Color

Oh that day. Oh that remarkable day. Oh that day of a New Beginning and a New Start and a New Administration and a new new New . . . 

. . . and a day of Color.

Oh, all the Color that day.

photo cred: stolen from internet

The Color that day! The women in color that day. The women of color in color that day. It's all just glorious and heartwarming and hopeful and beautiful.

You know what all that color reminds me of?

photo cred: Kat Murphy

These beauties.

Kat Murphy seems to have predicted the color scheme of the gorgeous powerful women on Inauguration Day. She's smart, that one.

And speaking of those colorful beauties . . . you know when they say watch this space?

I think they were talking about this space:

And I think they were talking about these gorgeous specimens . . . 

Color.

Bring it on.

I Have A Dream

August 28, 1963, Washington DC

 Let us not wallow in the valley of despair, I say to you today, my friends. 

And so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream. 

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal." 

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia, the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood. 

I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice. 

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character. 

I have a dream today! 

I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of "interposition" and "nullification" -- one day right there in Alabama little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers. 

I have a dream today! 

I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, and every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight; "and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together."

This is our hope, and this is the faith that I go back to the South with. 

With this faith, we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith, we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith, we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day. 

And this will be the day -- this will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with new meaning: 

My country 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. 
Land where my fathers died, land of the Pilgrim's pride, 
From every mountainside, let freedom ring! 
And if America is to be a great nation, this must become true. 

And so let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. 

Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York. 

Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania. 

Let freedom ring from the snow-capped Rockies of Colorado. 

Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California. 

But not only that: 

Let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia. 

Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee. 

Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi. 

From every mountainside, let freedom ring. 

And when this happens, and when we allow freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual: 

Free at last! Free at last! 
Thank God Almighty, we are free at last! 

Martin Luther King, Jr.

January 29, 1929 -- April 4, 1968

The 2020 Look Back

I was thinking back on 2020 and all the good things that happened (hello, great-niece; hello, president-elect) and I wrote a quick intro about this photo and the day Jacquie and I took this selfie, and am just now realizing this was actually February not January. So. We're starting the 2020 Look Back with February:

February

This was not just one of my favorite days of January, er, February --  it was one of my favorite days of the year. During my quick jaunt to San Diego, after a busy, productive week with Jacquie, the only thing on the list on the steno pad for Sunday was "drink champagne."

And so we did. 

We sat in the sun and drank bubbly and sang loudly and quite well to all the music -- (it was only right before I left SD that Jacquie pointed out to me that the whole time I had been quite politely and sincerely asking Siri to play songs for us, I had been speaking to her into the stand-up fan) -- and we had no other plans and we were both in the moment and it was lovely.

And man, we sounded good.

January, you ask?

Ah, January

What I love most about this photo is the Polish pottery dish, which means the Mitchells were in the house. Which means The Mitchells were in the house. Incredibly hard to fathom now. They were in our house. Like in our actual house.

March

 March brought the early beginning of Spring, and March also brought the early beginning of . . . well, of the way things are now. 

April

April brought the onset of Mom visits and the orchid and puzzles and oxygen . . . I like all those things deeply.

May

May is about Mom. And beautiful beverages in the newly-spectacular weather.

June

June brought us a bundle of baby girl joy. Oh my stars in heaven that girl. Both of those girls. And the most beautiful and outrageous flowers. I can't even believe these flower photos.

July

Yummy July. Summer and Hydrangeas and grape leaves and the deep acceptance of current life and therefore . . . simplicity.

August

August was even more deep acceptance. And butterflies and strolling through and apparently a lot of drinks.

September

September is Habañero month around here. And the Equinox and -- you guessed it -- more of the same. Which worked out just fine for me.

October

In October we got away. We got away! On a Get-Away. Which still seems impossible to have pulled off. But pull it off we did. October was also about the night sky and the beautiful Birthday Girl and campfires.

November

In November a certain someone won the presidential election and is now going to save us all from the current madman-in-chief. 

