Shadow Of Young Leaves

Friend gracing my doorway.

 By Maryanna Gabriel 

        Today, I made a new friend perched amid the bolting lettuce. A sign of luck, or so they say. It is a good omen when tree frogs grace my doorway. The month of August always takes me by surprise. Something about the quality of light, the air an inferno, unexpectedly punctuated by sharp shifts in temperature. Often, I am arrested in my tracks as I stare at the shapes of plants, mesmerized by quiet beauty. The garden has made progress from the damage done by the deer, and my current preoccupation is hunting down green beans beneath vast expanses of gigantic zucchini leaves. Tonight the crickets are out, and I scanned the heavens for meteor showers, early eclipses, planetary parades, but none could I see. Just stars. And so many of them, ever reminding me to look up. This poem is very August, so it seemed appropriate. 

In The Fields
                    - Charlotte Mew (1869-1928)

....under old trees the shadows of young leaves
Dancing to please the wind along the grass,
Or the gold stillness of the August sun on the August sheaves;
Can I believe there is a heavenlier world than this?
And if there is
Will the strange heart of any everlasting thing
Bring me these dreams that take my breath away?

Friends In High Places

 By Maryanna Gabriel


Once, not so very long ago, at least it does not feel like it, before rampant inflation, long line-ups at European customs, a fuel crisis, volcanoes, fires, to say nothing of war, I was fortunate enough to tour Provence. Part of that tour was a wine tasting. I don't remember it very well. I do remember admiring the surrounding stone work. I believe I tasted a grand cru, but I'm not entirely sure. It was a hot day. My guess is, a lot was going on, making it hard to focus.

Grand cru. 

This was quite spontaneous. I've been lucky enough to share a Montrachet, which is considered a grand cru.  One has to pay attention to the subtleties.Surprisingly, it had a delicate flavour.

Reason? A very, very, (did I say very?) nice friend brought a bottle. Not only did she bring this special wine from Burgundy, she cooked us a chef's dinner. Reason? Writerly friends visiting - (another brought a delicious assortment of cheeses, the kind to make a woman weep).

Gosh did we have fun. We had so much fun we are doing it again. So my palate got educated, in addition to the stimulation of sharing our writing woes. And joys. One has to fasten special times such as these like a bolster to the heart. A protection against the swiftly changing tides of fortune. Amor fati -  embracing what life brings. 

Tonight I put the contents of my go-to box of wine into the grand cru bottle reasoning the residual fumes from the glass bottle might seep in and transform the concoction to a vineyard elixer. I think it might be working... presentation helps. Raising my glass to kind and generous friends. 

Staying Human

Pink fluffies on the Mimosa. 

      By Maryanna Gabriel

              The Man Who Thinks He Can
          If you think you are beaten you are
            If you think you dare not, you don't
            If you like to win, but you think you can't
            it is almost a cinch you won't.
            If you think you'll lose, you're lost
            For oft in this world we find, 
            sucess begins with a fellow's will
            It's all in a state of mind. 
                                            - Walter Wintle
        

     With the holiday and slow ferries, I got caught in town. So I took myself out to dinner. It was delicious and I loved it. Could not help but notice a couple together, but not together. All they did was stare at their phones while at the same table. It seemed a little peculiar. And lonely.

     Then last night I listened to a podcast from a seemingly aware type of fellow who was wanting to catch a plane. Of the four hundred people waiting at the airport gate, all were transfixed by their phones. Except him. He said he felt like the "only human". It gets like that, doesn't it? A slow creep. An erosion of serenity. Nobody home. All this while reports of artificial intelligence escaping the parameters set by their so-called keepers hits the news. Are we really in charge?

     This morning, I deliberately waited an hour before checking my phone.What happened? An important piece of writing got focused on. Breakfast was peaceful. A day well begun. The recalibration felt fine.

     Tonight I will work on the same goal. It's a matter of focus. Giving my attention to beauty. To the pink fluffies on the tree in the garden. To peace. To a life well lived, one day a time. And preserving my humaness.