Early out, and it’s very chilly. I wear my gloves! The river has a thin ice on the edges and I am happy to spend some time looking for pictures. I go over the trestle bridge and walk the meadow; pass two hunters, today, one yesterday. They are not to be hunting on the land they are crossing. They seem to be looking for evidence of deer. On my way home I find the blue jay feather. And, evidence that this blue jay flies no more. This, as it turns out, is not my only walk today. I don’t yet know an even better one is to come. Just after dark, I get a call from my older brother. I missed his call, actually, and called him back. He said he was in town to drop something special for Christmas at Mom and Dad’s. For a short flash of a minute where I went in my head was to Brush Hill Road––what? You’re dropping something at their house? Are they there? If they’re there, well, I want to see them and drop something too! But, I know. He means he is dropping something in the cemetery where their memorial bench and ashes are in the center of town. Then, he says, he’s going for a hike in Rocky Narrows, as he often does, and this time I’m available, and I say, I’ll come too! We go out with Charlie and flash light into the woods under the night sky. Where is the moon, the wonderful full moon, he asks. There are only stars, stars, stars on this clear night. We walk and walk and talk and talk; both so happy for this special time. We talk about our kids. He tells me about the family party I missed yesterday, and I’m so sad to have missed it, but then I think, well, thank goodness I am getting the surprise of this special time with my brother instead. I am trusting in spontaneity and surprise, being grateful for the good times that are coming even in this Covid time. We talk about mom and dad, especially dad, and how much we miss them, and how much they are here. He tells me some special ways I inspire him, and I tell him the same. We stop in the meadow to look up at the sky. When we step back onto my property, suddenly, there it is behind the trees, the blazing moon, bright as can be, slowly, slowly rising and sending a beam of light onto the brook as we pass. We stop in my yard again under the sky, still talking about mom and dad. . . and then I see a shooting star, white and fast and falling into the trees, it seems. So, I didn’t get the party, but I got a report of the party, under a full moon and star filled sky on a frosty night with my big brother.

I came across this wonderful short video featuring the artist and sculptor––and feminist–– Louise Bourgeois, peeling a tangerine, and telling so much more. It’s worth a look.