Author Archives: Alan Ilagan

Our dogwood and Japanese maple trees held onto their fiery leaves for as long as possible, but a deep freeze, a hint of snow, and some forceful gusts of wind took the show away. Thankfully there are a few photos to capture the glory forever. It’s not quite the same thing – far from it – but it will have to do. Until the holiday pizzazz is brought out (just a little too early for that in these parts, but soon…) these memories will have to do. The long stretch of grays and browns has only just begun, and then the slow, laborious winter will begin. There are creative endeavors to see us through – ideas for projects so personal and precious they will provide the warmth and love that must keep winter’s cruelty at bay. Come, stay cozy here. Find comfort and light, heat and humility. A new order of the kindest kind. 

I imagine that this is how some dogs await the return of their beloved owner. 

Sometimes this is how I wait for Andy. 

The cheeky part is done solely for the photograph. 

Life is getting way too serious.

Time for a Dan-Dee Donuts mooning episode, because some things should never change.

We’ve just returned from a long weekend in Savannah, Georgia – and the very worst part of a vacation is when it ends, so while we regain our footing and get back into the working swing of things, here’s a quick recap of the week the came before. (Stay tuned for tales of Georgia later this week…)

Sam Smith went disco Donna on our asses and we loved every minute of it. 

Liam Payne stripped down to his underwear for Hugo Boss. 

Our house went up in smoke. 

Leaves of a ghost.

Dan Osborne’s bulge in a box. 

Fiery fountain.

The lovely lulls.

Rose leaves aflame.

We shall have tea.

Shirtless male celebrities.

More shirtless male celebrities.

Saturday night viewing.

Review preview of Savannah.

Low-hanging balls.

Bright flaming red.

Hunks of the Day included Frank Catania, Usher, Colton Grey, Robbie Savage, Jordan Franks, Druny Williams, and Evan Todd.

A bit of red and blue seems fitting for this Monday holiday, and as we honor our Veterans, let us take a moment to pause in the stillness of the dawn of this day. We will revisit the past week in a captivating recap later today – for now, just a few photos for contemplation. The world needs more honor. More respect. More time to acknowledge what a precious privilege it is to be alive, to be present, to be here. 

Japanese Maple

by Clive James, 2o14

Your death, near now, is of an easy sort.
So slow a fading out brings no real pain.
Breath growing short
Is just uncomfortable. You feel the drain
Of energy, but thought and sight remain:

Enhanced, in fact. When did you ever see
So much sweet beauty as when fine rain falls
On that small tree
And saturates your brick back garden walls,
So many Amber Rooms and mirror halls?

Ever more lavish as the dusk descends
This glistening illuminates the air.
It never ends.
Whenever the rain comes it will be there,
Beyond my time, but now I take my share.

My daughter’s choice, the maple tree is new.
Come autumn and its leaves will turn to flame.
What I must do
Is live to see that.That will end the game
For me, though life continues all the same:

Filling the double doors to bathe my eyes,
A final flood of colors will live on
As my mind dies,
Burned by my vision of a world that shone
So brightly at the last, and then was gone.

“Even when a river of tears
courses through
this body,
the flame of love
cannot be quenched.”
― Izumi Shikibu

DO YOUR BALLS HANG LOW?

CAN YOU SWING THEM TO AND FRO?

CAN YOU TIE THEM IN A KNOT?

CAN YOU TIE THEM IN A BOW?

DO THEY MAKE A HOLLOW SOUND

WHEN YOU DRAG THEM ON THE GROUND?

DO YOUR BALLS HANG LOW?

Such low-hanging dogwood fruit has been both a boon and a bane to the intrepid squirrels this fall season. There was a bumper crop, thanks to the rather long and dry summer stretch that dogwoods love. It was a blessing to the squirrels, who climb their way onto the very edge of these tremulous branches, even when hanging dangerously over the pool, and then perch on their haunches, turning the fruit in their little paws and eating them like apples. It would be comical if it wasn’t so messy.

The older I get, and the more I see of real life, the more I wish we could return to a simpler time. That meant sitcoms and pizza on weekend nights. It was a wood-paneled family room where we all gathered. A dinner where we all sat to eat, no phones or computers or televisions. In my case, it was the 80’s, and though the background was the corporate coldness of a Reagan-fueled greediness (hell, I was being raised by proud Republicans) inside our home there was safety and warmth and the innocent umbrella of childhood keeping out all the acid rain. 

Fridays were for roast beef subs with shredded lettuce, and later, when I finally acquired a taste for it, pizza (I didn’t always like it because I was a very strange child). Then we’d move into the family room for ‘Webster’ and ‘Mr. Belvedere’ and ‘CHiPS’ and ‘Dallas‘. 

Saturday mornings were about cartoons – the Snorks and the Smurfs and then whatever PBS had to offer – painting with Bob Ross if there was nothing else. Throughout it all, my brother and I would play and engage with toys and legos and other things. We could do both so watching that much television wasn’t like we were glued zombie-like to the screen. 

Saturday night television memories seem to revolve around a later section of childhood, when ‘The Facts of Life’ and ‘The Golden Girls’ were on and we could stay up a bit later. Eventually we’d graduate to ‘Saturday Night Live’ by the time I got to high school, and television was less a communal event, and more of a way to pass the weekend until Monday arrived. 

PS – Sunday shout-out to ‘Punky Brewster’!

What wonder might be found in a cup of tea?

What fortune will be spilled in the dredge of tea leaves?

What secrets will be whispered over the wisps of tea steam?

I’ve had this tea cup for over ten years. It came with a large irregularly shaped saucer, to allow for a biscuit or cookie to accompany the hot goodness. I rarely use that accoutrement. Life doesn’t let me be that fancy or precious as a general rule. But by God I try. 

“I say let the world go to hell, but I should always have my tea.” â€• Fyodor Dostoevsky