More thoughts in the time of COVID-19 … CA lockdown day 249 … over 260K US deaths, 2 of them here in Siskiyou County …
Ground covered in hoarfrost and frost rimmed leaves is the scene every morning now. Walking to the chicken house is like walking on a layer of snap, crackle, and pop or on corn flakes. We had a brief snow and the Mountain is beautifully white, but for now it is just cold.
Only a month until Winter Solstice, longer days, and the deep winter months. Fortunately, the woodshed is full.
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A few days ago I was listening to Sirius’ Symphony Hall and heard both cadence and phrasing in Stravinsky’s “The Soldier’s Tale” which reminded me quite strongly of Let’s all go barmy. Let’s join the army from Brecht’s “Three Penny Opera”. That brought to mind the relationships between Bernstein and Gershwin, “Nature Boy” and a Dvorak concerto (in D, I think); Richard Rogers and most anyone, as well as a lot of others. They all reminded me that as there are said to be only 64 (or some other low number) stories which are rewritten and retold, with variations based on the era and the customs and the intentions of the writers. There are probably a limited number of musical phrases and rhythms which are also varied in combination according to the same rules. I feel it is a bit sad, but as I enjoy the same stories rewritten, I am learning to enjoy the musical repeats as well.
I must admit that I am not sure where atonal dysrhythmic “music” fits that thesis however.
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One day last week, on my way into town I saw two forked horn bucks and a four-pointer. Gave me a heart-stopping moment of pleasure. We don’t see deer in the yard as much as we used to since the dogs came to live here. They have yet to accept the local fauna as part of the landscape as Darby did. She barked very seldom, and then only at any bear who got too close to the house.
I sort of miss the spring return of the does with their fawns.
Oh well …
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We lost another chicken.
Something had dug down at the corner of the fence around the chicken run and two of the whites got out. They have always been the adventurous ones.
Siku is part husky and huskies catch birds for food.
Mark and Paul saw the chase and, while they were unable to stop the pursuit, they were able to get the other bird back in the run and the opening closed.
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Paul and I had an interesting conversation the other day. He was finishing his breakfast and I asked him what he had planned for the day. He looked up and said “I don’t plan my days.” After a short pause, he added “Others plan them for me.”
I thought that was an interesting insight for an eight-year-old.
Then, after more thought, he added “I wait for an empty spot and then I decide what I want to do.”
He has a vast imagination. Maybe he’ll wind up being a writer. When the two of us are left alone, he can spend hours explaining things to me such as how a lego construction works, what it means, what the construction entailed, the problems and how they were solved (or failed to be solved), what his intention had been in the beginning, how it had changed, what he had planned for the next step, etc. etc. etc.
Those conversations remind me of phone calls with his brother when he was younger. We’d reach the time when the conversation seemed to be in a lull and just as we would begin the goodbye process, Tyler would say “Oh, just one more thing, Nuna.” and off the conversation would go again.
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You all know that I volunteer with the local food sharing programs, right? Well … last monday I was paid! I received a 20+ pound turkey. The tag said $25+. Nice pay …
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It has been three years since George left and I’ve had a few off days …
It would have been easier had I died when he did. Not better necessarily … just easier.
… from “Disappearing Earth” by Julia Phillips
So … ‘til next week … don’t eat too much …