the summer refugees
stream in somber procession
off the wild coasts of the Atlantic
into tunnels and across bridges
that deliver them into the straight lines of September
from salty sprays to the cubicles of stale air
from lobster rolls to peanut butter & jelly sandwiches
from flip flops to the confine of safely-covered toes
from open-ended, day-upon-day, endless nights, afternoons within afternoons to deadlines, alarm clocks, and appointments, the sun dropping in the sky night fall
from our nascent waters to the certain ending of every incarnation even summers such as this even
the dappled light on the hill crafts bouquets of yellow blossoms where the grass has already faded with the coming fall
this shrinking arc of day makes the jeweled promise of the morning last longer, sparkling through the leaves, instead of trumpeting overhead–insisting, demanding, expecting
the sun’s retreat also lends heat to the outdoor shower, warming the stones under foot, once cool in the deep shade of the canopy
a tiny, non-threatening, almost adorable, miniature-maple-leaf greets me on the path; the color red softened by the fading heart at its center
well played, September
today is the anniversary of my mother’s sobriety, and the beginning of our last week with her, 15 years ago
i’ve just learned of wayne dyer’s passing, a teacher whose work my mother introduced me to at her diningroom table where she imparted a (shortened) lifetime of hard-earned wisdom with the soft light and gentle hue of her soul
funny that it is the English translation that always slips from memory, leaving behind only beginning and ending fragments~
On the tips of my fingers is… …a vision of energy in my hands.
In between there are Goddesses. Saraswati is the one devoted to eloquence and learning,
a fine companion to evoke on this first day of school,
as I begin, again, to find the writer, within.
Celebrate the expansive energy of the sun with the nourishing energy of the moon~in a circle of woman gathering for retreat, relaxation, rejuvenation~with offerings & rates that flex with your summer schedule:
Let Your Yoga Dance Weekly Classic (since 2007)75+ minutes of integrating music & movementthrough the chakras to wind down your day… Tuesday Evenings, 7:00 pm to 8:15 pm, between June 23 & August 11 (as scheduled.) $55 for 5 classes (save $20) or $15 drop-in (ask about pre-pay discount.)
Let Your Yoga Dance Immersion (1st annual!) ~Burst into summer with a week-long morning LYYD practice 75+ minutes of invigorating music & movementthrough the chakras to launch each day! Monday, July 13th ~ Friday, July 17th 7:00 am to 8:15 am $55 for the week (save $20) or $15 drop-in (ask about pre-pay discount.)
(This is part of a series dedicated to our local elementary school–the heart of our community–on the occasion of my last child’s graduation… count down–two weeks!)
Caroling, another Marlboro Elementary Tradition 2014, Junior High, Whetstone Inn
As an army brat and the oldest of eight children, I’ve seen my share of school performances–in places near and far.
Add to that the decades as an elementary teacher and you could say I’m a school concert officianando. (Lucky me!)
And just in case your experience is more limited than mine, I’m here to let you know that Marlboro Elementary School (MES) events are by far the cream of the crop.
I saw my first MES performance in 1994 at Marlboro College, and felt the first quickening of my first born right in the Whittemore Theatre, aisle three, center left.
A handful of years later, that same child was on the stage exposing his belly to the audience in a kindergarten performance that was well past his bedtime.
The following year, he was in the “orchestra” sounding percussion for his class play beside his best buddy. After watching the sword dance, Timmy leaned over and whispered to Lloyd: “How will we EVER do that?!”
A couple feet later with deepening vocal fluctuations, there they are, teenagers, dancing in the dark, with glowing sticks.
If Marlboro’s Holiday Concert isn’t your idea of a fun night out, it might help to look at it through the eyes of an anthropologist. The rites of passage steeped in the curriculum that music teacher Charlene Morse offers, matches that of those tight knit cultures we admire.
From the enthusiastic participation of the primary room to the grumbling of the junior high, it’s all good–the stuff of coming of age in a strong community. The Youngers look up to the Olders, and the Olders look up to the Alumni–who voluntarily return to the place they once couldn’t wait to leave.
There is Joseph, a Marine, standing on the stairs beside his fifth-grade teacher, David Holzapfel.
His brother Jesse is back on the stage playing drums.
There is Harry speaking to the audience–channeling the love of our community–to MES graduate Jesse Lopata at Dartmouth Hitchcock.
There is baby Chloe toddling now and there is baby Dylan, speaking!
Families who haven’t seen each other since summer days at South Pond reconnect, sharing snow and power-outage woes with continued offers of help.
Recent MES graduates linger in the lobby and the whole Reichsman family traipses by with equipment in their arms.
Winter is upon us and once again the pot of our community is stirred.
This Vermont Life 