We are nearing the end of a lovely early autumn day. The forecast rain never materialized which has become the new norm. To their credit, the Weather Service has been slowly decreasing the chance of rain the pat few days; now it rests at zero.
The woodbine is turning scarlet along stone walls. Small flocks of diminutive birds, most likely warblers, dart from tree to tree. The light has a certain slant and glow. Dawn comes late and I drag myself from bed after 6:30. Its now dark well before eight. The crows call from nearby for much of the day.
We were just down at the harbour being artists. My step-son Daniel was painting, his wife, Katie, worked on pottery designs, and I recorded sound. Overhead two osprey from the bay side nest played in the stiff breeze, calling loudly; they became silent when I turned on the recorder. Theirs seems to be the only remaining locally active nest.
When I wasn’t recording we chatted as we worked. Our conversation ranged the classic far and wide, from osprey to fascism, from paint boxes to to-do lists, from autumn light to their recent travels. Daniel painted a small boat that was tied up at the fishing dock. At some point the boat’s owner stopped by and complimented him on his work.
We kept returning to the necessity of making art, even in difficult times. Katie and Daniel are starting new teaching jobs in a couple of weeks and are focused on building their careers. We danced around art as resistance and as paid occupation, and the incongruity of arty and work when the world is burning. Yet, we circled back always to the necessity of being who one is. We wonder why so many people struggle to see that literally everything is connected, and how so many can deny that, and so doing put so much in peril.
Daniel just brought me a piece of a special cheese we had purchased at our local cheese shop a few days ago. Everyone else is sampling cheese while they collectively make dinner; I cooked last night and get the night off. I’ll most likely do the dishes. If it isn’t too late when we have eaten, we may run down to the beach for a n ice cream and sunset.
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