Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer · 1 Comment

Sharpening

My last 48 hours have gone from meditative silence, to an all-night relay for cancer awareness, to three hours on the phone with Apple tech support, to the hand sharpening of 24 pencils.

Today is Jeb’s first day of second grade.  He’s transitioning from a small, independent school to our town’s six-acre public elementary school.  I’ve got the jitters and must appear casual, yet supportive.  Positive, but not overly enthusiastic.

I have prepared lunch in advance.  His backpack is loaded with school supplies, including the requested “24 #2 pencils, sharpened.”

We’re out the door in 45 minutes.

courtesy of Dvortygirl
Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer

Beltane Honey

It’s time for the honey pour.

Five gallons of golden sweetness is rolled out of storage, the funnel set in place, and the thick, rich nectar begins to fall.

This is the stuff of local flowers.  Our friends down the street have an apiary.  The tropical flora here is plentiful and these bees are inspired.  This five gallons is a small portion of the fruit of their labor.

Jeb holds the funnel while Mary pours.  But I know what he’s waiting for.  And when she’s done gifting me with a gallon of flower power, he lifts the dripping funnel to his mouth and lets the sticky sweet roll down his chin.

“This was harvested May 1st,” Mary says.

“Ahh!”  I say.  “Beltane honey.”

“That’s right.”

courtesy of the The Center for Oneness

Jeb’s the epitome of summer.  Barefoot and bare-chested on a sunset lawn, licking honey fingers, one by one.

I flash back on the Beltane fire we had right in this backyard.  How we jumped across the flames and made our wishes.  How at evening’s end I had a moment alone with embers, bridging time and space.

On a night that marked the mid-point between Spring and Summer, I could sense the future feel of Fall.  I knew I was sowing seeds that would be harvested in Autumn.  At what hearth would I be standing come that time?   Would those wishes pressed to starlight, fanned by Beltane flames of promise, have come real?

Right now, we’re deep in July.  The Dahlia’s in the garden are full bloom.  The basil grows thick.  We make popsicles from purple lilikoi in the freezer.

At sunset we gather kindling for the fire.  Lick the smooth, glass edges of a gallon jar of honey.

courtesy of alsjhc
Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer

Happy Schlep

It’s night and we’re poolside at the five-star resort hotel.  Jeb and I are visiting friends who have come to stay on the island for the week.  Two dads set up tables with room service fare while a mom and I share a glass of wine.

The kids jump from the pool to the hot tub, giggling, splashing and doing that don’t-run-by-the-pool slick trot.

Kauai skies open, just like they do, and soon huge drops are falling in heavy downpour.  Four adults herd kids, grab plates, and round-up towels making our way to a covered patio.

I realize my backpack and purse are still out in the elements on a lounge chair.  I grab a towel, cover my head and make a dash toward the chairs.  One of the dads is jogging back in my direction, hands full.

“I got your bag.”

I’m still not sure why this was so surprising.  Honestly, I guess I didn’t fully believe him.  There had been a loose sweatshirt, a crumpled t-shirt…surely he hadn’t seen all of my gear and gotten it along with his own family’s stuff.

I continue to the chairs certain I’ll find more of my own things to retrieve.  But no, all is gone.  And when I come out of the rain to the shelter of the patio, the soggy sweatshirt and rumpled t-shirt are right there along with my purse and my backpack.

From around the corner one dad appears with a stack of dry towels still warm from the dryer.  The rain falls heavily on the roof above us.  “I found a secret passageway back to the room that’s dry.”

We towel off then make our way down the carpeted back hallway of the hotel.  Kids bounce ahead in sweatshirts and pajamas.  The two dads follow casually, loaded down with backpacks and tote bags.  The mom and I trail behind.  Me with my gear, she holds a bottle of wine.

I take in the image of two dads walking ahead, carrying bags among the kids.  I sense the chaotic comfort of tribe – family.

I look to my friend with her wine bottle.  “I like this image of the dads happily schlepping gear.  I don’t know why it seems special.  I guess it’s because I’m used to doing it by myself.”

She glances their way as a look of recognition washes across her face.  Like seeing the familiar for the first time.  “Ahhh.”

I smile at her.  “I mean, he got my purse.”