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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

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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

 

Spark

Spark

Jungle Fae

Kyuga

Fraz

Frazzle Tazzle

Fury

Fury, Defender of Tomatoes

Fae

Fay with a Grasshopper

pretty!

The fish in the creek said nothing.  Fish never do. Few people know what fish think about injustice, or anything else. 

–Ursula K. Le Guin

shoes

 

rock

 

Fighting Creek

“And can all the flowers talk?”

~Alice, Through the Looking Glass

flower rock sparkle

“The sun shines not on us but in us. The rivers flow not past, but through us. Thrilling, tingling, vibrating every fiber and cell of the substance of our bodies, making them glide and sing. The trees wave and the flowers bloom in our bodies as well as our souls, and every bird song, wind song, and tremendous storm song of the rocks in the heart of the mountains is our song, our very own, and sings our love.”

–John Muir

waterfall

butterfly kisses

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