tea with friends
naps in the sun
pecan cookies
midnight reading
impending storms
sandalwood incense
and crystals made of ice
tea with friends
naps in the sun
pecan cookies
midnight reading
impending storms
sandalwood incense
and crystals made of ice
nemophilist: (n.) a haunter of the woods; one who loves the forest and its beauty and solitude
on my shopping list: milk, bread, butter, apples, cheese, coffee
what I actually came home with: bread, pears, tiny tomatoes, incense, dark chocolate and a bottle of wine
sunflowers drying in the afternoon sun
amber honey poured into hot ginger tea
reflective golden sunsets
ripe sensual pears in a chipped bowl
single citrine leaves on bare trees
Here was yet another liminal space, a crossing point between the mundane and the magical. Winter, it seems is full of them: fleeting invitations to step out of the ordinary.
from the book, Wintering by Katherine May, 2020
i think of the lantern flies hibernating in the winter
(their beauty and their destructiveness)
i think about the sculptural tree fungus
(some fungus is good and some is harmful)
i grieve the space dog, Laika
(why, why, why did they have to send her into space?)
my lost heart locket haunts me, 50 years later
(if i bought another, would it heal the longing?)
maybe some tea would be good right now
(lemon ginger or peppermint?)
the lilac light seeps into twilight dreams—
a velveteen cape, a basket of plums, a violet crystal,
lavender stalks swaying in foreign fields
early, in the blue morning,
with a dusting of wet snow
and bitter wind,
the crows make their way from their roost—
their cacophony of sound traveling on the falling,
thick flakes, from a height that renders them small black specks that i struggled to see, beyond the iciness that clung to my lashes
memories of flowers — paper whites in a window, elegant, tall gladiolas, dried roses in a wooden bowl
this song: You’re No Good, the Linda Ronstadt version
these words: petrichor (thank you Brian) and elysian
black horses in my dreams, wild dogs, the woods and snow clouds
the sound of a relentless rain on a sleepless night
winter, spring, summer and fall sunsets — how different they look and how different they feel