November 1: Frost Winds, Warmth, Grading Essay Exams

I have glutted on richness and welcome hyssop.  This distant silver November sky, these sere branches of trees, shed and bearing their pure and secret colors--this is the real world, not the world gilded and pearled.  I stand under wiped skies directly, naked, without intercessors.  Frost winds have lofted my body's bones with all their restless spirits to an airborne raven's glide.  I am buoyed by a calm and effortless longing, an angled pitch of the will, like the set of the wings of the monarch which climbed a hill by falling still.

I chose this little passage because it's about November.  Sere branches and frost winds.  How the world is sort of stripped down to reality by this month.  No green or red or mustard accessories for the bushes and trees.  Everything stands naked and pure.

Last night--Halloween--was a wreck of wind and cold.  Walking around with my kids was an exercise in balance and stamina.  Today, this first day of November, is gorgeously warm.  Near 65 degrees.  No wind.  When I stepped outside this afternoon, I thought to myself, "Where was all this shit yesterday?"

I have had little time to enjoy this last gasp of autumn warmth.  I've been working and grading.  And grading.  And grading.  I have been grading all day long.  Essay exams.  Thirty-five of them.  In about half an hour, I have to teach my composition class. Three and a half hours of research and writing.  I am not excited.  I am brain dead.

Of course, I have a lesson plan.  I'm just lacking the enthusiasm at the moment to put it into practice.  Never fear.  I always work up the energy and inspiration for teaching.  At the moment, though, my reserves of energy are rather low.

By the way, I saw something on Facebook today that went something like this:  "Don't be afraid to be racist.  Get out and vote."  That little bit of wisdom did not come from a Hillary Clinton supporter.  I'm even too tired to express sufficient outrage or shock.

Don't expect any wit from this tired saint tonight.  Marty needs a nap.

Well, that's pretty scary, isn't it?

March 13: Kale Chips, Lawnmower Tongue, Sun

The Upper Peninsula is in the middle of a March heat wave.  For the fourth or fifth day in a row, temperatures have been pushing close to sixty degrees.  Today is no different.  The snow banks are quickly vanishing, and water is running down the streets.  Pretty soon, the piles of dog crap will start to emerge in people's backyards.

Run like the wind from these!

The reason I'm focusing on the weather and warmth is that I tried a snack today that reminds me of summer.  One of my coworkers made kale chips last night.  If you don't know what kale chips are, you're lucky.  Basically, my coworker baked kale, adding sea salt or something to it.  It's supposed to be a "healthy" alternative to Pringles or Cheetos or Fritos.  Well, I decided to be adventurous this afternoon.  Yup, I ate a kale chip.

It was green.  It was light.  It was salty.  It tasted like shit.

I don't mean literal shit.  I mean it tasted like I'd stuffed my mouth with grass clippings.  I walked around for the next hour or so with lawnmower tongue.  I have just now erased the lingering sting from my taste buds.  It took a lot of water and some candy corn.

The point of my post is that, just because it seems like spring outside, you don't have to cram manure in your mouth to fertilize your stomach.

That's just how Saint Marty sees it.