Guidance on the Highway of Life

Archived | September 29, 2015 | By

Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. Was driving home from visiting our youngest away at college, and it was plain ol’ bliss toolin’ along through the Minnesota countryside with the windows open and the sun setting behind me. Something about a road trip that’s always had its pull, and I never mind for a moment the words, “Can you pick me up?” 

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Like Paradise

Archived | September 25, 2015 | By

Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. Was a lovely weekend once again, with sun and a cool breeze and time out in the wild. Something about autumn where the more I can get out to the fields and forest, the better. It has to do with the light, and the colors and smells, of course. Rich musky scents of leaves and dried grasses, burning wood and moist earth and cool. It’s the most constant season. You never know about the spring or summer or winter, but autumn is steadfast. It smells like old memories, my friend Angela says. And she’s right.

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Choose to Just Be

Archived | September 18, 2015 | By

Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. It’s still quiet around here, but not so quiet. Been filling in the silence with music, and debating between making apple cake and apple crisp for a weekend dessert. I’m eager to steep myself in autumn, the season of abundance and golden light, leaves and hot cider and pumpkin pie. Time of year for just being, autumn is. Letting go of that long hot summer, and not giving much thought to winter. Just being.

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The Imaginary Place

Archived | September 11, 2015 | By

Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. A broadcast recorded the night before at the state fair, and how much fun is that? Would have been more fun to be there, but there’s been work to do with fall coming along and Mr. Sundberg’s back has been bothering him, so slow and steady is the thing. Feels good to work hard out in the cool air, and even better to come in and have a cup of hot cider by the window and a slice or two of gingerbread. Feels good to climb into bed, too, after a day of yard work and a little baking and some thorough cleaning of the kids’ rooms, quiet now and emptied of the kitschy things that make a dorm room or apartment feel like home. Then waking, in the morning, after a solid night of sleep with the window open, and that stretch, first thing, reaching my arms out far as I can. Feels good.

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All Quiet on the Western Front

Archived | September 1, 2015 | By

Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad.  I was in one of those thoughtful moods, quiet but not sad, remembering how — just one week ago — the kids were laughing and moving about the house.  The bags and boxes and suitcases were packed and loaded, the car full of gas, the maps and student IDs on the counter and the bike strapped tight to the car.

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