Irises' Allure

It is the time of the irises.  It is the time of the falling cherry blossoms.

In early April, I watch the irises lift up their swords.  The dark buds sway at the tops of the waving stems and the rain falls.  It rains -- dark day after dark day -- sometimes a mist drifting downward and smelling of the coast, sometimes a torrent from bursting clouds.  On those days, I don't see much of the irises' progress.

I associate irises with the old farm my mother's mother was born on.  They used to have giant bearded yellow and blue irises growing in front of the pioneer farmhouse in the woods near Astoria.  Some of the rhizomes used to grow on the hillside below my folk's house long ago -- taller than we were -- but frost or deer or moles got to them and they haven't been seen for decades.

The irises at our house are planted under a cherry tree, and it's easier to watch the cherry's blooming.  As April progresses, the buds above and below begin to show their tightly wrapped packages.

When the buds open, the cherry becomes a giant swab of cotton candy and the dark purple spears of the irises unfurl.

Smelling the iris blooms is what I've been waiting for.  In the early morning, in the afternoon when it's not raining, I go to them and inhale their scent.  The cherries don't smell so much, but irises have a dark base note, like clove, but not as sweet or sharp; like licorice, but not as floral; like sandalwood, but not as volatile; like patchouli, but not as earthy.  It would be too twee to say "they smell like enchantment."

They smell like the perfume of an unconventional aunt who wasn't satisfied being a Pre-Raphaelite's model, and painted her own queens, knights, magicians and sorceresses.  Or an aunt who mixes her own perfume based on her research of ancient civilizations.  Or an aunt who bakes pungent cakes for obscure holidays, like Gazing Globe Day, or Chimes Night, or The Feast of the Invisible.

Perhaps my difficulty describing the scent is why I like it.  It is strong, it is unique, it is deep -- and by the time we're past the mid-point of Spring, they'll be memory.

Ruminations on The Path

Recently, I critiqued a manuscript that straddled the line between a blogging and memoir.  The manuscript's format and subject matter (showing, telling, praxis, faith, knowledge, and finding one's path) made me think about my own blog, and how lately it's gone from thinking about ideas and the examined life to "weather is here; wish you were fine" with Cat Pictures.

I blame some of the blog's straying on my Winter Writing Malaise.  Some of it is losing my focus.  Some of it is simply enjoying posting photos of our pets and the skies.  Some of my idea-lite posts come from only posting how many reps I did at the gym; which isn't a bad thing as far as accountability goes -- but I'd like the blog to be more than a mere gym ledger entry.

Coincidentally, I was having a discussion with The Child about What He Wants to Do With His Life. His current aspiration is to become a Rich and Famous Video Game You-Tuber (I think).  During the course of our discussion, he rattled off three names:  I didn't recognize one; one I know as a profane swearer; one I don't approve of because of his slurs.  On one hand, it's probably a good thing that the You-Tuber I refer to as "Yammerhead" wasn't on the list--but neither was the Kind and Curious Minecraft You-Tuber from about six years ago.

"So," I asked near the end of our discussion, "What is it that you're actually going to offer?"

"I'm going to post games reveal videos.  I'll probably put in some click-baity reaction-video stuff so I get five thousand likes -- that's when you start to make money as an affiliate."

"Yes, that's great" I said, "but what is your content going to be?  What will you have to offer that would make people want to watch your You-Tube channel?"

He gave me a look that anyone whose parents didn't understand that their garage band, or poetry, or painting was a one-way ticket to the big time gives to their out-of-it parents.

This whole entry is reminding me of The Hermit tarot card.  The Hermit, as a part of his journey, lifts his lamp up so that other travelers on the path can see where they might go.  I have to say, though, that I never thought of The Hermit as an Internet Influencer.

Animals and Everything

Week four? of Shelter in Place.  We continue to work and study from home.    I drive the car some place once a week just to keep it moving.  We walk place or hang out outside when it's nice.   What I do notice when I drive, is that traffic is very light, but that there's two or three instances of loopiness from other drivers making interesting choices or random pedestrians crossing the street in random fashions.

Stuck my head out of the window this morning (Wednesday), thinking that I might see the Lyrid meteors, but it was raining.  The last few days have started out overcast, but have cleared by mid-afternoon.  The snow

Some time in the night, a bag of dog treats had spilled -- I suspect a midnight snack raid -- and there was about 2/3rds of a cup of treats on the kitchen floor.  If I had been more properly awake, I would have swept them up -- but the dog was happily hoovering them up.  Later, it crossed my mind that maybe the kibble wasn't proper dog food.

On the Writing Front:  did a final pass on a 6900 word story by having the computer read it back to me.  I've been polishing for a while, so the process caught only a few odd places where there was a missing "the" or some other word-o.

I should put more stories into the mail.  One of the last items, which I thought had been in the slush for 90 days, apparently had been rejected after 5 days and the reply was stuck in my spam filter or something.

