being with people
Sep. 12th, 2020 04:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
asakiyumeEvery time I get to exchange friendly words with people, it's a shot of pure joy. Every time I get to be (safely) in proximity to people, it's a rush of euphoria.
Last week I got to meet up with B, one of my former tutees from Holyoke, and I was able to get her together with J, a guy who raises, rides, and promotes paso fino horses (these horses have a gait that looks like they're dancing; they're very popular in Puerto Rico and Colombia--coincidentally the two Spanish-speaking places I've visited. I've known of J for years because he always rides in the B'town fair parade in September (no fair this year, obviously), but I found out a bit about his outreach to young people in Springfield and Holyoke through social-justice activity. Since then, I've wanted for the two to meet, since B lived in the Puerto Rican countryside until she was 12 and misses horses and other animals something fierce. So it was a huge thrill when it finally worked out.
B taking a photo as J leads out Cancionero, his stallion
See the stable? J built it himself. Amazing guy.
Lovely Cancionero running in a paddock.
Then yesterday I decided to harvest all the apples from my tree. One very prolific branch hangs over into my neighbor's yard, so I asked her if I could bring a ladder over. (Can I just say how wonderful and right it is to have to go up a ladder to get apples? I realize that in terms of the apple industry and simplicity of harvesting dwarf trees make sense, but OH THE JOY of a full-sized tree.) I said I'd share the results.
Her two little girls came over, and I explained about why some of these apples looked a little funny and what scale was and so on. They're inkindergarten and third first and second grade. They sat so close--wonderful.
Here is the harvest!
The ripe ones are so red they're almost black.
And today, after an unfortunate and depressing encounter with a Trump rally in a nearby town, I came back to a gathering in B'town supermarket of a motorcycle club, a largely Latinx group, playing great music. These women let me take their pictures. So cool! They look like they're about to star in a movie about motociclistas.
"Are we in Mass?" asked one of the women.
It took me a minute to realize she was asking me what *state* she was in and not, like, what town.
"Yes," I said.
"Damn, then I can't get cigarettes."
"Oh I think you can, over there," I said, pointing to the gas station kiosk.
"But not Newports," she said darkly.
What? Don't they sell Newports in Massachusetts? I haven't a clue.
Anyway.
This is how I satisfy my need for connection in a time of coronavirus.
Last week I got to meet up with B, one of my former tutees from Holyoke, and I was able to get her together with J, a guy who raises, rides, and promotes paso fino horses (these horses have a gait that looks like they're dancing; they're very popular in Puerto Rico and Colombia--coincidentally the two Spanish-speaking places I've visited. I've known of J for years because he always rides in the B'town fair parade in September (no fair this year, obviously), but I found out a bit about his outreach to young people in Springfield and Holyoke through social-justice activity. Since then, I've wanted for the two to meet, since B lived in the Puerto Rican countryside until she was 12 and misses horses and other animals something fierce. So it was a huge thrill when it finally worked out.
B taking a photo as J leads out Cancionero, his stallion
See the stable? J built it himself. Amazing guy.
Lovely Cancionero running in a paddock.
Then yesterday I decided to harvest all the apples from my tree. One very prolific branch hangs over into my neighbor's yard, so I asked her if I could bring a ladder over. (Can I just say how wonderful and right it is to have to go up a ladder to get apples? I realize that in terms of the apple industry and simplicity of harvesting dwarf trees make sense, but OH THE JOY of a full-sized tree.) I said I'd share the results.
Her two little girls came over, and I explained about why some of these apples looked a little funny and what scale was and so on. They're in
Here is the harvest!
The ripe ones are so red they're almost black.
And today, after an unfortunate and depressing encounter with a Trump rally in a nearby town, I came back to a gathering in B'town supermarket of a motorcycle club, a largely Latinx group, playing great music. These women let me take their pictures. So cool! They look like they're about to star in a movie about motociclistas.
"Are we in Mass?" asked one of the women.
It took me a minute to realize she was asking me what *state* she was in and not, like, what town.
"Yes," I said.
"Damn, then I can't get cigarettes."
"Oh I think you can, over there," I said, pointing to the gas station kiosk.
"But not Newports," she said darkly.
What? Don't they sell Newports in Massachusetts? I haven't a clue.
Anyway.
This is how I satisfy my need for connection in a time of coronavirus.
no subject
Date: 2020-09-14 01:02 pm (UTC)Hope you get a new oven soon so many more lovely pies my ensue.
And I love the meet-up your arranged around that lovely Paso Fino.
no subject
Date: 2020-09-14 01:13 pm (UTC)The horse was a joy!