Patience

 Next time

Next time what I'd do is look at

the earth before saying anything. I'd stop

just before going into a house

and be an emperor for a minute

and listen better to the wind

or to the air being still.

When anyone talked to me, whether

blame or praise or just passing time,

I'd watch the face, how the mouth

has to work, and see any strain, any

sign of what lifted the voice.

And for all, I'd know more -- the earth

bracing itself and soaring, the air

finding every leaf and feather over

forest and water, and for every person

the body glowing inside the clothes

like a light.

Mary Oliver

There's something fantastically irregular happening here. I have reached the age where many of my peers race to check off their bucket list boxes. Especially after the Covid years, folks lined up for cruises, flights abroad, VRBO reservations. I, on the other hand, have thrown my list away. I now live where I would most love to visit. I am married to the man of my matured dreams. My children and grandchildren are thriving. 

I don't long for the rare sights, the extravagant adventures, or the exotic tastes and smells. Instead, I crave routines that take me to the waterfront, and to the garden day after day. I can't wait to see what boats are new on Front Street, and which of the ones I saw yesterday are still there today. I look forward to each and every sunset. Like snowflakes, no one is ever the same. I treasure every ripening fruit or swelling bud as sun or rain or heat influences their outcomes.

They say you can't teach an old dog new tricks. And believe me, I could be an old dog. But if the subject can hold my attention, I find a soothing, yet refreshing focus that puts me into the bigger scheme of things.  Let me give you an example:

 My "job" in the summer and fall months is to catch blue crab in the crab pots at the end of our dock, and then steam them and pick the meat. When we first started this, we would buy bait to put in the pots, or Joe would occasionally fish and end up with bait that way. Over the years, I  learned which bait catches more crabs, but that bait was available to me only by luck. Then I learned how to throw a cast net so that I could catch my own bait. 

Over the last couple of years I have grasped the seasonal cycles of the best bait fish, and of the crabs, too. To my delight, I realized a few months ago that I can now tell when the bigger Menhaden- the best of the best bait- are running in the fall just by the flick sound they make in the water. I can just walk out on the dock and hear it even if I can't see them. I can go get my cast net then and fill the bait freezer with a favorite crab bait. I have also found that Menhaden is a favorite pin fish bait, too, so I can catch pinfish with the Menhaden, and then use the Pinfish in the crab pots. The crab like them, too.

I am absorbing the seasonal crab molting routines, and now we isolate the females if we find them "covered" by a male. That means that she is just about to shed her hard shell, and we'll end up with a delicious softshell when she does, plus her suitor, who goes into the steampot. As our untraditional tradition is developing, we freeze the softshells to feast on for Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner.

I have come to relish the big jimmies (males) in the last of the days of warm weather. Sometimes I catch flounder in the pots. More than once I have caught a slot sized red drum. I usually let the fish go, but happily take note that they are hanging around. The more I work at it, day by day, the more I learn; like the sound of the Osprey returning in spring, or the kingfishers call in fall. And when that big shadow comes over my shoulder headed towards the water, I can get my phone out quick and catch the bald eagle before he dives and flies away with his

 catch. 

I am also trying to learn how to think like a red drum; to watch for places the water slows down, turns a corner, flows around some grass or under a dock. These beautiful fish are hungry eaters, but also a little lazy. They would rather find a protected place to hang out while letting the water bring them a meal. The more I can spot these locations, the better chance I have of enjoying a drum dinner. 

The routine gives me a small goal each day. But the routine also opens up time to notice little details, or to think about how they all fit together. Perhaps now, at this stage in my life, I can try to fill my bucket with patience.  It is the one thing I have never had much of, and maybe the only thing that can take me where I really need to go. 

Adopt the pace of nature. 
Her secret is patience.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

Patience attracts happiness; 
It brings near that which is far

Swahili Proverb