Even After My Death

Even after my death my arms will rise
above and about this city
chipped and aged yet carrying the weight of years--
years of joy and fear and sadness
years of ideas and dialect
rhetoric and argument
comedy and tragedy
Until then they live beneath the ground.

The remains of robes,
the leather of sandals
fallen to dust or
eaten by mice
unraveling for centuries
like a thousand stories
told on this built ground and
remembered by millions.

How solid I remain
My belly swells still with remembered life:
that stage!
where great deeds happened again and again
through story, song, chant, declamation and
The waving of hands
The bellowing of words rushing
over the orchestra and through the stone seats
to the ears of the audience
their whispers are still there

I am the belly and the arms--
all that remains of what was
but what an all!
all that is needed to show
the world
that even after my death
the great plays’ words echo--
those of Seneca, a true Cordoban
and a true Roman,
and of Plautus, that writer of comedies--
from the mouths of the players
whose strides still reverberate on the tiles
the actors’ painted masks laugh or howl or weep--still--
even in the dimmest light
the music, the dance, thrums through the earth
no matter how sunken the theater
no matter how many miles of earth and stone
have been shoveled upon it.
Even after my death,
my arms rise above the destruction of all else
and my belly follows
and all who see are awed.

— Ellen A. Wilkin

Blue, What Are You?

Blue sky at dawn
Blue ocean that curls
Blue bayou
Blue lagoon
Blue peace
Blue spaces in-between
Blue that cascades down
Blue that hums in the ears
Blue that escapes to smile
Blue blur that crushes
Blue that suspends the heart
Blue that pierces white
Blue what are you?
Do you come at night and sit by my bedside?
Do you wear dreams?
Are you out there or in here?
May I? Can I? Touch you?
Do you wrap the world in used sentiment?
Or do you roll cool and clear
over the wrinkled brow

—Ellen A. Wilkin

Great Horned Owl

Having fun with my colored pencils. There is nothing like sketching every line of a bird, especially one as ornate as a Great Horned Owl, to teach you what that bird looks like! Thank you to Sibley’s Guide to North America Birds for giving me such a detailed painting to work from.

Winter Letter 2018/2019

Once again I find myself sitting in the local coffee shop starting a new winter holiday letter. Time seems to slide along regardless of my intentions. This year I’ve tried to focus on the moments as they pass. Because you cannot stop them. And I also never stop, other than when I’m sleeping. Each moment is a whirlwind of activity or a tumult of worried thoughts. Meanwhile the clock ticks and precious moments pass. I have begun purposely to stop: to sit still and notice what that feels like. It’s a strange sensation that can be hard to hold on to. But I’m getting better at it, and in that time I have added a soupçon of joy to my day. This practice has inspired me to nurture myself by singing, drawing, reading, listening to music, walking, sitting at a window and bird watching—or even writing!

Most days before dawn this winter I have looked out at the southern sky from my bedroom window. Multiple planets and constellations hang there. The brightest star is Antares, part of the constellation Scorpius. Starting in December Mercury, Venus and Saturn gather near Antares, to be joined by Mars in late January just as Venus is plunging down below the horizon. The crescent moon itself descended through the sky in early December until it passed Venus and Saturn, then faded completely as it moved out of the path of sunlight shining from the other side of the earth. As morning came on, the sun flooded the sky with pinks, reds, oranges, and a shimmer of pearl. Afterwards, I set to writing.

The holiday season was filled with the usual things: covering the evergreens with blue LED lights in the front yard and solar lights in the back yard, making a wreath from yard scraps and last year’s ribbons, setting up the artificial tree inside and hanging all the ornaments I have collected or been gifted over the years, baking cookies and caroling, then packing up cookies and other gifts and sending them off to family. But this year, we had the addition of a Christmas Vole: he camped out in our basement starting two weeks before Christmas. Occasionally, we would see him skittering from the basement door to the kitchen where he hid beneath the stove. After a month Dave was able to trap him with sunflower kernels and release him by the creek.

New Year’s was also eventful: We rediscovered Roxy Music and had so much fun listening to a couple of their albums while chatting and drinking local microbrews. Dave also made timpano at my request, and we ate it while watching Stanley Tucci’s BIG NIGHT. Good movie to watch while you are eating. Not so much if you aren’t: you will be hungry by the time the movie finishes.

This year Dave and I have found joy together in seemingly small things. We acquired a painting for the master bedroom after almost thirty years of searching. It now hangs above the bed on a wall that had been unadorned since we moved in. In our previous house, the space above the bed was occupied by my print of The Lovers by Klimt. The Klimt had hung in my apartment before we were married. I thought it was beautiful: the gold leaf and geometric patterns mixed with flowers, and the passionate embrace of the couple, brought me joy. Dave did not like the print so, out of a sense of fairness (he had put up with it for five years), when we were packing up to move again, I gave it away to friends. We vowed to visit art galleries once we were in Boulder and find a painting we BOTH liked for our new place. It was ten years before we found such a painting: No Food for Lazy Man by Kayeni from Ghana. It represents our philosophy of life, but it is not a bedroom painting and hangs in our foyer. We kept our eyes open for ten more years, buying smaller pieces that we scattered about the house: mountainscapes, Boulder Pearl Street Mall scenes by local artist Mike Brouse, photographs of birds (some of Dave’s) and beautiful stain glass panes made by our friend Julie Golden. But nothing that fit in the master bedroom. Then I saw a new painting by Mike called Connection: Two figures, a man and a woman, walking away from the viewer and physically separate, but with their bodies leaning in towards each other. When Dave saw it he said “Yes!” and Mike kindly painted a version of it in earth tones to match our bedroom décor. Add to that the floating oak frame Dave made, and the result is stunning. You can see a picture of it here.

