Tidings of Comfort and .......

 

A trip to the post office can kill your comfort and joy buzz — IF you let it. 

Don helped me carry heavy boxes into the post office this week. As we got in line, a lady behind with an enviable resting bitch face and eyeroll muttered something that didn't sound like a greeting. I looked behind her and realized the actual end of the line went on a good ways behind us. We moved to the back of the pack without taking my earrings off.

 

Literally moments later another "lady" in front of us felt that she needed to dictate to another where she should stand, the other lady told her she was just fine right where she was.  I believe those damn aisle arrows that have been removed from the grocery store floors have thrown these wanna be traffic police into a tizzy. 

As we moved through the line at an acceptable holiday pace, it was clear to see that there were two kind of people in that room. The patient and impatient. Sighs and mutterings could be heard behind me if someone took longer than a minute with the postal clerk. 

And then — it was my turn. I was greeted by a jolly postal elf with a ginormous Christmas Santa hat on. While he was scanning my packages I  fixated on his hat. It had bulbs on it and looked like it may be a little uncomfortable.

 

I knew the minute it left my mouth I was click bait. "Does you hat light up?" I asked. 

He grinned wider than a Cheshire cat and said "Well yes it does." he answered. 

He pulled a bell hanging down near his ear and the hat moved up and down on his head and the bulbs all lit up and elf ears popped out from the side and it sang "We wish you a Merry Christmas." and more verses of it than I knew it had. 

I scanned the room behind me, sneers and jeers, I was clearly the bane of their existence. I've always been the one to mash a button on a toy in the store to see what it does and then fumble to find the cut off switch hurriedly. I couldn't get behind the plexiglass to do so and just suffered through the imaginary projectiles being thrown at my back.  

But, the song eventually ended and the postal clerk wished me a Merry Christmas with a wink and a nod for the next person to come to the counter. 

A little reminder, we don't have to tell everyone how we feel about them. Sometimes we can just go along with it and be better for it. 

That Kitsch Shit Going On

I don't believe the true magic of the universe can be conjured but I do believe it will present itself if I am open to it. I realize with Covid that I can fall into a much smaller world (rabbit hole) which closes the portals to that magic. I have to fight that, I will ALWAYS fight that. I can take a ride, walk, phone call, write, spill into a journal, cook, paint, etc.

On our way home from a trip to the mountains to meet a precious new life, our 4th generation great-grand girl, I thought of how fortunate I am to even utter those words. 4 generations of women in one room. How divine. 

The night before I was to meet Tinley I climbed into the foreign cabin bed in the foothills of NC, my soul's home away from home. My furry girl Zoe sighed and finally fell asleep curled up beside me, un-settled herself and looking for comfort from my body heat, I — the same from her. Both of us are accustomed to the creature comforts of our home. 

Sleep was not as quick to come for me as was with Zoe. I tossed and turned. I was absolutely positive the ancient cabin logs housed creepy crawlers just waiting for the lights to go out. Finally, my eyes couldn't focus, my sub-conscious put guards at the gate and I drifted off.  

Around midnight I rolled over and noticed a glow in the bedroom. A dream catcher hung in the  window. I didn't pay any attention to it when when we first arrived. Aren't they in every cabin in the mountains? So kitschy that they have lost their wonder. Or have they?

Maybe I just need to remind myself of their origin. I like to think an Indian maiden lying on her back, star-gazing on a cool mosquito-less fall night with a crackling fire nearby, framed the galaxy in her minds eye and then made a twig frame for it. Call it what we may it's really not the piece itself is it? It is what is behind it, seen through it, or the memory caught in it. 

I walked in my own yard a month earlier and there too was a perfect nature-made frame hanging from a few transparent webs. There is a constant in the universe, an earth-speak, subtle hints of wonder left just for me on my journey if I will just pick up the little pieces of puzzle it leaves me along the way. However, it's not a practice as easy as eating and drinking, etc. 

