Spring by Mary Oliver

At this time of life, I find poetry often expresses the inexpressible longings in my soul. A friend just sent me the following Mary Oliver poem. Somehow it says enough for today.

May you allow New Life to fill your soul, dear reader!

Spring

Somewhere
a black bear
has just risen from sleep
and is staring

down the mountain.
All night
in the brisk and shallow restlessness
of early spring

I think of her,
her four black fists
flicking the gravel,
her tongue

like a red fire
touching the grass,
the cold water.
There is only one question:

how to love this world.
I think of her
rising
like a black and leafy ledge

to sharpen her claws against
the silence
of the trees.
Whatever else

my life is
with its poems
and its music
and its cities,

it is also this dazzling darkness
coming
down the mountain,
breathing and tasting;

all day I think of her –
her white teeth,
her wordlessness,
her perfect love.


- Mary Oliver

Looking out the window this morning, it is difficult to feel cheerful. It is dark, gloomy, wet, muddy, cold, and rather ugly. And besides, now that the snow has melted, I have a back yard richly decorated with dog turds. Even the dog doesn't like to walk out there!

Of course this means SPRING!!! And for that, I can feel very cheerful indeed. New life is bursting forth, in spite of the ugly weather. In the yard, crocuses (or is it croci?), daffodils, and hyacinths are displaying their leaves. It is a miracle. This is my 68th spring (or is it 69th?) and I am still startled and surprised. What is happening? Will there be leaves on the trees again? I've forgotten how that looks. Can I go outdoors without a coat and boots again? I've forgotten how that feels.

A number of loved ones have opted for a reprieve in warmer climes, not having to look at all this, at least for a few days. And I understand. I would like to join them. And yet, and yet...even without that respite in the south, I intend to celebrate and appreciate as best I can. "The earth is the Lord's and the fullness thereof."

Mother Earth has been restless of late. I think she's angry and who can blame her? We humans, so arrogant and insistent on having our own way, are reminded, violently, that "mother" is in charge. It shakes us deeply, it breaks our hearts, it takes lives, it ruins lives, it changes everything. No matter how much I desire the loveliness and beauty of spring, the earth will do what it is meant to do, whether I like it or not. So today, at least, I choose to like it, mud, turds and all.

To date or not to date: that is the question.

Sorry I haven't written in so long. Guess it was all that pea soup that did it! Actually, the ongoing pain in my mouth is a big factor. Turns out it may be neuralgia, since the dentist can find no cause or cure for it. Acupuncture next.

Anyway, I got crazy this week and signed up for a couple of online dating services, something I never thought I would do. Not only that, I also committed to working several hours a week at Fenner Nature Center. So I could be dealing with slime either place, don't you think?

This week I did the animal care, which involves feeding, watering, cleaning tanks, and bathing certain ones. The feeding is the really fun part: the green frog gets 10 live crickets; the snapping turtle gets two live earthworms, the garter snake gets four, etc. With some guidance, I bathed two box turtles and the poor little garter snake, who hates the bath, but has an infection in her touche (did you know they had one?) and has to be bathed daily. I had never handled this type of animal, though I grew up on a farm and have some "tolerance" for the realities of life. I was surprised at how much I enjoyed it and how quickly I began to feel affection for these strange creatures.

Then I was asked to go through a large scrapbook, choosing articles about past maple syrup events. Most of the photos were taken by my late husband, who was a fixture at Fenner anyway, and so it was a bit of a sad journey, but good.

Which leads to the other thing: men. There is only one man in my life whom I feel truly drawn to, but he lives very far away and it appears we don't have a future. So, I'm trying to be brave and see who is out there, preferably someone a little closer geographically. I must admit it's kind of fun answering the questions, as well as reading about some of the men.

Lent is fast approaching, so do you think I should give up anything? I'd gladly give up this constant pain, of course, but perhaps it is teaching me something. I've agreed to lead four discussions, a quiet day and do a book review, all in March. Oy! I may have to give up men for a while longer!

Meanwhile, I pray for my seriously ill niece-in-law and for all the precious ones who are trying to find freedom and some sort of equality, be it in the Middle East, around the globe, or right here in America.

And I'm learning to be grateful--every day, trying to continue the "flow" of blessing. May it flow to you, as well.

Making Soup

Two days ago I started making split pea soup. It began with water, peas, ham hocks, onion and seasonings. After a long simmer, it went into the fridge. Yesterday I took the meat off the bones, skimmed fat off the broth, added carrots and celery and let it simmer for several hours. The aroma permeated the house. I like the smell even better than the taste!

My dad loved to make soup and put in everything "but the kitchen sink". Any little left-over this or that, he'd throw in. It was always delicious.

This reminded me of something I heard Mark Shields say on The News Hour the other evening:

Last week we saw a white Catholic male Republican judge murdered on his way to greet a Democratic Jewish woman member of Congress, who was his friend. Her life was saved initially by a 20-year-old Mexican-American gay college student, and eventually by a Korean American combat surgeon, and this all was eulogized by our African American President."

This country CAN be a delicious "soup", with all sorts of interesting combinations. Of course any cook knows that some flavors don't mix so well. The analogy doesn't really hold from here on. Because we Americans are already in this soup--all of us together--whether we like it or not. What kind of soup do we want it to be? Palatable, at least, I hope. I pray.

Meanwhile, I'm going to be eating pea soup for the foreseeable future. Just a little warning for those of you who might be near by!

I'm grateful for another day.