Saturday Morning Soccer

October 19th, 2013

It's Saturday morning at the soccer fields. I'm sitting in my camp chair watching my youngest daughter play a form of soccer that is familiar to most parents of 9 year-olds.  Never having played the game myself, the strategy and rules continue to be a mystery to me and this is definitely not the place to become enlightened. That's okay though because I think the mystery is shared by many of the players, a few of the coaches and most of the parents.  Even so, it truly lifts my spirit just to watch the youthful activity, the high levels of energy being released to the atmosphere through constant motion.  I enjoy watching the little faces that display focus and fierce determination, but in a split second light up with smiles and a giggles at some strange spin of the ball or an unexpected deflection off a teammate.

I admit, when my daughter is resting on the sidelines the game holds less interest for me so I sit back, enjoy my coffee gaze at the beautiful open space that has been converted this morning into a center of athletic competition.  The sky is a brilliant blue and it is a sunny morning with only a few passing puffy clouds.  The trees surrounding the park are displaying leaves in various shades of autumn green, yellow and brown. The air is chilly when the sun is momentarily hidden by a cloud but we are treated to a warm hug when the shadow passes and the sunlight returns. The grass is still a little moist from morning dew.  My sneakers are just slightly damp from the long walk across the park to the sidelines of this furthest field. The large square of green lawn is marked off with a grid of white lines creating the boundaries of four soccer fields.  The large white soccer goals are lined up and evenly spaced along either end of the fields giving an almost military precision to the area.   Their white posts, crossbeam and net stand in stark contrast with to the earth tone colors surrounding them. The goals look impossibly large in comparison to the children defending them.

There are four games being played simultaneously on this bright, cool, comfortable morning. The vibrant orange, blue, red and green  t-shirts are in constant and apparently random motion, creating a simply joyous picture that combines color, sound and motion in a way that can only be perceived by all of the senses working together.  I take out my notebook and briefly consider trying to capture the tableau but I can't quite find words to record the dynamics of the motion.  It is something that if I were a composer I might be able to express with a mix of instruments regularly changing tempo and timbre and tone.  I decide just to set my notebook aside and enjoy this symphony of color in energy that ebbs and flows as the players collect into small groups then quickly dispersing before collecting again in another area.

There is a constant discourse filling the air with rhetorical questions, instructions, and motivation from coaches, punctuated by random occurrences of short referee whistles.  The coaches seem particularly skilled both directing the activity on the fields, and at keeping the energy on the sidelines at a slow simmer until they allow it to boils over onto the field as players are substituted. The parents are participating vicariously from the sidelines, shouting encouragement by name to the children they know and by color to those they don't. Every so often a gruff, unintelligible curse escapes from under the breath of a frustrated dad, but frustration quickly passes and the shouts of encouragement resume.

In sequence, the final whistles blow on each field.  The colors all mix and stir together as the teams shake hands and congratulate one another.  Chairs and blankets are packed up, hugs and praise are heaped on even the least skilled of the players.  The entire picture moves slowly toward the parking lot and the beginning of the rest of the day.

Front Porch - Sunday Morning Oct 13

It is unusually quiet on my front porch this morning. The sky is overcast and there is a damp chill in the air. Every so often I hear the purposeful squawk or tweet of a bird. There are no pleasant songs or complicated whistles. The sounds I hear are all very business-like this morning. The cooler weather seems to have brought a serious focus to nature as the preparations for the coming of winter go into full swing.

Over the past couple of weeks, my favorite red maple tree across the way has lost its grand shape and color. It looks thin, tattered and tired, like an old, thin workman in worn out clothes, ripped and threadbare. The deep rust color of the remaining leaves is hardly discernible from the brown leaves scattered around its base.

As I sit here taking in the morning scene, a young deer appears from the corner of the house and saunters into a small hutch of bushes in the middle of the yard. She is nearly hidden among the muted color of the remaining leaves and brown branches of the bush.  Though she is almost invisible to me, I notice that she is still under the watchful eye of her mother who stands nearby, sensing the air and scanning the yard for danger. What wonderfully graceful creatures the deer are and the scene makes me happy. Another sibling appears from around the corner of the house and the three begin carelessly nibbling at the remaining leaves on bushes. I'm conflicted whether to chase them away to protect the bush or continue to observe, unnoticed, unheeded. They are so close I could almost reach out and touch the smallest one. The feeling is both exciting and a little frightening. I don’t think I have ever been this close to a wild deer before.  I decide to watch and enjoy.

The sleek animals all have smooth light brown coats but I can see how they differ ever so slightly in shade and texture. Their ears are outlined in black and stand up like radar dishes swiveling to and fro in random patterns even as their attention moves from the nibbling the bush to grazing through the grass. The mother doe has an itch and by lowering her neck in what seems to be an impossible curve and raising her hind leg, she gets her hoof to just the right spot behind her ear.  The whole maneuver is accomplished while keeping her eyes forward and maintaining a vigilant watch over her children.

