Monday Morning Musings:
“No live organism can continue for long to exist sanely under conditions of absolute reality; even larks and katydids are supposed, by some, to dream. Hill House, not sane, stood by itself against its hills, holding darkness within; it had stood so for eighty years and might stand for eighty more. Within, walls continued upright, bricks met neatly, floors were firm, and doors were sensibly shut; silence lay steadily against the wood and stone of Hill House, and whatever walked there, walked alone.”
–Shirley Jackson, The Haunting of Hill House
“(“Do not equate nationalism with patriotism,” Perry warned Juliet. “Nationalism is the first step on the road to Fascism.”)”
–Kate Atkinson, Transcription
A storm comes and roars,
in waves upon the shores
and tears through towns
with rains and winds—the sounds
of climate wars
where there were homes
there’s now a void–
so much destroyed.
Here we have only some rain and wind
nothing unmoored, nothing unpinned
from where it should be
the only horror we see
comes on TV,
where things go bumping in the night–
though not as scary as reality
yet we wish and keep hope afloat
that we’ll live to see things be all right.
Once we had a president who sang “Amazing Grace,”*
now we have one without a trace
of empathy or wisdom,
separating families,
putting them in prisons
behind barbed wire—
and who does he admire?
Dictators!
(and those who feed his ego—
please all of you, just go!)
So, as the days get dreary
I try to be cheery,
find color in pumpkins and leaves
that fall on ground and eaves.
I cook and bake
Homemade pizza
Artisan Bread
hope to shake—
if not the world—
then wake a few,
hope and wish,
the good and true
will outlast, outshine
redefine the new.
On a chilly day,
we brighten our spirits
with family, a dog, and wine
spend time conversing
about this and that
we chat about birth
(with a bit of mirth)
as my son-in-law is studying
to be a nurse–
(quite a path he’s traversed
to get there)
and we sit as children ask
to pet their cute pup—
until at last the time is up
and we must go
our separate ways—
well, it’s getting too chilly to stay.
Clouds over William Heritage Winery
I wake to morning mist–and sigh
think, today, I’ll take my apples
and bake a pie.
We’ll eat it as evening
darkens the room
perhaps to brighten
fall’s impending gloom.
The cats will sleep on cushions nearby,
and we will bid the day goodbye.
*I was reminded of this when I heard Joan Baez on the New Yorker Radio Hour. Here the song is illustrated in a lovely, moving short animated film.
We watched the first episode of Netflix’s sort of adaptation of the Haunting of Hill House. The original movie terrified me. I thought the first episode of this version (if you can get over that it’s not actually an adaptation of the story) was OK, but not great. But we will watch the next episode.
But we also watched the movie Eighth Grade–which really was wonderful–even though we all know that age has its own horrors.
I’m reading Transcription by Kate Atkinson. It’s wonderful.
