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Reading Doldrums

I am right now in the reading doldrums. I read a beautiful book some weeks ago and now nothing pleases me enough to keep going. The book was This Is Happiness, by Niall Williams, an Irish author. The writing is luscious, the characters unforgettable, and the story poignant. It’s not a thriller, not a big epic story or a dystopian novel, not a romance; it’s just a lovely story set in a very small town in Ireland at the time “the electric” came to Ireland. And the writing! Oh my! His prose puts others’ to shame. Here’s a taste:

“Now, every window was open. Curtains, by pyjama cord, trouser belt, braces, frayed lengths of sugan, were tied up, not only to let the fresh air in and the dust out, but also to let go of the wintering, because God, whose mercy was never in doubt, had finally forgiven what sins the parish had amassed, and turned off the rain.

Not that it was a magnificent day now. I don’t mean that. Just that there was light and a lightening, a lifting, and when I stepped outside the air had the slender, quickened and hopeful spirit that is in the word April.”

See? It even put another of his books to shame. I slogged through a second book of his simply because it was his and it was long-listed for the Booker Prize. I felt certain it would eventually turn a corner and become a gorgeous book. But no. Then I tried something by an author I admire. No. Back to the library. Then another and another. Non-fiction? The book sounded fascinating. No. Back to the library. Virginia Woolf! To The Lighthouse is one of my favorite books. But this one, not so much. I’ve been spoiled.

I hashed it out with my book group. We are a group of women who get together once a month to talk about what we’ve each been reading. It’s the perfect kind of reading group for me, as I have no desire to keep going with a book I don’t like. I had to do that in school. Now I can read whatever I want. And we do get lots of recommendations from each other. One would think I’d never be without a great read. But here I am.

I wrote the poem below in 2011. I think it sums all of this up.

Another book falls to the reject pile
fifty pages in. It is not worth my time
for time is, as everyone knows, precious.
Time is my sack of flour in the rough wagon
of my trek through this incarnation.
I’ll not let the rats gnaw at it nor will I
spill it carelessly on the rock-strewn ground.
Oh I might spend some in blissful idleness,
trade some for truth, love, beauty,
give it away willy nilly,
even sell a good bit.
But I’ll not waste my own sweet time.

I often find books I like at this Little Library.
Sigh. Two more excerpts from This Is Happiness and I will leave you to rush out and get the book.

“Sophie opened the door. All of me knelt down. All of me bowed. Inside the chapel of myself, all my candles lit.”

“It was a condensed explanation, but I came to understand him to mean you could stop at, not all, but most of the moments of your life, stop for one heartbeat and, no matter what the state of your head or heart, say This is happiness, because of the simple truth that you were alive to say it.”
If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. And if you enjoy these letters, feel free to forward this one to anyone you think might like it. Finally, you’ll find past letters and poems here.

Thanks for listening,
Kay

P.S. MerryThoughts is the name of my first book, out of print at the moment. The word is a British one, referring both to a wishbone and to the ritual of breaking the wishbone with the intention of either having a wish granted or being the one who marries first, thus the “merry thoughts.”
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Songs of Summer

This katydid rode on my car for hours and hours one day.

The other night I heard the katydids singing for the first time this summer. I love them. I adore their clackety Katy Did, Katy Didn’t song. Well, it’s not actually singing but the rubbing together of two parts of their wings, a comblike part and another part that vibrates. But still, the males are calling for mates. And lucky me, it will be cool enough tonight that I can keep my windows open and have them sing me to sleep.

I am also very much enamored of cicadas, with their crescendo/diminuendo choruses, followed by many measures of silence. Filling in, the clackety-clack of katydids. And behind all of this, the steady hum of crickets. Throw in some peepers and other frog songs and you have a beautiful summer evening symphony. Love love love. The music of summer is one of my very favorite things about the season.

My notebook for noticing.

In writing this, which I thought would just be my musings about the evocative sounds of summer, I thought I’d read up a little about katydids. And now I am learning many things. For example, I’ve just read that the number of chirps katydids make per second varies with the temperature of their surroundings, so much so that one can get a fairly accurate temperature reading by counting the number of chirps they make. In America, the formula is: the number of chirps/15 seconds, plus 37 equals the temperature. Fascinating!

