Letter from the Vineyard

Outside, the sky is a swirl of raspberry and white, portending the predicted rain.  After a day of life maintenance things, a very long conference call, and a quick-ish run to the store, I have put on some jazz, snuggled into my Keene Farm corner and begun tapping out a letter.

It is here that I will refuge mostly until it is time for the Vineyard summer; from here I will stage my departure for the summer, figure out what I need to take and to leave behind, though I have accomplished some of that.

Sunset comes later every evening and I am grateful.  While not here for all of winter, everywhere I went on this sun-kissed day, people told me how grateful they were as the winter had gone on too long.  It had had a wet chill, piercing down to the bone, with a grey shroud, dampening everyone’s spirit, pressing down with a constant reminder of mortality and the fear that spring would not come, that we had descended into the world of C.S. Lewis’ Narnia, where it was always winter but never Christmas.

This week I dined with friends, Fred Morris, Claire and Len Behr, at the beloved Red Dot, having so much fun we agreed to meet again next Monday for dinner at Chez Morris, not too far from the Keene Farm. So glad to share laughter with friends in a place that means so much to me.

Easter Sunday was all about trains, planes and automobiles, working my way from Baltimore to upstate New York – a plane from Baltimore to Albany, train from Albany to Hudson, car to Alicia and Larry’s for a traditional Easter dinner.

The last time I wrote, Notre-Dame was burning. Today, I discovered a robot was used by French firefighters to get where they were not able to go; rebuilding will be assisted by 3-D scans created over the last few years.  Technology helps save us though I will stand on my soapbox and say we need to re-train for the age of AI and I don’t think we are.  That’s the rant of the night.

Truly, I don’t have a lot to rant about.  One of the life maintenance things was to have my hearing tested; I am on the cusp of needing “augmentation.”  Another sign I am no longer the youngest person in the room. Sigh! And LOL!

What adventures I have had!  And will have.

A friend’s mother passed away this past week.  We spoke yesterday.  She told me it had been profound for her she had been present when her mother left as her mother had been when she entered.  And that is a yes.

I am falling into a very sweet spot this evening.  The great Julie London is singing in the background, the sun has set over the Catskills, black has enveloped the world and I will curl up with my mystery, “The Risk of Darkness,” by Susan Hill, one of her Simon Serrallier books, very satisfying if you like mysteries.

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