way to the way. . Read Bees and Their Keepers, by Lotte Möller, Pages 119-124. For the month of August: A Honey […]
When I ran this morning, I wore gloves and a snow cap, yet my bare feet were warm. . I’m aware that I write for a very small audience. I’m also aware that each member of that audience brings something to the writing that it most certainly needs: kindness and wings. . Gutter Journal, Numb. 4. Thursday, November 9, 2023. Cleaned back gutters and downspouts of fir needles and birch […]
I didn’t turn on the computer this morning until seven-thirty, after I’d been up for three and a half hours. I exercised, I ran, I sipped my six-ounce cup of pour-over coffee; I ate breakfast; I sat, not thinking or doing anything at all. I took a shower, dried myself, and rubbed some olive oil on my heels. Only then, after making a cup of chamomile tea, did I open […]
Millions of people, changing their clocks, “falling back” to “standard time.” Aye, let us save, let us use, let us measure, let us lose, that which does not exist. . We can’t explain this great mystery; still, there are parts of it that we find amusing or interesting. . Read Bees and Their Keepers, by Lotte Möller, Pages 85-96. For the month of May: A Visit to Lennart and His […]
The body as teacher. The body as friend. The body as substance. The body as dream. The body as sailor. The body as ship. The body as sea. The body as troubadour. The body as flute. The body as song. The body as ash. The body as wind. The body as tree. . Back from an early-morning run in a very warm, dense rain. . Thoreau’s journal, March 9, 1854. […]
The morning was spent in the company of a roofer, in pursuit of a leak we noticed in time last night to prevent damage to our old upright piano. Luckily, only a little water landed on a paperback containing the poems of Ezra Pound, leaving the young Ezra with a gentle wave in his hair. Had the water reached the Jonathan Swift set from 1812 and 1813, I — but […]
William Michaelian 