But no pressure.

November was also the best Thanksgiving in the history of Delivery-'n'-Pick-up, and it's also when the colors in SECT change from vibrant to subdued. But man, still so beautiful.

December

And December is always always about remembering our boy. And will be forever. 

And about Christmas, and about the year of reading and turning on every light one can see. 

2020 was a year for the ages, truly. I'm grateful for my home and my Field and the weather and my Mistah and my gorgeous gorgeous peoples. 

Now, let's get down to this business of 2021.

Peace.

New Year Morn

New Year's Day was an unexpectedly sunny, gorgeous one, and we celebrated it the traditional joyful way . . . 

. . . we watched our nutso friends dive into the Atlantic Ocean.

Watch Hill is a magical place and there's no better spot to ring in a New Year . . . 

. . . especially when you're well-supplied on land.

. . . very well supplied.

photo cred: E-Beth

The peeps lined up . . . 

. . . the peeps swam . . . 

. . . the peeps joined us on shore. Hi Kathy!

Here's Julie . . . 

. . . and here's her girl . . . 

. . . and here's her doggie who is actually a man in a dog suit, a la The Shaggy DA. 

Or Please Don't Eat the Daisies.

Here's the lovely Dawnie who was smart enough to hang with us on the beach this year . . . 

. . . and here are the lovely Angela and Dave who were smart enough to swim in honor of their respective Nanas this year . . . 

And here . . . 

. . . well, here is the one and only Mr. Slips.

Not everybody was bursting with New Year joy, however. G wanted chips and was peeved her parents didn't bring any.

I feel your pain, G. I feel your pain.

The intrepid Mr. Dibble was once again our fearless leader . . . 

photo cred: Angela

. . . and the intrepid Mistah was once again our fearless photographer.

Thanks for the rare photo of himself, Angela. As Mr. Dibble quipped, "Always the photographer, never the bride."

It was a relaxing and chill day full of joy and hope and fun and bubbly even without chips.
 

And then we all went home. . . . 

. . . taking selfies the whole way.

Happy New Year, lovelies . . . 

Wishing you Peace in '21.

Walkin' and . . . Listenin'

We received a Christmas letter from a friend who read 133 books this year -- 133! I checked (thank you, goodreads), and I've read a lowly 84 (well, so far . . . )

When the pandemic hit, I had a stack of books at the ready (thank you, New London and Waterford Public Libraries) so I was set for a solid few weeks.

In the meantime, some of my favorite reading friends have listened to books in addition to -- or in lieu of -- reading hard copies for years, and I was audible-curious, so I decided to give it a go.

In the case of every book I listened to during 2020 (thank you, Libby; thank you, scribd; thank you, audible), I also read a hard copy -- I went back and forth between listening while I was walking or doing Field Work or doing a project -- and reading when I was on my couch or on my Field chair or in my bed. Right where I belong.

And . . . I love it.

Not every listen was stellar -- the narrator makes all the difference -- but so many were. I was thinking about it and wondering just how many I listened to -- in the spirit of All-Things-End-Of-Year-List . . . and, well, here I am.

First up, my man Trevor Noah.

Okay, I'm now remembering my first audio book of the year was not my first-ever foray into audiobooks (I'm looking at you, Alan Cumming), but Born A Crime was a great one. Trevor Noah narrates his memoir and t's hilarious, poignant, smart, funny, honest . . . and his delivery and impressions and pacing are brilliant. I just loved it . . . 

. . . and then I listened to my best friend Michelle Obama and I realized, "hey, I am on to something here." It was brilliant and lovely and wonderful and I never wanted it to end. The hard copy has photos which I stared at forever, plus it was a great read-read too, but this one was a to-be-listened to, for sure.

And then back-to-back Sedaris which made me laugh out loud while I was walking. Actually, I don't think I read the hard copy of either of these, so never mind what I said earlier. But he's an all-time favorite of mine, and his delivery is perfection. The piece about his sister Tiffany, and how perplexing it was to him to understand that she would not want to be a part of the club that is the Sedaris family, is heart-wrenching.

