Category: Wild Card

A LITTLE AFTER THE FACT

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

So there we were a few days ago, finishing our Chinese dinners before dashing down the street to choir rehearsal. After cracking open my fortune cookie, rather than reaching into my pack for my eyeglasses, I asked my companion if he’d read my little slip to me. (Ah, the joys of getting older.)

After he recited my fortune, I replied, “You’re making that up, right?”

I was rather impressed, actually, and he does have a great sense of humor. Not bad for improv.

“No, here it is. You read it.” Which I did:

You are a lover of words someday
you will write a book.

COULD IT BE?

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

Glancing out the dining room window this morning, I realized there was something my wife should see.  So it was something like, “Hey, Honey, you need to take a look.”

There was no snow in our yard. None. Nada. The last of it had melted overnight.

Even by New England standards, this has been an exhausting winter. Usually, it’s either below-normal cold or above-average snowy. Not both, not like this one. I don’t remember this many single-digit and subzero nights, and here on the seacoast, our year’s total snowfall came to more than nine feet. Boston, as you may know, had the most in its weather history, beginning somewhere in the 1880s, I think.

And then there were all the Sundays when church services were cancelled — it was just too dangerous to get out on the slick roads. Well, I’m told we did have a few people show up on cross country skis to sit in silent worship.

New Englanders are usually a hardy lot and simply suck up to the weather. But for the past month, there’s been grumbling. Lots of it. This endless oppression really dampens the spirit. Do I want to write? Nah. Read, nah, except that I have read some powerful novels lately. I am finally swimming laps indoors, but that’s a big effort that leaves me ready to do … nah. As for the indoor house projects? Where’s the energy?

On top of it, this has been a winter of funerals for us. A few parents of high school students. Others my age or older — cancer, pneumonia, Parkinson’s, a brain infection. It’s not our usual experience.

I’ll have to check, but my memory suspects we had snow in November and I know there was more in early December, which unfortunately melted off by Christmas. But the pattern returned in January and just kept coming. Just as we thought we were seeing light at the end of the tunnel, three fresh inches hit us Wednesday and Thursday, which means snow’s fallen here in six straight months. And you thought winter was three?

As a matter of clarity, let’s remember the greenhouse warning was not “global warming” per se but “climatic instability,” which we’re seeing in aces. Many of our snowfalls had me wishing the precipitation was instead piling up in the Cascade Range of the Pacific Northwest, where it’s needed to sustain the orchards as irrigation water all summer. Those folks have solid reason to worry.

Here, spring’s coming late, contrary to some of the photos I’ve been posting — the one’s showing what would be happening in a normal year. The ones I scheduled based on past calendars.

Still, the warmth is returning. The sound of lusty birds greets the dawn, along with Harley-Davidsons through the day and early evening.

Two afternoons now have been warm enough to sit in the loft of the barn and curl up with a martini and a Paris Review — and look up through the open hay door to view a parade of dogs walking people past the end of our driveway.

At the moment, it’s mid-morning gray and drizzle — a reminder of Puget Sound, for me — with temperatures in the 60s. Good opportunity to run to the beach to collect seaweed for mulching the garden.

Now that’s a true sign of spring.

KEEPING IT NEAT

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 3 Comments

Barb Knowles of the blog saneteachers has nominated me for a Real Neat Blog award, and I thank her for the nod. If you’re not yet familiar with her site, let me tell you that anyone who knows what an Oxford comma is ranks high in my book — especially after all of those years as a journalist when I couldn’t use them on my paying job, contrary to my own standards. Here, though, things are different.

Allow me to confess, though, I’m of mixed mind when it comes to these awards. On one hand, WordPress (especially) is filled with marvelous bloggers who deserve wider recognition. On the other hand, I’ve found that trying to nominate others can be, well, embarrassing when you find they’ve already received that award somewhere in their past, even before coming up with fresh questions.

A while back I resolved to pass on these things, but then the temptation of participating can be fun. And then there’s that matter of time itself, which on this end will soon involve some major home and garden projects. Alas.

So here I am, looking at the seven questions, which I’ll tackle. But for now, I’ll wait before nominating others or coming up with seven new questions for them. Unless, of course, you’d like me to nominate you (go ahead, be bold and ask). After all, if you’re dropping by the Barn, you’re already cool — in all due humility. Any volunteers?

real-neat-blog-award1Here goes:

If you were alone on a deserted island with only one book, which would it be? 

