Last Night's Moon

Last night, there was a witches moon.  I have never seen one before, but I looked up at the night sky before going in for the night, and there it was, beautiful yet somehow ominous, shadowed by a misty gray caul, and slashed by a ragged scrap of black cloud.  It was a moon made to be seen with a witch silhouetted in front of it on her broom, flying to some unholy Halloween revels.

What a bewitching ending to a what was, all in all, a very satisfying weekend.

Adventures in Princeton and Everyday Magic

What a weekend of ups and downs! Friday morning started out on a quirkily positive note as I discovered three yellow chrysanthemum flowers arranged neatly on my front doorstep.  No note, no indication of the source of the floral tribute.  It's good to start the day with a pleasant mystery!

Unfortunately, things took a turn downward at midday when I received the incredibly distressing and infuriating news that the one of financial institutions with which I am embroiled because I am transferring my accounts from one to the other had failed to do what it had promised, that is, keep my checking account untransferred until I gave them the word that the last check had cleared.  They had sworn, promised, assured - choose your synonym.  But then, a week after they swore, promised, and assured me, it turned out they had only just put through the information, and that for another week the funds would be in limbo, causing many checks to bounce.  This is Morgan Stanley Smith Barney, by the way.

Now, everybody makes mistakes, but I had called in to make sure everything was being taken care of, and was told that everything was, even though nothing had been done.  I draw the line at deliberate "misinformation."  That does not count as a mistake.  Anyhow, I  spent about half an hour frothing at the mouth and gnashing my teeth.  When I had done everything I could to rectify the situation, I drove over to a nearby patch of woods to check out a brook I hadn't been to in about two years.

It was wonderful, more wonderful than I remembered.  Gnarled roots and branches; twisted, blasted trunks; mysterious holes and hollows amid the tree roots; and tiny waterfalls; rills and spills of water; the sound of rushing water - who needs more magic than that?

It has been a dry summer, with rain in the recent weeks, so although there was plenty of water in the stream, the water level was still down enough so that much of the way, I could balance from rock to rock in the stream itself.  At one point I heard a crashing and a smashing, and my heart leapt into my throat.  A young buck dashed down the bank, across, and up and then stood on the far side of the brook, looking at me.  I stood still, and it finally turned away and loped off.

I finally pulled myself away, with much more to explore remaining. On the way back to my car, I found a dime, which reminded me of the dime I found in the waters of Stony Brook a week or two ago, and some shattered car mirror glass, which is just beautiful in a mosaic-style design on a book cover.  I felt as though I had been showered with treasures that day.

Saturday brought the English Country Dance in the evening, where I even got to do the waltz, and I felt a glow of virtue that I had gone even though the scheduling was difficult.

Sunday, breakfast with a friend, cleaning up the mud room, a "short" meeting that ended up being two hours, which was really inconvenient, because I still had to go kayaking.  Luckily, I still got an hour of kayaking in, which included one turtle and glowing, fiery foliage which amazed me with its glory.

I'm forgetting a few things, but that's what new posts are for!

Staying out of the rut

Well, I certainly stayed out of my late, unlamented rut this past weekend.

On Friday night was Mike Agranoff and his musical co-conspirator, Connor, an 18  year-old wunderkind on the violin and fiddle.  The program was astoundingly good and exciting, including Bach Fugues played on violin and concertina!  I thought to myself, "this is what it is all about," wonderful music enjoyed with friends.

Saturday, I managed to hit the bank and supermarket before going kayaking in Griggstown. I was a bit better at the paddling thing than last time, which was quite encouraging.  I definitely want to kayak one more time before they close up in early November.

Then Sunday was the Festival of Early Music at the Grounds for Sculpture, which was lovely and - yay! - packed with people.  (I admit, it suprised me that it was so well attended.)  Then I had a bite at the cafe and strolled around the grounds.

It has now been two days without an evening out (LS cancelled our theater for this evening - it will be rescheduled for next Wednesday or so) and I feel antsy, even though I went for two separate walks today along two separate bodies of water, and bought school supplies, worked, AND went to the supermarket.

If this post seems perfunctory, it is.  I am tired and would rather do something else, but wanted at least to put up this skeletal (Halloween is coming!) draft.

Weddings, Vows, and Architecture

I went to a wedding not long ago.  The service was at the Presbyterian Church.  Presbyterian churches, while handsome, have a distinctively severe, almost coldly classical exterior.  Not really my thing.  I like unconstrained eccentricity and exuberant imagination in my buildings.  I love high Gothic and Queen Anne revival styles (actually, among many other quieter architectural styles as well) and I really love any building with charm.  This Presbyterian Church is not charming.  Super handsome, yes.  Imposing, yes.  Charming, not on your life.  It feels downright chastening, something which no doubt most of us deserve, but still....