Katydids live for less than a year and it’s just now that they mate so the females can lay eggs in late summer. Here in Missouri, only the eggs can survive the winter. I’ve noticed that the adults don’t sing for all that long, either, which makes them particularly special to me.

I find katydids beautiful, too. Sleek and brilliant green, with their long wavy antennae, they are much prettier than grasshoppers could ever dream of being, and much less startling. They don’t hop crazily without warning, like grasshoppers. Katydids sort of fly/leap. Grasshoppers are rather unsettling, I feel. And they don’t sing nicely.

One year, I kept notes in a little planner about what was happening in my little corner of the natural world. I noted down the time of sunrise/sunset, high/low temperature for the day, rain/snow, etc., what was blooming or dying and when I first heard peepers, crickets, cicadas, and katydids. It would be nice to know when exactly they stop singing, but that has always escaped me.

The minutiae of life is what enriches it, I feel, especially in the natural world, which we take for granted. I remember once being rapturous about the first peepers I’d heard that summer and the person I was with said, “They’re just frogs,” hinting that I was a bit off my rocker. But life is what you make of it, and I say, why not celebrate these things, if you can? Why not love them? Why not?

“In all things of nature, there is something of the marvelous.” – Aristotle

“Be the celebrators, celebrate! Already there is too much—the flowers have bloomed, the birds are singing, the sun is there in the sky—celebrate it! You are breathing and you are alive and you have consciousness; celebrate it!” – Osho

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. And if you enjoy these letters, feel free to forward this one to anyone you think might like it. Finally, you’ll find past letters and poems here.

Thanks for listening,
Kay

P.S. MerryThoughts is the name of my first book, out of print at the moment. The word is a British one, referring both to a wishbone and to the ritual of breaking the wishbone with the intention of either having a wish granted or being the one who marries first, thus the “merry thoughts.”

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Snake Season

Wild Bergamot that isn’t actually growing wild by the meadow, but planted in someone’s yard.

As I may have mentioned, my dog Miles and I love our treks in the woods very much all fall, winter and spring. And as spring brightens day by day, the wildflowers pop out and the woods get more and more beautiful, I try to put out of my mind what this all means. Wildflowers bloom, everything greens up, turtles emerge from their muddy homes, and shortly after, so do snakes. Ugh.

I have come a long way with snakes. As a child, I had a recurring nightmare that a snake was chasing me in and out the windows of my metal dollhouse. As an adult, I had various other nightmares about snakes, in all kinds of scenarios. Then, when I lived on the edge of town, on three occasions snakes got into the house, one time a big black snake making its way up the staircase to the bedrooms. And of course I found it. Horrifying! And practically anywhere I went in nature, I would very quickly see a snake! In water and on land and then in the yard of my in-town house, loads of garter snakes. I finally got somewhat used to those, even when they nested near my front porch steps. I would never be one to pick up a snake, mind you. The terror subsided but not the revulsion.

I do also find pretty things, like this found heart, on the pavement.

Miles is completely unafraid of snakes and has no compunction about pulling them out of holes in the yard, picking them up, biting and shaking them. He doesn’t even seem to mind getting bitten. But here in Missouri we have copperheads and they’re quite poisonous, especially for a small dog. I imagine if he was ever bitten, he’d die. For the past two years, copperheads have boldly lain across the wide trails and even on the bridges in the woods where we go. I cannot risk it.

We have stopped going to the woods for the summer, as we do. This is always difficult. I love wandering in the woods and he loves being off-leash and able to run and explore. Now we walk in town, around the neighborhood and sometimes on the trail. But with a leash. Not nearly as much fun for either of us. This year has been a harder adjustment. He’s slowing down and likes to spend most of the walk foraging for dandelion puffs, cicadas, and dried-up worms. I hate to say it but I get impatient. I’d like to have a brisk walk! Nope.

Thus, when the temperatures drop in October we’re both keening towards the woods.

