Full Circle Lighthouses

Unreasonably cold air and snow.

A woodpecker drums as graupel begins to accumulate on the deck furniture. Frost has nibbled all the tulip leaves and the rabbits have taken the lily tops already. The meteorologist says the fruit trees may be in trouble. The best laid schemes o' Mice an' Men . . .

Ten yards of mulch sits under a blue tarp in the drive, waiting to be spread at the base of pine trees and to line the walking paths snaking the backyard. The work kills my back but I'm suited for it; and I love it. It's less windy today; maybe I can make a dent.

A call is scheduled with the lawyer at 2 p.m. The kids are old enough now be in on the discussions of estate planning and the will – old enough, yet not. They tear up a little discussing certain eventualities. Kyle does too. I guess I'm a little more black and white about the transaction.

There is no difference in the grayness at 10 a.m. than 7 a.m. The dog and I sigh a little too loudly. Squirrels drain the bird feeder and I'm over being mad about it. As the neighbor says, “squirrels gotta eat too!” Earth Day 2020: I sit in the dark, build a fire, sip tea, until every one wakes, but then again, that's everyday. What if there is nothing left to say?

And what if it's not about mountains and rivers and trails and lakes and dogs and birds and haylofts and stairwells? What if it's not about why or how or when, anymore? Oh my god . . . do you know what it is all about?! It's about the lighthouse! The lighthouse was the subject of the worst paper ever written, read by a most illuminated teacher. Writer and reader followed those beams for so long – student became teacher and teacher became student – until finally both realized they were the very light they had been chasing!

Mind over body. Presence over logic. We have already overcome the world, Beloved. There is no next, no yesterday or tomorrow. There is just all . . . this . . . love.