Tuesday, April 24, 2007

U is for Until

Until Thursday, it’d been a coon’s age since I’d looked at the river thinking I have to be in you. Until Friday, I hadn’t heard a snipe* since the last mating season. Until the heat wave, I hadn’t exposed my blindingly white skin to the elements since the earth tilted me away from the sun. Until Saturday, I hadn’t swept the garage for a year. Until Sunday, my butt hadn’t hit a bike seat in a month of . . . Sundays. Until the light started hitting just this way, I could only dream of the sound of peepers. Until this past weekend, I hadn’t had a gin and tonic on Paul’s porch in months. Until the high water and rising temperatures, I had never seen a muskrat really riding the current of the stream, tail relaxed: temporary bodysurfer of the valley. Until last night, I hadn’t slept with the windows open in a blue moon.

*Do not let some camp counselor or elementary school teacher take you on a snipe hunt, then tell you there’s no such thing as snipe. These people aren’t malicious—simply ignorant. You may have been on a wild goose chase, and real snipe are elusive. But many things that are elusive are real.

15 comments:

Sewa Yoleme said...

I read this post to Mom just now, and she said, "She's quite a poet, isn't she? Such lovely writing. It sounds like it just flows out of her so easily."

She's right, of course.

Helen said...

Mothers do know best.

Yikes, I moved into my house 7 years ago and have yet to sweep the garage. And those snipes sure have interesting child-rearing habits...

mm said...

According to my high school music teacher, the average lifespan of a raccoon is 13 year. I don't know if that's accurate, but since I had a minor crush on him, I've held that a coon's age is 13 years for 2 consecutive con's ages.

Preston said...

Hm. No limit on your word count, now, eh? How's that workin' for you? I must say, the word limit is quite challenging. Sometimes it's not enough. Others, it's far too much. Personalities should not be confined to mere words and numbers.

Deloney said...

I agree with sewa entirely. Here's a blurb for the back of your first book:

"Indigo Bunting is thoroughly Thoreau. This transplanted city gal, currently living in the wilds of Vermont, describes herself as an editor, bird nerd and fly fisher, but she is much more. Tender, funny, and wise as a hooting owl wearing glasses or the fish who got away. In these mini-essays of country pursuits and urban memories, she approaches the territory of Annie Dillard's "Pilgrim at Tinker Creek" and "An American Childhood", but her voice is her own. Buy this book before your friends do and brag that you found it first."

Helen said...

When is it going on sale?

Indigo Bunting said...

mm: When I did this post, I actually looked up coon's age, and it said 13 years, backing up what your teacher said.

SY, D, and H: Wow. I hope I can be HALF that good someday. And this poor little blog is suffering quite a bit as I work to keep up with the daily music blog. I have to figure that out.

Maybe Sewa can publish me. He's got his own company these days...

Helen said...

How did you get into your line of work Indigo? It sounds great: living in rural Vermont, occasional trips to NYC for gourmet french fries and to Portland for Timbits, and chapters on confounding.

And Deloney, when is your book coming out?

Deloney said...

I haven't submitted anything in ages.

dawna said...

Indigo I've finally figured it out!!! You are leading the alternate life I sometimes dream of! (Or, here where I am, in downtown los angeles, where it can't get more urban, I am living yours!) Your post was just gorgeous, and prompted me to spend an hour I really didn't have reading your music blog, and the rest of these posts too. And all of it is very fine. Really. You've inspired my ocd self to kick in and say maybe I need to start yet ANOTHER blog...like I have time...about what those of us who are urban, and live in the city but dream of rivers do to be with earth & nature. I've just posted a poem on my blog for you-couldn't think of another to get it to you--since this comment is already way too long to give you the poem here...a snapshot of my day yesterday...at the windowsill of my loft in the heart of downtown los angeles with a bus stop below me on the street level... maybe it's the first of such a blog's entries. Wishing you a day of knowing you rock! :^)

Indigo Bunting said...

Dawna: Wow. Thank you thank you. It's funny to think I'm leading a life anyone would want to live as I spend 90%, it seems, alone and editing. It is good to remind myself how much I love living here. I miss the city and just got my 3-day NYC fix. But I'm happy to be home and need to discipline myself to remember to take it in. I also need to find time to get back to this blog.

The poem you wrote is fanfreakintastic. I hope everyone will read it!

Cedar Waxwing said...

I thought I'd commented on this one...

I'm glad you've educated folks about snipes. I remember being confused when I learned they were real - couldn't believe it.

When's V coming along? (my word verification below begins with V - that must be a good sign.

Indigo Bunting said...

I have got to get back to this blog! (Like I said on May 11.)

Deloney said...

"Give us a V!"

"V!"

Mali said...

A very late comment - I just loved this. The joy of the changing seasons ... I could feel the warmth of the sun on your shoulders. Brilliant.