journal writings


January 24th, 2022

A cold, dark wet and rainy day, the bottom of the year, all is dormant now and wet and hidden.  Without the near promise of spring, the squirrels and winter birds scratch for fall’s remainders.  Trees wait for a time to revive; they have patience, no hurry, and are settled for now in sleep. Temporary sleep. There is no new news, only last weeks recycled.  Counting toward the passing of illness all about us, keeps life on hold for just a while longer.   Amused with the mundane; dinner will eventually relieve the passing of hours. Routines and obligations pass the time. A good day as any for maintenance.  Begin to search for bright days to follow, they will appear as the time passes, faster than you can hold it in your hand. Prepare for May in full flower, and plan right now.  With optimism, not sadness in any way, remember that you are blessed.  And do not let the day be forgotten.

December 26th, 2022

Where do you want to run today? far away?  Maybe a race for us? Start slow and find your pace, up a short hill, icy roads, slanting rain, bright sun, across the busy streets, now on a path, it is wide enough to run side by side, breathing all of us in sync, we can talk and laugh a bit and stop on the bridge.  Ah the bridge we have been here before it does not seem that long ago, out of breath we slow and stop.  We parse through times and memories, the seasons change right in front of us, seasons do not stop, we know that each minute is precious.  Appreciate the moment, the moments, each one a small pearl, they make a necklace of friendship as time goes on. Run, run, faster now, sprint back down the road, back to the start, slip in alone and together, alone and together is always best. Run and stop and laugh and grasp elbows. 

New Year’s Eve 2022

And just like that the year winds down. Fall drops suddenly, a week of frozen weather hastens nature’s full-on retreat to dormancy, even if warm days intrude once more the landscape knows better, for now.  For many a week of escape and events, travel tribulations, forced fun when we can make it happen.  I always have treasured these quiet days of the year, foggy sunrises, long quiet evenings, run and recover and contemplate the past even as the future awaits.  Did we accomplish enough, what is the measure of that, is it the count of fleeting events, the help we provide to others, the contributions to the greater world, who can pass judgement?  The good grade school Sisters reminded us that we are never content, always looking for the next best thing, because in the end we are all longing for the glory of heaven.  They might have a point.   We were blessed with good health and our families too; we did not accomplish the sum of our planned goals and aspirations, we never do.  It is an old admonition and true; let us look ahead and try to be just a bit better each day, never quite perfect, in fact some days though we reach up and touch heaven’s sky, if only for a moment. I have some goals in my mind and will record and try to achieve them.  I have no regrets for the past, only thankfulness for the gifts of friendship and love that fell upon all of us.  And I hold out optimism for what could be our very best years, in whatever form they take, we truly enrich each other.

February 12th, 2023

The ride home.  The roads are relatively open, and my spirit is well, a hot coffee to sustain me, music of my choice. Climb up out of Austin city proper, the road widens and then narrows on small winding hills. High clouds hide the sun and glare.  Texas is not a beautiful state, but after years of living with it, I begin to see the beauty within its spare forms.  Farmland and small industrial sites, large lots set back from the road hold older ranch style houses, grand in their day.  This time of year is especially precious. Roads are lined with cedar elms, ash, and red oaks; new buds now swelling with a reddish smudge even as they continue to lay dormant for another fortnight.  Deep green grasses emerge from the recent rains, nature is healing in preparation for spring revival, the wildflowers soon upon us.  Light drops just a bit late in the late afternoon, framing the fields, peaceful as it passes by. I am in no hurry.  Past the ancient trading posts and antique stores, all manner of parts and pieces of old on display.  These same “treasures” have probably changed hands a dozen times, bought, and traded again. Just east of Brenham an abandoned drive-in theatre looms large over the road, metal siding missing in sections as it slowly returns to earth, its service complete.

Down into the northern edges of Houston, traffic quickens of course, boats and trucks and speeding sedans; I detour east on farm to market roadway, the sun at my back now.  Housing returns, Five Open Models! New Kentucky Village, is that like old Kentucky in Texas??  The parking lot is packed for Han’s fresh crawfish, an interesting name for a Cajun.  I ease in toward home now, even as many others run local errands on a late Sunday afternoon.  I come to appreciate what the state of Texas gives and takes away, today it gave back to me with its light late in winter caress.  Appreciate every day….