October Country Journeys

 

"October Journey," 8 x 10 watercolor, 140 lb d'Arches rough press paper

When October gets here, I think of Ray Bradbury's The October Country, a collection of Halloweenish  mood short stories.

But there's also a different mood. I  think of changing and brilliant foliage, of gates opening to a new year, of rural landscapes, of back road journey, of footsteps shuffling through fallen leaves, of crisp air and light.

Thus today's watercolor. Let's go into October Country.

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Wow! This merited a poem from my friend and poet Kay Lawson Gilbert of Pennysylvania.

"Soft fall colors and shadows/respiration of memory/the passing of air through my lungs/the perfume of dry grasses and leaves/always the procreant push of the earth." 🍂

Front porch swing memories

"Porch Swing Afternoon," 5 x 7 watercolor, 140 lb. cold press paper

"Come sit and visit a spell," said the neighbors long ago, smiling from their front porch swing.
Remember front porches and swings? I hope you do.
They've been scarce in my life because there weren't many in New Mexico when growing up, but they're symbols of good times, of slower times, of simpler times when we spent summers visiting kin folk in Comanche, Oklahoma and East Texas, of an old house in Waurika, Oklahoma.
Thinking about them, they bring memories of an un-airconditioned world--the slam of a screen door, of  sweet tea, of fireflies in the cooling evening, of adults sitting in the swing, of wasps buzzing around, of kids playing on the porch. I have specific memories of sitting on a porch swing in East Texas, talking to a summer girlfriend, as the soft rain poured down.

They were also places for just thinking, or resting, of enjoying the scenery and waving at people in the neighborhood. They were also for comfort, for  talking about and solving problems, as seen in the iconic movie To Kill a Mockingbird, as Atticus comforted Scout.
There's the poem by Sam Walter Foss that must have a front porch swing in spirit, "Let me live in a house by the side of the road. And be a friend to man...."
As adults, you'd treasure sitting on the front porch swing in the morning with coffee, reading a newspaper, enjoying the day with the dew still on the grass, or as a youngster spending a lazy, un-organized  summer day, reading a book of adventure and imagination, like Burroughs' Tarzan of the Apes. 
They're not just rural or Southern either. I've seen blue collar mill towns in Pennsylvania where every frame house had a front porch, where the hard-working laborers could come home after a long day, sit on the porch with a beer perhaps, and talk to nearby neighbors
Memories.
What happened to them?
First I think, was air conditioning and television, that forced and enabled us to staying indoors to be cool, and shut us off from others in a cocoon.
Then new houses were built without front porches. Instead, we've retreated to back patios and porches with lawn chairs and fire pits in fenced yards, isolated from our no longer "neighbor"hoods.
Ray Bradbury in Fahrenheit 451 foresaw deeper effects: 
“No front porches. My uncle says there used to be front porches. And people sat there sometimes at night, talking when they wanted to talk, rocking, and not talking when they didn't want to talk. Sometimes they just sat there and thought about things, turned things over. So they ran off with the porches."
It's refreshing to me that in this pandemic, I see more people walking in the neighborhood, stopping to chat a little, hungry to talk, even with "social" distancing (talk about an oxymoron). Given our isolating digital, online, "smart"phone work-world and lives, porches seem more important than ever. 
Just this week our across the street neighbors put up a front yard swing between trees. Yes, people stop and talk.
I found this pertinent saying: "The swing on your porch is a better liver of life than the chair in front of your desk."  --Terri Guillemets
I'd been thinking about today's watercolor for a while, even before the neighbors put up their swing between two trees, but they helped me. It took a few attempts, but here it is...nice and simple, like a front porch swing.

Poetry--the hard edge

"Poetry--the hard edge of truth cutting against the fog of life, bringing light and color to the world."

I actually wrote that, after reading the latest poem at http://oldmossymoon.blogspot.com
by my blogfriend Kay Lawson Gilbert of Pennsylvania. Her poetry disturbs me--in a good way, and you shouldn't be missing it.

Bradbury wrote in "Zen in the Art of Writing" http://www.raybradbury.com/that we ought to read poetry every day because it exercises muscles we don't often use. I don't read poetry every day, but I've found Old Mossy Moon to always exercise my mind and senses with images and sharp-edged economy of words in the fog of an over-wordy world.

Fresh coffee and new blends

We're always looking for new, better coffee, knowing that there is still much to be discovered in flavor and taste. So it is with this blog. I keep finding new blends, new flavors I hope enrich its taste.

I've added some of those to the right sidebar, under Coffee Cups.

They're links to other sites I consider robust offerings for thought and pleasure. I hope you'll sample them soon.

To perk your interest, consider:

• The Algonquin Roundtable at the hotel in New York City is the kind of place every artist and community needs  to survive. It was my pleasure to stay in the hotel a few years ago, thanks to the Dart Foundation meeting. The Hotel just oozes thought and creativity.
• If you want to write, or do write, you just have to read Bradbury, especially his little book, "Zen and the art of Writing."
• My favorite writer and book are Joseph Conrad and Heart of Darkness. This Polish writer learned English and became a master of prose and storytelling, in haunting tales of the sea and humanity.
• The Dart Center for Journalism and Trauma I have a long, happy history with, dating from the Oklahoma City bombing. It's dedicated to helping journalists cover traumatic news in an ethical and sensitive way to protect the victims, and the journalists. I have met terrific thinkers, movers and journalists thanks to these people. This is a rich site.
• Shelby Foote wrote prolifically about the Civil War. A true Southern gentleman made his fame in the Ken Burns series on The War. Note: He wrote all his books in longhand, with a fountain pen. He said it gave him time to consider each word. My wife Susan has a signed letter from him, written with the same fountain pen in elegant penmanship. It hangs on the wall with a photograph of one of her Confederate ancestors.
• My favorite living writer is John McPhee, whose non-fiction resounds with detail and style. He also teaches at Princeton.
• Natalie Goldberg does what I want to do, live in Taos and teach writing there. Her books on writing are very influential and good. I steal a lot of her ideas, especially from Writing Down the Bones.
• Ron Ranson is a one-eyed English marvel who I was privileged to study watercolor with a while back in a week long workshop in Taos. He is famous for Watercolor Fast and Loose, a book and style. Most of his paintings are completed with just three brushes. Yes, I bought one of his paintings, and his famous Hake brush.
• TED is a site full of ideas and creativity. Often humorous, always provoking. 
• The Waurika News-Democrat, my old newspaper, where I got my real education, and passion for community journalism.
• Eudora Welty has such grace and power and poetry in her prose. You should read One Writer's Beginnings.
• Walt Whitman--of course.