Thursday, September 12, 2002


Luna's eggs are delivered with boastful clucking. Rosie sits modestly, discreetly and she leaves behind brown, classically shaped eggs. Gracie peered curiously in to the boxes, and she sat quietly beside Rosie as she brooded. And yesterday Gracie's time came, and she laid her first egg, next to Rosie's. Rosie's brown egg is speckled, like chocolate flecks across cafe au lait, and Gracie's slightly smaller egg was speckled too, with chocolate flecks on muted mint green.

The boys gathered around Gracie and we all praised her lovely egg. Her breed is known to lay Easter eggs of blue and green. It is still an unexpected sight to see a perfect green egg in a bowl with other perfect, brown eggs. This morning we are listening to hear whether Gracie will cluck with effort and pride, or perhaps she will favor Rosie's humble and shy delivery.

Alex speculated; "Do you think it will have a different flavor, or will it taste the same as the brown eggs?" We are so conditioned to commercial packaging and presentation; I can't help but imagine that Gracie's egg might be chocolate mint flavored with perhaps a small drop of sweet cream filling. Or may be she has produced the first omelet in a shell, with a fresh hint of basil and cheese.

This morning all of the chickens, Sunshine too, are loose in the yard. They made a running dash at the gate when I went to feed them. They must have scratched their strategy in the dirt and rehearsed their escape all night, because they were committed and effective and fast. Moments ago, Sunshine sharpend his beak, pecking at the door beside this computer, and glared in through the window. He evidently has bigger plans; he puffed himself up and gave me one last zap of stink eye, before strutting off to check out the pool and spa.

I'd like to sit and write some more, but Geoff just called; I'm supposed to go to the dumpster and lighten the load for the trash man. The landscapers parting gift was to overload the trash and the pick up service won't haul it away until I have mucked around with it for awhile. Sometimes being witty, strong, and 'at home' is overrated.

Wednesday, September 11, 2002

September 11... A Year Has Passed

This day is too great to be fathomed, too sad to be surmised, too fresh to be healed. This year has been as full of hours and moments, events and passages as any other. One year has passed and yet this day seems impossible; how can it be one year since we bore witness to anguish and fear, confusion and determination?

For weeks and months the grief was at the very surface of every breath. And now? I know where the pain is; there is a hollow pit where the sadness and dismay are a gnawing ache, and circling my head are the fears and questions that go unanswered, unquieted. I have cried and mourned, cooked and cleaned, laughed and remembered, but how can it be a year since our lives were forever altered?

I still grieve for all that was lost. I still grieve for the people who long to feel relief; to feel their pain subside. I grieve for the individuals who were so blinded by hate and ignorance that they sought to destroy what they could not comprehend, what they could not believe in. I grieve for the men and women still living who cannot enjoy freedom, who value acrimony over reason, and who perpetuate ignorance, fear and hostility.

When I hear someone say: "God Bless America," I think, we are blessed already; let's fulfill the power of our blessings and work for a world where all people may live with hope, faith, love and charity. May my deeds and thoughts, my truest moments, reflect the deep caring I feel for those who have lost and for those dedicated men and women who are still giving. May we all continue to find the resolve to share our strengths and resources, our faith in freedom and equality. And may we recognize the true worth of this nation: we are rich in potential and ideals that can overcome prejudice, ignorance and despair. May we acknowledge the world; it is full of caring, thoughtful people.

Thank God a year has passed. Thank God we are still here and we still have the chance to share happiness and memories and love. Thank God we can do the silliest things, make the most sublime gestures and witness the intangible essence of what makes our lives a pleasure. If we cannot give thanks for all that is good, if we cannot live fully and strive to help others fulfill their potential, then September 11th will be a complete tragedy. We are meant to make this world a better place; our lives are meant to be forever altered, so that we may honor the lives of men and women and children who cannot be here.

Monday, September 09, 2002

First Pool Guests

Our first pool guests came yesterday. They shared in the irony; after weeks of very hot, dry weather we have had cloudy and even rainy days. The cold afternoon breeze and the barely 80 degree water temperature were no obstacle to our fun. Adam and Jacob, and William, Max and Alex were undeterred by the chill of the water and they plunged right in. Anne and I are classy, sophisticated women and we didn't feel the need to rush the experience. We entered the water gracefully, reservedly, and we paused to reflect on the serenity of the moment and the cleansing experience of immersing our nubile bodies in to the pool of cool and invigorating water. Just thinking about it gives me goose bumps.

Now, I can't promise dinner to all pool guests, but certainly first time ever, ever guests are entitled to an exceptional reception. And besides, Anne is in training, and I want to believe I have supported her triathletic endeavors. Their visit confirms that this home is best enjoyed shared with friends and family.