Fall and the Samain Moon
Monday gratefuls: Snow. Cold. 6 degrees this morning. Good sleeping. Reading more about Jewish life cycle events. Fire in the fireplace. Hygge. Which helped with melancholy. Those pork cutlets and the instant mashed potatoes, surprisingly good. Cooking for one. Cooking. Decluttering the kitchen. Snow on the Lodgepoles. Black Mountain white. Winter before Samain. Skiing. Israel. Hamas. Anti-semitism. Fighting anti-semitism.
Sparks of Joy and Awe: Ruth
One brief shining: Opened the small drawer of my coffee table and pulled out a box of matches, opened it, and went to the fireplace, striking the match and lighting the newspaper crumpled up at the bottom of the stacked firewood, flames licked up, smoke poured out, oh, open the flue, there better, the fatwood caught and soon the smaller chunks of pine, then a roaring fire captivating, warm.
Last night as bed time came what to my wandering eyes should appear but sparkling Snow covering a back Yard lit by a near full moon casting deep shadows of Lodgepoles across the Snowscape. A few stars danced in the Sky, most hidden by the moon’s late fall exuberance. The weather station read 7 degrees. Could have been the night before Christmas. Santa’s sleigh pulled by Mule Deer and Elk.
The magic of the Mountains. Their seasons change in dramatic fashion. Splashes of gold against green in the mid-fall. Sudden bursts of Snow. Wild Neighbors engaged in ancient fertility rites. Black Bears eating their way toward a long nap. Skies so blue. So blue. Warm days and cold nights. What a privilege it is to live here.
The Samain moon, which will become the Summer’s End moon tomorrow, marks the transition from the growing season to fallow time. We don’t often have temperatures this cold this early. Last night was cold even by Minnesota standards. Warming a bit today and tomorrow. The cold and the Snow brought an end to Fall with an exclamation mark. Well, that’s over now. Let’s think Thanksgiving, ski season, Hanukah, Winter Solstice, Christmas, Holiseason. Oh, ok.
Kirk Cousins. Achilles tear. Maybe. Every time an Achilles injury makes sports news I flash back to the Seven-Eleven on Yaowarat Street in Bangkok. China Town. A snack and a drink sounded good so I crossed the street from my hotel to pick up some bottled water, maybe something salty. Around 8 pm. Yaowarat, a former main street of Bangkok, is wide and busy. Like, Bangkok busy. I crossed it without incident and decided to go the ATM in the next block before returning to my hotel.
Though I only had to cross a side street, the traffic was still fierce. My eye was on the ATM. My right foot went down off the high curb and landed in a sewer depression. Hurrying I didn’t have time to readjust so my body went forward while my right foot remained in the sewer. Oh. My. Big, big pain. My source of empathy for Kirk Cousins and any athlete who plants and torques too much.
As some of you know, that Achilles injury in 2004 marked the beginning of Ancientrails. I had to stay off my right foot for two months. Needed something to do. Thanks, cybermage Bill.
