Reflections on Cool Clear Sunday

Storms flew through last night with no damage to report, thank heavens. 

Talking to a friend the other day, I made the comment, "I'm still mad at myself for not going to the
National Cowboy and Western History Museum to see the Spiro Mounds exhibit when it was there this last winter.  I know I had good excuses, but I really wanted to see it." 

Missing out on events bothers me more now than ever. I may not have another opportunity to see that exhibit. The feelings became rather visceral in me as I pondered how to live the next thirty years of my life. Yes, I'm an optimist and have plans for this one wild and precious life, that poet Mary Oliver so aptly described. She also wrote:

"Instructions for living a life.

Pay attention.

Be astonished.

Tell about it."

I want to remember LIFE and LIVING, and it would help if I started with yesterday, or what was I thinking about doing before I sat down to write?? This is how and why I began this weekly column: Reflections on a Rainy Summer Sunday

The Trails Golf Course, Norman

Three of us played golf Saturday, and noticed four baby mallards wandering around without mother nearby.  A couple of hundred yards away lay their dead mother mallard  Dead from hitting the power lines, not an errant golf ball.  Her neck was broken and our hearts cried.  When we drove by there an hour later no one had removed her body. So with prayers in our hearts, I walked over, picked her cold body up with a towel, then carried her to a graveyard of tall grasses.  "Bless her gentle soul, dear Lord, and watch after her babies." 

I know this is nature as it is meant to be.  Many times in my childhood I recall my father bringing home a nest of wild baby bunnies  We worked so hard to save them,, but wild bunnies are not meant for children and neighborhoods without fences.  

How sad, I think, what life must be for children and parents living in Afghanistan, and other parts of the warring world.

First bite of the season.

The best news of the week is that our garden burst open with fresh tomatoes. I know it is truly summer when I can eat our very own tomatoes while standing over the sink to make my juicy mess, like eating watermelon. 

I picked the rhubarb and made two pies. Yummy yummy sweet and tart. My first rhubarb pie since I left Kansas. 

The Norman Art Walk always brings delight, even more so when Jack and I are joined by Leah and Bobby. We began the evening at The Depot, where Jack and I were truly impressed with the artwork of Joey Frisillo from Tulsa.

Landscapes by Joey Frisillo, of Tulsa

She remarked about how much she likes our Oklahoma winters, and the friendly atmosphere.  Secretly, that makes me proud when people who have traveled and lived elsewhere make positive comments about living here.

Jack Chapman, The Bone Blossom
Prophecy

Then we discovered in the basement of Scratch, a restaurant with fine food and fresh drinks, a new room called the Speakeasy without the smoke and gangsters. We relaxed awhile with a drink in the cool quiet area. 

Over several thousand steps later we meandered through art walls of various pieces, people enjoying the cool evening outside, food trucks, dogs both large and tiny, delicious German food at Das Boot, Apple Tree Chocolates, and more art.  

WAIT WAIT...WHAT ABOUT ME?

I went to the doctor place this week . I weigh 24.6 pounds. That's like a lot, but then the man showed me a big dog (standard poodle) that had my color of hair. He said I might be that big someday. Letty made a funny sound.

Usually, all I hear from her is "OFF"  "STOP"  "NO!"  I listen and I try to not scratch and jump, and bite, but I want to be a flyboy when I grow up. I want to leap off couches, jump over tables, fly over gardens, and run faster than rabbits. I can already dig a hole to China, whatever that means. She says that if I don't learn to "come" when they call me then I will have to go to doggie school. My favorite thing to do is go for walks with Jack because he lets me sniff and tinkle when I want to. If I walk with Letty, she says, "Let's go Murphy...come on...keep up."  Sometimes I just sit in the shade on soft green grass because it feels good on my tummy. I know they like me  because they rubs my belly and my ears anytime I want. 

Murphy and the rabbits.

