The unsayable and the ordinary

Four colorful autumn leaves

I have been trying to write a blog since 6:30 a.m. Two creative writing pieces. Each one started strong, dribbled out in the middle and seemingly died a dark and exhausted death. Kind of like carved-out pumpkins jeering back at the writer saying, “I won’t hold a candle to that.”

Just wanting to create, to say the unsayable, all before lunch on this Friday in mid-October in the days of the 2020 Pandemic.

Instead, here’s some ordinary things.

There’s white stuff on the deck this morning. We’ve seen it before. It’s pretty now, but will it be pretty in January, March or April? Methinks we’ll grow tired of thee, white stuff.

Our deck this morning

Barry and I have been emptying out our two little sheds. Getting rid of junk. Things he–mostly he–almost exclusively he–has kept for 30-40 years. Old Datsun seats. Ten years ago he insisted upon keeping them, you know, to possibly make boat seats one day. When we pulled them down from the shed attic last weekend the mice had chewed and decorated their nests with seat insulation for almost half a century. Forget the boat seats! Off to the transfer station he went with tons and tons of “treasures” like car axles, rusty wheels, old skis and steel thingamajigs. Seventy five dollars later we’re much happier, I swear we are.

We’re a wee bit challenged now because we discovered the back shed’s floor and roof and support boards have rotted and need immediate repair. Too bad we didn’t discover this in the spring or summer before temperatures fell into the 40’s for daily highs and snow’s threatening to settle in by November.

Every autumn he mows the autumn leaves off the ground before snow settles. Two, three, four times he drives the lawn tractor around the grounds mowing leaves into little pieces and blowing them off the grass. Otherwise the autumn leaves clump into unattractive piles after snow and they’re hard to handle in the spring.

When leaves blanket the earth

I want to do something today. Anything. Do not want to sit in our quiet little house looking at white stuff and falling leaves and keep trying to say the unsayable.

But nothing comes to mind. A drive into town for pumpkin creamer and possible adventures? But, Mom, it’s too cold to go outside even for that! (Besides, I admit, pumpkin creamer lost its appeal a couple of weeks ago.)

This is the time of year it’s hardest to transition to walking outside in the cold. Brrrr. But I’ve supposedly learned–time and time again–that it’s the mind that thinks the cold is Too Challenging. Once you open the door and walk outside–quite often it’s enjoyable. Just sayin’. In case any of your minds are trying to convince you it’s Too Cold out there.

Leaves on the 1949 Studebaker pickup truck

Just wanting to say thank you for your kindness and friendship all ye regular readers. Loving your big hearts for taking the time to comment, to share of yourselves. Am feeling such appreciation for this blog space these days–to express what’s happening, to write creatively, to connect with folks during these days of relative isolation.

May you all be blessed with some joy, some inner or outer rays of sunshine, some colorful vistas on this mid-October day. May you creatively say something unsayable–something uniquely you–while you deliciously celebrate the ordinary. Maybe that’s enough for today?

About Kathy

I live in the middle of the woods in Michigan's Upper Peninsula. Next to Lake Superior's cold shores. I love to blog.
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45 Responses to The unsayable and the ordinary

  1. Jackie says:

    I am staying positive although normally (?!?) we would be making winter plans away from the cold and snow. Normally we would be either coming back or going to Europe.
    But I shall embrace the winter and be grateful that everyone stays safe.

    • Kathy says:

      Jackie, I think that’s what many of us will do this winter–embrace it and feel gratitude for the gifts of health and safety. May we all go to Europe or south or east or west one of these days soon. May our lives all get back to our regularly scheduled program very soon. Thanks for stopping by and commenting.

  2. dorannrule says:

    A lovely post as always! I too am looking for creative words but mine stay buried. Seems like my need to say the unsayable lies in waiting for elusive inspiration.

    • Kathy says:

      Dor, it is so challenging when we want to write creatively and the words stay underground like treasure we can’t access. And yet sometimes up they come, and who knows why? So glad that you’re another blogger that doesn’t quit trying. πŸ™‚

  3. Ally Bean says:

    I know how you feel about wanting to get out and do something– but what to do? Our leaves have just begun to change this week so snow isn’t on the immediate horizon, but I am concerned about what is going to happen once we are stuck inside more. Winter looms heavy on my mind this year.

    • Kathy says:

      Oh man, Ally Bean, right? What are we gonna do when deep winter hits? I spent a good hour trying to figure what the heck I could do this morning–even preheated the car–but eventually turned it off, came inside and made a cup of tea. Maybe we’ll have to start blogging every day just for entertainment??

      • Ally Bean says:

        You know, I’ve thought about that, too. When I started blogging I was a daily blogger, but gave it up because I was busy. Now I wonder if I could do that again? But more importantly– what the heck would I write about if I’m not doing anything to write about? πŸ€”

  4. Alien Resort says:

    The Studebaker truck looks cool. Not too many of those left.