I would love to live in a land without snakes. I don’t care that they eat mice and bugs. I don’t care that they are part of nature, too. I don’t care that they are supposedly “not slimy” and some people even keep them as pets. Ugh! They’re still creepy and some are poisonous and Miles cannot be deterred from them.

“Regarding Girl Scout Camp survival skills: For instance, if I see a snake, I should stand still or walk backwards slowly, never run. I am one hundred percent sure I will not do that. But now, while running as fast as I can, I will be thinking, I shouldn’t be running.” ― Firoozeh Dumas, It Ain’t So Awful, Falafel

“Nevertheless, again and again, in season and out of season, the question comes up, ‘What are rattlesnakes good for?’ As if nothing that does not obviously make for the benefit of man had any right to exist; as if our ways were God’s ways . . . Anyhow, they are all, head and tail, good for themselves, and we need not begrudge them their share of life.”

― John Muir, The Yellowstone National Park

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. And if you enjoy these letters, feel free to forward this one to anyone you think might like it. Finally, you’ll find past letters and poems here.

Thanks for listening,
Kay

P.S. MerryThoughts is the name of my first book, out of print at the moment. The word is a British one, referring both to a wishbone and to the ritual of breaking the wishbone with the intention of either having a wish granted or being the one who marries first, thus the “merry thoughts.”

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Piano Lessons

I remember lying in bed as a child, listening to my mother play classical music on the piano. I still have the ancient book of classical pieces she played from. She had a dream, as a girl, to be a concert pianist. Life intervened and I don’t know that her dream was at all realistic. She went to Harris Teachers College after high school and then became a secretary.

I loved to hear her play. I took accordion lessons when I was young, and taught myself piano, having already learned the keyboard. And I, too, loved classical music. In high school, I started taking formal piano lessons at the St. Louis Institute of Music, founded in 1924. It was housed in a big old red brick building (now gone) in Clayton. It felt like someplace out of an old movie, romantic and storied. I loved going there for piano lessons. I also adored my teacher, a pretty young woman whose name I cannot remember. She became pregnant after not too long and left the Institute. So disappointing for me! I was assigned to a crabby, critical older German woman who gave me music I did not like; so I, too, left the Institute. I hated to leave, as I liked the quirky young guy who taught the theory classes. But if you don’t like your piano teacher, that’s a deal breaker.

Now I’m the teacher. I give piano lessons to kids and adults in my home. For a time I had many more students than I do now, and each year we gave a recital in the beautiful Unitarian church, with a grand piano. I used to save up funny things the kids had said, to read in my opening remarks. The kids loved it. Many aspired to be included there, though I didn’t use their names. One super cute little boy once said, “Sorry we’re late! My mom was yackin’ at us and we couldn’t leave.” You can see why I did not give names. A little girl once said, “Next time let’s skip the lesson and I’ll give you a hairdo instead.”

I’ve always loved having those 30 minutes one on one with a student; and I believe that that is one of the great things about music lessons for kids. Thirty minutes of individual time with an adult who isn’t their parent is hard to come by. For me, their stories and their unique ways of learning, of looking at life and school and family are rich, often funny, and interesting. One little boy excitedly told me he’d learned something new in school that day. “Don’t you always learn new things in school?” I asked. He shook his head, smiling. “Watch!” he said. He sat very still and wiggled his ears, saying, “I worked on that all day long at school.”

“Wel-l-l-l-l, if I don’t think it really NEEDS two beats, I just give it one.”

“I just take a deep breath and say I’m good at it!”

(alternatively) “I might not be good at it, so just watch out for that.”

“I forgot to practice because there’s playing and school and stuff.”

“His hot was head so they gave him a temperature.”

If you’re looking for a piano teacher, I have room.
If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. And if you enjoy these letters, feel free to forward this one to anyone you think might like it. Finally, you’ll find past letters and poems here.

Thanks for listening,
Kay

P.S. MerryThoughts is the name of my first book, out of print at the moment. The word is a British one, referring both to a wishbone and to the ritual of breaking the wishbone with the intention of either having a wish granted or being the one who marries first, thus the “merry thoughts.”