water ducks sky

the 

          sky

                was

can    dy   lu

minous

            edible

spry

            pinks shy

lemons

greens     coo    l  choc

olate

s.

      un    der,

      a    lo

co

mo

     tive     s pout

                             ing  

                                     vi

                                     o

                                    lets

–e.e. cummings, Songs, I

sunset

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Tumbling-hair

              picker of buttercups

                                                 violets

dandelions

And the big bullying daisies

                                  through the field wonderful

with eyes a little sorry

Another comes

                         also picking flowers

–e.e. cummings

iris 2

 

roses2

journal

It’s been a busy spring filled with seeds sewn and flowers bursting. Seeds were planted in so many places I can’t keep track of it all in spite of my journaling,  mapping, and labeling.  I get impatient. If a seed doesn’t sprout within a few days a different seed gets popped into the same tray.  Nature has her own rhythm and won’t be rushed.  Suddenly there are multiple things growing from the same cell.  I am no longer sure what’s what.  The rain has washed away the ink from my labels.  The garden will be full of surprises.

Life is not all fuzzy sprouts, sweet-scented petals, and swirling cursive. The concrete spillway leading from the pond collapsed and caved in from erosion over the last few years. It needed immediate attention.  Hours upon hours were spent in the pit with mud in my hair, in my ears, and under what was left of my jagged fingernails.  Digging rocks from the mud and moving them from here to there is prison work, I tell you! Then there was the construction on the learning garden and the hauling of poop from here to there.  It is almost complete.  So worth it to see he beans already beginning their ascent to the top of their tee-pees.  I can’t wait to show you!  Until next time…

Barista Princess: That will be $7.40 – Oh! You have glitter in your hair!

Me: I do!  Well…it’s tinsel.

Barista Princess: That’s so cool!

Me: You have a tiara!

Barista Princess: I do! (smugly) So I win.

~~*~~

Barista Princess: 1

Me:0


Hawaii Feet April 17, 2019

Wherelings, whenlings

(daughters of if-but, offspring of hope-fear, sons of unless and children of almost),

never shall guess the dimensions of him

whose each foot likes the here of this earth

whose both eyes love this now of the sky.

endlings of isn’t shall never begin

to begin to imagine how

Him whose each foot likes the here of this earth

Him whose both eyes love this now of the sky.

(only are shall be were

Dawn dark rain snow rainbow

and a moon ‘ s whisper in sunset

Thrushes toward dusk among whippoorwills

or

tree field rock hollyhock forest brook

Chickadee

Mountain. Mountain)

Why-coloured worlds of because

Do not stand against yes

Which is built by forever and sunsmell.

(sometimes a wonder of wild roses sometimes)

with north

over

the barn.

 

e.e. cummings

20/50

Travel Pillows.  Please discuss.

(If you need more prompting, I’m wanting to know about your experiences with the horseshoe squishy type of travel pillow that you see in airports. You stick them around your neck for something…presumably to sleep.  Have you used one?  Is that what they’re for? Are they at all helpful or a waste of money?  Is there a particular you swear by? Discuss.)

 

 

the butterflies!

Mystic River Dance’s Annual show is Saturday, February 2, 2019 at the Buckman Performing Arts Center at 7 pm.  Tickets are $15 in advance, or $20 at the door.  Please join us as we celebrate the beauty of the Earth, sky, fire, wind, and sea! Nature’s Rhythms will feature performances from local dancers and feature belly dance, Odissi, fantasy and fusion artists. Isidora Hart is our guest star and she will be teaching two workshops on Sunday.

nature's rhythm flyer

Family and friends – let me know if you’re coming so I can save you an advanced ticket.

Lab Girl

“People don’t know how to make a leaf, but they know how to destroy one.”

–Hope Jahren

Have you ever wondered what secrets the trees are telling each other deep beneath the ground with their intertwined roots? If not, please read this book and enlarge your perspective.  Hope Jahren is a scientist who has made a respectable career out of playing in the dirt. She’s my hero for that. Her memoir, Lab Girl, is infused with her love of science, sunshine, soil and seeds. It features funny and highly entertaining tales of her travels and misadventures in academia and the band of misfits she loves along the way.

My electronic archives have been neglected this year as I took a turn back to the old ways, to relish the dying art of handwriting and its ancient tools, and to savor the privacy, tangibility, focus and flow that these tools afford. 

For some reason, this seems like a good time to share a gratuitous picture of a turtle I met this year.  Or maybe she’s not so gratuitous. Maybe she was a little spirit companion meant to remind me the value of slowing down, grounding, and seeking solitude.

turtle

But I didn’t come here today to share turtle pictures.  I wanted to show you one of my most prized possessions — a garden journal my sister made for me.

 

journal

 

She calls it a “junk journal,” though I don’t think that’s a fitting description. Every single page is embellished with awesomeness.

 

iris

There are all sorts of nooks and folds in which to tuck notes, thoughts, dreams, and ideas.  And she stocked it with seeds, charms, a vial of dandelion fluff upon which to make wishes, and all sorts of magic.

seeds.jpg

And these pictures do not even begin to do it justice.

butterfly.jpg

With this journal I am a garden wizard!  Next year, I should be able to grow a beanstalk to climb to find the goose who lays golden eggs.

It makes me happy.

The video below is her doing a complete flip-through of the journal in case you’re interested:

And if you want to see the other journals she’s created (e.g., Murder on the Orient Express), here’s a link to her channel:
Recycled by Skattur

HER: “I’m not going to put my shoes on.  I don’t think it’s illegal to drive without shoes. I looked it up online once.”

ME: “….you are driving around with expired tags and you are worried about whether it’s illegal to drive without shoes…”

(for the record, it’s not illegal to drive without shoes)

~*~

ME: (bounding into the room for no apparent reason in superhero pose singing) “Here I come to save the day!”

HIM:  “Thanks for the warning.”

~*~

(On the way to go bike riding — one of my least favorite activities)

HIM: “Are you excited?”

ME: (lost in a daydream) “Huh?” (coming back to Earth) “Oh, sorry, I’m in my imagination.”

HIM:  “You are in your imagination?”

ME: “No. I mean, I’m IN my imagination.”

HIM: “What are you imagining…a world where you don’t have to go bike riding?

ME: “Can you stop at Starbucks? That will give me caffeine. And enthusiasm.”

~*~

I was very behind on yard work, so I pruned the Rose of Sharon in the spring instead of the fall. The branches were very pliant – they had already started to green up.   I decided to braid them together and stick them in the dirt of a few potted plants to make a little basket handle/trellis of sorts for a few of my plants needing a little support.  I was shocked last week when I walked by to discover one of my “basket handles” had actually  bloomed a pink flower!

20180817_131044_resized.jpg

Just wanted to share an old picture I came across today of Richard Simmons and me.  He makes me smile.

RichardSimmons

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