write something positive–
something about amber leaves
or silver cobwebs
the smell of books and brewing coffee,
or 3:00 am labyrinthine logic
write about her soft whisper
and long shadows on the bricks
as the sun sets on another long October day
Spring arrives and the woods are damp, rich, earthy. You can smell it and almost taste it and certainly feel it—hopefulness.
good health—the positive management of your health
enough food—bowls of berries and platters of cheese, black beans, red tomatoes and good chocolate
the love of another person, or of an animal
safety—a warm home without fear
steaming cups of coffee and strong, black tea
good books on frigid mornings
candles that smell like balsam, like cherry pipe tobacco, like spicy cinnamon
old photos
tattered quilts
pine cones and dried flowers in vases
love letters tucked away with ribbons
crunchy walks in the snow
a good type of tired—from puttering in the house, from doing good for others, from shoveling someone’s walkway, from reading an entire book of poems in one night
freedom to get things wrong and freedom to get things right every once in a while
At my house, there are books. There are open books, stacks of books, groupings, families, renegades. There are plants and flowers; dried and fresh flowers, long leaves in vases, old pottery with lavender. You may find sticks on the table, or maybe a rock, a wing, pens and pencils, a lipstick, a moth.
There is an old hand-made quilt with a tiny rose print and there is art. Some is mine and some is not mine. There is chocolate and Spanish ham, cheeses, fruit, sometimes wine, sometimes good dark beer and sometimes whiskey. There are little statues of birds and fawns. There is music from the 60’s and 70’s and 90’s; occasionally opera, or Gregorian chants, mostly folk, rock, country, classical guitar.
At my house, there are candles and incense. There is a stained glass lamp with ruby spiders and there are hurricane lamps and sand dollars.
What is your safe place? I was asked recently—and I answered, “my house”.
“I suppose all great happiness is a little sad. Beauty means the scent of roses and then the death of roses.”
from the book, This Side of Paradise, by F. Scott Fitzgerald, 1920
on a walk, i collect things—
pointy things, tiny things, velvety petals, beautiful leaves, memories, wishes, small moments of peace and happiness
the sun of early spring
lifts our spirits—
the possibility of happiness within reach
Happy Thanksgiving weekend! (to everyone celebrating) Thank you for reading my words – wishing everyone happiness and peace.
day dreams
opportunities
sweet secrets
warm homes
good friends
lemon cakes
and cinnamon rolls
red wine
and hot coffee
spanishwoods 