Pictures I would have taken
Had I had a decent camera:
1. Black crows on a frozen field, recently plowed and rough with clods of dirt and dry grass. About a hundred of them (the birds), also spilling into a walnut orchard next to the field.
2. A row of six old black fence posts topped with white squares of sparkling frost crystals. Sagging wires between posts also festooned with frost.
3. A big circle of clear ice floating within a thin ring of water, reflecting pink clouds in an orange sky at sunrise – the puddle that forms at the end of our driveway when it rains.
4. Tater standing chest deep in the creek holding a long wet stick in his mouth, wearing his red studded Christmas collar.
5. Black-barked trees with bare branches against a painfully blue sky – the thinnest scattering of yellowing leaves still clinging to the very tips of the top branches, like a crown – one twisted and curled into the shape of a tiny bird flying; one happy and generous, like an open hand; one eye-shaped, long and thin, that shivered violently whenever the air moved it.
It's cold here this week! Forty-four degrees in my bedroom the other night; thirty-nine outside at ten o'clock the next morning. Thank goodness for down comforters and wooly head scarves.
On Sundy afternoon in a fit of angst over something I need to talk about but can't, I took myself and the dogs back to the creek to listen to the water falling over the rocks and try to clear my head out. I walked up and down a bit, sat on one of the boulders I like for twenty minutes, then moved to another. Finally I found a place where the rocks are small – not quite gravel, but golf-ball sized – and stretched out on my back next to the waterfall to look at the sky. The ground was cold but the sun was warm. I fell asleep and woke up an hour later with a breeze on my face, leaves in my hair, and a splash of creek water courtesy of Tater's favorite waterfront exercise: "shake your body," a command I use in an attempt to direct his shaking off of water from his fur away from wherever I am standing. Sometimes it works. Sometimes he just shakes wherever he feels like it.
I sat up and covered my face, and when I opened my eyes again, Mr. A was climbing down the creek bank to find me. We went back in and had a fire, and grilled cheese for dinner, and a long movie that felt perfect for the way I'd felt: Remains of the Day.
Today at work I found out that the project I'm now collaborating on, which is supposed to go to press on February 2, is nowhere near where it should be by this stage in the game. My fear is that this lack of planning is going to cause such a time crunch at the last minute that we'll end up with another substandard-looking piece – only this time it'll be my name at the top. So frustrating to have responsibility for the final product without any authority to make things happen, while the people who do have authority have no experience and no idea what needs to be done.
Another day at the office!
1. Black crows on a frozen field, recently plowed and rough with clods of dirt and dry grass. About a hundred of them (the birds), also spilling into a walnut orchard next to the field.
2. A row of six old black fence posts topped with white squares of sparkling frost crystals. Sagging wires between posts also festooned with frost.
3. A big circle of clear ice floating within a thin ring of water, reflecting pink clouds in an orange sky at sunrise – the puddle that forms at the end of our driveway when it rains.
4. Tater standing chest deep in the creek holding a long wet stick in his mouth, wearing his red studded Christmas collar.
5. Black-barked trees with bare branches against a painfully blue sky – the thinnest scattering of yellowing leaves still clinging to the very tips of the top branches, like a crown – one twisted and curled into the shape of a tiny bird flying; one happy and generous, like an open hand; one eye-shaped, long and thin, that shivered violently whenever the air moved it.
It's cold here this week! Forty-four degrees in my bedroom the other night; thirty-nine outside at ten o'clock the next morning. Thank goodness for down comforters and wooly head scarves.
On Sundy afternoon in a fit of angst over something I need to talk about but can't, I took myself and the dogs back to the creek to listen to the water falling over the rocks and try to clear my head out. I walked up and down a bit, sat on one of the boulders I like for twenty minutes, then moved to another. Finally I found a place where the rocks are small – not quite gravel, but golf-ball sized – and stretched out on my back next to the waterfall to look at the sky. The ground was cold but the sun was warm. I fell asleep and woke up an hour later with a breeze on my face, leaves in my hair, and a splash of creek water courtesy of Tater's favorite waterfront exercise: "shake your body," a command I use in an attempt to direct his shaking off of water from his fur away from wherever I am standing. Sometimes it works. Sometimes he just shakes wherever he feels like it.
I sat up and covered my face, and when I opened my eyes again, Mr. A was climbing down the creek bank to find me. We went back in and had a fire, and grilled cheese for dinner, and a long movie that felt perfect for the way I'd felt: Remains of the Day.
Today at work I found out that the project I'm now collaborating on, which is supposed to go to press on February 2, is nowhere near where it should be by this stage in the game. My fear is that this lack of planning is going to cause such a time crunch at the last minute that we'll end up with another substandard-looking piece – only this time it'll be my name at the top. So frustrating to have responsibility for the final product without any authority to make things happen, while the people who do have authority have no experience and no idea what needs to be done.
Another day at the office!
1 Comments:
1. Your descriptions are so vivid, I can easily picture the images.
2. Remains of the Day is one of my favorite movies. I read the book, too, and I think that the movie is one of the best adaptations of a book I've ever seen. Superb.
3. "So frustrating to have responsibility for the final product without any authority to make things happen...."
That was the deal at my last office job. Responsibility but no authority. So frustrating!
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