repotted, repurposed, reused, reinvigorated, recovery, realization, restore
Growing Again
Tag Archives: thoughts
Daybreak
at 2:00a.m. troubles and worries land
like colonies of bats inside her head
and by daybreak, they have scattered,
afraid of the light
Lately
this book, again The Paper Garden, An Artist Begins Her Lifes’s Work at 72 by Molly Peacock
walks on new streets
peppermint tea
deer at dusk
this song, Chevy Van by Sammy Johns, 1973
days of rain
maine coon cats
coffee on a tiny side porch
a basket of fresh cintronella
Time
time makes things easier, but not always
The Bad Day
Looking out the window after a very hard day, my husband says, “Oh wow”, and I join him to find a huge 7pt buck about 15 feet away. He sees us watching him and he is still, statuesque. Then, he turns and saunters across a busy road (where no cars were coming either way) and into another canopy of dense, deep green forest. Swaying his huge hips over brambles and branches, he is taken back into the womb-like evergreen woods.
Later that night, I think, it wasn’t such a bad day after all.
Satisfying
The dishwasher was broken, so I washed all the dishes by hand. After a week, it was repaired. I continue to wash the dishes by hand. Suddenly, this task seems surprisingly satisfying.
The Familiar
what feels familiar, worn, trusted was once new and strange
As We Age
grief feels deeper and more intense as we age,
then again, so does happiness
Home
Instead of the river, there are now trees. Instead of big, tall windows that let in 14 hours of summer sun, there are smaller, shaded windows and a cooler, darker, sweeter space, sprinkled with dapled spots of bright light. How does “place” define us? Interesting question. I look for deer now, not the heron, I look for the skunk at night. I collect blue jay feathers and listen for the cries of the hawks. I pull the pup from the poison ivy and she looks at me as if to say, “when are we going home?” and I say, “little girl, we are home”.
The Phantom Tollbooth:5
“…if we’d told you then, you might not have gone — and, as you’ve discovered, so many things are possible just as long as you don’t know they’re impossible.”
from The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster, 1961
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