    • Kathy says:

      You are so right. We haul firewood in that old Studebaker truck. My husband had her fixed up beautifully a few years ago–but now she needs lots more sprucing up.

  5. Yes, absolutely! I think what you just said is enough for today. You definitely made me smile.

  6. jeffstroud says:

    Is it unsayable or just seemingly already said? I have been asking myself that for sometime now. Do you have anything else to say ? How do I say what I believe is important in a way that is not preachy or already been said? Well being said…

    You had a great writing experience with this and we your followers enjoy “hearing” from you!

    • Kathy says:

      That is such a good question to ask ourselves. Do we really have anything else to say? I am not sure there is anything new under the sun to say. But nobody can say it like we can. It’s like every new voice says something maybe a little bit different–and no one can say it the way Jeff can. (Or Kathy.) Thank you for enjoying this morning’s little piece! Hugs…

  7. Larissa says:

    Pour yourself a nice tall glass of mercy. Saying the unsayable is a tall order, especially before noon ❀ ❀ ❀

    • Kathy says:

      Oh how cool, how delicious, how relaxing is that tall glass of mercy, oh thank you, Larissa. I was kinda thinking the unsayable before lunch kinda related to Alice in Wonderland’s Queen who said she sometimes believed in six impossible things before breakfast. πŸ™‚

      • Larissa says:

        I don’t know about you, but believing impossible things is easier for me before I get out of bed in the morning!

        • Kathy says:

          It’s something about those feet hitting the floor where the impossible does seem like the impossible. Maybe we should just all stay in bed? 😏

  8. dawnkinster says:

    Celebrating the ordinary always gets me out of a funk. I know that antsy feeling, wanting to do SOMETHING, but not any of the things your mind can come up with. I remember being like that as a kid too, telling my mom I wanted to do something, anything, but turning down each suggestion she made. I think you’re looking for adventure, a road trip through the UP might do the trick…or a bit of a road trip down here. I can’t remember where your mom is now, Florida or in Michigan? I don’t suppose you can visit her? Probably not safe in these times…but I think it’s partly these times that are making us antsy. I hope you find a bit of adventure soon!

    • Kathy says:

      It IS these times that are making us antsy, Dawn. (Although have been prone to antsiness my whole life, it seems…) So often would feel the siren call and jump in the car or an airplane to visit loved ones far away. But these days, darn it, not happening. My mom is downstate now, but doesn’t want me to visit her in assisted living until it opens up to the public again. Last year I left home on 9/19 and didn’t get home to the UP for a month. I kept trying to return home, but it didn’t work, and an inner voice kept saying, “Just relax, Kathy, you have no idea what’s going to happen and you will appreciate your four weeks with your mom more than you can know.” Really?!! So it will be a year in mid-November since I’ve seen her, although we talk tons every day. Wondering how you and your hubby are feeling now. Are you both recovered/?

  9. Snow, already and how quickly winter comes to your spot of Eden. I am in agreement with you that by January or February that the snow would be way too much to continue to endure. But the woods are so beautiful and the carpet of leaves is heavenly.

    • Kathy says:

      Yvonne, it’s so beautiful these days. Especially against the background of colored leaves. January or February can be really, really challenging, but April is especially exhausting sometimes because we’re ready for spring and it just doesn’t want to appear that early most years. One year we did have a 90 degree day in April just to prove us wrong!

  10. Tilly travel says:

    You have snow, I am so jealous, we rarely see snow, when we do I make no apologies for this, I become a child again, I run out into the lovely cold stuff and build a snowman and throw snowballs. Let the child inside play I say.

    There’s beauty in the most ordinary of things if you take the time to see it, looking and seeing are very different things.

    Bright blessings

    • Kathy says:

      Tilly, I am smiling ear-to-ear thinking of you becoming a child again with snowmen and snowballs. How precious! I would be curious to know how you feel the difference is between looking and seeing. Is seeing the deeper experience? xoxo

      • Tilly travel says:

        I had never thought about it Kathy. I will try to explain the way I feel. Take a pile of leaves, ‘look’, it’s a plie of leaves they may be pretty colours, but ‘see’ the supple changes in the colour, the markings, the structure. The beauty of even the rotting parts, the way the light plays on them or the rain lies and magnifies small parts of them. ‘See’ them and you can almost feel them, the importance of them, almost feeling at one with them. Does that make sense, now I have read it back to myself it sounds a bit hippy πŸ™‚

        As for my inner child, she often comes out to play, only yesterday she was kicking up the leaves on a walk, let your inner child lose I say.

        Bright Blessings

        Growing old is inevitable, growing up is optional.

  11. Just have a nice cup of tea for today, Kathy. It is nice and should be enough. I enjoyed your photos. I almost wish to have these problems if only to enjoy the season. Almost but not quite. I bet it is lovely to sit there and just watch fall come.

    • Kathy says:

      Am having another cup of tea today! Glad you enjoyed the pictures. It is such a lovely time of year here with the snow against the background of colored leaves. But soon another kind of lovely happens when the trees look like skeletons and dance in the wind.