On the Gym Front:  Did my Power Walk, only without music this time.  On the plus side, the music keeps my tempo up; on the minus (?) side, having the soundtrack makes me pay attention to the surroundings differently.  I am unsure if having the soundtrack makes me more engaged with the neighborhoods I walk through (because I'm compensating for not hearing soft sounds) or if the soundtrack engages the woolgathering part of my mind that pulls me out of the world when I walk.  Came home and did some free weight work; looped an elastic loop over a cherry tree branch and did some cable pull-downs.

On the dream front:  I haven't exactly been having the intense dreams that some folks have been having because of COVID19 lockdowns.  I did have an intricate "back at Reed, failing Physics, freshly-discovered missing attendance" anxiety dream, which I'm going to attribute to an unsettled stomach this morning.  I had an intense advising meeting with Del Rhodes--who in real life was the head of the Psychology Department, but in the dream was a perky Physics Professor.   I can't recall the conversation verbatim, but she said something ambiguous, which I took the wrong way, and replied with a pointed remark, but after some back-and-forth, we ended up on the same academic plan.

On the animal front:  Aoife and Smokey just now had a nose-to-nose meeting.  Smokey was in the windowsill.  There was no growling, barking, howling, snapping, or claw swiping.  Mark says Cicero made some kind of wailing noise from outside the window (which I think I heard from the next room) along the lines of "Oh, Smokey! You're gonna die!"   There's apparently a second meeting going on in the Cat Sanctuary, so I better go see what's going on.

Moon, Mars, Saturn, Jupiter

This morning at 5:20 I managed to pull myself out of bed and photograph the morning sky.  The Moon, Mars, Saturn and Jupiter were lined up east to west.  At first I wasn't going to.  I really would have preferred to photograph the morning before, when the moon would have been about thirteen degrees to the west, underneath Saturn, and I could have composed a picture about a quarter of the size (and with greater resolution).  And I would have, if yesterday morning hadn't been completely overcast (the day before had been clear!).  But, this morning, the planets shone bright.

I trooped out in my slippers and PJ's and set up the tripod on the other side of the street.  I supposed I must look like Arthur Dent, the kids from Narnia, or possibly an absent-minded professor.    Smokey and Cicero joined me -- between the advent of the dog and the clear weather, they've been spending a lot of time out of the house.  I think they weren't expecting food.

Yesterday I did some marketing and got discouraged over one very short story that hasn't found a home; it's been through the usual professional markets, none of the semi-pro markets seem right for it (wrong theme or they only want reprints or they're closed), and I found myself thinking about self-publishing it..... and on one hand it seems like a cop-out, and on the other hand I'd have to call myself "Fit-Of-Pique Publishing," and on another hand do I really want to put stories out there that might not have been picked up for a reason (although I suppose I could call myself "Glowing Rejection Press")?

On the gym front, I did my power-walk Wednesday evening...and I'm wondering if I might try the jogging path again to see if my knee joints have beefed up enough to not bother me jogging.  The power-walks are fun and all, but I feel like I'm not getting enough of a workout.

Sheltering in place is going well all things considered, but it is wearing on my nerves.  We're very lucky: no one in the house is sick, we are able to work remotely, on nice days we can escape to the backyard, and so far our immediate families are healthy.   Occasionally the cabin fever does strike me and I have to resist the shriek trying to climb up my throat and the urge to run berserk into the street.  As soon as it's safe to do so -- which probably means next October -- I want to dance in a drum circle or go clubbing or something.

Blurry Days and Animals

Isolating in place at home and working remotely has made the weekdays blur together.  It's an odd feeling working with less physical boundaries between work lives, home lives, and family lives.  I'm getting a touch of cabin fever, the treatment for which is physically leaving the house for a power walk or to get food.  Mark is working from home (most days), as am I.  The Child is attending his classes remotely.  Mostly,  we're managing to give each other enough space.

On the dog front, the cats have moved from fear and grief to anger.   Okay, and a little indifference.  Mostly.  Smokey was going to do something about That New Creature the other day when Aoife came into the bedroom while Smokey was on my lap, but I was able to negotiate a peaceful retreat with the use of a blanket.

I connected with a FaceBook group that watches a local pair of bald eagles (and their arch-enemies, the ospreys).  There's a nest that's visible (at least until the leaves come in) from a local Willamette River path, so I fled the house with my camera and managed to get a photograph or two -- mostly of eagle beak.  It's not quite as concentrated bird as The Raptor Center, but at least it's open.

On the writing front:  staying home means I'm actually at home before 1:30, so I've had lunch and I'm actually writing by 2.  Some friends have started up writing groups in Zoom, which seems to work as far as motivation.

On the gym front:  well... I've been doing power walks, so that's better than nothing.  Aoife makes doing mat exercises difficult.

Court of Wands Lizard

Here's a lizard.









I'm not sure what kind of lizard it is, although I'm pretty sure it's not a Blue-Bellied Lizard.








It was following a curb; I managed to get ahead of it and stood very still  and was rewarded with it scampering up to my shoes.








It reminds me of the lizards that Pamala Coleman Smith drew on the court cards for the suit of Wands.  








