January 15: Playoffs

Outside the sports bar

winter constellations

marching to the goal line.

Posted with Blogsy

October 2: Sunday afternoon

Football on the radio.

More red leaves glowing

on the mountainside.

Posted with Blogsy

February 7: A winter Sunday

A winter Sunday in Maine:

poetry reading

then the Super Bowl.

December 20: Sunday afternoon

Holiday pageantry--

Bolshoi Ballet's Nutcracker,

Patriots game.

Posted with Blogsy

December 14: Sunday in a small town

While we watch the game

neighbor knocks to ask

whose chickens in her yard.

Posted with Blogsy

December 22: Gifts

Against the backdrop of a glittering but dangerous ice storm, we celebrated an early Christmas with my family last night, feasting on our traditional lobster stew, exchanging gifts, and cheering on the Patriots (who clinched the AFC East title).

Bounty of food, family love.
And even the Patriots
gave us a gift.

October 27: Sunday

In from the woods.
Crusty boule, toasted, with Brie.
Football on TV.

September 9: Sports Sunday

Except for a brief stint observing a wave of birds moving through the backyard this morning, I have to confess that I spent most of the day as a total couch potato. But how could I not? The Patriots opened their season kicking butt against the Titans, their offense and defense firing on all pistons. Then Serena Williams battled Victoria Azarenka to win an epic US Open championship. There's nothing like sitting around eating popcorn and chocolate while really buff athletes display their physical prowess in their various arenas--Hernandez catching that first TD pass from Brady, Azarenka slamming that cross-court shot that even Serena applauded... My heart is racing as if I just ran the length of a football field. I'll get to that tomorrow...

Completed pass.
The various ways
we seek satisfaction.

January 14: Playoffs

We're sitting on our king-size bed in our generic room in the Portland Airport Hilton, watching football playoff games. Just saw the 49ers upset the Saints, and now the Big Game is on: Patriots vs. Broncos! Early tomorrow morning we fly to Florida, but for now, we're very focused on New England. Go Pats!

Anyplace is home
when the Patriots are on,
even this hotel.

November 26: Games

It's a good sign that I have nothing better to do tonight than watch the Stanford - Notre Dame game and learn how to play Angry Birds for the first time. I may perhaps be the last person in the country with a mobile Apple device to download some version of Angry Birds (I went with the free Rio version). In any case, I'm positively relishing the true feeling of indulgence that allows me to while away the last few hours of my day engaged in such frivolous activity. Do I care if Andrew Luck, the Stanford QB about whom people are talking Heisman Trophy, has a good game? Do I really care if I advance to the next level of catapulting cartoon birds at laughing monkeys?

As someone who always has to be doing something productive, who can't even watch a football game without, for example, reading a book or doing a crossword puzzle at the same time, allowing myself to relax like this is a positive sign. A good dinner out with friends a few hours earlier helped set the mood, for which I'm thankful. Good food, friends, and laughter can do that. Now my only responsibility tonight is this post. So forgive me for making a game out of it...

It's all fun and games
till someone loses an eye...
like those damn monkeys.

October 31: Halloween Rituals

I began my Book of Days blog last November 1, hoping to maintain the discipline to post a haiku every single day for a year. And I've somehow managed to do it! This posting, my 365th, marks the last day of a full year of haiku, a full year of sitting down each day and trying to write something somewhat poetic. Now that I've accomplished my goal, I don't plan on dropping this ritual altogether--it's become a stimulating writing exercise, as well as a satisfying sort of spiritual practice, to enter this space each day--but my postings will almost certainly decrease in frequency after this one.

It's appropriate that my poetic year comes to a close on Halloween, which for many contemporary pagans is regarded as New Year's Eve in the ancient Celtic tradition of Samhain (pronounced "sow-en"). The holiday kicked off the dark half of the year (Beltane, on May 1, marked the beginning of the light half). I'm intrigued by the concept of a day marking our descent into the bleakest, darkest season as the beginning of a new year, but the concept of embracing that darkness in a celebratory way offers an admirable challenge. I imagine dancing around the ritual bonfire helped.

Now we practice different rituals, though many of these are deeply rooted in the original Samhain tradition. I've carved our pumpkin, a fruit of the season, into a Jack o'lantern--but not to ward off evil spirits so much as to attract friendly ones in the form of our neighborhood's children when they come trick-or-treating tonight. We've got bags of candy ready to appease these costumed "spirits," some of whom will be looking quite scary whether they intend to or not. And as I write, the sinking sun illuminates the red-gold leaves of the back yard maple, creating what will come as close to a bonfire as we're going to get.

It being Sunday, my husband and I are also enjoying another ritual, though not one specifically associated with Halloween: watching football. One might argue, however, that the crazy way some fans dress up for a game, with body makeup, wigs, etc., is indistinguishable from donning a Halloween costume.

Sunset, Halloween.
Light's last blaze before the ghosts
appear at our door.

October 12: Red Zone

In football parlance, when you're in the red zone, you're within 20 yards of the opposing team's goal line, hot to score. In the language of autumn leaves in the Camden Hills, the current red zone is a strip of crimson trees on the highest visible ridge of Mount Megunticook, along the backbone of the mountain between the summit and the old landslide above Maiden's Cliff. Fall has left its strongest mark there so far--looking east from Route 105 along the river, that high, red line of trees is very distinctive. I don't know if it's the elevation or exposure that makes those trees more susceptible to phasing out of their green garb earlier than the trees on the ridge below them. But soon enough, the red zone will expand to encompass the entire forested mountainside--a touchdown on nature's terms, that gaudy display of incredible color that seems just as unbelievable year after year. I hope I never get used to it.