Make it the Bible. Not for the reasons most folks would assume — like what God’s trying to tell us. Rather, there’s plenty to chew on here about just being human, pro and con. And Wycliffe and Tyndale (those courageous early translators) do shape our English language, more than Shakespeare, actually. Your followup question would be which translation to pack, and there I’m stumped — I use many, each one adding nuances to the close-to-the-grain sources. By the way, are we to assume it’s a long stay on that island?

What is your favorite color and why?

Blue. Intense electric blue, the shade befitting Aquarius, the color of the clearest sky. Or its cousin, cobalt, the call of the North Atlantic on a clear day a few miles from where I live.

I like favorites, so what is your favorite song?

Since you didn’t ask about symphonies or sonatas or operas or chamber works, I’ll look at song as something that’s sung — in a form other than the traditional A-A-B-A musical form plus verses. (Bet you weren’t expecting that response!)

As a baritone in a choir, I’d put Sicut cervus, a Palestrina motet from the Renaissance, up there, along with a fuguing-tune anthem, Euroclydon, by the Colonial American William Billings.

Now you have me wondering about having the whole choir on that desert island. The plot thickens.

If you could make a memory, what would it be?

Our first grandkid. Leading to my learning to change a diaper. (I jumped in as a stepfather, later in the game.)

If you could join a TV show (present or past) and be a new character on that show, which one would you choose?

Mozart and the Jungle could use a third conductor. Maybe a sane counterpoint, mentor for Rudolfo? Or maybe just to send the older one back to Cuba?

What’s your ringtone?

Ringtone? Tracfones have them? Mine’s whatever I inherited back when.

Where were you born?

Ohio.

SNOW MUCH SNOW

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 5 Comments

It’s snowing again, a nor’easter that’s expected to drop up to 15 inches on us before dawn. That’s on top of 5 or so a little over a week ago, plus last Tuesday’s 30-inch blizzard blast and Friday’s 7.5. That’s close to 5 feet of snowfall in a week-and-a-half and we still have two more winter months left – the two that traditionally can get the biggest totals, especially if we settle into a twice-a-week storm pattern as we seem to be.

Admittedly, even with subzero and single-digit lows, some has melted between rounds, but much of that’s also refrozen into compacted snow and ice below the surface. The landscape’s getting wild, even before the next foot or so expected later in the week. Add to that the monster icicles clinging to the eaves – cold claws growing at our windows.

I keep looking out at the falling, windblown flakes and at the driveway and pathways that are already obliterated again. With an overcast sky, half of the landscape appears to be erased from existence.

This is hardly the quaint Currier and Ives stereotype of New England winter. It’s the reason barns and outbuildings were connected to the farmhouse itself. In earlier times, it could prompt madness and a feeling of being buried alive, with or without others.

Nowadays, we usually have recourse to mobility and entertainment throughout all but the worst outbursts – or the increasingly common power outages.

Still, it’s such a relief to not be commuting to and from the newsroom these days, but that’s no cause for smugness as I consider so many workers who must venture forth in public service.

And here comes a city snowplow, making one more pass down our street – and adding to the blockage at the end of our driveway.

Back to the digging, then. Round by round.

WHAT A SHOW!

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 2 Comments

As much as I keep the outdoors Christmas lighting around our place to a minimum — usually strands around the bay window and entryway — we also keep ours going through most of January, as does a much more elaborate neighbor two doors down the street.

But that doesn’t keep us from appreciating those who go all out on this front, especially folks with an artistic flair.

This year, though, we’ve learned of a teenager who’s been doing something remarkable at his home for the past five years — something so remarkable he’s also done City Hall this year, which we’re anticipating viewing this week as soon as the glitches are ironed out and it’s back running. The bit I saw Thursday night was jaw-dropping.

But we did drive on to see what he’s up to. Trust me, there’s no way to describe what this kid does with a computer and 8,000 LED lights. He’s set it all to music and a seemingly infinite number of variations on motion, coloring, and timing. It’s quite mesmerizing, although I think I’m getting a headache from the afterglow in my head. Still, to get a faint idea of what he’s up to, you’ll just have to click here.

You just might find it worth a trip to Dover.