“Is anyone else feeling a little singled out lately during this latest eclipse season? And not in the best of ways. I don’t post many selfies, but there comes a time when showing your face is a kind of declaration of obstinance. I will not be put in a box. Now it seems I’m fighting against every stereotype I could ever have dreamed being applied to a person. I stopped in at a HInesburg gas station to pick up Half ‘n Half yesterday, and I’ll tell you what. The look I got from a guy rounding the corner of the chips isle at the same time I did, was frightening. So blank, so nothing, as close to a cancellation as I could imagine. Which makes me wonder: what are we being trained for? Is an online personality now more real than a real person? To their credit, the cashiers seemed to still value a smile, & a few idle words, and friendly eye contact. This is how it’s been going lately, at the general stores, convenience stores, gas stations, and drive thrus. I’ve also been out buying trees, shrubs and gardening tools. In August, we are often shopping down isles emptied of summer’s profusion. This is when our wits must be sharper than most. The coming months will be full of possibility, if we can plot, and plan from a place of wisdom, rather than impulse. It’s useful to listen to the heart of living beings, when they’re not necessarily, at their best, or in their prime. When the good times roll, it’s more shallow, less meaningful. I pay attention, when the going gets rough. I mean really, pay attention. But despite all my idealism, I cut the limb, without realizing there was a nest. In August, unless you’re a bird specialist, you might think, like I did, no bird lays eggs this late. The limb fell, and it lay there, on the ground, while I continued to prune the lilac. I will always have a picture now, in my memory, of six tiny, grasping mouths. A few even tumbled, into the grass. Within minutes, there was a rescue effort. And as we watched over the course of the morning, it became clear that the mother accepted it. But I still felt bad, wrong. Cedar waxwings have always held a place in my heart, for how they would flock in my old crab apple, to eat fermented fruits, in late winter. I want to take every mistake I’ve ever made, and put it back up in the tree. Every fragile artist, every misunderstood teenager, every generous human who mowed my lawn, stocked my fridge or bucked my wood up into stackable pieces. What you did for me, is not exactly what I did for you. But if I could, and I would: I’d go back and make it more than equal.”