Autumn's carnival
is back in town: riotous,
red hot spectacle.

September 12: Football Season

The time of year when the start of football season overlaps with the end of baseball season is often a challenge, as we find ourselves getting distracted from the Red Sox playoff run by the Patriots' return to action. But this year it's a bit different, with the Red Sox having no chance at the playoffs. And Tom Brady is back. So really not much of a toss-up over which gets my attention.

Unfortunately I wasn't near a tv until half-time for the opening season game vs. the Cincinnati Bengals. I got to see the score: 24 - 3 Patriots. And then I got to see the first play of the 3rd quarter before I had to go back to my table at the restaurant. If I had to see one play, it was a good one. Brandon Tate handily ran in a punt return for a touchdown. It was fist-pumping awesome. Those who remember George Carlin's classic monologue on baseball versus football can understand the mood shift this new sport season initiates. After summer's slow pastorale on the baseball diamond, we now get the rough-and-tumble action of football.

And to keep things interesting, this weekend also features the championship matches of the US Open for tennis. Last night we watched Kim Clijsters easily win the women's final; thanks to rain in New York, tomorrow night we'll get to root for Nadal in the men's final. I'm an unabashed sports fan, I guess--it's (almost) all good. This jumble of sports keeps me energized. Even yesterday's road race that the Land Trust hosted in Belfast was a small thrill for me to observe, because it's a sport that I used to be fairly good at myself. Also, I enjoy a sport in which women have a good shot at doing as well as men. And, of course, it's always fun to be able to cheer on friends who are competing at something. We're just like that.

Slow fade of baseball,
football season rushes in.
We're still so tribal.

January 3: Sunday Afternoon Moment

It's a wonderful thing when you can take a look around you and say, "In this moment right now, I'm happy."

Here's my moment: I'm watching the Patriots game while I eat my lunch of pretzel crisps, Brie, and really good fig spread with almonds and apricots.

What makes this moment such a good one? Well, set-up is part of the equation. Paul and I shoveled a lot of snow this morning. (And I added bird species #6-9 to my First Birds of the Year list.) Then we ran some errands. Now, the groceries are put away, a pretty, new orchid sits in my window, there's nothing left on my "to do" list, and I'm free to watch the game--alone, which means I can also blast the heat and yell at the screen. It's the last game of the regular season, but they've already clinched the AFC East title, so nothing rests on a victory here. My moment is that perfect point in time between a satisfactory past--lots of sleep and the completion of all I'd planned for this three-day weekend (taking down Christmas, massive cleaning)--and a positive future--the unusual luxury of several hours ahead of me for which I have nothing planned.

Also, though a wet snow still spits out the window, the big storm is mostly over. So no more anxiety about possibly losing power in a blizzard. And hopefully no worries about having to wake up early tomorrow to shovel out my car so I can get to work on time.

A high moment for me often involves food, as well--either a special or favorite food, or a meal joyously shared with family or friends. My unusual Brie and pretzel combo is a weekend lunch favorite. And sports is another important factor. I unapologetically love watching sports, be it Patriots football, Red Sox baseball, the Kentucky Derby, a Federer-Nadal finals match in the French Open, or the Winter Olympics. So for an indoors moment, this one contains all the elements for happiness. (Outdoors moments almost always involve birding...) I'm content as my cat now snoring away in her laundry room cubby. And grateful for it.

Brie and pretzel lunch,
Sunday afternoon football--
all's good in my world.

November 8: Football

Although the focus of traditional haiku was the natural world, contemporary haiku--especially contemporary American haiku, no less--has been more wide-ranging in topic. My personal lens is a natural one. Birds, weather, and the outdoor world generally inspire and inform my writing, one reason why I am drawn to haiku as a form of aesthetic expression. Which is why I surprised myself with today's poem.

On this uncharacteristically warm November morning, I went for what may well have been my last outside run for the season. We joined friends for a neighborhood brunch, at which we marveled at being able to sip our mimosas on the deck. I spent some time tromping around in the leaves in the back yard. It seemed like everyone was out for a walk. But this is Sunday: football day. So while we opened some windows to continue to enjoy the unseasonable warmth, we were on the couch when this afternoon's game came on.

I am an unabashed sports fan, avidly following the Red Sox and the Patriots. I also enjoy watching top-level golf and tennis tournaments, and have harbored a secret passion for horse-racing since childhood. (Having now made that confession, I can't resist a small aside here celebrating yesterday's victory of the undefeated, 5-year-old mare Zenyatta in the Breeder's Cup Classic. This race had never been won by a female, and Zenyatta had never been run against the boys, but she was the favorite--everyone was holding up "Girl Power" signs. I am not ashamed to admit that her dominating, come-from-behind win versus a strong field that included this year's Kentucky Derby and Belmont Stakes winners made me cry.)

So, I take my sports seriously. And Sundays revolve around the Patriots in this house. There are few athletic feats more satisfying to watch than Tom Brady throwing a perfect pass to Randy Moss, who then cruises across more than half the field dodging Miami defenders to score a touchdown that puts us once more in the lead. And a reference to football is as appropriate a seasonal marker for autumn as falling leaves and the harvest moon, right?

Randy Moss touchdown,
Pats take the lead. Have to cheer!
So sorry, old cat.