I always tell myself that nature close-ups like this will be useful for when I want to sketch, but the truth is I usually end up forgetting I have a photo resource to work from when I finally sit down with paper and pencil (or screen and mouse) to try to create an image.

Cute Wildlife

Friday afternoon, I was writing outside.  The weather during the first part of the week had been cold and rainy.  As I usually say during boundless stretches of grey:  "we can always use the rain, but if the sun doesn't come out soon I'm going to curl up under my electric throw until the light returns."

Now that Spring is here, we should get more days where there's a terrific mix of sunshine, cloudbursts, and rainbows.

Last Friday was bright and warm, and a good day for writing at Café John (the outside patio table with an umbrella).  The new fountain was on and bubbling, and providing a soothing sonic backdrop.   I had my slippers off and was warming my feet on the deck,  working on the order of scenes in a 7000 word short story (do I go back and forth between the three time periods, or do I just tell the whole thing chronologically?  The first part feels YA, should I just accept it, or should I try cutting out the early parts of the story as backstory that's driving to the last scenes...?)



A flash of yellow caught my eye, and I saw a goldfinch on top of the fountain.  This was surprising because I thought the flowing water would make it difficult for a small bird to find purchase on the stone's polished surface.  The bird splashed around a bit, then flew off to the blooming cherry tree and came back with a friend.  They proceeded to take a bath.   The whole scene was what I would have called "Terminally Cute" in my Reed College days, and what Mark and I usually call "Oogie-Boo!"






To clarify, they weren't being Snow White Disney Birds Cute, nor were they being Flower Fairies Twee.





I grabbed my camera, set the ISO to 1600, and snapped a few shots from just inside the sliding patio door.  Reviewing the photos later, I discovered that the camera can resolve drops of water flying through the air.










There were no mystic signs of ornithomancy later.  Or sudden appearances of elegant ball gowns, either.








I'm sure once the cats overcome their fear of the new dog and venture once again into the backyard, they'll be quite pleased to discover the new water-powered cat-feeder.

More Venus

I was fiddling around with my camera the other night taking photographs of leaves illuminated by streetlights and noticed Venus framed by some branches.  Since Venus is returning to the Sun's glare, it's going to become more difficult to see over the next few months.  Figuring that I should take advantage of a clear night with a still very bright Venus in it, I took a photo.

Later, when I going through the night's shots (mostly blurry, shadowy leaves), I discovered I'd also managed to catch the Pleiades as well.

Three Objects

I was going through my camera roll yesterday and something about these photographs--probably that they're all spherical objects lit from one side--suggested grouping them together.

Venus Leaving The Pleiades

Last Sunday night, Mark took the dog outside for her final play session and called back into the house, "I see Venus!"

I had given up any hope of seeing Venus anywhere near the Pleiades, especially as it had been raining a few hours before.  But I scurried around the house, assembled the camera and tripod, and managed to get some passible photos of Venus, uh, leaving the Pleiades star cluster.  The northwestern sky was relatively clear; a river of clouds hugged the southern sky, and the eastern sky was palled over with overcast and torn veils.   It would have been nice to have Venus in the cluster, but hey--two days after is what I was able to get.

I took several shots, then spun the camera around for some arty shots of the moon in the clouds.

Cats, Dogs, and Quarantine

Day something of self-isolation with the family.  We're doing fairly well, also I am a little stir-crazy.  I would very much like to go to a dance party right now.  Last weekend the sunlight made being in the back yard pleasant.   However, starting last Tuesday, the weather has been cold, wet, and overcast.  We need the rain, but I could do without sunless skies (and more rainbows).   I was also disappointed that the clouds hid a conjunction of The Moon and The Pleiades on Friday (and Thursday and Saturday) night.

Aoife, the new puppy, has settled into the house.  So far we've pretty much established that she's a stick dog, she's a car-ride dog, and she's a frisbee dog.  She loves us, and once social distancing isn't such a big deal, we'll work on socializing her.

The cats are still annoyed.  We've established our bedroom as the cat sanctuary, and Mark occasionally opens the door and stands with the dog while the cats furtively eat their meals.   Mark usually times some long-ish dog walks around meal times so the cats can come out of our bedroom to skulk and sniff.  The down side of all this is that that cats frequently want to leave the room at 3:30 AM and wake us to open a window.   If we're not stealthy enough, the dog hears us rustling around and wants to be let out of her crate in The Child's room.

It's slowly paying off.  The cat's aren't in a complete panic when they see the dog.  Aoife has always been mildly curious in a "let's play" kind of way about them, but is otherwise uninterested in the cats... unless she thinks they are intruders on the front porch, in which case they get an "intruder alert!" bark through the front window.   Smokey ventured out, took a strategic position on the table, glared with Great Glaring, then forgot that Aoife had fallen asleep on the couch while Mark and I were watching a Wooster and Jeeves movie.  I didn't see Smokey's face when Mark stopped him from jumping onto his lap -- which coincided with Smokey realizing that the brindled pillow was Actually A Sleeping Brindled Dog! -- but Mark said it was priceless.  Mark was also thankful he had avoided getting his lap shredded to ribbons.