At 6:15 the sun is still behind the trees. The air is cooler all night and still in the morning. School is open. Many summer visitors are gone -- quite a few fled at the warnings of Hurricane Earl just before the Labor Day weekend and won't be back. I walked on the beach about noon yesterday; the wind was blowing so hard I cut across the dune grass to the sheltered side of my walk. The waves had been loud and a little mean, the gulls were hunkered down on the sand, their feathers ruffled -- and that dear old duck I wrote about last week was among them stoic, waiting out yet one more bad day of a probably desperate life.
Little did I imagine when I came to Cape Cod about 16 months ago that I would look forward to fall and a return to "school." Indeed I do! I had a call from the man teaching a course called Four Contemporary Poets yesterday to tell me the first class reading list of Kunitz poems. He said I could get the Collected Poems from Amazon for $2. [Postage will be twice that] I may yet do it but I had magazines to return to the library so had a quick look and, Viola!, there it was in hardback on the shelf. I'll read my homework over the weekend. I am an impatient reader of difficult poetry -- mostly Kunitz is not difficult -- but we will also study Charles Wright who I've had trouble reading. I forget the others at the moment. I hope to learn some new appreciation tools.
Meanwhile I'm going through what I want to say to my writing class -- basically what I said last year. I'm looking for writing samples, eager to look around the room at new faces -- some from last spring have said they will be there again and that's both flattering and happifying. Among things I positively never wanted to do, teaching was near the top of the list. Yet when I have something I love and can share with people who choose to learn I love it. Thus it was with teaching the class last spring. Thus it was eons ago when I was the only person in a small town who practiced yoga so I taught it for several years. So, it's back to watching the sun rise as I have breakfast and back to school too.
The mid-70s are a surprise! Part of me remains in the 50s -- age, I mean, not decade of 20th century. It's a joy ride, new experiences land in my lap and I've become a better quilter, poet, writer than I expected. It's a rich life for a person never rich financially. Hey, this is what the mid-70s are like!