Thinking about these audiobooks makes me think about summer. 

Sigh. Summer!

I listened to and read The Bees while working in the NE corner of the Field -- it's so visceral, listening to books (or podcasts, or music) whenst doing a task, don't you think? I always remember exactly where I was.

I know that this book is not for everyone but I loved it. And now I know everything about bees. Ask me anything. Really, ask. (And thanks, MBF).

The Orphan Train was good-not-great, but I loved the accent of the woman who was the trapeze artist, and how she pronounced trapeze as tra-PEZE. I was working in the raspberry patch.

I seem to have read a lot of books about bees this past summer. The Murmur of Bees was a magic realism-style novel and lovely -- super-long but I was committed. (Thanks, Kerry.)

Mom and I re-read one of my all-time faves at the same time and I loved The Poisonwood Bible just as much this time around. I love this novel. I actually don't even remember that I listened to (part of) it until I was trying to remember whose cracker character's voice I was hearing in my head and figured it had to have been the oldest sister Rachel (I just looked that up.) The narrator gave that character so much more than I had ever read into her -- she was great. I was still working in the raspberry patch (the raspberry patch needed a lot of work).

Ladies and Gentlemen . . . Juliet Stevenson. I mean, of course, Ladies and Gentlemen . . . the late great Jane Austen. But. Juliet Stevenson is a brilliant reader, a brilliant actor (I saw her. On stage. In London. I did.) (And if you've never watched the movie Truly Madly Deeply, please do), and just all-around brilliant. It was wonderful to revisit this fabulous novel with my book club.

Plus? Juliet Stevenson.

Odd book, good reader. High school angst + debate club. 

(I'm obviously a terrible book reviewer but this is not a book review blog post so sorry, Ben Lerner.)

I do not know what took me so long to read Jacqueline Woodson, but I'm so glad she's on my radar now because she is amazing, and so is this book. I finished listening to it in the car on the way to my Mom's, before heading back home for zoom book club that night. Gorgeous read/listen. (Thanks, Dawnie.)

And next . . .  

Wait, do I really need to fast-forward five months until my next audio book? Huh. Either this drought perfectly reflects a specific progression of covid, or I was just really into podcasts instead of audiobooks on my walks between June and November. Because I read some downright amazing books in those intervening months -- I mean, some of my year's favorites. Which I may or may not post about some day.

BUT. I will say. Malcolm Gladwell's podcast led me to this:

Which led me to this:

And yes, I did not listen to them.  And yes, I am cheating. But yes, I am also making up the rules here. And I adored them both with all my heart and soul because books about grammar? Bring it.

Onward.

To late Autumn and the return of . . .

. . . Juliet Stevenson. And a really lovely book.

I listened to parts of Girl Woman Other, but I kept returning to the hard copy because it's written almost-in-verse and it was just so cool and different. So, a read-not-listen one. (Thanks, MBC.)

My friend Julie said Michael Boatman's narration of this book is the best narration of any audio books she's ever read . . . er . . . listened to. And she speaks the truth. Nutso book, cuckoo characters, great narrator. (Thanks, Julie.)

Excellent memoir -- harrowing and honest and difficult and redemptive -- and excellent narration by the author. And now I'm a fan of the band The Airborne Toxic Event which I had never heard of, of course, since I live not under a rock, per se, but in my Field.

And finally . . .  

. . . my current read/listen. I'm not yet halfway through, so I can't yet pontificate, but so far it's excellent. And it's very much multi-media, which works gorgeously in the audio medium. I'm in.

And that's it!

In my mind I listened to a ton of books this year, but it looks like it was only 15 or so. As usual, I've got it all upside down and backwards. And I'm okay with that.

Happy Reading, my friends. And Happy Listening, And Happy New Year, and see you in 2021.

'21!

Peace out.