October 3, 2026

Day spent at AVLGMC “retreat.” It’s not that I didn’t enjoy it– I did– but that I come away with hollowness in my soul. Out of 500 years of repertoire we pick those niggling little tunes. Forgettable. Juvenile, and not in a good way. Only a few are actually awful, but only a few are “right” in any way I recognize either musically or for the season our concert is meant to honor. We were far more sophisticated five years ago. The fact that we are larger now is meant somehow to obscure that. Nothing but surface, no imperative but lack of offense. It is more heartbreaking than I expected it to be. 

Feral

 October 2, 2026

Mrs Jarvis is dead. 

Digging, mulching, planting of new iris, dividing of old iris, planting of alium. 

Sat and watched my feral cat at the pond’s edge. He and I both watched the greeny-gold fall warblers at their play. His coloring blended so well with the weeds that I wouldn’t have seen him except for the time his paw touched the water. My little world needed him, needed a hungry and silent predator to keep everything on its toes.  

 September 30, 2026

Semi-supernatural visitation of bears. Worked hard cleaning the iris bed for new planting. Went indoors for an hour, came out to find the pond pump pulled to pieces and the plants pulled out of one of the water gardens. The queer part is that the perpetrator–certainly a bear– did not appear on security cameras, though I, picking up the mess in the same place, did. Bears returned at about 3:30 AM, at which time they grabbed bags of fertilizer out of the plastic box under the porch stairs, replaced the lid on the box, and, finding the contents nasty, left the bags scattered across the lawn. 

Much gardening and mulching once I’d gotten the damage seen to. 

AVLGMC rehearsal, though itself amusing, confirmed my suspicion that our music selection would once again be juvenile. Lots of talent, lots of sound wasted. The visuals for our ad campaign are bad almost to the point of parody. Can’t support us, though I aid and abet with my continued presence. 

 September 29, 2026

Slept nine hours last night. May be accounted for by having worked out at the Y and done PT with Nathaniel, who is expecting a boy baby. I do feel better for having begun again to use my body, though I’m not sure the balance issues are subsiding. Nathaniel thinks so. Typing “Nathaniel” helps me understand that the names I pick for my stories have something to do with typing the least I can.

Phone interview with a reporter at Mountain Xpress about the time Ruth Bader Ginsbear invaded my kitchen. 

Anniversary

 September 28, 2026

Two years ago at this hour I had beaten a path to I-26, fleeing to Charleston to get away from the aftermath of Hurricane Helene. Yesterday was the official second anniversary, and there was a service at the Cathedral to commemorate it and to initiate our capital campaign. Mayor Mannheimer spoke, as did candidate Jamie Ager, who’s the cutest big old country boy. I remember buying produce from him at various farmers’ markets. He gave me a long discourse on a plant I was considering for my garden; it might have been rhubarb. Beside me sat a boy of about 11, of radiant beauty. His name was Jay. His mother had clearly let him dress the way he pleased, and he was decked out in soccer shorts, a T-shirt with many slogans, a ball cap, and a heavily jeweled necklace. It struck me that an 11 year-old boy, given his own head, will dress like a barbarian chieftain. Or the other way around. A number of people– two in particular I spoke with at the reception yesterday– hate the Dean with unexpected ferocity. They spoke with me in conspiratorial tones, expecting that I shared their perspective, which I might if I understood the issues. I try to rein in my own judgments, to discover that the judgments of others are at least as ferocious–and far quicker–than mine. My lack of attention can pass for lovingkindness, for which I am grateful. 

Pride

September 26, 2026

Autumn has come. Windows closed. New LL Bean comforter taken out of the box and used the first time. 

A dynamo at the keyboard. I made Dinosaur Movie usable and got a good start on Recipes.

Planning new features for the garden, now that the heat is off enough to move. Ordered fall bulbs

My appointment with L’s book club, which I assumed would be one of the worst afternoons of my life, was really rather pleasant. Eight or nine old ladies and me. It’s a book club where you don’t read books but you do meet authors, so I blabbed on about myself until the time was filled. They were all taking about Gresham, so I imagine they’ll be baffled by the books I left behind. “We were founded in 1895" said one them proudly. Before I thought I said, “Oh? Are any of you original members?” They seemed to take it in good spirit. 

Blue Ridge Pride at City-County Plaza this noon. Deliberately missed the last rehearsal, so doing those old chestnuts again won’t be as sickening as they would have been. Fussing about musical details in this case is funny, because nobody hears a note we sing. Just smile and look like you’re having a good time. One might actually be having a good time. 

Pride went well. The weather perfect. . . I in spectacular voice . . . .

 

Y

 September 22, 2026

Inspired by PT, rose in the dark and went to the Y for the first time in at least two years. All the personnel was different, but the selection of sweaty beefcake was as remembered. Did a satisfying workout, stopped at Starbucks, watched life on still-dark Charlotte Street, cleaned out the pool aerator before dawn. Which is right about now. I have been wandering in a vale of shadow which I’d called “age” but which was really a kind of fatal habit.