Sunday, December 22, 2019

Yule Gratitude

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Jack Kerouac, Beat poet, wrote a list of rules for Modern Prose which I work into my Honors Ninth grade curriculum every year.  The one I really emphasize is Be in Love with Yr Life (being the beginning of the atomic era, the underlying idea was "because we could all die tomorrow."). What do you love about your life? 



December 18th: I love curling up in bed under all of the blankets while cold night air blows over me head and moonlight shines down.

December 19th: Papers are recorded in the gradebook, Bean credit has been noted, chairs are up, dishes washed, and plants watered. And I ate five Christmas cookies during class. I think Yule can begin.

December 20th: Prepped for Solstice: clean out the fireplace, find the bulbs and pots for planting, grind the corn for cornbread and make some soup, fill the lanterns. Shut off the internet, the radio, and the lights. Tomorrow-- no lights, a long walk in the rain, and home to fire, dinner, and a Christmas Carol.

December 21st: Oak trees, like from Middle Earth, sketched against a rainy sky. Elk in the field. Mist covered hills.

December 22nd: Waking up the morning after Solstice, turning on the lights and making waffles for breakfast. 

December 23rd: Latkes for dinner!

December 24th: A long walk in the dark, cool forest, through the clouds, then the Indian Buffet for lunch. 

December 25th: Fish pie in front of the fire.

December 26th: Long walks and grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch. 

December 27th: Portland has done some very cool things for bicycle infrastructure!

December 28th: Ok, there's a lot of food being eaten over Yule. Today, we went to Roman Russian grocery in NE Portland, bought perogies, pickles, black bread, and pastries with poppy seeds and ate it all for lunch. It's like traveling to a new country without leaving  the state.

December 29th: The public library on a rainy afternoon-- warm, well lit, quiet, and full of books.

December 30th: Small cities are the best. I was to meet someone for lunch, but the place was closed. I looked across the street, saw her bike at the co-op. While hunting for her, I ran into three other people I knew. I love the web of threads that connect us all. 

December 31st: When Mark and I first started taking long walks through town, basically commuting by foot, the China Buffet (about 2 miles) seemed like a long dark trek through Ranchland. Tonight, it barely registered. Shrinking Corvallis, one walk at a time.

January 1st: A double rainbow arched over the valley this morning as we began our New Year's Walk. A little while later, after  a downpour, the sun shown through the trees and rain sodden air like a cathedral. It was a beautiful start to the decade.


January 2nd: I was walking home from a meeting when I saw a woman photographing the ground. As I passed, she smiled. "I have a friend who makes a cake for the first person who spots violets every year, " she told me. And there they were-- deep purple violets are her feet. 

January 3rd: Potlucks. People show up at your house with hot dishes of good food, ready for conversation. Is there anything better on a dark winter night?

January 4th: A clean house! Where did all of that dirt come from?!

January 5th: Hundreds of snowdrops blooming.



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