reverse threading

the path back is the path forward


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gaze south. [two artists tuesday]

dogdog pondering copy.jpg

dogdog sits at the edge of the lake and gazes south.  i wonder what he is pondering. south is where home-home is.  south is where his backyard is, where he runs in gleeful circles when the dachshunds next door are out in their yard.  south is where he goes on extended errands in the scion, where unka john comes over, where the upstairs gives babycat space from him and for him.  south is where he barks and rules the domain that is clearly his.

i wonder what he is thinking.  is he wondering what it all means?  is he curious about when he will be home-home next?  is he wondering where we are now?  does he like this location, full of wildlife he hasn’t seen before?  does he like the smaller space, putting us four all together more?  does he like the treat he and babycat get every time we arrive home, the “mom-and-dad-are-home-treat”?  does he like to fall into dreams at “sleepynightnight” time in his familiar crate in a mostly unfamiliar place, next to our bed as usual?

babycat was slower to adjust.  his adjustment came under the bed in the middle room, as he sorted through his “where-the-heck-are-we-and-did-anyone-ask-me-if-i-wanted-to-come?”  eventually he came out from under the bed and started finding that, yes indeedy, there is a bed with the quilt he recognizes that he can sleep on.  and yes, indeedy, “they” brought my favorite toy, the turbo-scratcher-round-circle-chasing-ball toy.  and yes, indeedy, it’s a different food bowl, but it’s the same food.  he has discovered that he can sit by the french door to the deck and watch seagulls and ducks and geese and bald eagles flying past and above.  it’s work but someone has to do it, and babycat is all-in.  yes, all is seemingly well in babycat land now.

adjustments are a bit easier when your unicorn toy and bones and treats and chasing-toy and leash and kibble are there, are the same.

i, too, have sat on the edge of the lake and gazed south.

read DAVID’S thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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slow. slow. [two artists tuesday]

deer in woods copy.PNG

slow. slow.  when we drove home the other day, we realized how very slowly we were moving here on island.  the comparison began the instant we were on the mainland.  we hadn’t driven over 40mph for a couple weeks; suddenly we could feel the push, the frenzy to get somewhere, fast, faster.  it’s pervasive, that frenetic energy, and the closer we got to milwaukee, the more we could feel it.  our heartbeats raced as cars darted in and out of lanes, as horns beeped and drivers gestured impatiently.  no one noticed each other.  they just drove, destination their only intention.

slow. slow.  we walked home the other night.  after porch-sitting and having a short meeting, we ambled down the middle of the road.  no one was coming; no one passed us.  the interruption in quiet would have alerted us to any oncoming car.  we shared the woods around us with a deer, who was still, watching us for signs if we were going to approach.  our pause on the road and our slow movements convinced the deer to not run, but to stay and just be still.  to watch.  an eagle flew above us.  looking up, there was a moment we recognized that this eagle saw us.   the deer, the eagle, noticed us.  we were in the world together in those moments.  no intention but to breathe the same air.

slow. slow.  we are learning, slowly, about this community.  connecting the dots, discerning the culture, perceiving the nuances.  we are studying this place that is our job – a performing arts center with 250 seats on a tiny island you can only get to by ferry.  a step away-away.  a place in which we want to elevate artistry and growth.  we move slowly, thoughtfully.  our intention, our work, the maturing of this place that has been germinated and cared for.  a rich garden, a rich forest of verdant adolescence, waiting to flourish.  slow.  slow.

read DAVID’S thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

feet on the street WI website box

 

 

 

 


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morning lake. [not-so-flawed wednesday]

two birds and an island

the lake wakes up different every day.  our little bay is moody and this pensive morning was not willing to add much color.  water morphed into sky which morphed into water and, were it not for hog island and two birds, it would be hard to tell where they each started and ended.

every day we are on island i will take a picture of the morning lake.  its hues, its movement, its message for the day.

today, as i look at this photograph with two birds and an island, i am quieted into thinking about the day.  in looking at the date, i note that 27 years ago today i lost my big brother.  i wonder if he is gazing out at this morning lake with me.  i wonder if he looks out on the day, its hues, its movement, the message of this good earth’s day.  i wonder if he has snapshots of every morning from heaven.

read DAVID’S thoughts this NOT-SO-FLAWED WEDNESDAY

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the clothesline. plenty of time. [two artists tuesday]

the clothesline

if you are watching hgtv and they are touting the positives of having a washer-dryer combo all-in-one, don’t believe them.  we quickly discovered that the dryer part of the washer-dryer was in name only.  unless you have hours to wait and money to toss for the added electricity, the “dryer” is more like a wringer-outer that removes some of the moisture from your laundry.

and so, on this little island, for this summer, we now have a …. wait for it … clothesline.  after a trip to the mercantile where we bought line and clothespins, d installed it and voila! we have a “dryer”!!!  the breezes off the lake and the sun dry our laundry quickly and dogdog loves to help with the hanging-out and taking-down of clothes on the line.  i feel myself channeling my sweet momma as i shake the clothes taking them out of the basket before hanging, lessening possible wrinkles, and again shake the clothes as i take it them off the line, lessening possible hitchhikers.  it feels like time-ago.  it’s refreshing and pretty heavenly.  there’s plenty of time.  and the laundry dries.

we have found that we needed to slow down a bit here.  we drive slower, for wildlife is everywhere and you must be careful.  we walk slower – in the middle of the road – for there are far fewer cars and no frenzy.  we have fewer errands, for there are not many places to shop.  we see that we will see change slower, for the wheels of progress are big ole tires here, turning slowly as a big tractor down a mottled dirt road.  we wave at everyone we go by, we stop and talk, we laugh about our long tenure here – a whopping fourteen days.  we know we will slowly become a part of this place.  there’s plenty of time.

we were at a new friend’s house high on a bluff in the woods overlooking the lake the other night.  we were telling a story and i said something to our host about not doing nutshells very well; she interrupted my apology and said, “there’s no rush.  tell the whole story.  we have plenty of time.”

you have to plan a little differently with a clothesline.  adjustment is necessary.  a day which dawns rainy and grey will not be a good clothesline day.   and so, you must choose a different day.  for there is plenty of time.

read DAVID’S thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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it’s real life. [k.s. friday]

it's real life sandheart shadows songbox

lists.  we have lists of things to get done today, this weekend, next week.  so.much.to.do.  “…it’s not just romance, it’s not just spark…it’s not just passion, it’s not just flame…” (lyrics)

we are not alone.  real life requires lists.  and lots of hard work.  together.   we lean on each other for the challenges.  we hold each other through the really tough stuff.

we just came back from being on an island where we heard a story about the recent high school graduation.  there were three (3) graduating seniors.  (the school has about 72 students, k-12.)  most of the people on island went to this graduation.  it lasted two hours, with speeches and personally-chosen-songs played by the graduates and a recessional.  it is amazing to think about how many unrelated people watched this ceremony, taking time out of their lives to witness this very important moment in the lives of these young people. it takes a village to raise a child.  yes.

but everyone knows everyone there, indirectly if not directly. deb recommended to never say anything negative or derogatory about anyone because they are likely related or best friends to whom you are speaking. she added, and i agree, that “we should always live like that.”  there is a shirt in her sweet bookshop that already has my name on it and reads:  heart>hate

as we plan our lists and our calendar for this next crazy week, we can see, ever so clearly, that our own village is here to help us.  we lean on each of them for the challenges.  they hold us through the really tough stuff.  it does take a village.  it takes each other.  together.  that is the stuff of real life.

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read DAVID’S thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

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IT’S REAL LIFE from AS SURE AS THE SUN ©️ 2002 kerri sherwood