 The innocence of the young deer is remarkable. I sit quietly as one of the fawns moves toward me, lazily nosing around in the grass. She has big round brown eyes which occasionally glance up at me but pay no heed. Her eyes speak of happiness, curiosity, and contentment at the same time. I notice a slightly darken line of color along the spine of her back, almost like a subtle racing stripe that would camouflage her as a branch if she was hiding in the woods. She has found something interesting in the grass and has turned her complete attention to it. Her ears are laid back and head is down. Good thing mom is nearby.

I hear a snort from the mother doe. I think she might be chastising this little fawn for her lack of attention. Or maybe it was a reminder that the morning is getting on and safer pastures are in the woods. Mom and sister begin to wonder toward the wood but this fawn refuses to be rushed.  After another moment of grazing, she stands up tall and listens. I hear nothing but I can see that her senses are now on high alert. She lowers her head for a couple more nibbles at the grass but her ears are at attention.  Her head snaps back upright now.  She is listening intensely, and scanning the yard and road. I can just now make out the sound of a car coming down the hill. I get nervous for the fawn. Will she get spooked and bolt into the road and perhaps to her doom? I can hear the car clearly now and it is the focus of the fawn’s attention as well. Traveling much too fast down the hill, as is often the case, a potential disaster awaits the car, driver and fawn if she breaks for the road rather than woods.

 I notice that I am holding my breath with expectation. It is like watching a full-count pitch; in a moment something is going to change. The fawn tenses. She is wound tight like a spring. I can see the muscles in her hind quarter tense and twitch with the adrenaline. She glances around deciding on the nearest path to safety. The car continues to approach fast. On this road, there are ditches on either side of the rode with no place to maneuver.

Then, in a split second, the fawn launches herself into motion, all legs, fur and speed, a blur to my eye. She's smart though. Maybe she could see her family or maybe she had been attentive to their direction, in any case her escape route is away from the the road and toward the woods behind the house. In the blink of an eye she is gone and the car speeds by my porch.  The driver, oblivious to the danger that has passed, is probably caught up in his own morning thoughts.

I let out a long sigh and settle back into my chair. The quiet of the morning has returned.  I feel the chill in the air more intensely now and am less comfortable. I hear my girls milling about in the house, giggles and laughter replacing the quiet on the porch. It is time for a cup of coffee, and to start my day in earnest.

Front Porch 8/25

It is Sunday morning and I'm sitting on my new front porch reading today's news. The quiet is regularly punctuated with bird calls of every kind. The sun is warming away the slight chill in the air. Two deer are quietly grazing next to me, occasionally giving a nervous glance toward the excited cawing of flock of crows but, with a flick of their tail deciding there is no danger. This is my happy place.

Front Porch 9/7

It's a bright, clear morning. The sun is just coming around the corner of the house and warming the back of my neck. The air has a crispness about it that both reminds me of vacations in Antigo and foretells the coming of fall (and football season). The neighbor's chickens have found their way across the road and are wandering around as they explore my front yard. The birds a quiet this morning except for an occasional crow or chirp of a cardinal. It is a good morning to reconnect and recharge.

Front Porch 9/8

Very different morning today. The air is heavy with moisture, not quite oppressive but draping everything with a heavy dew and leaving a fine mist in the air. As a small breeze rises I feel a chill that reminds me it is a September morning and summer is waining. But when it is gone, it could be any nice summer morning after a evening rain. There are some unusual bird calls this morning. Perhaps the some have just stopped by for a rest on their way to warmer climates. A lone wood pecker bangs against a tree and sounds like a metronome set to an absurd tempo within the concert of birds. It is time to head to church and give thanks for being able to be in this place...

Front Porch 9/20

Sitting on my front porch with a cold beer. It's a cool evening but not uncomfortable (though Barb has a light jacket on). The darkness is relaxing after a long busy week. The occasional strong breezes seem to hint that rain may be on the way. I'm just sitting, sipping and thinking about the coming fall while the crickets chirp out a tribute to the last days of summer. ...my happy place at night. 

Porch notes October 5th

It is warm and muggy on my front porch this morning. There is no breeze and I can feel the moisture hanging in the air around me.  The smell of earth and leaves is just detectable and is a reminder to me that the short autumn season is in mid-stride. The sky is overcast. In the quiet of the morning, the soft, diffused sunlight reflects in the morning dew and creates a calm, restful space for the day to begin. The peacefulness begins to trickle through me, as I settle into my chair and start the slow process of recharging my spirit after a long week.

The rain last night has left everything damp and musty. But unlike a summer morning, the heavy, damp air is void of annoying bugs that would zip around my eyes and ears looking for their morning meal. This morning I can sit comfortably, enjoying my coffee and the beautiful, autumn scene before me.

The trees continue their valiant attempt to retain their dignity though some have lost the battle. The weaker trees stand naked and resigned to the coming of winter while the oak and birch trees struggle on to keep their colorful fall wardrobe intact. As I look out across my yard, I notice one particular tree.  It stands on a small knoll, just across the narrow blacktop road.  As best I can tell from this distance, it is a tall, proud maple.  There is an almost perfect circle of fallen leaves littering the ground around its trunk.. The maple holds tight to the leaves that continue to give it shape and fullness but this is in sharp contrast to the bare trees around it. The muted rust color of its remaining leaves seems to impart a sadness that the season is coming to an end and its energy to resist is waning.