Oh, my name is Murphy Doodle and I am four months old. My mama is an Australian Shepherd and my daddy is a black poodle. I think I am important to Jack and Letty because I make them laugh at me everyday. 

click on this link to laugh more about Murphy Doodle

“Keep some room in your heart for the Unimaginable”

Mary Oliver, poet

Pelican Icebergs

.

On a cool winter afternoon
  I chose the rust colored rocks as my perch,
Looking and listening for gifts from God.
  
The setting sun's warmth drew me to
  the water's edge.
Retreating as I was from my mind's 
  incessant swirling

Alone in the quiet my eyes saw
  the floating iceberg,
But my brain rejected the vision crying,
  "Not in Oklahoma!"

The iceberg continued floating and bobbing
  while my brain adjusted to the sight.
Indeed, the white iceberg remained floating
  filled with life squawking, gurgling, cooing.

Minutes upon minutes whispered by
  and I grew restless.
In God's time the Southern tip of the white bobby berg
  began lifting off from the sparkling surface.

Filled with grace and the echoing hum of a pipe organ
  the Pelicans white outstretched wings flapped in unison.
First, flying South then turning North creating 
  an ice skater's figure eight in the air. 

Down, then up again they soared in graceful
  harmony.
Remaining far from shore the pouch of pelicans 
  alighted on the water's surface like a blizzard of snowflakes. 

I thanked God for that moment of beauty
  and vowed to return at sunset.

As the sun reached lands end the cackling turned to cooing.
  "Good night snow white Pelicans," I whispered. 


Letty Watt, January 28, 2019 (Ft. Gibson lake, Sequoyah St. Lodge) 


Thank you Mary Oliver for being my poet muse, my nature guide to hidden beauties that we often miss.  Our poet Heron, Mary, has taken fight for heaven, but her words live on helping us observe nature's gifts.

Mary Oliver wrote: 

When it's over, I want to say: all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.

(When Death Comes. New and Selected Poems, Vol 1, Beacon Press) 

Mary Oliver

Mary Oliver, Pulitzer Prize Winning Poet

Feelin' Groovy

How many types have I typed shut this or shut that only to look at the screen and read sh_t.  Like "Cathy" the cartoon character, I scream "Ack!"  Then attempt to laugh at my mistakes (yes, thankful for spell check not auto check), but some days I'm so frustrated with my brain/keyboard connections that I want to throw up the computer. 

From the decades of  motherhood to the present day the erratic search for methods and activities to slow me down has given me insights to: meditation  (no success); refreshing long walks (successful); Tai chi, too slow (no success) but might try it again someday: Yoga (helpful). Hen I realized that singing quietly in my head while playing golf helps me focus and relax outside, so who not use it on the computer. 

Relaxing and letting my mind search for music I began to hum-- 
  Slow down, you move too fast
  You got to make the morning last
  Just kicking down the cobblestones
  Looking for fun and feelin' groovy...

Savannah's cobblestones.

I'm no longer running down the cobblestones, but I am running and moving my fingers over the keys fart to quickly.

Long sigh!  

  


  Hello, lamppost, what'cha knowin?
  I've come to watch your flowers growin'
  Ain't' cha got no rhymes for me?
  Doot-in doo-doo, feelin' groovy

This is retirement, why am I not watching the flowers growing instead of rushing from one task to another?

But rhymes, yes rhymes do help in the form of poetry by Mary Oliver, Nathan Brown, or occasionally Ruth Zardo, a poet of Louise Penny's imagination. 


  I got no deeds to do
  No promises to keep
  I'm dapples and drowsy and ready to sleep
  Let the morning time drop all its petals on me
  Life, I love you
  All is groovy.
Feeling Groovy by Simon and Garfunkel

Bougainvillea leaves floating

Long sigh! Just sitting
Listening to my heart beat
Feeling groovy, smiling
Tapping to the beat.

Eureka! Finally, I've thought of my first "Try Something New for 30 Days" challenge (Try Something New) except mind will be for 28 days.  I will listen to music every day, perhaps a little Norah Jones, Enya, Wayman Tisdale, or simply ripples of musical blends to open my mind to new sounds. 

***All arrows are self-inflicted :):)