I’d like to remember 9/11. I got married (the first time) on that date. And now, it’s completely different because of terrorism. The raw pain and anguish has finally subsided this year. Life has moved on. Like other historical horrors, this event has lost its edge. I suppose for an entire generation it will have about the same historical meaning as “Pearl Harbor” which occurred years before my birth. In past years I would post a pic from that fateful day in 2001. Now, it was the beach on that day last year. This year I will be in Scotland. Nothing to note yet, I schedule posts in advance because of my busy schedule. I haven’t forgotten the day…
Oh! I am reminded that we are not neat. Well, about once a year… for company coming to visit. Ordinary! It’s a state of chaos. Our life. We live it. What you see are ongoing projects. We fiber. At least I do and Colleen does and has for quite some time. I spin now. It’s by default. The only way we could ever convert fleece to yarn is with my help. We simply are overwhelmed with too much raw material. Meanwhile we got company. Things were clean for a moment. If you host five little kids, it’s sure to be a mess, just a different sort. Neat for a day: that’s the motto.
It got out of hand. We live in the midst of projects. Sometimes things sneak upon us. We have been quietly blissfully buying sheep fleece. The source! It has to be less expensive to start with raw material. A finished skein is costly $$$. It’s often sold by the ounce and the money quickly adds up. Weaving can be expensive. So, we found ourselves with more unwashed fleece than we knew what to do with. Don’t ask! But it meant a lot of fleece needed washing. And it meant a lot of space was needed to dry it after the wash. No, you cannot put it in the dryer. I told you not to ask! It was already crowded. Now, it’s a mess. We don’t actually have two places to sit and eat among two tables and twelve chairs. Don’t ask!
Elle? Yes, she really is hemmed in by the mess. The cats love it. It’s an obstacle course with lots of hiding places.
… as in, they’ve been constructing this building for years… at least two. We’ve lost track. It was initially a building without windows. None! Then they cut in windows, but not in the back of the building. There is a giant two story garage door there. And then they added the balconies. It might be commercial. But it is at the apex of a triangle intersection with busy traffic on both sides. There is no parking lot. So?? We can’t wait to see what this building is used for. At the rate of construction revisions, it might still be a while…
Can you believe? Yup, we got home and driving along the road…our very own Delaware superbloom. It’s clover. Red! I admit that I have never seen red clover blooming. We saw patches along the road… till we came upon this field. No one else was there to appreciate it. There were no other cars stopped. There were no tourists wandering around and trampling the blooms. Nature put on a spectacular show and no one was there to see it. … maybe they are coming later.
Culturally, red is said to scare lions. So, red is common to most garments of a Maasai warrior. But I detect a tartan influence. Scottish? This photo was snapped in Delaware. It was chilly. Beneath the cloak was a warm set of western style clothing. How does a well dressed Maasai warrior dress? I don’t know. I was too shy to ask.
Third! This is our third. There are defects only the maker can see. Colleen was certain her mistakes stood right out. I failed to see them. But, of course, my mistakes were readily evident – to me. That’s my teacher in the background. I shall remember her as “pack it tighter.” She was always admonishing me – gently – to pack the reed layers tighter. As they dry everything shrinks and loosens. Good advice. I never seemed to be packed tight enough. Maybe I have loose screws too?
How do you pick a photo for posting? No mystery. It just sticks out enough and you want to comment upon it. Sometimes it’s just a scene that you don’t often come across. What? What were five cherry pickers in such a hurry to accomplish? I figure they turned off the power and were in a hurry to finish. It was a lot of trucks. And there were plenty of helpers below just standing around as support staff. One to fix and four to watch. Sounds about right?
My cats are smart. Aren’t they all? They know when we are headed out. In fact, Patch is positively frantic when the suitcase comes out of the closet. I’m told that dogs (maybe cats?) have no sense of time. They sure know when something is about to happen. I whistle and they come to the door in order to go out on the deck. Everyone was gathered. Maybe it was coincidental? I think not. Yes. We miss them when we travel. And they miss us.
“Before the term existed she proclaimed we would marry and had her mother invite me to a “playdate” at age eight. We were in the same classroom 3rd to 6th grade. When I moved we never communicated again. Fifty years later, I was deleting junk emails when Elkins caught my eye in the subject. Another classmate was inviting me to a class reunion, a class I never graduated with. Colleen? Oh, yes, she’s still around, recently widowed. She responded to my email with, “I’m nosy…” Within a month it was true love. Can you say happily ever after?”
I penned this for the New York Times – Tiny Love Stories. They didn’t publish it. Too many other submissions, mine not good enough.
We were classmates in third grade. Yes, many decades ago. Maine called to Colleen. Pemaquid lighthouse was the place, 2014. We returned last fall, the marriage still not complete. You can guess her longing and frustration. It was technical not reluctance on my part. We already live in a home together. Colleen chose our home in a day and I agreed from Saudi. People have said we looked “married.” I suppose we did. “Happily ever after” is not just in fairy tales.
Love is: “never having to worry about the wind in your hair.”