suffused with transitions...

This week has been suffused with transition: garden plots cleared and nourished, top soil collected and spread, autumn leaf debris discarded in a vernal landfill, fallen acorns scattered in the scrib while new/old music and poetry is rehearsed, refined, and realized in solidarity with our new Afghan neighbors. Magenta buds now frame the large trees of the wetlands as hazy greens and greys try to peek through the still awakening shrubs. And as in nature, so too our wee band of artists, poets, and musicians: with wintertide slowly shifting into spring, our informal January cadre of bi-weekly rhythmic explorers has incrementally ripened into a disciplined core of Eastertide pilgrims hellbent on turning songs to prayer and then back into shouts of joy, lamentation, and trust. We've got Motown and Horace Silver, Springsteen and Foo Fighters as well as Mary Chapin Carpenter, Carrie Newcover, CSN&Y, Creedence, Doobies and a taste of funk. Mary Oliver claims this moment with clarity:

I lift my face to the pale flowers

of the rain. They're soft as linen, 

clean as holy water. Meanwhile,

my dog runs off, noses down packed leaves 

into damp, mysterious tunnels.

He says the smells are rising now

stiff and lively; he says the beasts

are waking up now full of oil,

sleep sweat, tag-ends of dreams. The rain

rubs its shining hands all over me.

My dog returns and barks fiercely, he says

each secret body is the richest advisor,

deep in the black earth such fuming

nuggets of joy! 

We slept late, chatted over tea and toast about the week to come, then went  our separate ways to welcome our respective chores: she sorting piles of who-knows-what in her study while I hauled humus and top soil to the raised garden beds and raked more leaves. Later, we joined together to meet Jesus in our live streaming Eucharist and returned thanks for Mary Magdalene. As I look forward, there's another five days of reclaiming this year's soil from last winter's melee to embrace but it will have to wait on the music and logistics that must take shape and form first. There's a uke class or two, online lessons, and a L'Arche meditation to share as well. As the sun sets, it's time to return thanks for a day of gratitude.