Enough: poem, biking, bonfire

I picked up this little red book of poems of big ideas by Diane di Prima (1934-2020) at the airy bookshop/cafe Fitz Books. Originally published in 1971, Revolutionary Letters remains relevant, such as this letter #17 . . .

The poet’s mention of the forty thousand dollar home price in the late 1960s would be ten times that amount now, depending upon the location. However, her message remains intact.

There is so much enough.

The season of Autumn is soon here, a time of lush abundance in Western New York after many days of sun and rain.

Our world has moved far beyond the pandemic restrictions of two years ago when a drive down Route 5 to see a house in an unfamiliar place led to living here on a road where nothing happening is the main event.

Yet, this kind of nothingness is more than enough.

Last week the harvest full moon appeared out back over the trees (shown with a string of weathered Serendipity Flags–more about those in the SHOP page at the top of this site).

The Hydrangeas are turning pink outside my office window. Quan Yin rests upon the window ledge, The Goddess of Compassion holds a vase of water that cleanses and nourishes the spirit. Given to me by an exceptionally kind nurse during a time eighteen years ago when I was recovering from a serious illness.

These sneaky weeds miraculously circled the deck railing without any coaxing.

Tim’s studio and yard Crocs have been recently adorned (by him) with some happy clownish ornamental stripes.

The cherry tomatoes continue to appear, along with the basil.

A single pink rose requires no words.

This older favorite painting (Rose Arrow, 2012) that hung over the dining table for too long has been replaced with another from my vault (Island, 1986).

This hand-blown glass heart, a gift from a friend, hangs in my kitchen window to remind me of enough.

Tim and I finally visited the paths around Evangola State Park on our bikes. It was quiet with just few cars parked in the lot by the beach and picnic areas–a few campers still enjoying the picturesque grounds. The trees there have full round tops like the kind young children draw.

Always happy to be rolling through the breeze on two wheels once we are out doing that, these times are less frequent. Tim was once a bicycle messenger in Washington D.C. and again in New York City. I rode this very bike in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado. However, this is what happens now . . . From time to time, one of us presents the idea “We could go for a bike ride.” The possibility is then pondered until time passes and each of us simply carries on with our interests here, as we do. The bikes remain in the garage.

The other thing that happens regularly is this . . . One of us proposes a plan: “Shall we go into town (meaning the city of Buffalo) for __________?”

So many events are happening in full force each week–the city is bustling with energy. While we do attend some–go to appointments and visit people–more often, we choose to forego the hour-long drive.

Why leave?

While debating whether to go in on a recent Friday night, our neighbor invited us to a bonfire. We welcome any chance to be better acquainted with the others living nearby on this road where people tend to keep to themselves. Something was happening.

SUVs were parked all along the edge of the grass as their friends assembled around the fire. We arranged our folding chairs and found bottles of beer. The chat focused on youth hockey as kids ran between hot tub and trampoline. Teen boys roasted hotdogs in the flame. We found some common ground with someone from a couple blocks away discussing sump pumps and generators, a topic that would have been totally foreign just a couple years ago. Now, an issue of urgency and great interest as we aim to keep water out of our basement art studios.

It’s good to know your neighbors just enough . . . then retreat back across the road.

~~~~~~~~~~

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