I feel it in the air
The summer’s out of reach
Empty lake, empty streets
The sun goes down alone
Boys of Summer- Don Henley
Two red tailed hawks looking down as I pass. I pretend not to notice. They remain on their cottonwood fence posts. Barb wire clipped, rusted, curled and forgotten creates spiraled sculptures back-lit by the arrival of the sun. This arroyo bottom I walk is mostly dry after yesterdays monsoon, and everything is clean, crisp and the air is charged with the change. Oh there will be a few more weeks of hot weather, but the punch that is summer in the desert is gone. The mesquite trees are dropping their pods, the cypress becomes more fragrant, the sky gets that cobalt blue. The southern hummingbirds gorge at the feeders preparing to migrate. Long sleeves would have done nicely this morning. Taken by surprise, I recognize Summer is out of reach.
By the time I returned to sidewalk, I was seriously unsettled. No matter the Autumn Equinox is weeks away, I have felt the shift of a summer spent.
Started a new MOOC (Massive Online Open Class) last week: Journalism Skills for Engaged Citizens. Offered by the University of Melbourne in Australia through Coursera I am just thrilled for this opportunity. The course offers basic journalism skills, but applies them to the evolving fast paced changes taking place in what is termed the ‘new media.’ How news, views, opinion, and information is researched, documented, and published today. Writing skills, interviewing, ethics, law, accessing public documents, and the basic investigative skills as they apply to our Brave New World is passe′ planet. Taught by Dr Margaret Simons (Journalism at the Crossroads – Crisis and Opportunity in the Press Scribe 2013. What’s Next in Journalism? Media Entrepreneurs Tell Their Stories) and Denis Muller (Journalism Ethics for the Digital Age Scribe 2014.), this is a most needed class for me as I strive to create an excellent website, one that not only functions well, but is relevant and interesting. I am half way through the second week and I am feeling optimistic that I will be able to keep up with the majority of the students who are way more tech savvy than me, that at the point where people want their planet returned to them to begin healing it that the means to do so are available for activism, and I have so many new curiosities to get answered which is always exciting. A go to class for me that is bringing together through lectures, excellent materials and the timeless rules of writing all these new gadgets.
Sophia Connor doesn’t seem to want to return to the not quite solid ground of the Cohansey River marshes. To say I am struggling with Connor’s Reach does not touch describing this experience of novel writing. I have three separate draft versions of the second chapter, each told from the perspective of various participating characters. All that needs to be accomplished in this chapter is a days worth of sailing from one tributary to another. A sail that in reality I have actually done many times in my past. So what is the issue? You might think I was attempting to write about a successful Mars Expedition and Settlement project in first person narrative.
It’s Sophia causing the trouble. Not content to stand on the bow and enjoy the journey, she has entered into me with a Vulcan Mind Meld form of possession, and declared she will not only use me to tell her own damned story thank-you very much, but give me no peace until she does. I am drifting off considering her motives and impulsive behavior forgetting to add yeast to bread mix, not hearing Terry reminding me I am due at the dentist in twenty minutes, or throwing a very nice dinner party for a dear friend who is leaving for Nicaragua and spend what may our last evening together behaving like a serving wench, eavesdropping with Sophia’s ear, because SHE is on her way to work in a boarding house.
I am as a child who spends her days playing with her imaginary friends. Realizing that I must get out of Sophia Connor’s way and let her dictate to me this now fourth draft of Chapter Two.
It is a time when my peers are experiencing illness. One in the hospital for twenty-five days with ‘complications’, another having surgery this week. Yet another is recovering from a fall that broke an ankle. This is the part of being old that frightens me and I do not want to know the details, feel self conscious and apologetic in their presence because I remain strong and healthy. I consider the time I invited my Mother to bring her entire Sunday school class to go sailing on the Schooner Pioneer. They had an old broad rioter’s good time. Ten years later, on a shared walk around her block , she told me that she was the only one still alive from her entire church class. She has since passed and I am now the sturdy old Grandmother in the family.
“Out on the road today I saw a Deadhead sticker on a Cadillac.
A little voice inside my head said:
“Don’t look back, you can never look back.”
Boys of Summer- Don Henley
Indeed, The Summers Out of Reach, and we ( Terry, Sophia, and I) are taking this day to go visit The Exposures Gallery to take some inspired photos in their sculpture garden to bring back and share with you. Please join us. Entrance here.
Today’s Music: Don Henley- Boys of Summer
Peace and blessings to all.