I have begun reading a collection of letters written by my mother, maternal grandmother, father, paternal grandfather, paternal step grandmother, paternal great grandmother, friends, and relatives, including some dear notes written by my brothers and sisters. The letters were saved by my father in good enough condition that they are mostly legible. My objective is to read and organize chronologically, in order to make the collection more readable and accessible. Every so often , something takes me by surprise with its immediacy, and I am transported to that actual experience. Sometimes, tears arise , or laughing, I sense momentary and quickly vanishing revelations. I wonder if what came later in our lives was already in place. Little glimpses of predestination shine through the written words. Mystified and charmed , I am both vexed and relieved by what I find.
This week, Gary and I ( mostly Gary ) have been shoveling the heaviest snow from walks and paths, roofs and roads both here in our home in Entiat and up at The Pines. The beauty of the snowy landscape is dark and heavy most hours. When the sun broke through the clouds, we took a short drive to the Stormy Mountain Land Trust about 17 miles upriver. We will go back, and walk around on snowshoes. The river is thawing and a new life with the spring will emerge, nourished by this winters’ dormancy.
This poem appeared on a scrap of paper, which I promptly hid from myself ( hopefully) in the box I was sorting, but not before photographing it with my phone. I am including both the original and the copy I wrote in my own handwriting.
Secrets from Granny 