I wake up early again, do my morning writing (the usual nonsense, really, I wonder if they serve any purpose) and check e-mail where not one but two friends send me the thrilling news that Karl Rove may be indicted next week. A chink in the armor so that maybe there will be more speaking truth to power, something I wrote about this morning as personally needing a bit more of in this American life. These days when a performer from Comedy Central is channeling the zeitgeist of those of us who have to be in the majority, wingnuts and moonbats aside, when that's where truth, veiled behind jokes and laughter.
Highlights of my less-than-exciting week as I make my my way back to writing after the disruption travel always is for me:
--Back to work, to writing, with Balthazar the whip-cracking cat, ever eager to meow at me to get busy so he can sit on my lap while I type.
--Finding the lotus vine and the double-blossomed wave petunia at Shonnard's nursery and hanging them outside: sure sign spring has arrived. And the opulent fuchsia at Homegrown, so huge it's hard to find the dirt in the pot when it's time to water.
--Bruce Springsteen's new album, We Shall Overcome. Songs made famous by Pete Seeger, brought back to life and zip in this live recording with a backup band of fiddles, banjo, accordion, who knows what else, to make it all sound rollicking, thunderous, joy-filled, nostalgic and alive. I'd forgotten how much I like the old songs, even ones we learned back in Central Elementary School, Erie Canal and Shenandoah.
--Browsing through the pile of periodicals that accumulated in our absence. No Depression, the AAA magazine, Portland Monthly, The Sun, The Nation, Poets & Writers. Just letting myself sit in the sun on the deck and skim, not feeling like I have to even want to take every word in.
--Stopping by the Gathering Together farm store in Philomath for in-season organic produce—salad mix, oak leaf lettuce, golden chard, shallots, carrots and zucchini, a purple onion, a giant garlic bulb—to begin to re-fill our very empty, post-vacation refrigerator.
--Hauling the small purple table and the orange and green 1950s patio chairs—all spray painted in these new, lively colors by J. last year—from the winter-moldy garage to a spot in the sun on the deck.