But — tonight, with the slivered light of a new moon, the dream catcher caught in it's web 2 huge glowing stars/planets of which I am not sure. I called Don in to see them, they were so bright!  We do that, we share the wonder. Don is a night-owl, he will come to me in the middle of the night and take my hand to walk outside into the darkness for a night-wonder;  a moon glow, an owl, a wood-line full of fireflies or the eyes of a herd of deer. 

Tonight I called him. Light fluffy pastel blue clouds wafted through the webbing of that dream-catcher, the symmetry of the stars in it was absolutely beautiful. 

Later I Googled the heavens to see what the phenomenon may have been. I really didn't know what to look for but Earthsky.org said that on October 16, 2020, the Eastern seaboard would have the year’s closest and largest new moon. 

Yes, a new moon she is, our beautiful little great-grand Tinley. Continuity, promise, hope. Shine your light little one. Your light, your life is your voice. 

2 nights after we came home from the mountains, just to prove it's not just a mountain thing, earth was showing off in the southern sky. Don again took my hand and walked me down the steps with a flashlight and then cut the light off to show me the big and little dipper. As a bonus, the Milky Way swept through the middle of the sky as if with a angled camel haired artist brush, dipped in blue-gray paint. 2020 ain't all bad y'all! 

Sands of Time

The first time I remember my feet touching the silt of the sea I was around 8 years old at Atlantic Beach in NC. I remember the scary tug of the disappearing sand as the tide pulled it from under my feet, I felt I would fall. I crave that tug annually. We have never lived more than 4 hours from the coast but it seemed like forever away sometimes. I once put sand in a box and brought it home. Then one cold winter day in North Carolina I warmed it in the microwave, took the box to my office and jammed my toes into it while I worked at the computer.  

In the late 70’s I was pregnant with my first daughter but wasn’t about to let that keep me from the sanctity of putting my ass in the sands of Key West. I dug a hole in front of a probably now defunct sand bar blaring Peter Framptom and Bog Seger. I then placed my rotund belly in the cool concave. About a half hour into my sunbathing I was hit on by a dude. I put down my book and rolled over to address him, he stopped mid-sentence and took off when he saw the swollen orb that had been hidden in the sand. 8 weeks later when I went into labor I walked the sands of Isle of Palms in SC because walking the halls of a hospital was so much less appealing.

When I go to the beach I seldom go into the ocean but I love the waves, the tug in the shallow surf. I adore how the sand makes me feel. I have come as far as one can go, to the edge of my terra-firma without being consumed by its majesty, the ocean.  

I have wizened to the idiosyncrasies of beach people now that I have become one: 

• Those  with the faraway look in their eyes. I used to walk past them and look out to see what they were looking at. Nothing and everything.
• The buried feet people, these are the ones that came out the day before and didn’t put sunblock on.
• The combers, the people who walk like they have a certain intention—  straight ahead, they pass you again a half hour later with the same intent. 
• The seekers, those hunch backed young and old with solo cups full of shark teeth and shells.
• The builders, those who make towers to say they were here, with moats and windows of shells. 
• The losers, the people who don’t know the tide and come back to find their chairs, flip flops and towels have been consumed by the Atlantic. 
• And lastly, sweet baby Jesus, bless their hearts — The sea gull feeders.

I can also tell you that sand is the best pedicure you can get. I always come back from a beach day with pristine pink bottomed feet. Sand isn’t always kind though. I would pack band-aids for Don and the boys for their boogie board irritated nipples. And there is nothing worse than sand in any crack if you aren’t near a shower when you leave the beach. I swear I almost made an oyster once in the car ride home once.  

Over the sands of time I have been all of the above. Today, on Folly Beach, I am just lost in the awesomeness of it all. I began seeking for elusive sharks teeth. I am sure I didn't look that distruaght but a kind man came over to me and held out his hand which was full of sharks teeth. He gave me three of them. A lot of people had walked by this man and he chose me to reach out to. I freaking love kindness!! Don then found one and gave it to me. 

