One New Message

Afternoon Glow, by Robbin Hartridge

It's the magic hour
when the day yawns wide
after a nap between long shadows.
A tide of translucent orange
seeps out from under the sculpture studio
while it waits for imagination to stir.

If you aren't paying attention
you will miss it,
the way you forget to look for
the stand of deer peering curiously at you
from the side of the road
as you speed by on your way to
a place you will forget by tomorrow.
If you notice, you would see an
elixir of apricot, blended with mellow peach,
and tangerine marshmallows -
the glow of afternoon,
a cousin to the sunset the way
the moon tethers to the Earth.

She carries magic with her,
wears it like a dress covered with
a garden of roses -
petals heavy with the scent of autumn rain.
Her glow begins from interior places
spreading out to touch
all who are close by,
leaks out the far corners of the house
with the buttery, emulsified fragrance
of a well-seasoned kitchen.

The quiet magic of late afternoon,
the washes of colored light painted
by kindly gestures
reaching out to a wanting world,
let it spread out like welcome assurance
to take the chill off of anxious hesitation.
Help us to remember that the
apricot, tangerine and peaches of glowing
hearts ripened in late afternoon,
can do more to warm cold fixations
than the rush of self-appointed speed
towards the place
we will have forgotten by tomorrow.

Photo by Ann Savchenko on Unsplash

As so often happens — increasingly so, it seems to me — I had a post nearly written, and then life happened. Things in my personal life happened. Things in my country happened. Things in the world happened. You know the world we are living in, so you know. Suddenly, everything I had written seemed outdated. Poof! Just like that — all those pearls of wisdom turned to dust.

(If they were even pearls of wisdom to begin with . . . )

I have spent a great deal of the past few weeks dealing with the medical issues of one of my beloveds, including hours and hours spent at the hospital bedside. No chance to write. No heart (or brain!) for coming up with a message. So, I have found myself shifting gears, changing direction, trying to “get a purchase” on things (a phrase my father used to insist originated from New England vernacular). In a boat that seemed rudderless, at least temporarily.

Meanwhile, while I have been wrapped up in radio silence, I have received a bunch of new subscribers to this blog. I am not sure how or why that happened (Substack being something of a mystery to me), but now I feel even more compelled than usual to say something. Plus, people who have been subscribing for a while have increasingly asked, “When are you going to post something again?”

So, here I am.

I won’t pretend things are easy now. You would spot me for a fool instantly, if I did so. But this is “One Good Thing,” and I am here to report that, even amidst the chaos and difficulty, there is still good in the world. Robbin Hartridge’s poem encourages me to look for it. It also reminds me that, because I have seen beauty before, I can dredge it up from my memory — these days when beautiful sunsets are, literally and metaphorically, thin on the ground. You have doubtless seen beautiful sunsets, too, so you know. You have doubtless experienced some good things, too, so you know.

The truth is, there are sparks of joy all around me. Like the sun and wind that presented the first opportunity for me in months to hang laundry outside on the line a couple of weeks ago. And the fragrance of fresh laundry that later wafted through the house when I brought the laundry inside.

And then the obvious, but no less miraculous: The daffodils jamming their determined and hardy leaves up through the still-somewhat-frozen soil where enough snow has melted to expose the earth to sun.

Then there were the offers to help that came our way when my family needed some assistance. Neighbors, friends, church members bringing food. Visitors traipsing to the hospital, and even here at home, to see my beloved — conversing, or reading a quiet story, or simply being with him. A friend even brought his cribbage game over so that my beloved could play. And I cannot fail to mention the Snow Shoveling Fairy, who cleared away the berm at the end of our driveway when a storm blew through our area.

And how about this? The brand-new baby in my family, and the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit that is providing such meticulous for him. The whole idea of NICUs in the first place is an amazing and good thing. And new babies make love and hope bubble up, even in the toughest of times.

On the funny side of life, there’s this: I had been knitting a Melt the Ice red hat of resistance for a friend to wear at No Kings on March 28. Of course, the combination of my being both the World’s Slowest Knitter and the World’s Biggest Procrastinator meant I was down to the wire on Friday the 27th. The hat was nearly finished — literally only a couple of rows from the end — when I did something dumb that I don’t understand and can’t even describe. I couldn’t see how to undo my error. That sent a panicky me, with the cheery company of a friend, over to Halcyon Yarn in Bath, where I knew someone smarter than I would be able to straighten things out. Of course, Halcyon Yarn untangled my missteps, but you know what else? They also explained that the hat looked a little odd because I had been knitting it inside-out and backwards! Don’t even ask me how. Apparently, I have a special talent. Who knew that finishing up that hat would end with a hoot of laughter?

I have actually made two of these hats so far. This is the first one, which, by some miracle, I did not knit inside-out or backwards. Maybe that’s because I got so much help from Somebody, as you can see.

Well, the hat turned out just fine. I delivered it to my friend late Friday afternoon. On Saturday it made its debut appearance at the No Kings rally here in town. I was at that rally, too, wearing my own Melt the Ice Hat (shown above). The weather was very cold, with a bitter wind blowing through the area. But that did not diminish the warmth I felt from friends who stopped to chat or from the collective crowd of people resisting authoritarianism and tyranny, or from the many honks and waves from people driving past. The fact that the concerns of our local group were echoed by millions of people all over the country and even the world lifted my spirits considerably. There is nothing quite like experiencing the solidarity of so many people who promote freedom, kindness, decency, justice — and, oh, all the things a safe and free society needs.

Based on my experiences in the past few weeks, if I have one new message, it is this: Slow down. Pay attention.

Yes, attend to all that is broken and needs your care. But do not forget to attend to beauty, joy, humor, and helpfulness. Those things will feed your hurting heart and soul. Those things will sustain you through the tough times. Those things will give you strength for the journey. So, notice them.

My beloved is home and recovering well. My little cat is happy to have his family intact again. The so, so many people who gave us material help and who reached out with their hearts are a blessing to us.

And how can I fail to mention this amazing fact: I have been invited to join a group of knitters to produce more Melt the Ice hats. Me! With my dubious track record! I plan to join. Maybe I can even learn how to knit right-side-to and in a forward direction

The world offers up some amazing and surprising ways to lift the spirit sometimes. When trouble comes your way, I wish the same for you.

Love,

Sylvia