Author Archives: janishaag

It’s easier than ever before,what with our mini communicatorsin our pockets, to fire off an electronic love note or,for the young ones, as a last resort,to make a phone call, which, now that I have reachedold fart-dom myself, I wish … Continue reading →

Even the rising temperatureof this day that’s predicted toovertop the century mark again when we so much wish itwouldn’t. It might not, after all.We can’t perfectly predict the thorniness of what’s coming.But we can pause, open the doorand walk into … Continue reading →

halfway between heaven and earth,for that is the space you occupyin this mystery of human life, allowing the mind to rest, justfor a moment, in stillness,in openness. You and I and all beingseverywhere want the samethings: to be happy, to … Continue reading →

I have so little Frenchin my vocabulary—a soupçon, one might say— which has nothing to dowith soup—a word wearingsuch a graceful accent mark, the cedilla that softens that“c” almost into an “s.” Butwhen that little bit of a word alights … Continue reading →

The kettle does not agonize overhow long water takes to reachthe just-right temperature for tea. It heats at its own steady pace,doesn’t mind waiting, relishesthe quiet unfolding. All things ripen as they will; everythingtakes the time it needs. Life tucksinto … Continue reading →

“Mrs. Dalloway said she would buy the flowers herself.“—Virginia Woolffrom her novel, “Mrs. Dalloway,” 1925 ••• Of course, she would. She could choosewhat she wanted that way, the just-right nosegays and peonies with some merrydaisies thrown in for her party. … Continue reading →

(in memory of Nell Lester) At the end of the afternoonwe three stand on the small deckoverlooking the unfenced yard thatyawns into a green swath of trees,as Sue, after filling the big feeder,also spreads a thick seed ribbonacross the deck … Continue reading →

(For Deb) On a glorious windless morningwalk by the river, we admirethe longstanding trees still loaded with the season’sfull complement of green.Surely they must gaze at their reflections onthe unusually glassy surface,as we do, and think, in this snapshot of … Continue reading →

(for Mom) Our shadows walk side by side,yours pushing the apparatus that helps you stand taller, ache less,and in our shadows I imagine a much younger you pushinga much younger me in a different kind of rollingcontraption, perhaps just as … Continue reading →

We forgave. We remembered. We made cocktails. We got tender.— Jenny Hollowell from “A History of Everything” If we live long enough, with luck,we soften around the edges,some of us growing doughy,most of us wrinkly, even in placesthat surprise us—the … Continue reading →