After about an hour we made our way back to the public access. I saw my granddaughter sitting in the sand, her 7 month pregnant belly swollen. With a little imagination I can see my great granddaughter Tinley rising butt up to greet the sun and surf. Continuity, no where says it more clearly than the edge of America.  

Magnolia Plantation & Gardens Chinese Lantern Festival

When we arrived at  Magnolia Plantation & Gardens for the Lights of Magnolia display in collaboration with The Zigong Lantern Group the lights were competing with a brilliant fuchsia sunset to the east. In no time at all the sun set and the production proceeded to steal the show.
I had been excited since before Christmas to see the display and avoided looking at pictures (the best I could) of friends who posted on FB and Instagram of the event. That worry was unfounded, there isn't a picture out there, anywhere, that could replace seeing this in person.
My husband, two friends and I were greeted near the ticket booth by one of Magnolia’s own colorful beauties. Mr. Peacock was lackadaisically foraging the grass for a late evening snack. Minutes later he flew to one of the magnificent moss laden oaks and posed as one of the most beautiful silhouettes I have seen.
As we entered the arches the “oohs and ahhs” began. The 3/4 mile stretch of phantasmagoric eye-candy was filled with people of all ages. Glee, amazement and gasps of awe were heard from the smallest to the oldest around me in addition to my own. I slowly moved from one display to another through the slack-jawed, wonder-struck crowd. I talked to strangers too overcome not to speak about what we are seeing; The colors, the miles of silk, the weight of the bent steel, the precision, the perfection, the art, the intensity, the backdrop of Magnolia Garden’s dripping moss and towering oaks. It was an amazing marriage between the lights and Magnolia’s natural flora; the lighted alligators among the low forest, huge butterflies alongside the winter blooms of camellias. 
We wound our way around the fairy tale children’s section, the ark, the fields of butterflies, ladybugs and more. The trees and paths were filled with brilliant Avatar sized blooms and dripping icicles formed a canopy overhead along with the hundreds of LED lit Chinese lanterns. The panda, lion and zebra displays were just dazzling. The wall of Chinese Zodiac tiles was a huge hit with the crowds as everyone searched out their birthday year and sign to take a picture with. And then — there he was, the  200-foot dragon.
The dragon being one of the most magnificent lantern displays was built on-site by The Zigong Lantern Group. The artisans, use a variety of materials including silk and chinaware, LED lights, bent wire, plates and cups.
Hong Jun Deng's magnificently created dragon "is really the biggest dragon I have ever made." he said through an interpreter to Herb Frazier, Magnolia Garden’s Public Relations Director.
Its head towers 45 feet into the moss-draped trees. The dragon's scales are made of 26,000 porcelain plates. Deng and Wu carefully attached each plate on the dragon's body with thread. I stood transfixed at this piece for a long time in wonder. I crept up as close as I could get and was admiring the plates, the thread-work, the silk, the wire fabricating, the bracing. I turned to find my husband to find an Asian man smiling at me across the path, I smiled back. I think he was pleased to see the work of his culture so greatly appreciated by the crazy lady about to tip over the rope to get a better look.
For more stories about the fabrication, the process and the people behind it, please check out Herb Frazier’s stories based on interviews of the artisans here. https://www.magnoliaplantation.com/lights_of_magnolia_stories.html

As we exited the last arch, my friend touched my shoulder. "Look back." she simply said. As a whole the lights were just as gorgeous, but narrowing and dimming with each step away. A perfect close to 2019. Hello 2020.
Thank you to the powers that be at Magnolia that brought this beautiful lantern festival to us. Get your tickets and don’t let this event slip by.
The hours are 5:30 to 9:30 PM Wednesdays through Sundays. Tickets are $28 with fees for adults, $13 with fees for children ages 6-12 and free for children ages 5 and under. Additional fees for on-site parking and shuttles apply. For more information and ticket options, visit www.lightsofmagnolia.com