Christopher Donahue

A little haiku in observation of the tenth month.

vibrant autumn leaves

swirl up and around the yard  

fleeting October

copyright 2019 Christopher Donahue

Summer 2019 was drawing to a close and realized we had yet to go to the beach.

And by beach, we meant The Beach, which means the ocean in these parts. We had been taking dips in lakes and swimming pools all summer, but no trip to  the seashore.  Neither my wife nor I are big beach people.  Going to the beach is more of a ritual for us than a passion. Our yearly tradition is to go to the shore at least once a summer. And usually, we put off going until we forget about it. Then we realize we were running out of time because there is no endless summer in temperate zones. To make the situation more dire, September arrived with unseasonably cool weather. It looked like we wouldn’t be making the beach after all this summer.

But the weather turned promising. Hot, humid beach weather was forecast for last full day of summer. And the last full  day fell perfectly on  Sunday.  We packed up the blanket and umbrella and other  paraphernalia  folding chairs and sunscreen, and made the forty minute ride to board-walk-kitschy  Nantasket beach. We wondered on the drive if the beach would be crowded with last minute sun worshipers. We then surmised real beach-people had gone  to the beach all summer, had their fill and and  moved on to fall.

We were correct. The beach was nearly empty. We relaxed, worked on our tans and went in the water a few times.  After several splendid hours,  we packed it up and proceeded to the next part of our yearly beach going ritual: We made a stop at Dairy Queen.

A perfect end to summer.

Copyright 2019 Christopher Donahue

The timeless, summertime vibe we all love so much made me forget what day of the week it was. The beautiful weather and vacationing, got me out of my work-life rhythm. Early one weekday morning, I stood looking in the mirror wondering if it were Tuesday, Wednesday or Thursday.

A little deduction was in order…

It couldn’t be Monday because the reluctance to return to work would be an overwhelming identifier for that day. And it couldn’t be Friday for opposite reasons: The anticipation of the weekend would make certain I knew it was the last day of the work week.

Then I looked at my shave-cream-covered chin in the mirror. All my life I’d  been unable to grow a decent beard. Not being a hirsute man, I shaved only three days a week: Monday, Wednesday and Friday.   That settled the matter.

It was Wednesday by a shave.

copyright 2019 Christopher Donahue

August is the Sunday of the months.  I wish I could say I came up with that quote, but I didn’t.  A fellow commuter made the observation as we waited for the train last week. And he was correct.  August is like a long, summer Sunday afternoon. One can enjoy the fine weather and time off, but there is an underlying foreboding or anxiety that it is all coming to an end. Just like spending a Sunday slightly  stressed about impending Monday.

August weather is certainly beautiful, but there is no escaping the feeling a good time is coming to a seasonal end.  It begins with the subtle realization the days are again getting shorter. It follows with the slight change in the weather.  I go out to see the Persied meteor shower and there’s a good chance the evening will be cloudy-unlike in  July.   The morning and evening  breezes begin to get cooler. I need a sweatshirt over my t-shirt and shorts. And right on schedule,  my tomatoes are starting to ripen.

If ever there was a time to live in the moment and make summer last, it is August.

To continue this metaphor, I wonder if I will be writing about September as the Monday of months? I will have to get there and see.

Presently, it is enough for me to stay in the moment.

copyright 2019 Christopher Donahue

One July morning, I saw a bee going into a flower and knew everything was all right with the world.

It was a few days before the Fourth of July, and  I was up early to water my tomato plants before work. Barefoot and wearing a t-shirt and shorts, I made my rounds with my watering can to a patch of tomatoes I planted behind the garage. Even though  it was turning out to be a beautiful day, I was already preoccupied with the worries of work.

That is, until I saw a bee flying into a hosta blossom. The virtual world had made me forget bees pollinate flowers.  I was grateful that while I might have forgotten,  the bees were on the job taking care of business.

And that’s when I knew everything was indeed all right with the world.

Just for that instant.

copyright 2019 Christopher Donahue

July got off to a fantastic start. As soon as the calendar announced the seventh month, hot and humid beach weather descended on New England. The timing was perfect. It was exactly the weather we wanted for vacation and for celebrating the  the Fourth of July on a boat on Lake Champlain.   It was a great week to start off summer.

Everything was going great with July of course, until I had to go back to work.

Sporting a fine summer tan, I stood in our kitchen, in the  golden light of morning, ready to leave for the office. It was a Monday and I really didn’t want to go back to work. Summer didn’t last that long and I it was tough to go back to the real world after a relaxing week off.  Couldn’t I make summer vacation last a little longer?

Then I remembered the mint chocolate chip ice cream in the fridge.  Nothing says vacation like ice cream for breakfast! So I polished off the last pint of ice cream in the fridge in protest of being responsible and going back to work. And in celebration of summer!

I still wished July lasted forever, but the ice cream for breakfast made me feel better about everything!

copyright 2019 Christopher Donahue

It was the second day of summer.  My wife and I were up early. We were sitting on our sun porch drinking coffee and waking up. My wife was sitting in an overstuffed chair wearing her comfy bathrobe. Our cats ambled about. The early glow of the morning sun filled the room with a golden light.

“You don’t look as bad as I feel I look,” she said.

I sensed there was a compliment in there but I wasn’t quite sure. In the tranquility of the golden dawn, I played it safe.  Discretion is the better part of morning I recalled.

“Thanks, honey! Would you like more coffee!?!?!”

copyright 2019 Christopher Donahue

On the horns of a dilemma. It was an early Sunday morning in Vermont. The sky was clear blue, flora lush green, and the golden early light made the landscape look right out of a postcard.  I was driving down Route 30 in Townshend, VT on the way to rendezvous with my wife and her friend.  The plan was I’d pick my wife up and we’d head home to Boston. Her friend would return home to New York.

As I followed the winding road, I went by a field with horses.  As my car raced along the winding road alongside the river, I wished I had taken a picture.  I thought about going back. I didn’t want to be late but it would only be a minute. And it was at that moment I learned a wonderful life lesson:

Sometimes you have to go back for the horses.

copyright 2019 Christopher Donahue

Memorial Day is off to a fantastic start.  The weather is summery and the early, golden light shines across the lush, neatly cut lawn. A robin, a grackle and a sparrow cautiously approach the bits of broken up biscuit I tossed on the grass.  The sky is clear and faultless blue. The calm  seems unreal.  It will be a fine day to work on the garden and go for an ice cream.

And, it being Memorial Day, I take some time to honor those who died in military service and how their sacrifice affected their families. Memorial Day isn’t personal for me. But for many people it’s a reminder of a lost son or daughter, brother or sister, gone in their prime, their lives cut short.

God Bless all who gave their lives serving the country and who’s families still bear the burden.

Thank you and amen.

copyright 2019 Christopher Donahue