 A blue jay alights on my porch railing just a few feet away. Seeing him up close reminds me of their beauty but then he squawks I remember that they are still the loud, obnoxious bullies in the yard. As suddenly as it appears it disappears again into the sky.

 Squirrels are busy running here and there, along a power line, up a tree trunk, down a telephone pole. For all their activity they don't seem to be accomplishing anything. I know that feeling.

It is time for me to tear myself away from this site and get busy with my own chores. I'll take one more moment though, just one more deep breath of the morning air, just one more moment to enjoy the yellow-green leaves of the birch tree and to watch the drops of water linger on the tips of the crab apple tree branches... But now the moment has passed, truly enjoyed as all moments are meant to be.

Some random thoughts 2013 09 28

It’s been a quiet evening.  The day was beautiful.  I’m grateful for the sunshine and the pleasant memory it has left behind.  So this evening I’m sitting at my desk, listening to Pandora and counting my blessings.  The tallying has left me feeling old, but in a good way.  Maybe not even so much feeling old as grateful for the patchwork quilt of experiences woven together that forms memory for me.  I can now appreciate these memories anew as I watch my children experience the world that surrounds them.  

My son called a little while ago to share his excitement with his new responsibilities at work.  I love these glimpses he gives me into the important things in his world.  As he describes the triumphs and terrors that give color and texture to  those first few years of a new career,  I hear echoes of my early years at IBM.  Has it really been 30 years?  It doesn’t seem that long until I start to think of how much I’ve learned since then, most importantly about how little I really know.

They announced class rankings yesterday for my daughter’s class of 2014.  She was so excited to discover she is in the top 10.  It was wonderful to share the excitement of that accomplishment.  Was it really so long ago that I was walking the halls at Kimball high, worrying about college, grades and so naïve and oblivious to my ignorance of life; with no idea of the challenges, joys and surprises that awaited me? I can only shake my head and maybe allow myself a slight smirk as I rekindle the memories of those days. 

The years have included so many joys, so many wonderful experiences, so many friends, and yet have been lightly seasoned with a mix of setbacks, mistakes, life lessons and probably more than a couple of places where apologies are past due. But, like the sunshine from today, an overall pleasant memory of warmth and bright color is left behind.  I think I will wrap myself in it and be content for the evening.

Deep Breadth

Mitch is nearing the end of his morning routine. The routine has a predicable schedule, up at 5, gym by 6, shower by 7 and on to the office.  Once at his desk he'll plug into the world, but for the moment, he goes through the motions without initiating any more voluntary thought than someone might give to his own heartbeat. It is a routine that after countless repetitions provides comfort in its familiarity like a favorite flannel shirt but it has also dulled his attention to detail.  On these mornings, his mind is like a butter knife whose blade is perhaps useful but hardly dangerous.

Arriving at the office this morning, he parks his car in its regular place.  Taking a last swig of lukewarm coffee Mitch opens his door and sighs at the slightly annoying but insistent ping warning him that his headlights are still on.  They were hardly needed in the early morning twilight but he had taken no notice.  After switching off the lights, Mitch retrieves his faithful briefcase from the backseat.  The heavy cloth bag has been a constant companion for many years and has traveled untold miles. With its handles worn and seams fraying it looks almost as tired as Mitch feels this morning.  He starts toward the building; on complete autopilot, repeating this last part of his regular morning ritual one more time.

After just a few steps, though, he hesitates.  For some curious reason the fog of complacency that generally surrounds Mitch for this short walk from car to desk dissipates.  He feels an unusual sense of clarity as he is drawn deeply into the moment.  He has no perception of the cause.  Maybe it was the caress of the fresh, fall, air on his face or maybe the subtle sound of the leaves rustling in the nearby trees.  Perhaps it could have been the sweet smell of the autumn morning on the slight breeze. In any case, he gives the reason no more than a passing consideration.  He realizes that this is a pleasant, grace filled moment and he is content to allow it to lift his spirit. He is tuned into the surroundings and he allows his attention to be completely given over to the new awareness.  He can almost feel his senses wake up, stretch and yawn as they begin processing the world around him.  The parking lot is quiet and nearly empty.  The expanse of the rich black surface is dotted with small circles of oil between long white lines in a Morse code of dashes and dots. The sun is just beginning to color the clouds on the horizon a perfect complement of pale pink and light grey.  The phrase "the dawn breaks" comes to mind and he discards it as too negative for the what he is experiencing.  Here, at this moment,  the dawn blooms and his senses drink in the beauty of the sunrise.

After a few more steps, there is another hesitation. Mitch takes a deep breath, filling his lungs with the cool, crisp morning air. He can feel it swell his chest and seep into his being.  He relaxes shoulders, his brow, his mind.  A few more steps and Mitch steals one more deep breath thinking how wonderful it would be if he could hold it in for the entire day.  Reluctantly he begins a slow and deliberate exhale as he captures a last glance at the sky, now bright with color.  With renewed purpose, he moves on toward the office with a profound sense of gratitude for the gift of this simple moment that could have been so easily overlooked.