However, the service was lovely and moving.  It talked about support from friends and family for the couple (so important, and often not acknowledge how an idle word or comment can undermine) and the couple promised to love and honor each other.  The idea of honoring each other really hit me deeply.  Thinking "does this honor my spouse?  Does this honor my marriage?  Does this honor God?" might nip some not-so-good stuff in the bud.  But who knows.  Maybe it's just not realistic.

I do think it is realistic for this couple.  They seem very well suited and I wish them happiness with all my heart, and speaking of honoring, I was truly honored to have been included in the wedding celebration.

Music Hath Charms . . . .

Yesterday evening my friend took me to a lovely "Italian Garden Party."  The weather was beautiful -sunny, cool, blue skies with just the right number of puffy clouds - and the scene was so festive: colored paper lanterns, scattered tables and chairs, all with different, multi-colored tablecloths, some with rainbow umbrellas shielding them.  An opera singer performed excerpts from various operas, a few of which I had never heard, and in some cases, heard of.  And for a few moments, there was one of those experiences which come infrequently, but which linger in the memory.  There was the singer, and behind her voice, so to speak, the sweet tones of a piano; congenial company surrounding me;  glowing lanterns, towering trees - and then a breeze that gently swept past me and rushed through the trees, adding the softest rustling of the leaves. For just a few moments, time stopped, everything was so perfect.  What a lovely evening!

Later, my friend and I listened to recorded music, some of it so bubbly and frisky, like the brook I so long to have behind my home someday,  sparkling along; and some of it more profound. It still delighted the soul, but there were so many emotions within, so much of life with its sorrows and triumphs.  When one is immersed in sorrow, this music can bring understanding and courage.

Well, I don't want to sound too solemn.  The evening was wonderful, and a reminder to do the things I love.  As the Bratslaver Rebbe said, and I have quoted before:  "Do all manner of things to make yourself joyful." Amen.

The Last Weekend of Summer

Today I went kayaking.  I had been thinking about kayaking or canoeing all summer, but going on my own was not my first choice.  Not my second, either, but I realized that I should just carpe diem et paddlem, and go kayaking this weekend.

So, after delaying as much as possible - a leisurely lunch at Carousel, my town's favorite breakfast and lunch joint, chatting with the staff, walking into town to sign up for a workshop at The Paper Source, a mouth-watering paper craft store, and then watering all my plants - I realized there was still time to go, so I went.

I drove out to the Griggstown Canoe and Kayak rental, which I haven't used before, climbed shakily into my snazzy red kayak, and started out on my riparian quest for nirvana.  I had checked out paddling technique in a book about kayaking a couple of evenings ago, but somehow the words didn't translate into action, so I decided to worry about technique later, and just paddle any way that seemed to work.

It was like life, in a way.  Sometimes the paddling went so smoothly.  My kayak just glided through the water, and my strokes were effortless, rhythmic, regular.  But just when I thought to myself, "Hey, I've got the hang of this!"  my paddling would go to pieces and the paddle would go in too far, or not far enough, or my strokes would be too strong on one side, too light on the other, or it would just feel wrong and laborious for no reason I could discern.  And then it would feel smooth and relaxed again.

Along the way I saw some incredibly beautiful lobelia cardinalis, a bright, bright red wild flower;  I back-paddled and then just floated by as slowly as possible to try to really see it as much as possible.  And I spotted two turtles; one sunning on the shore, and a much, much larger one diving off a tree trunk into the canal.

It was lovely, especially the floating interludes, when I just sat back in the seat and let the paddle rest in front of me, feeling the gentle drifting and flow of the water.

Afterwards, it was still light, so I drove over to some woods and wandered along a brook.  I am always looking for treasure when I walk in the woods - a grotesquely twisted, gnarled branch, a pebble with a "fossil," anything with a whiff of magic to it.  Today I found a large white plastic pawn - about 3" tall, mostly buried in the loamy soil.  It was so odd.  What did it mean?  (I know, I know, these things don't really "mean" anything, but what meaning would feel right if I ascribed it to this find?)  I am just a pawn in life?  I should stop being just a pawn?  Pawns get tossed aside and stepped on?  Life is like a game of chess?  (Unfortunately, I am deeply, truly inept at chess!)  At any rate, it was surprising enough that I took it along with me when I  emerged back into the real world.  I wish it had been made of alabaster instead of plastic, but I have silver and gold leaf, and have been mulling over how to transform my pawn.  I think the least I can do for it is give it a crown.

At any rate, according to the freckle-faced teen at the kayak concession, there are six or more weekends of kayaking left, so I will definitely go again.  I am so glad that inertia didn't overcome my good intentions!  You know about the road to hell; I don't want to contribute any further to its paving!  ("The road to hell is paved with good intentions.")

Summer thoughts

A cricket chorus,

A thousand insect choir:

I close my eyes

Surrounded by their music

Wrapped in the starry night

And know there is enchantment in the world.