more canvassing

I've now canvassed 3 times and I think I can sniff a Republican domicile from the street; here in C'burg, the Republican leaning homes are tidy, often with early American paraphernalia, flag, and the face at the door is for the most part white. And maybe it is because I am wearing a shirt with Obama on it, that the Republican leaning faces seem prime, proper and cold - and say "NO."
I forgot the dog biscuits; this street had larger homes and two dogs or more instead of one. Catherine and I spoke to two undecided folks, but most of the people home were quite sure of their vote. 

 

missing us

Susceptible to nostalgia in the Fall, I am double down to be alone in the hollow with no performance imminent! 

Elizabeth's hexagram

For awhile in the performance, Elizabeth unfurled the last hexagram in the I-Ching: BEFORE COMPLETION.  This image comes to mind this morning as I try to shrug the gray mood of performance done, over, fini! So I go with the I-Ching and figure today is just the day before the end (and so forth into infinity!). I read in The Book of Changes, "Things cannot exhaust themselves. Hence there follows, at the end, the hexagram of BEFORE COMPLETION. BEFORE COMPLETION is the exhaustion of the masculine."

Aunt Estelle is still strapped into the passenger seat of the Prius from the trip home last night; it was late and I had to let the dogs out of the house to accompany me on the trek to the blue house to close the chicken house. I am glad that we will see each other this afternoon at Ann's to gather together chairs and other items we brought for the play. Cool morning and a forecast low tonight of 38.

As I walked with the dogs to the river this late morning, I dwelt on the grounded/metaphysical mix in each of our works. From Elizabeth's wise and passionate earthiness to Diane's two feet into the other world albeit tugged earthward by family. How I seem as Joni so well painted, a poet with one foot in the world of living and one foot in the dead world. Pat who is so grounded building her house, by Tyree's Ashes is "jump started to the stars". Susan  breathing stars into her mother's spirit, then caretaker of her dad. Ann is keeper of memories and of the preciousness of life. I love the way our works touch each other, images mingle and transform - I want to dance more with this performance.

Gleaning Garden

Corn stalks rustle spooky
as I yank dried, some mildewed, ears
from their spindly poles,
tossing in the bucket what may be ground
or over the fence to the chickens' delight.

I fret my vigorous October bean plants
which have yet to bloom as forecasters
warn of frost within weeks. My fall crops,
chard, spinach, collard, broccoli, begin
to thrive in the cooler nights.

I throw slugs over my shoulder this
overcast morning attempting to repair
my neglect. I am too much the dreamer,
poor gardener, as happy with my volunteer
arugula as with plotted greens.

(work in progress!)
Today I work for Obama! Last night a fun occasion to dance at the benefit for Anthony Flaccavento in Blacksburg. Three of us wearing our THIS SLUT VOTES t-shirts and many people wanting to buy them - surprised to find that they originated here in Blacksburg!  

Loose Threads

Diane just sent a picture of us in the space at Ann and Rick's house!

 

The Play's the Thing

It is fun; oh, it's work - at this age, memory work that taxes brain and body - but the pure delight in doing something well is an unexpected gift. Our work for LOOSE THREADS cuts deep, asks of player and of audience - a crack into the heart of loss. We have all glimpsed the black hole within (perhaps not so unlike Bob Dylan's "the evil twin!"). Or just death. This is Pat's space, where she stays until the near end of the performance. She moves from one arm rest to the other as she reads excerpts from her journal, scribbling notes, changing head rags.  I love to watch her! Susan has a space of chair and desk and standing lamp - she too must stay within the confines of her space until I come to get her when Pat walks the room reading "Tyree's Ashes" and handing out cards with images written upon them. Susan is serene, beautiful in her spot. The rest of us have blocking to remember - and poems to memorize - and in the case of Elizabeth and Ann, stories to tell! Elizabeth's two songs are wonderful; we all wish that we could persuade her to sing another! I am inspired by Diane's saying, gifting, of her poems - she is real. And I love watching Elizabeth and Diane re-enact Diane's piece about her mother. Thank goodness for Ann, whose stories are delightful - and her poems, so finely written. I am hoping that I can become as smooth with my llama poem while doing qigong as I am with some of my other pieces so that I can lessen the worry! Oh, as Elizabeth says in "July,July;" just someone please tell us "well done!"

 

Canvassing for OFA

"We're Army and we've got a lot of guns," said a woman holding back her hound from the screen door. "OK, I guess you're leaning Republican," I say and back away. Darla notes on our clip board the house is a 5 on the Obama scale, we move on. The day had begun well; house with a large picture of Obama in the glass by the front door. This neighborhood of planned development in Christians-burg which was not canvassed in 2008. There was a VT at home game and several driveways were vacant; we left brochures. The last house raised our spirits more than the first; a couple who were ready to volunteer for Obama. But oh, the in between houses were white and Republican - unfortunately no one said Goode. Almost every house had a dog and I thought that next time I canvass, I will pack dog biscuits.

Obama

The election has me in roller coaster mode, working for Obama's re-election and  swinging between the poles of positive and negative polling data, all of which I would like to dismiss, but which is an insidious invasion into the airwaves. Elation was last night and night before last; Michelle Obama was spectacular in every way and so was Bill Clinton. In fact, the Democratic convention has been inspiring not only because of the speakers, but also because of its delegations, no bland white bread here. Hey, I am better off than I was 4 years ago. But I am NOT "better off" being a woman in Virginia.

Potatoes, buckets of

Yesterday before the rain, I dug the sweet potatoes. I first had to untangle shoots and weeds that had threaded through the bird netting which I had placed over the potatoes to protect them from rabbits and ground hogs. The soil was hard and dry, but the sweet potatoes were plentiful and unmarked by voles thanks to the hard clay soil. I tossed grubs over the fence to the chickens, not many of them. I still have potatoes to dig which I will when the winter squash plants die which have crept into the potato row. 
Last night rain from Isaac began as huge loud drops as DD and I were eating on the deck. We made a hasty retreat into the house as rain grew more intense. We garnered an inch and three quarters within a couple of hours; and it washed out the road and tainted my spring with muddy cow pie smelly water.