Saturday and Sunday have become cleaning days. It's not as if I can't clean my house on any day of the week, but, for someone who has been working at home for years, pandemic protocols to shelter in place only reinforce the psychological divide between weekdays and weekends. Until recently, … [Read more...] about Dancing with myself: my corona diaries
We should live and be well: my corona diaries
A stanza from a Jane Hirshfield poem: A moment knows itself penultimate--- usable, spendable,good yet, but only for reckoning up. Passover, with its nonseder/seder for me, the Zoom version for so many others, has come and gone. We should live and be well, Jews like to say. And by any … [Read more...] about We should live and be well: my corona diaries
Walking Waiting Worrying Weeping: my corona diaries
Walking helps the weeping. Springtime brings a little something new to notice each day. Mostly I'm swept up in that touch of green-gold on just-budding leaves. Typically halfway into my walk around the lake endorphins kick in. My gaze shifts from the ground to the trees and sky. Nests show … [Read more...] about Walking Waiting Worrying Weeping: my corona diaries
I am not myself: my corona diaries
Day 1, week whatever. I am not myself. Why Day 1 when awareness of COVID-19 has been with us for months? Is it the snow falling, a post-spring-equinox reminder that seasonal change is fluid? Is is a revelatory moment, just a day ago, a corner turned in my understanding of the hoarding … [Read more...] about I am not myself: my corona diaries
In my secret life
A MOUSE I don’t do well with mice . . . (unless they’re the animated Disney variety making a dress for Cinderella or of the Mickey/Minnie ilk). They keep us on our toes in scoping out their secret hiding places, unnerve us with the uncertainty of their moves. The other night, the sight of … [Read more...] about In my secret life
Isn’t it Just Like February (redux)
Yo-Yo Ma once famously said that music happens between the notes--one way of explaining what I love about the mysteriousness of edges, cusps, those in-between places that demand our attention. A skim of ice on a sun-drenched lake. The shape of clouds against the sky. The month of … [Read more...] about Isn’t it Just Like February (redux)
