A Halloween Fright

I heard the smart tattoo of a snare drum today when Lucy and I headed out for our midday walk, and I knew the Halloween parade at the elementary school up the hill was kicking off. When we got up there, we were treated to the spectacle of hundreds of costumed kids trooping around the track, led by the high school marching band.

In truth, it was the band I was most excited to see. I scanned the group as they promenaded by to see if I recognized any former students. It was tough: their faces were shadowed by the brims of their caps and obscured by their instruments. Focused on the twin tasks of playing and marching, most of the young musicians ignored me and the rest of their audience, but there was an exception. A single trumpet player's eyes grew huge when they spotted me standing by the fence. 

"Angel!" I waved.

He blushed, looked away, and kept on marching. 

I was a little sad, but I understood. 

Sometimes, there's nothing scarier than your teacher calling on you when you're not ready.

Six More Weeks of Wondering?

Early this afternoon, my friend Ruth and I were walking and talking at a park on the Patuxent River near her home in Maryland. "I don't know how we got here," she said about the upcoming election and shook her head in dismay.

"Right," I agreed. "Who knows what's going to happen?" 

"We're not going to know on Election Day, either," Ruth sighed.

I nodded and looked across the field toward the river. "Hey! Is that a groundhog over there?"

She squinted. "Yep. He's a fat one." 

"Maybe he knows," I laughed. "He could be Phil's cousin, Patuxent Pete!"

"Is he going left or right?" Ruth played along.

"Our left or his?" I asked.

"Never mind," she answered. "He went underground." She sighed again. "That can't be good."

No Brainer

I try to be as empathetic and non-judgmental as possible when it comes to people with different opinions than mine, but Heidi and I saw a yard sign the other day that perfectly sums up my opinion on the coming election.

Fall Classic

I always used to say that the first thing I wanted to do when I retired was take a fall vacation, but with Heidi still working, such a trip was not in the cards this year. Turns out? I didn't have to go anywhere to enjoy the season.

If it rained nearly every day for the first three weeks of my proper retirement, then this October has more than made up for it. There hasn't been a drop of rain and barely a cloud in the sky for 25 days. It's been cool air, blue skies, and leaves slowly changing color, and for the first time in decades, I have been free to enjoy every minute of it. 

It's been fantastic!

Game Time

The neighborhood was bustling in the crisp October sunshine this morning. All sorts of folks were out and about walking their dogs, grabbing some coffee, and shopping the farmers' market. And the roads were busy and stores were doing a brisk business early this afternoon when we ran some errands. But when Lucy and I stepped out later for a walk, the shadows were growing long beneath blue skies, and no one else was around. I glanced at my watch and noted the time; our hometown football team, doing well for the first time in years, was about to kick off.

No Simple Highway

I was thinking of calling my aunt this evening, so I picked up my phone, and the time flashed 6:12. "Okay, okay!" I responded to what seemed like a gentle nudge from spirit. 

My aunt and I had a nice conversation, and when I hung up, a picture of my mom popped up on the memories feature of my phone screen. I tapped it and was treated to a montage of photos of her set to the Grateful Dead song "Ripple." 

I knew why the pictures showed up, but the song? Was entirely random. Five years ago today, I was adding photos to the slide show for my mother's funeral, and there they were again. She was young, she was older, she was laughing with a clown nose on, she was a teenager petting a dog, a grandmother reading to the boys, a traveler sitting in a plaza in Spain. She was dancing with my brother, then bundled up on snowshoes, and then sitting poolside in a bikini at Zaby's Motel. 

And the Grateful Dead sang

If my words did glow with the gold of sunshine
And my tunes were played on the harp unstrung
Would you hear my voice come through the music?
Would you hold it near as it were your own?

Ripple in still water
When there is no pebble tossed
Nor wind to blow

Light Work

I was alone in our community garden today while I cleaned out my raised beds, trimmed the perennials,  harvested the sweet potatoes and the last of the peppers and tomatoes, and stacked the metal cages. And it was just me in the breezy October sunshine as I planted cover crops and spring garlic, shallots, and potatoes and then mulched the beds.

And that was fine.