Prelude
Without a doubt the greatest flight of whimsy this summer was not taking a 12 passenger van of grandkids 1125 miles to the beach. Nor was it running the bases during Levi's baseball night...though making contact with a Levi pitch is a considerable accomplishment. It wasn't even believing that the Cardinal baseball game we will be attending September 28 might be meaningful....(sigh).
No, thanks to J.S.Bach, J.B. Hurst and YoYo Ma, I spent one moonlit summer evening under the gleaming curls of the Pritzker Pavilion while the great cellist captivated a crowd of thousands with a marathon performance of all of Bach's six concertos for unaccompanied cello. It was mastery. It was magical. And it is the inspiration for this three part homily....a little suite ...
Being Consistent: A Fugue
Day after day I've been walking lines eyes moving left and right looking for something wrong. A sudden fountain where some varmint, through thirst or orneriness, has chewed through the plastic tube that connects the emitter to the 3/4 poly pipe. Or maybe a varmint has skittered through the lines, pulling the emitter out and leaving the plant high and dry. Maybe the emitter or pipe is plugged...with an unfortunate spider or cricket...or sometimes, yuck., a petrified tree frog. It's still July and there is room between the lines to walk, to watch, and to stop and pull weeds. Weeds grow around almost every pot: crab grass, barnyard grass, purslane, ground ivy, and an assortment of other annuals I categorize as 'mum weeds.'
We water, we weed, we watch for telltale signs of insect infestation. Beetles gnawing, caterpillars of a wide variety of sizes and hairiness. It's not a scientific count, but a combination of gut feeling and the calendar that leads us to call in reinforcements when there are too many webs for comfort.
These are the summer chores. And to be successful, we have to be consistent. Same routine, every line, almost every day. The weather changes and the plants grow, but, like a fugue, the melody is passed around over and over....
Being Persistent: Sarabande
Blake used to love tuberous begonias. And for several years, I attempted to satisfy this preference by planting them under the hostas in the shadiest spot in our large yard. Alas, these prima ballerinas of the plant world sulked in the crumbly soil of this former ash heap. Then along came sunpatiens, bright and bloomy, resilient and tolerant.....and the begonias were history. To paraphrase, happy husband, happy wife; the sunpatiens I have planted in the pots and flower bed near the patio where he sits after work in Jefferson City have always bloomed profusely from June til a hard freeze.
But this year, the sun coleus towers over a flower bed of sunpatiens no bigger than when I planted them in late May! The varmints quite clearly prefer Blake's sunpatiens to any other plant in the backyard, grazing them down to the height of the mown grass.
Fool's errand or no, quixotic or not, the summer is long and I am persistent . Like the stately slow measured tempo of a sarabande in Bach's suites, I am willing to repeat my movements any number of times to finish the song....or outlast the deer that treat Blake's sunpatiens like hors d'oeuvres.
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| Take that, deer, and that, and that, and that.. |
Being Present: Gigue'
One man playing one instrument in one spotlight on a stage designed for an orchestra under a summer moon and the skyline of a great city. It focuses all your senses...the stillness of the audience, their concentration an invisible wall against the sirens and horns and bustle of the surrounding night life. After the somber and even atonal chords of the minor suites, the final movements are not so much light-hearted as affirming, an aural expression of the life force pulsing in our veins. This single-minded focus on the music made time both stand still and flash by. It was the universal and the unforgettable, the experience that makes one wish we could, with Emily from 'Our Town', "realize life while they live it...every, every minute?"
God's glorious creation can bring us to that revelation. And so can the miraculous, if we recognize it. But I don't know if anything but music can return us to that state of wonder and focus and recollection again and again. Being present and conscious of the marvelous in the mundane lightens steps and lifts spirits. We take care to memorialize our big moments....but none of us, no matter how we wish to, can summon back all our small pleasures.....
like days of summer chores with dewy feet,
or garden flowers with the morning's first coffee...
but I know a Bach cello suite will always take me a June night in Chicago, the air alive with the music and nothing else....
“I can't look at everything hard enough!”
― Our Town
