Here are the elements of this moment 7 – 8 PM in my sphere of interest.
It’s fully dark outside.
Our internal GPS is …
3. Outside it’s snowing and will likely snow until morning.
4. The fireplace is aglow.
5. The NYT Sunday puzzle is only 2/3 finished.
6. A bookmark is between 40 and 41 of Geraldine Brooks’ People of the Book.
7. Two of our family members, both hospital workers, got their anti-Covid vaccinations.
8. On the table are six roses. Joy noticed in the grocery check-out line that the cart behind her had only a few items, so she invited the fellow to go ahead of her. After she eventually headed to the door, the fellow came to her: “Thank you for your kindness” and gave her the roses.
9. We give thanks and then yearn for healing in this city and on this planet.
I promised, so therefore I will report … on fulfilling my 2020 New Year’s Resolutions. How innocent all of us were — a pandemic … social isolation … canceled travel. None of us had 2020 vision. Yet here is my original listing and report.
2020
1. Plant a tree on our property. Yes.
I ordered three river birches and three laurels from Arbor Day, and got several sumac from Courtney.
2. Walk 500 miles. Yes.
Yes, the total right now is 512. That will likely be the final tally because my left heel would be pleased to have a rest. Just know that walking was a creative and sustainingactivity in this anxious time. Most of the walking was here in Irvington and the nearby Pleasant Run Golf Course. Walking also gave opportunity to be with friends. Here is Dagne Assefa on a walk with me.
3. See Ireland. No.
Ingrid was planning to fulfill a Fulbright contract in Ireland in August; we were planning to join her for ten days. Of course such travel was cancelled.
4. Replace the eaves guards on the garage. Yes.
Covid did not interfere with house and property chores so long as shopping was not required. Fortunately the guards were purchased last fall.
5. Continue driving our 2010 Honda Civic, now with 202,000 miles. Yes.
Our driving was minimal; the milometer nearly went to sleep.
6. Install a railing at the front steps. Yes.
Brothers of my good friend Rudy Schouten did the work.Rudy’s father was a widely known iron worker here in Indianapolis.
7. Post “Today’s Photo” on my blog a total of 200 times.
8. For my six grandchildren, prepare an informal history of the Hess and Good families. Yes.
The limited opportunities to go here and there turned in my favor: I had lots of time to research and write the interpreted genealogies. The account for each family began in the early 1500s.
9. Reduce to 160 pounds. No.
The scale didn’t budge.
10. Clean my office, the shop and the garage quarterly. Yes.
Especially pleasing to me was the look of the basement shop after an old-fashioned cleaning and re-ordering.
11. Drive a Farmall tractor. Yes.
I thought this one would be easy because I had been planning to spend time with Tom Gunden on his farm. Yes, he has two handsome Farmall Ms. Covid nixed my hopes. But we made it happen in December on my birthday. More important than the tractor, however, was being with Tom and Roy Hartzler.
12. Read all of Wendell Berry’s books. No.
Of the several books I read, Jayber Crow touched me most deeply.
As measured by eternity, the cosmos moves slowly, slowly over what we would call millions and billions of years. There is no reason to get there quickly because there is no there there. Why not place ourselves into this wonderful moment, here, now, experiencing it slowly.
I’ve not written since Christmas Eve – in – the – Garage. Nothing to say. Or, I thought there was nothing to say until this evening when I read Dave Barry’s summary of the year, printed in today’s Washington Post. Since he said it — a succinct and absolutely exhaustive account — I need not say any more.
But I will write a caption: this Christmas I was gifted by walks with a friend .
Christmas Eve in the garage with Lali, Annie and Lucy. — masked and socially distanced. Doug is at work at IU Medical Center. He is a respiratory therapist.
Mild weather has accommodated us walkers during this month. And local streets and trails have helped us maintain social distance. I do not take these privileges for granted. Here are three photos from my walk this morning … before the rain.
You are human. I am human. Why and how is it that the molecules corralled to make up you and me weren’t instead diverted to become plant life? Outside today — brightly sunny and mild — I came upon two specimens of plant life, both of which seemed close, as if their molecules and mine were distantly related. I said hello and took a photo of each.
Front page of the Indianapolis Star this week featured a colossally extravagant hotel recently built by the city north of us — Carmel. It’s a lovely city. Some of our friends live there. In contrast to the county that is strongly Republican and conservative, Carmel is Republican and progressive. And one of the wealthiest cities in the country per capita.
Apparently — I didn’t read the long feature carefully, the hotel is now a bona fide member of a group of colossally extravagant hotels that try to outdo each other in opulence, said competition a tool to attract very wealthy guests.
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Twenty steps from our back door is this oak leaf hydrangea. Not colossally extravagant, not opulent, but today’s December Detail.
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