The Wine Month

The Wine Month

The Saxons called October Wyn-Monath, or Wine Month.

Ancient Germans called October, Winter fyleth 

In honor of the full moon.  

In 2020 the golden colors of the Wine Month

leave me feeling drunk.

In my stupor I dream of snowy days

And white snowflakes tumbling down from the sky.

New England Aster in October

New England Aster in October

On the trail flowers and ferns testify to the delicate balance of nature throughout the seasons. A wild flower may appear along the path by itself, or you might find it flourishing in bunches. The lone flower may not return the next year, allowing only one chance to appreciate it in the moment.

In the photo you will see a New England Aster. Its deep purple color stands out against the reds and browns of the October landscape.

Put the Fire Out!

Tiffany has been having episodic headaches lately, mostly at night. They showed up Wednesday, in the night, an uninvited guest without a welcome, they’ve stayed for five days now, to be exact. In a wild attempt to understand what was happening, like many, Tiffany resorted to Dr. Google, and found out they are genetic, and nothing can cure them. They can only be managed with lifestyle changes, and maybe medication from the doctor. In her research, a Quiz popped up, so she took it. The title was, “If you were to have a job, an occupation to manage migraines, what would you be?” In the final assessment they said she would be a Firefighter. She thought that was perfect, and also hopes the flames have finally been put out, and the embers die as soon as possible.

The Supreme Good

The Supreme Good

The supreme good is like water,
which nourishes all things without trying to.
It is content with the low places that people disdain.
Thus it is like the Tao.

In dwelling, live close to the ground.
In thinking, keep to the simple.
In conflict, be fair and generous.
In governing, don’t try to control.
In work, do what you enjoy.
In family life, be completely present.

When you are content to be simply yourself
and don’t compare or compete,
everybody will respect you and you will respect yourself.

Tao Te Ching


…to live with uncertainty.

…to reflect on the meaning of the past.

… to adapt to differences encountered.

…to understand what that knot in your stomach is saying to you.

…to embrace change and new realities.

…to make loved one’s a priority.

…to ask them for help.

…to cherish Time Un-rushed.

…to see yourself in a boat at sea with others.

…to ride the highs and lows of the waves together.

…to judge the changes in the tide with your companions.

…to continue with new ways of living.

…that we are confronted by a human crisis.

…to understand that crisis may be easier for you than for others.

…what it is we want to change, and to build?






Andrew Zibuck Says

October 17, 2016 at 7:42 pm

A couple is 2.
A few is 3 or 4.
Five is 5, because it’s a round number. It’s five. If you mean 3, 4, 6, 7, etc. you don’t mean five. If you mean 5 you’d say five.
Several is 6, 7, 8, or 9. Because ten is 10. It’s two 5’s. A ten. Ten-spot.
Some is 3 to 175.

The Joy of Sewing

First the threading of the needle

that eye nearly invisible

held nearer and farther away,

so the tip of the thread

is a camel through a keyhole,

a rich man

carrying all his belongings

through the Pearly Gates.

But at least near cussing,

you thread the filament

into the orifice. Aha!

The cloth lies on your lap

like an infant in a christening gown,

as smooth under your palm

as your mother’s lost skirts.

The needle slow at first,

jackrabbits straight and true.

The making.

The focus.

The stitching your finger’s mantra.


The finished products of contemplation:

The ties Carver always wears

with his secondhand suits.

And the snickers behind his back.


By Marilyn Nelson

From “Carver a life in poems”

Front Street, Asheville, North Carolina 2001

A nameless stranger

  • I said that “Patriotism” is a way of saying “Women and children first.” And that no one can force a man to feel this way. Instead he must embrace it freely. I want to tell about one such man. He wore no uniform and no one knows his name, or where he came from; all we know is what he did.  In my home town sixty years ago when I was a child, my mother and father used to take me and my brothers and sisters out to Swope Park on Sunday afternoons. It was a wonderful place for kids, with picnic grounds and lakes and a zoo. But a railroad line cut straight through it. One Sunday afternoon a young married couple were crossing these tracks. She apparently did not watch her step, for she managed to catch her foot in the frog of a switch to a siding and could not pull it free. Her husband stopped to help her.  But try as they might they could not get her foot loose. While they were working at it, a tramp showed up, walking the ties. He joined the husband in trying to pull the young woman’s foot loose. No luck — Out of sight around the curve a train whistled. Perhaps there would have been time to run and flag it down, perhaps not. In any case both men went right ahead trying to pull her free … and the train hit them. The wife was killed, the husband was mortally injured and died later, the tramp was killed — and testimony showed that neither man made the slightest effort to save himself.  The husband’s behavior was heroic … but what we expect of a husband toward his wife: his right, and his proud privilege, to die for his woman. But what of this nameless stranger? Up to the very last second he could have jumped clear. He did not. He was still trying to save this woman he had never seen before in his life, right up to the very instant the train killed him. And that’s all we’ll ever know about him.
    This is how a man dies.  
    This is how a man … lives!

  • Robert Heinlein  Wikiquote – From an address he made to a naval academy in 1988.