We hope you are having a joyous 2019 so far. See you in the funny papers! (Mine are here. ;) )

Finding a Connection

We acquired a painting for the master bedroom after almost thirty years of searching. It now hangs above the bed on a wall that had been unadorned since we moved in. In our previous house, the space above the bed was occupied by my print of The Lovers by Klimt. The Klimt had hung in my apartment before we were married. I thought it was beautiful: the gold leaf and geometric patterns mixed with flowers, and the passionate embrace of the couple, brought me joy. Dave did not like the print so, out of a sense of fairness (he had put up with it for five years), when we were packing up to move again, I gave it away to friends. We vowed to visit art galleries once we were in Boulder and find a painting we BOTH liked for our new place. It was ten years before we found such a painting: No Food for Lazy Man by Kayeni from Ghana. It represents our philosophy of life, but it is not a bedroom painting and hangs in our foyer. We kept our eyes open for ten more years, buying smaller pieces that we scattered about the house: mountainscapes, Boulder Pearl Street Mall scenes by local artist Mike Brouse, photographs of birds (some of Dave’s) and beautiful stain glass panes made by our friend Julie Golden. But nothing that fit in the master bedroom. Then I saw a new painting by Mike called Connection: Two figures, a man and a woman, walking away from the viewer and physically separate, but with their bodies leaning in towards each other. When Dave saw it he said “Yes!” and Mike kindly painted a version of it in earth tones to match our bedroom décor. Add to that the floating oak frame Dave made, and the result is stunning.

Thanks again, Mike, for being willing to give us an earth-tone version of Connection.

Reaching for the Horizon

You can never reach the horizon
You can never reach anything

Even the hand you hold
you are not holding
you are not even touching it
The feel of flesh on flesh
is merely the feel of repulsion--
negative against negative
electrons in the atoms at the surface of your skin
and the electrons on the surface of your lover’s hand
jump back from each other
It’s not that you don’t belong together
Its just that this is as together as you can get
Blame it on your skin’s electrons
They are just a little excited—
just negatively charged enough—
to repel other electrons in other atoms just enough
to create a pressure sense in us
to give us feedback that we feel as soft or rough or cold or hot
based on the relative excitement
of our electrons and the electrons
of those things we touch
When you pick up your cat for a hug
or a plate to clear it from the table
or the trash can to take it out to the curb
or any “thing” for any reason
you are creating a little force field between
you and that thing
But that field is not strong enough to blow
you and your cat apart or
send your plate through the window
or throw your trash can onto your neighbor’s
car as it goes by
It’s just enough so you’d notice.
Nothing ever touches in this world
not in the way we think
But no worries.
Physics has always worked this way
And if we hadn’t asked a bunch of questions
And done a few experiments
We would never know the difference.
Our brains just deal with it
So keep reaching for every horizon
just know you will never actually get there
And that is exactly how it’s meant to be.
It’s always been the journey that is important not the destination

—Ellen A. Wilkin

Timpano Feast: Ring in the New Year with a Big Night

I watched the turnout of the timpano while holding my breath. Dave removed the lid of the dutch oven, and gently flipped the pot over onto a cutting board. Then he very carefully pulled the pot away from the sides of the timpano pie. And Voila! a perfect pie shaped like a timpani drum! Even though we were both relieved, Dave had still to cut the pie into eight equal slices and serve it. He picked up a serrated knife and slowly sliced it in half, then quarters, then eighths. Voila! beautiful! And the terrific thing is Dave did all the cooking and I just had to join in the eating of it.

The night Dave made timpano was the night we celebrated the New Year. We had champagne, a steamed artichoke and basil mayonnaise appetizer, and a bottle of 2013 Ravenswood Old Vine Zinfandel, which we paired with the timpano pie itself. For dessert, Dave whipped the Hot Chocolate to Die For leftovers (yes- I said leftovers if you can believe it!) into a yummy frozen ice cream dish. As we ate the timpano, we watched Stanley Tucci’s THE BIG NIGHT (1996) which started the timpano journey for us twenty years ago.

Timpano (Timpano di Maccheroni) is an Italian baked dish stuffed with several other yummy recipes such as pasta, meat, fish, cheese, vegetables, and sauce. Some varieties even include fruit! The word timpano is a regional or family term and was made popular by the film THE BIG NIGHT. The term timballo is more common and comes from the French for kettledrum (timbale). Apparently, every region in Italy has their own version of this dish.

The basic recipe as Dave makes it is

• Rag alla Napoletana (a ragu or sauce)

• Pastry Crust

• Meatballs

• Sauteed Chicken Breasts

• penne rigate or ziti

• vegetables

• eggs

• cheese

The entire recipe takes many hours to make, but if you plan to make everything ahead and assemble it a couple of hours before serving, it takes some of the pressure off. Apparently. I am told.

If you have never seen the film THE BIG NIGHT, I highly recommend it. It stars Stanley Tucci, Tony Shalhoub, Minnie Driver, Ian Holm, and Isabella Rossellini. The film is about two Italian immigrant brothers struggling to make a go of the restaruant business on the New Jersey shore in the 1950s. Tucci and Shaloub are incredible as the loving but antagonistic brothers Secondo and Primo. The more successful restaurateur across the street (a wickedly droll Ian Holm) suggests that they should throw a big party to excite people about their classic mother country dishes and says he will bring all his friends including the famous singer Louis Prima. The big night happens with Primo spending many hours cooking an incredible seven-course meal (the timpano is just one course!) followed by much excitement and anguish and truth telling.

I highly recommend you eat before watching the film—or during like we did. Bon appétit!

References:

Timballo

THE BIG NIGHT

Timpano di Maccheroni Complete