  12. There is something extra magical about the contrast of new white snow with colorful autumn leaves. I’ve been feeling grateful for my blogging friends, too, these quarantine-weary days. It’s good when we can post anything that strikes our fancy, even if it’s quoting someone else’s words when our own run dry. Sometimes I think people must get tired of seeing all these pictures of the woods and the seashore, but it’s all I’ve got to offer sometimes. Kathy, it’s always good to connect with you, even when you’re feeling uninspired. πŸ™‚ Celebrating the ordinary is always enough!

    • Kathy says:

      I know what you mean, Barbara! Yesterday I kinda felt sorry for my readers–nothing really interesting to say but I really WANTED to post, to create, to share. But I think sometimes the ordinary posts are more interesting to at least a percentage of our readers who really don’t want to hear about Oneness, spirituality and metaphysical musings. Not US, of course, we love that stuff, don’t we?, which is how we met on Gaia all those years ago…

      • For me, slice of life postings are as compelling as spiritual ones, the mundane being sacred and all that. πŸ™‚ Yup, we do love present moment and unity musings. Oh how I miss those days on Gaia! Meeting you there and following your lead here into the blogosphere are two defining moments in my life and among the best things that have ever happened to me… (I think it was maybe 12 years ago? Life passes in decades now.)

  13. debyemm says:

    Your transfer station pays for metal ? We have to haul ours to a for profit metal recycler.

    How progressive !!

    And mowing leaves !?! Never heard of that though you make it sound absolutely practical. But then we don’t mow grass here. Well, to be truthful, around peak growing season my husband drives the bush-hog around to beat back the Missouri jungle.

    As I did my incredibly short writing session mini-hike yesterday, I was noticing how good our cool air felt. Didn’t even need a jacket yet but refreshing compared to the warmer days we’ve had down here recently.

    • Kathy says:

      Oh dear no, Deb, I must not have been clear. We had to PAY $75 to get rid of our “treasures”. So, no progressiveness up in our neck of the woods. We’re lucky to have recycling. They finally started accepting glass again last year.

      Yes, we mow leaves. Otherwise it would be moldy and very ugly. Although if we didn’t cut at all–like you–it would be totally OK.

      Glad to hear you were able to mini-hike again. That is progress! xoxo

  14. Elisa says:

    Perhaps, you were visiting MY head this morning?! Yes, TOO cold, and OMG it will never be warm the muscles will weaken, the neck and shoulders freeze, on and on, I did begin reading “The Second Book of the Tao” last evening, speaking of ‘unsayable’ things. The Grouch and the Grumble think they have found a new home in my head. To give them privacy, that’s what I told them anyway, I just took my meds/vits, asthma stuffs, and I had a simple bowl of cereal and a tea. I got to read chapter 4, in the new book, and check out blogs. Robin had this fantastic piece of music that I got to play over the Bose speaker: i forget how to make a link, it’s called Labouring and Resting. As you spoke of leaves I glanced up, the clouds are now distinct and a galvanized steel, the sky around them a pink and blue that appear as a pre gender reveal party in the sky, and light breakthru lighting on fire the sugar maple over the fence and across the yard. I am glad to be awake.

    • Kathy says:

      Wow–your last paragraph writing is so beautiful and amazing–galvanized steel clouds, pre gender reveal party in the sky, sugar maple breakthru lighting on fire. I am glad to have the honor of feeling all that. As well as that amazing music! Gorgeous…thank you and Robin very much.

  15. I Wilkerson says:

    Beautiful Kathy! I do think the transitions this year are all going to be a little harder. But I was encouraged about your clean-out success (even with the rotting floor discovery). Do you think your husband could have a talk with mine?

    • Kathy says:

      Thanks, Inger! It was really a great clean-out happening. Still can’t believe we got rid of so much junk. Maybe our husbands have to be ready before they will consider releasing their “treasures”…but I’m sure glad this finally happened. (And may it happen to you guys, too.)

  16. Lori says:

    I totally get the cleaning out of the “almost exclusively” things of the husband. We still need to do that. I couldn’t help but think of the TV show Pickers. They might’ve liked to pick through your shed and offered you money for those Datsun seats.

    Don’t like snow in October (or April). It doesn’t happen often here, but once in a while. Sorry to hear about the shed repair you need to have done. It’s never fun to learn we have a big repair ahead.

    • Kathy says:

      Oh, Lori, if you could have seen some of this junk! I think the Pickers people would have run outa here faster than you could imagine! Now my dad’s treasures were another matter. The Pickers folk might have even found some REAL treasures. Wishing we could have dived forward into that shed project this past weekend, but it didn’t happen. Sigh. Winter is closing in too quickly.

  17. I hate those feelings of wanting to create but not being able to channel it, or of feeling restless but not knowing why.

Thank you for reading. May you be blessed in your life...may you find joy in the simple things...

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