Sunday, November 13, 2005

These Waters Are My Sky

It is fall. It used to be my very favorite season. The perfectly clear air; the cool crisp mornings & warmish afternoon sunlight; the way the horses bucked.

I think too much now about winter and being cold. I go to bed because I can't seem to get warm. I spend sunny days in the kitchen instead of on the back of a horse. I like the kitchen, I do, but I like the back of a horse better.

The other night the moon had two circles around it, the outer one blue with the ice crystals in the night air. This morning I took note of the perfectly clear air, the few golden and brown leaves still on trees while the most of them made a new and noisy shag carpet for the woods, the unrelenting green of the pines, the faraway blue of the sky with the pillow clouds floating by. I took my coffee on a log in the sun. I thought of everyone I have ever loved.
Posted by Picasa

It is fall and it is my favorite season.

I remember seeing that moon from my childhood bedroom. I dreamed. I woke up. I didn't remember. I remember now but I'm not sure which is the dream. I am in touch with both sides of the rent in my life, the before and the after. Is one dreaming? Is one awake? All is illusion, a stage play.

I pray to take myself to the rapids, to look at something as real and hard and dangerous as Lava Falls, from the high point on its north bank and then dare get in that boat and ride that tongue into where the river falls so precipitously that you can't see it at all but only hear it roar. "Here we go," the boatmen would say every time.

And then I think, is that not exactly what family is? Family and farm? Husband and kids and the life you build together? And when I ask the question twice I hear the roar of the rapids, reduced in drought to the trickle of the back creek. The roar remains in my ears.

"Here we go," is exactly what husband to be said to me on our wedding day.

It is fall and it is my favorite season. There's got to be a buck somewhere.


Rexroth's Daughter said...

Hello Contrary Goddess-- My first time here. I've just spent some time reading some of your posts. You are such a fine writer.
I thought of everyone I have ever loved. This is such a beautiful line, it could be the beginning of so many things.

justrose said...

i have similar thoughts when i am out riding, except about my own preoccupations, but all balanced on the precarious beauty of fall. wonderful post.

curious servant said...

That was very nice.

For some reason Robert RFrost's "Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening" came to mind.

Thank you for your post.

Jim said...




Deb said...

Beautiful writing! Fall is such a bittersweet time, and I too think about how life is the family and the life we build together, and how precarious it all really is.

Keep warm!

the Contrary Goddess said...

ya'll are very nice. I woulda never thought this post would get people to comment, and yet, I remember another one I wrote when my heart felt raw and broken like it did when I was writing this one.

Raw and broken is not a place to live though, only a place to visit.

Joe Tornatore said...

what a clear picture? was it the crystals or the camera or both?