For the New Year

The media is overflowing today with advice on the New Year. Should one make New Year’s resolutions? How does one stick to them?  Make them obtainable!  I’ve also noticed another, smaller movement, particularly among bloggers, which suggests choosing a word or phrase as one’s theme for the year.  I’m going to try that.

For as long as I can remember my resolutions have been very similar from year to year: exercise more, drop sugar from my diet, take time to smell the roses…you know them, they are probably yours, too.  I enjoy following Always Well Within and when I read Sandra’s post about choosing a word instead of resolutions a word instantly popped into my head: LISTEN.  So that is going to be my goal for the year.

Listen? To the many people I come in contact with each week, from family to students to choir members to the clerk at the supermarket-what are they saying, not what do I want to say to them; to my body, for its needs for exercise, healthy food and rest; to myself, my strong intuition, for what is right for my life at this time; and to the Spirit, or God, for infinite wisdom which simply cannot be described.

I will let you know how it goes.  To group what used to be a long list under one word seems liberating and attainable.

As I think back on 2013 I am filled with gratitude:  for friendships, including time spent with far-flung friends, for my mother’s first trip to Maine in 10 years, for meaningful work, for Emily’s pregnancy, for Bill’s relatively good health at age 80, and for the addition of our dear dog Prudy to our lives.

A Happy New Year to you.

Snow Storm

Announced by all the trumpets of the sky,
Arrives the snow, and, driving o'er the fields,
Seems nowhere to alight: the whited air
Hides hills and woods, the river and the heaven,
And veils the farm-house at the garden's end.
The sled and traveller stopped, the courier's feet
Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit
Around the radiant fireplace, enclosed
In a tumultuous privacy of storm.

      Ralph Waldo Emerson, The Snow Storm

According to the weather woman it was to be a "whopper" of a storm, and she was right.  About a foot of snow has fallen, starting in the night and now combined with gusty winds.  For the first time in a 25-year career as a church musician I was unable to get to work this morning and our service of Advent Lessons and Carols scheduled for this afternoon, has been postponed until tomorrow evening.

What a gift this day is.  Finally, a pause in this hectic season with a chance to decorate the tree, write Christmas cards and make Christmas cookies from scratch.  I am loving every minute.

A Big Birthday

 My husband Bill turned 80 on November 16.  It has been several weeks of celebrations, cards, gifts, phone calls and guests.  Emily and Jeff came for the official party, a potluck for 18.  The house was crowded and lively and the food superb.  The actual weekend of the birthday I surprised Bill with a cake at the coffee hour after church.  It gave his many admirers there a chance to congratulate him on this milestone.  And in the meantime our dining table is covered in cards and the phone has been ringing non-stop.

Bill is in excellent shape for his age-I often jokingly attribute that to his marrying a younger wife who won’t let him rest on his laurels.  He exercises, eats well, reads voraciously, teaches a few private ‘cello students and travels.  All good things to keep the mind and body in good shape.  However, 80 is daunting- no ifs, ands or buts, one is firmly planted in old age by this time.

This has been a hard birthday for me; a sobering one, in fact.  I found myself unable to join in the festivities with a light spirit and instead felt more like an observer on the outside looking in.  My usual optimism about the future suddenly included a twinge of fear and foreboding.  I feel like a corner has been turned and the path is now somewhat different.  And my footing is not so sure.

I have been married to Bill for 30 years, over half of my life.  It is a good life, one that I hope will continue for _____ years.  I don’t know how to fill in the blank anymore. 

New Life

I'm going to be a grandmother...early April!

Song for Autumn

In the deep fall
   don't you imagine the leaves think how
comfortable it will be to touch
   the earth instead of the
nothingness of air and the endless
   freshets of wind? And don't you think
the trees themselves, especially those with mossy,
   warm caves, begin to think

of the birds that will come-six, a dozen-to sleep
   inside their bodies? And don't you hear
the goldenrod whispering goodbye,
   the everlasting being crowned with the first
tuffets of snow? The pond
   vanishes, and the white field over which
the fox runs so quickly brings out
   its blue shadows. And the wind pumps its
bellows. And at evening especially,
   the piled firewood shifts a little,
longing to be on its way.

                                         Mary Oliver

Season's End

Summer has come to an end and the garden is just about finished. A few tomatoes are still trying to ripen and there are some squash and herbs making a last noble push in these short days of autumn.  I've frozen three batches of pesto for winter meals and am tired of zucchini.

Also tired of my own cooking, a couple of weeks ago I bought some magazines and chose two new soups to try.  I shopped for the ingredients at the farmers market and set out with high hopes.  The soup above, from Vegetarian Times, has tomatoes, carrots, white beans and kale. Sadly, I am not a fan of this popular wonder-vegetable and I have tried!  I tweaked the recipe and added chicken sausage-it's pretty and healthy and next time I'll use spinach.

To mark the end of summer we had a visit from dear friends Susan and Jay in September.  We lived in Dallas at the same time and have remained in touch through numerous moves on both our parts.  Coming from California they like to eat lobster-in fact, Jay makes a point to have it everyday while in Maine. That suits me just fine and gives us a chance to live it up a bit!  Above, you see Jay working on a lobster risotto.

One of our best inventions was this Lobster Nicoise-we thought we'd made it up but later noticed it on the menu at the Bar Harbor Inn.

What a treat it was to spend time around the dining table with good friends, good conversation, good food and wine.  And now, it feels good to be back to work and in a routine, and that nip in the air is most welcome.

Mother's Visit

In August my mother came to visit for two weeks, the first time in ten years that she’s been able to come to Maine.  For a number of summers she, my dad and aunt came to see us, but as my dad’s health deteriorated they had to stop.  Coming this year alone was no easy thing, starting with the long flight from Dallas which included a frantic change of plane in DC.

My mom is allergic to cats, VERY allergic.  She came to help when Emily was born and ended up in the ER because of a reaction to our cats.  We currently have two beloved cats that spend a lot of time in the house.  Can you imagine the cleaning we had to do?  The rugs and furniture were professionally done, but the rest was grunt work for Bill and me-every surface downstairs-windows, curtains, walls, doors, you name it. Also, our guest room is on the second floor and that was a no go. So we moved furniture, trudging up and down the stairs time and again, and I’m very proud to show you the sunroom transformed for mother.

Our life in Maine is quite different from the life mom lives in Texas.  We did our best to show her the beauties of coastal Maine, introduce her to our friends, and gently expose her to our rather liberal and progressive views.  She had lunch with one of our male friends and his male spouse and I know that was a stretch (handled well).

I saw that she was overwhelmed by the beauty and sense of the spiritual upon entering  St. Saviour’s, much like I was the first time I walked thru the doors.  Of course she went to church services with us as well as to two organ concerts.  People loved her charm and southern accent.

The two weeks that mother was here were exhausting and frustrating and often sobering as I witnessed first-hand her 83 years.  But most of all I felt so very lucky, lucky to have my mom and have her in Maine with me.