Am I the only one who couldn't sleep last night after all those horrific images from Boston? I won't look anymore. The radio is enough. How could anyone be so evil? All I kept thinking about was when my husband ran the 100th anniversary Boston Marathon. His parents, Grandma Joanne and Phil, waited at the finish line with our oldest daughter, Eliza, then in eight grade. Imagine. I can't. I qualifed for Boston six times, but never managed to run it, since training in Alaska for an April marathon is hard.
New Year's resolutions and good wishes really should be made in the Spring, when so much more seems possible than in January.
Here's one I love, from Maxine Kumin's poem, Magellan Street, 1974:
This is the year, in a kitchen
you brighten with pots of basil
and untidy mint, I see how
your life will open, will burst from
the maze in its walled in garden
and streak toward the horizon.
The sun is out, the snow is mostly gone, the geese are back in the ponds on the beach, and my neighbor Betty saw her first hummingbird. No doubt the little guy rode up on the back of a goose. Is that true? Or an old wives's tale? Is it just a coincidence they arrive at the same time? Speaking of sure signs of Spring, I think the Olen Nash Memorial Big Air snowboard competition is this afternoon, although there may be little air and it may be continued tomorrow. The organizers are a bit loose. They are snowboarders.
At Morning Muscles this morning I asked Marnie if the reason my formally achy joints felt so good is because of the yoga cleanse. I mean, does this mean I never can have coffee again?( Ice cream? Pizza? Wine!? ) How will I write another book? The good news is she suspects the daily yoga is to blame. I can probably keep that up at home after we are done. Phew.
Can you tell I heard Dr. Thomas Thornton speak last night at the library on the importance of place names in Tlingit culture? His latest book, Haa Leek'w Has Saax'u/ Our Grandparents' Names on Land, has just won the Alaska Library Association's Alaskana Award, and that was presented last night too-- by the out going AKLA president, Klukwan's own Linda Wynn, which was pretty neat. Actually all of it was-- Wayne Price lent a killerwhale house post he's been working on to the library for the celebration.
About a year and a half ago my friend Rene asked me to write her obituary. While I had all the notes, and was able to visit her a week before she died, I still felt like it was really bad luck to finish it before her life was complete. After she died Monday evening, I went to work. It was hard work, but also so inspiring that I figured I'd share it with you on this Sunday morning when it is running in the Juneau Empire.
If you are heading out for a walk on the beach bundle up. There's a brisk north wind and it's in the twenties-- but oh, the sunshine and the snowy mountains make this time of year so beautiful! My neighbor has been cleaning out her greenhouse, and I've washed a few windows. Also, it's that time of year when a fire feels great at breakfast, but by two all the windows are open. Everyone, it seems is out and about. There were 25 women at choir practice last night. All those voices made us sound so good.
The yoga spring cleanse continues. I feel better today and am only on one cup of half de-caf. My question is, after hearty crock pot beans and rice last night and stewed prunes, apricots and fresh ginger this morning, should I really go to noon yoga?
It's a busy sad day-- writing my friend Rene's obituary. She died Monday night at home in Juneau of breast cancer. One of her last letters said she was living in hope and acceptance. That's seems to me to be the best way to face life-- no matter what your diagnosis is. And that is about all I can say about that right now.
And for some levity here are the pictures I should have posted yesterday of the little family with two dads in my coop--