One of my favorite Substack newsletters is Into the Deep Woods, by UK artist/writer James Roberts, who explores nature, creativity and the remnants of magic still to be found in our fact-based world. In a recent letter, he lamented not stopping his car to get out in the road and bow down to the numinous sight of the moon rising above the horizon. It reminded me that I often/usually fail to stop and pay homage to the everyday wonders happening all around me: the best-dressed woodpeckers who come to my feeders in all the intricate geometry of their custom clothing; the earth-shaking thunder that I like to imagine coming from Thor’s hammer even though I know that’s storybook nonsense; the stars that send their old shining light from deep space and thousands of years ago to throw a glittering net over our earthbound, rational heads. And the moon, the moon. We write poems about it, explore it, measure it, paint it, and sing about it. And no doubt, billionaires will eventually try to monetize it as they are want to do. But still it seems inviolate, enigmatic, the symbol for me of all human yearning for something bigger and deeper and otherly than ourselves. Every month, I grapple for new words to express the awe and holiness I feel when I see from my kitchen window the full moon slowly, slowly appear through the trees. But there is simply no way to lasso it and capture its mystery with my puny words. Instead, from now on I’ll take a cue from James Roberts, stop what I'm doing, and simply go outside and bow. The light in me honors the light in you.

I can no longer spend unprotected time in the sun, but I still love the lush, lazy mindset of “laying out.” The very term makes me think of the Sunday New York Times at my favorite part of the beach on my favorite island, that frozen-in-time splash in David Hockney’s pool painting, and the nostalgic summer scent of Coppertone. In lieu of the sun-drunk days that damaged my skin years ago, I indulge now and then in a few sessions of self-tanning. My favorite way to glow up is with silky St. Tropez self-tanning mousse. (The mitt is a must!) 

I recently finished The Ministry of Time and was under its spell for days after. It pairs the compelling Commander Graham Gore, an “ex-pat” pulled unwillingly from 1847 into present time London, with a young woman who is tasked with being his guide/bridge to the modern world. Even after the last page, I wanted more, more, more of Commander Gore. Are you listening, Kaliane Bradley? Speaking of heroes, I’m an obsessive fan of Peter Grainger’s DC Smith mysteries. The 11 beautifully written books center on the humane, intelligent Smith and his friends and colleagues. Over the course of the series (I just finished the latest one), there will be crimes solved, characters developed, and lives changed. Start with An Accidental Death. Let me know if you love Smith as much as I do. An old book that’s brand new to me is the cult favorite Slow Days, Fast Company, a memoir by Eve Babitz about Los Angeles in the ‘60s and ‘70s. It's seductive, witty, and served with a side of gossip. I can't believe I've waited so long to read her work, because I’ve loved California since I first saw it as a naïve newlywed and later traveled there for work and writing workshops. Maybe my California is just a figment of my past – the quality of light that made me a little melancholy and wistful, the feeling of always arriving but never belonging, and the Pacific, that old oceanic mother, pulling on me as strongly as the full moon. Even so, I can’t wait to dive into the world of this book.

I love my Ubuntu Vote Bracelet so much that I ordered them for my daughters and granddaughters, too. I added mine to the stack of bracelets I love and never remove. Yes, it’s a little fashion statement but even more, it’s a political statement that's more important than ever. And that applies not just to the Presidential election, but also to down-ballot races. In my district, turnout for local elections is shamefully low, so I’ll be wearing my bracelet long after November 5th to remind me that democracy has to be home-grown and constantly cultivated.