Miracles I've Omitted To Mention--at Home and in Homer

Phil is home now, bruised from his travels, glad to be home, dismayed by some of my less-functional ways of being in his absence. And I realize that there have been some miraculous things going on all the time that I should have talked about here and haven't yet--perhaps partly in concern over what would be interesting. Trust me--this is interesting.

Miracle 1): Two ripe tomatoes in our kitchen.

We weren't even trying to grow tomatoes: as often, there were some tomato 'volunteers' mixed in with our basil seed. This one got big--

 --practically crowded out the basil! It was in a pot that didn't hold water well, in any sense of the word, so it tended to get underwatered, or be under water when it was watered! For all that, there are tomatoes. Now, a couple of our friends did grow indoor tomatoes successfully on purpose, with a lot of work, and obtained whole bowls-ful. Our scant few seem miraculous even so.

Miracle 2): All the literary events in Homer. I mentioned the 12-author reading event that I was heading for on Thursday night. Although it seemed a shame to have only one poet in twelve readers (albeit a phenomenal and marvelous poet), the depth and breadth of writing talent in this small, rough-hewn town at the end of the road is truly remarkable: among the eleven prose writers, there was diversity of tone, theme, style and color. There was also another gathering the previous Friday night, with five local authors discussing the books that had influenced them, and some lively and fascinating discussion of the same question from the audience afterwards.

Five of us poets have been gathering twice a month to critique one another's poems and to discuss a book we've previously read. Every time we gather, I feel awed by the privilege of being in a group with these ladies, astonished that they accept me in their midst.

And I attend two other writing groups in town, too. Lately, I've been roped in to help out with the organization of one of them, and it triggers an alarm bell. I've always been so willing to keep things like this going, I end up curating or assisting, to the detriment of my own creative work.

So this particular miracle comes with a lesson/challenge for me. A few different people asked me why I wasn't one of the readers on Thursday night. Of course, it's not mine to say: I wasn't the curator or organizer this time--and I take a moment to feel flattered that anyone might have thought of me. But it's also true that the organizers wanted people who are 'big names' locally, and I am not that. Still, if I want to be the type of person that gets called on for this kind of event (which is easier to contemplate than "being a big name"), then I do need to be more self-promoting (clear some time in the schedule to get those poems out into the world!) --and this might also meant that I need to be more forthright about how important my own work is. Those of us who love to help others wrestle with this anxiety (is my work really important?)--and those of us who can convince ourselves that getting our work out there is actually good for everyone are the most successful in this.

Do you think I'm equal to this challenge?

Miracle 3): Venus Potato

One of the funnest things about growing and harvesting fruits and vegetables is that you get to see all the oddball creations--the persimmons with funny 'noses,' the carrots with two legs and a phallus, the orange that is just a quarter of an orange, with skin perfectly sealing just that quarter. Or, this potato! This wasn't one of ours: Leslie, Phil's daughter's mom, grew it, but it may be the best 'oddball' I've ever seen. The 'head' part even has the impression of eyes and a mouth.

Miracle 4): Jumping rope in our cabin. It really is miraculous that I can turn a rope in this tiny space!

But I can, and I have been doing so on an almost-daily basis. The rope I bought in Anchorage was about a foot too short, so what you see is a piece of old climbing rope (light and flexible) onto which Phil put the handles from the other rope. Even with that extra foot of rope flailing around, I can do it! I can break a serious sweat right there in the middle of the cabin, in less than a minute (and I'm not a quick sweater).

It's nice to be able to try some different techniques, like running in place while spinning the rope, which were simply impossible with the shorter rope. And nowadays I can trip over the rope and then regain the rhythm rather than having to start over, which feels good. Lately, I've been jumping for 30-40 seconds, then stopping for a few deep breaths, then repeating, for about ten minutes; and then doing bodyweight exercises. Hiking and biking too, enjoying the last few days of feasible biking here.

What are some miracles you've experienced recently?