Two Years on Substack

Yesterday was the second year anniversary of this octogenarian’s substack postings. I had forgotten the actual date tho I knew it was on the horizon. This is one of the very best things I have done for myself. It’s been a rewarding creative outlet and more importantly, I have made authentic connections with people I would not have met otherwise, none of them ‘around the corner’. It’s an occasion for cake!

When reading down the list of Subscribers (one even paid…thank you again, Judith), I count the substack stars of those who read each post, see those who appear not to have read any, recall those who have died, those who contribute comments on a regular basis, which of my friends have never subscribed…it’s a bit like reading tea leaves (tasseography) and not unlike that endeavor, may increase intuition. Or not. What have I intuited? One never knows what will ‘hit the mark’. I take this as a reflection on readers’ varied individual interests. And I’m more than satisfied.

I just know I’ll continue. And before I forget, the growth of this substack’s readership has been the result of mentions/referrals from other subscribers. Many thanks, KC12 and Emma Simpson for spreading the word.

What have a learned? Recently, I have had an onslaught of male subscribers who appear to be misled by ‘chat’, seemingly thinking this is a place to ‘hook-up.’ Maybe they read the substack bit about ‘chat’ as a venue to increase social connection. In my mind, I imagine many of these individuals on an oil rig (a different platform entirely), lonely and hoping for…what? And what do they think an octogenarian woman is expecting? On the other hand, there have been men on the front lines in Ukraine simply saying something like, “pray for Ukraine”. Yes, I will continue to do so.

So here I sit on a winter’s day. There was unseasonable spate of January thaw days to the point where much of the ground was free of snow. Very mean winds under cloudy skies prevailed. However, last night a winter storm warning came to pass and a most beautiful snow has been falling since the middle of the night. It’s heavy and will be no easy job in cleaning but for now, it’s perfectly fine to be inside watching bird friends fly in to the feeders and leave again, back to a more protected area to cache their seeds.

Lunch today was cream of cauliflower soup and crusty bread. There is room for cake but I’m not about to set out for some. Which reminds me, I’m not certain I can attribute to my generally ravenous winter appetite, the use of a Verilux lamp. Have you, dear Friend, had experience with one? Years ago my psychiatrist friend loaned me hers which was a large clunky thing. I’m not sure if it really helped my SAD symptoms and I more or less just dealt with the lethargy, increased appetite, sleep disturbances, and low mood when she took it back. This year I decided to try a tablet sized one and consider it to be worthwhile.

I’ve been reading a magnificent novel. Kiran Desai’s “The Loneliness of Sonia and Sunny”, 700 pages of pure beauty. It’s one of the 3 best books I’ve ever read. Here’s part of review which, to my mind, says it all:

“The Loneliness of Sonia and Sunny achieves the ultimate of what a book should do: carry us away into other peoples’ lives, thinking as they think, feeling as they feel, until it comes around and shows us to ourselves. Grand, magnificent, intimate, more than wonderful, this is a novel you will hold close to your heart. I certainly did. I cannot recommend it enough.”—Andrew Sean Greer, Pulitzer Prize–winning author of Less.

If you’re thinking of a new read, please consider this one.

Episode 4 of Season 2 of “The Night manager” arrives tomorrow. I gasped out loud at the very end of Episode 3. Usually I’m a step ahead of plots but not this time. Whew. Tell me if you’ve been watching this thriller.

My dear substack Friend Sarah Barker recommended “Down Cemetery Road” on Apple TV because I’m a huge Emma Thompson fan. She and Ruth Wilson along with the rest of the cast were outstanding but the plot seemed interminable and there was more violence than I enjoy watching. If you’ve seen it, I’d love to know your reactions.

Have you noticed that the light is returning at the rate of a minute a day or so? In this time of not much to rejoice in, here is one thing to gladden an old heart. You?

I’m staying inside but came across a poem you may enjoy.

January Poem

By Suzanne Matson

Only the wrinkle

of a disappearing squirrel

breaks the snow stillness.

The walker, swathed in wool,

lowers toward the prints left

by others, feet that lead to the village.

There a clock stands in front of a closed shop,

its hour not late, though the moon has come early

to mirror the white coin of its frozen face.

Stay well, Dear Friend and please include your comments.