THE HALL OF THE MOUNTAIN MAPLES

Hall of the Mountain Maples

Dearest Readers,

There is a stretch of dirt road in Peacham Vermont that excites me. It’s often damp and dark, and marked by one point perspective that is draws me in. Along each side of the road stands a row of very old, maple trees ready to do a square dance or salute my entrance. I feel a kinship with their effort in standing tall despite the ravages of weather and aging. I view them as friends and kindred spirits–women with something sweet inside a rugged outer beauty.

THE HALL OF THE MOUNTAIN MAPLES

This is the Hall of the Mountain Maples

Ancient keepers of the stretch of dirt

That runs from Ha’Penny brook to Mack’s Mountain Road.

Beware their brawny beauty and gnarly hide.

Such courage could crush a tender chest.

This is the Colonnade of Persistence and Impermanence,

Of Staying Alive and Dying Slowly.

Of Faithfulness and Mutability.

Mute and mighty sentinels–

Look at you. Wrinkled torsos

Gouged and gaping,

Disemboweled, sliced open, pockmarked,

Pigeon holed, yet–

Still. You stand with crumbling bones,

Tossing up at least one verdant arm

As proof that this is not surrender.

You are trees. I am an old woman.

I understand what you are doing.

MY TIMELESS RETURN

View of slow-moving clouds in Peacham Vt backyard

Dearest Readers,

I’m sitting quietly in the backyard, drifting with the clouds, experiencing a sensation of timelessness as dusk approaches. I’m utterly blown away by the inevitability of the cosmic turning, the harmony of birdsong, bee buzz and my dog lying blissfully at my feet.

Henry

I’ve returned to Vermont after two weeks in Portland Oregon waiting for the birth of Henry Orhan Adams, my fourth grandchild. It was mostly a time of deep connecting with my daughter, Ayla, her partner Joel, and bonding with Henry in the hospital during the last two days of my stay. I cradled him, snuggled him, and stared dreamily into his face. I’ve maintained a state of quiet abiding since returning.

Dreams change reality in this novel

Jetlag may be a factor, or the novel “The Lathe of Heaven” by Ursula Le Guin, which I started reading in Portland, and finished yesterday. The protagonist has the “gift” of effective dreaming, in which his deep-sleep-dreams come true–not just for him, but events shift for the entire universe, and no one except he and his hypnotherapist remembers the old reality. 

I’ll leave you, dear readers with two dreamy wildflower Ikebana arrangements I created today with materials gathered from the side of the road, and the five little vintage hankies with my portraits on them that I quilted in the hospital, and on the long flights from the Manchester airport to Portland and return. Click on the images to enlarge.

Cecelia, Buddha and a modest arrangement

Stark sun and shadow on fern and day lilies

Day 13-Feeling Enlightened

76-Feeling Athletic

22-Feeling Impatient

77-Feeling Adventurous

10-Feeling Cold

I think I’ll have a glass of wine and dream about the nearly full super-moon over Peacham last night…

Moon out my bedroom window, Peacham VT 7.21.2013

WAITING FOR BABY HENRY IN PORTLAND

Ayla shelling peas-waiting for Baby Henry in Portland, Oregon

Dearest Readers,
This is my beautiful daughter, Ayla in her Portland home shelling peas from her garden, waiting for the birth of dear baby Henry, her first child. He's overdue, and we're finding things to do to curb our anticipation.

I arrived Friday, two days ago, flying over the Appalachians, the Great Plains, the Rockies, the high desert, the Cascades, and glorious Mt. Hood gleaming below my airplane window.

Mt. Hood near Portland Oregon

Flying over the Rockies

Someplace West with a mix of mountains, desert and farmland

So we are reading, eating, coffee shop and movie-going, assembling baby paraphernalia, and yesterday, saturday, we climbed Mt. Tabor–a hill overlooking Portland with a steep path to the top. Come on Henry we're trying to nudge you along!

Ayla walking along the Mt. Tabor path

Tired feet-Made it to the top of Mt. Tabor

View of downtown Portland in the distance and city reservoir on Mt. Tabor

Douglas fir on Mt. Tabor

Redwood at base of Mt. Tabor

Cecelia assembling baby transport stuff

Ayla walking with me to a coffee shop (lots to choose from in Portland)

Joel and Ayla in their backyard-It's Sunday now