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, […]
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 […]
The mail was late yesterday, but among the usual junk was a package containing two books from the Library of America — one being the volume by Henry James mentioned recently, Collected Travel Writings: The Continent; the other a collection of early work by Gertrude Stein, Writings: 1903-1932. And so the stacks grow a little higher and a little deeper. . I slept remarkably well last night, and woke up […]
A very humid atmosphere, heavy with mold. Stand still long enough and mushrooms will sprout on your arms. Yes, those are your arms, the ones you keep covered far too much of the time for fear of just such an outcome. Embarrassing, you say, to walk through the grocery store with mushrooms on your arms. And I say, balderdash, let them erupt, and see if they’re not admired by the […]
Late strawberries — almost ripe — the squirrels get them before we do. A cloudy morning, no dew: raked and mowed the front and back grassy areas. Birch leaves. Fir cones. Pine needles. Mushrooms. Took a walk through the neighborhood, reversing the direction of this morning’s run. This time, down the hill. Saw a man swabbing some kind of sealant on the sidewalk and driveway he had replaced two or […]
The shedding birch catkins have attracted the bushtits. Brief as it was, theirs was a joyous visit this morning. Music by the pound. There must be at least forty pounds’ worth in the plastic tub — lesson books, sheet music, and various bound collections. I took out a few — a book of scales in my old piano teacher’s hand, complete with fingering; two books for new beginners; and books […]
Health, leisure, good fortune, and very modest means. Blueberries, and other transitory things. No desire to possess or own. Catkins and birch-bits. Sunflowers. Bees. Cucumbers. The spider in my hair, taken back outside. Aware — yes, aware — there are troubles in the world. Hunger. Suffering. Violence. Greed. Pain. Wildfire. Drought. Climate change. The poses we assume. The lies we tell. The games we play. Aware — yes, aware — […]
The grass seed farmers have started cutting their fields. The summer scent of drying grass is intense this morning, like childhood and death in one divine breath. The streets were so quiet during my run at four-thirty, it seemed the houses were all empty. I wonder how many times the world has ended today; I wonder how many times it will begin. While I was watering the hanging basket, the […]
This year on Mother’s Day, our eldest son arrived with a large hanging flower basket he bought from someone who’d set up a display on Highway 99E a little north of the town of Corvallis. He’d been hiking and running in the woods near there and was on his way home when the display caught his eye. The man had stuffed just about every plant imaginable into his baskets — […]
William Michaelian 