It must be those brief moments
when nothing has happened – nor is going to.
Tiny moments, like islands in the ocean
beyond the grey continent of our ordinary days.
There, sometimes, you meet your own heart
like someone you’ve never known.
~ Hans Børli
(Happiness…?)
On Saturday Tim & I were all over the state doing long-distance errands, like visiting a computer show, etc. Larisa & Dima were also all over the state, helping a friend move, etc. For a little bit we were all in Manchester traveling on I-84 westbound at the same time, but did not meet up there. After endless cell phone calls and changing estimated-times-of-arrival and places-to-arrive, we finally met in Essex for a late lunch at the Griswold Inn.
The Perfect Small American Town & Its Oldest Inn
Essex is a mint-condition one-traffic-light river town where the dignified revolutionary-era spirit still lingers – and there’s not a fast food joint in sight.
~ Patricia Schultz
(1,000 Places to See Before You Die)
Now the Griswold Inn is a familiar stomping ground for Tim and Larisa – they are often there on Monday nights enjoying Sea Chanteys and beer. I went once but it was a little too loud and rowdy for my sensitive nature… But it’s a quiet and cozy restaurant in the daytime. The Gris, as it is affectionately called by regulars, is the oldest continuously operating inn in Connecticut, first opened in 1776.
So we had a nice lunch with Dima & Larisa and heard all about their recent scuba diving adventure in Curaçao and the upcoming plans for the move to the big city next month. And then they were off – on to the next thing, zipping around as young adults do. We think Larisa has found in Dima a wonderful companion who shares her wanderlust and sense of adventure. And so we headed home in the pouring rain to recuperate and contemplate.
I hope to have gathered
To repay your kindness
The willow leaves
Scattered in the garden.
~ Matsuo Bashō
(The Narrow Road to the Deep North: And Other Travel Sketches)
Some adopt a rigid system that answers all possible questions and so you don’t have to think beyond its systems. The other response is much more seemingly fragile but much more expansive, because it doesn’t lay down a rigid framework. It allows you to move within the mystery of it. And that seems to be flowering right now. I think people are more and more interested in embracing that because they’ve been through everything else. It is a willingness to embrace mystery, a willingness to embrace not knowing, allowing that intuitive awareness to speak.
~ Paul John Roach
(The Translucent Revolution)
There’s more than one answer to these questions
Pointing me in a crooked line
The less I seek my source for some definitive
The closer I am to fine
~ Emily Saliers
♫ (Closer to Fine) ♫
Any knowledge that doesn’t lead to new questions quickly dies out: it fails to maintain the temperature required for sustaining life.
~ Wisława Szymborska
(Poems New & Collected)
Last year in June I wrote a blog about Sleepy Hollow Cemetery in Concord, Massachusetts, which originally included a quote mistakenly attributed to Henry David Thoreau. Jeff Cramer, an editor who works at the Thoreau Institute at Walden Woods, took the time to comment on my blog and kindly called my attention to the error, which I was happy to correct.
On Thursday, June 16th of this year Jeff will be presenting a reading from and a discussion of a new book he has edited, The Quotable Thoreau. Wish I could go, but I will add the book to my Kindle and be there in spirit.
One page on the Thoreau Institute website I find very illuminating is The Henry D. Thoreau Mis-Quotation Page, which takes note of quotations either misquoted or erroneously attributed to Thoreau. Very helpful!
Another treasure trove for this quote collector!
Last weekend we took a ride out to The Salem Herbfarm. It was a hot and humid day so we didn’t last too long. Took a few pictures and bought a moonflower and a bamboo pole for it to climb on. Fortunately the weather has cooled off for now, after a wild evening of violent thunderstorms, which produced devastating tornadoes in Springfield and Monson, Massachusetts…
This weekend Tim has been working from home and a kind of lethargy has set in, in spite of the delightful weather. This past week I got a lot of work done on my garden and the living room. Janet and I are making plans…
No more house centipede sightings and yesterday I finally got up the nerve to sit on the couch again…
Reading a fascinating book: A Time for Everything by Karl Ove Knausgård. It’s an unusual piece of historical fiction, based loosely on the lives of characters from the Bible. But it gets into their heads and reinterprets the ways Cain or Noah, for example, might have experienced Biblical events. The author’s descriptions of the natural world of pre-flood times are detailed and vivid. The book is supposed to examine the nature of angels, too, but I’m only a little less than half way through.
Is this not enough?
This blessed sip of life
Is it not enough?
Staring down at the ground
Then complain and pray for more from above
Greedy little pig
~ Dave Matthews
♫ (Pig) ♫
After more than a week of concentrated and intense work on our family history and my garden, I sat down yesterday to catch up on this neglected blog and to visit the blogs of my friends. First I took my turns on Scrabble on Facebook, though, and while playing had my laptop attacked by another virus – apparently the same one (or similar to the one) that infected it when I was playing Scrabble back in March. In spite of my faithfully installing every virus protection update sent to me.
Tech Support (Tim) worked on the situation yesterday and more this morning and then decided to take my laptop to work with him. I’m using his computer for now, again with no access to my word or picture files! But I do have some quote/painting posts scheduled ahead of time that will appear now and then. Feeling a little lost and disconnected…
Typhoid fever! A school child in Connecticut has come down with typhoid fever. Wonder how he or she got it? Hope he or she will be all right…
Decorated for Midsummer this morning…
When I have a terrible need of – shall I say the word – religion. Then I go out and paint the stars.
~ Vincent van Gogh
(An Examined Faith: Social Context & Religious Commitment)