there you were, sniffing the violets—
your shoulders hunched and your snout long,
your grey fur, a perfect camouflage on a misty spring night
Violets and a Fox
Tag Archives: pennsylvania
A Sunday in January
The world outside has turned monochromatic, all shades of grey.
Juliet explores in the snow.
Inside, stacks of books are piled here and there. Dried flowers, pine cones and leftover slices of Christmas oranges are tucked into bowls. The tea brews. The afternoon edges closer to evening just as it starts to snow softly once again.
In a tiny cottage-house, out the window
I am wrapped into an old quilt watching a squirrel leap from branch to branch. The crows fly against the grey December sky by the dozens, stretching for miles, black waves echoing in the distance. Closing my eyes, the outlines of the dried oak leaves melt into my mind and right into my soul.
Taking Stock in November
This list inspired by the lovely Pip Lincoln from meetmeatmikes.com
Getting: a holiday list underway
Cooking: mashed potatoes and cornbread and sautéed cauliflower
Sipping: Christmas Tea from The Secret Garden
Reading: All Adults Here by Emma Straub
Thinking: family time is such a wonderful thing
Remembering: my extended family in Ohio that I miss and those that have passed on, remembering them with great love
Looking: at the leaves, always and still
Listening: Elton, Johnny Cash, Jerry Rafferty
Wishing: for peace and safety
Enjoying: British shows on BritBox
Appreciating: how we change as life goes on
Wanting: patience
Eating: pumpkin things
Finishing: the last box of Raspberry Coffee
Liking: rainy, grey days
Loving: sunny, bright autumn mornings
Buying: Christmas trinkets
Watching: the crows in the afternoon
Hoping: the world can find a place of peace
Wearing: green amber earrings from Italy
Walking: every day is always the goal
Following: the local parks and conservatories and museums on instagram
Noticing: a kindness here and a kindness there
Saving: screen shots of beautiful images from instagram for inspiration
Bookmarking: clever interviews with authors I like
Feeling: grateful
Hearing: so many voices of pain and sorrow, knowing we are all one, wishing we were all one
Excerpt from this book: The Accidental Tourist
The real adventure, he thought, is the flow of time; it’s as much adventure as anyone could wish.
Excerpt from The Accidental Tourist, by Anne Tyler, 1985
A Catalog of 4 Days
we pulled the leaves from the dill plants and the night fell with its fragrance
with their humble happiness, the pumpkins beckoned
there was a bit of melancholy about the place; the distressed beauty of willful neglect but also a prescience in the way the sun fell in random slices through the thick afternoon clouds
she laughed when I ran outside to shoot the morning frost on the leaves and so I scampered, crunching the grass, taking the shots quickly, leaving an exhaled breath behind me
November 1
feel the thin space between the living and the departed today—
listen for their names on the wings of the changing winds
The Leaves
Leaves stick to the bottom of our boots and gather in the kitchen where the shoes are haphazardly discarded. But the leaves, in all of their brittle and scampering leafiness, travel throughout the house on the edges of a passing breeze— resurfacing on a worn blanket or in the corner by a basket of pine cones.
Bringing Joy
your green eyes and
the way the sun shone through the pink petals—
Rita’s painted egg and two sand dollars on the toy chest,
Queen Anne’s Lace in the wild lane
where I walked alone on a late summer’s day
In the Car: The Short Version and The Long Version
The Short Version:
It is a marvel, how many people we are in one single life
The Long Version:
Riders on the storm, Into this house we’re born, Into this world we’re thrown
I’m riding down the highway at 65 miles per hour in a car that’s 25 years old with miles stacked behind it like birds on a telephone wire. Windows down, the spring air fills the car with a headiness, a feeling of freedom I know to be fleeting. I take a breath and turn the radio up, the song changes.
Someone told me there’s a girl out there with love in her eyes and flowers in her hair
Remember the times I had love in my eyes and flowers in my hair? The years have sped along, ticking by, mile markers in the rear view mirror. I dodge a dead deer in the right lane, pull over into the passing lane. I’ve got the car up to 70 but I know it can’t maintain this speed, so I quickly get back into the slower groove.
I’m your dream, make you real, I’m your eyes when you must steal, I’m your pain when you can’t feel
No, I can’t listen to this song, it’s too dark for me right now. I shut the radio down and turn to my music downloaded on my phone. Damn it! I just passed my exit. I drive on to the next one.
The trees are almost able to be called lush now, everything alive and thrumming. I’m passed by a band of motorcycles and I envy their rides. Years ago, I rode with friends when I was young and new and thin and beautiful and also, self-absorbed and insensitive; my youth raking everything in its wake. I marvel at how many people we are in one single life. How many roads taken, abandoned, lost and found.
Smiling at strangers reminds me of my dog (Better let them know you’re friendly), The way people dress reminds me too, Pissing on their favorite tree, Sad things remind me of my dog
I look behind me at my dog in her bed. She looks at me with total trust. I have love in my eyes and I laugh at myself and my thoughts as I drive a good 5 miles out of my way because of my perpetual distraction. I remember teaching my kids to be aware of other drivers on the road. “So few people are aware of their surroundings”, I had counseled them. Here, my exit. Someone pulls out in front of me in order to make the next right at the light after the off-ramp. I slow down, let it happen without incident. Today, is a good day to stay alive.
Riders on the Storm, written by Jim Morrison, performed and released by The Doors, 1971
Going to California, written by Jimmy Page and Robert Plant, performed and released by Led Zeppelin, 1971
Sad but True, written by James Hetfield and Lars Ulrich, performed and released (in album) by Metallica, 1991
Everything Reminds Me Of My Dog by Jane Siberry, written, performed and released, 1989
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