moles

Moles cause no harm. They are quiet, nearly blind little critters who spend most of their time underground. They eat grubs and worms and roots, and dig tunnels and little cubbyholes. You know there's a mole in your yard when you see a line of broken earth on the surface - caused by the tunneling below. Some people worry - 'They're destroying my lawn!', but the earth can easily be redistributed with a rake or hoe. Moles are one of nature's farmers. They plough the hard dirt from underneath, and fertilize it, and make it easier for plants and trees to thrive. Mole mounds are like a work of art, something to show off to the neighbor kids. 'You'll never guess who made this winding little maze of dirt!'

The children's television show 'Sesame Street' is peopled in part by Muppets. Oscar the Grouch, Kermit the Frog, Big Bird, and Elmo are all puppets, manipulated by human hands and speaking with human voices. They have been regulars on Sesame Street for decades, and have also starred in very popular Muppet movies. They have adventures. Sometimes they teach their very youngest viewers to count and spell and get along and how to deal with various temptations. Most of all, they are friendly and likable.

The original creator of the Muppets was Jim Henson, and he also was the voice for several of the characters. There was much grief when he died at an early age. His characters have lived on, and those actors who replaced him have done a fine job. It would have been fascinating, though, to visit with Mr. Henson, to hear his voice and get to know the man who put so much faith, energy, and tenderness into his innocent Muppet world. The Muppets offered a haven that one without worry could let their little kids wander, and at the same time could strike a chord that amused the grownups.

graphic novels

A graphic novel is a different kind of experience than a novel that is written; worded. Some graphic novels are like illustrated stories - but with primary attention given to the artwork. Some graphic novels have no words at all - the story is conveyed entirely through drawings, or other kinds of images.

The latter dates back quite a ways. In the 1990s, I had the good fortune to travel with a friend to France, the first time I went abroad. We spent half a day in the cathedral at Chartres. The cathedral was built across many decades (completed - was it in the 1200s?). On the outside were many statues around the frame of the great doors and much sculpting of the exterior walls. There were gargoyles, and statues of saints. There were statues of ancient Greek philosophers and mathematicians. (Aristotle and Pythagorus come to mind.) Some of those statues cleverly tucked in high places were carved images of the construction workers themselves. 'I was here!' they seem to say. Inside the immense building was a kind of clock-calendar that was large piece of intricate mechanics, decked with images of the moon, stars and sun. In the middle of one field of the interior was a long avenue of bas relief carvings. That was my first meeting with ancient graphic story telling. We were told most of the people back then did not know how to read. The carvings, like three dimensional frames from a silent film, told stories from the Bible.

Written novels today feed images and plot via our language centers. I believe the wordless graphic novels feed an experience more than a story. We enter another existence through the wordless images. We learn some things that cannot quite be expressed through words, things that are not stored in the language part of our brains.

Scorpio

Scorpion 
of the summer night
slowly glides
from left to right
gleaming from the southern sky
above the roads
and cars and houses
down below.

his heart is a star -
Antares! - bright and red
his stinger just for show
he's a shining softy
don't you know
keeping watch
through the dark of night
 
it's winter now
he's far away
but the scorpion returns
come the longest day
Now Orion's striding
across the sky
our giant friend
come the longest night.

butterflies over the baby bed


A mobile
of cellophane butterflies -
transparent blues and purples -
deep rich yellows -
dangled above her each morning
when she opened her eyes.
This was her first year:
Tilting colors
silent beauty.
Light in motion.

Home Economics

Aunt Plenty and Aunt Peace are two spinsters in Louisa May Alcott's book 'Eight Cousins'. They house their niece, Rose, who has lost both her mother and father. Rose's guardian is her uncle Alec, who is some sort of merchant at sea, now staying at home to parent Rose.

There are lots of aunts and cousins - seven boys - in the neighborhood. Aunt Peace and Aunt Plenty don't have a large role to play in the book amidst the cousins' antics. Their main occupation is the running of the household - cooking, sewing, carrying out the rugs in the spring to be aired and shaken. But Alcott gives them a kind of tender attention. Uncle Alec asks Rose to spend some time with the under-appreciated ladies and they teach her to sew and bake. 'Bread and Buttonholes' becomes the challenge.

The story was written and set in the mid 1800s in New England, the northeastern part of the United States. When I was in school, and perhaps still today, classes were offered in 'home economics'. Kids learn about measuring flour versus measuring liquids, how to substitute this ingredient for that. They come home with a simple dress or shirt they have sewn. Perhaps they learn about bread and buttonholes.

I avoided home ec because I absorbed in greater things. Math! Science! Literature! Home ec seemed low on the ladder somehow. Fortunately, snooty me did learn some of these things through Girl Scouts. I've always remembered that Louisa May Alcott, the great writer, gave a lot of attention to the arts of maintaining a home. I came to see baking and cooking are in many ways scientific endeavors. Hanging clothes to dry, shelling pecans, stitching and knitting have been calming and meditative activities. Household arts - especially regarding food - pay off in a tremendously rewarding way - both in immediate satisfaction, and in holding together the intimate fabric of love, family and friends.

Pachelbel's Canon is familiar to many people in the United States, although most may not know what it is called. Some consider it trite; it's played so frequently at weddings and recitals. There's likely a reason that it is so popular - there is something so lovely in its intricate lacework of sound.