Tuesday, August 27, 2013

snapshots

Sometimes there are trigger points in life;  a piece of music, a photograph, even a voice or a picture where someone WASN'T;  and you suddenly come up against a memory.   Not necessarily what the trigger invoked, but the strongest version of it.    Once that happens, the cellar door flies open and all the other peripherals flood out,  chattering and leaving muddy footprints on the good carpet. .

Usually the only way through it is through it;.  face the ache in the gut,  the river of what if and if only that flows behind your eyes,  and let it go again.  On the plus side, if you look at this stuff from all angles often you gain a new understanding (being all that much older and stuffed full of wisdom) of what happened, and why,  and can convince yourself that it was all for the best.


Well, two out of three isnt bad.

Saturday, August 24, 2013

Monday, August 19, 2013

August






the sun lies long
on the tedded fields
ribbons of mowed hay 
waiting for the baler

the balerman comes 
with his fierce machine
a miracle of twine and gears
turning chaos into order
one bale at a time



Saturday, August 17, 2013

Its That Time of The Year (6WS)


 First we grow stuff   (yes it really is six feet high and yes it really is a tomato plant)



 Then we mow stuff (his dad's old Allis Chalmers tractor)


Then we feast (and a good time was had by all)  


(and a special thank you to Cate for this exercise: if forces all of us, I think, to consider where we are, and why, and maybe even how we got there,  week by week.  Some weeks are harder than others, some just get pulled out of the clouds. Either way,  its cool. )

Friday, August 16, 2013

Monday, August 12, 2013

Thinking Out Loud

6 pm, the shadows are clear across the lawn, the sun just skims the tops of the trees on the west side of the house.  Feels like fall. Dry,  hot, but with a chill after dark that says, 'where's my sweater gotten to?".   We sit on the porch and listen to cicadas and watch the dragonflies feasting on the insects Ive stirred up with mowing.

There's a feel of an early fall about.  Like chipmunks and squirrels, we begin to move a bit faster;  tasks we 've put off all summer now become urgent.  Get the wood in the shed, a voice mutters.  and don't forget the damn chimneys.  CLEAN em.   It's a laundry list of Things We Must Do, and in all of that,  I wonder quietly just how long I can do this.

I've been thinking seriously about  hiring professional chimney cleaners.  Not  yet, but soon.  Maybe next year.   Im always one project behind and one ahead, one way or the other.  I guess that's good, you never run out of things to do.

Or to think about.


Saturday, August 10, 2013

Too Much Of A Good Thing (6WS)


its a pretty thing,  called a Beauty Bush.  This is a two year old picture--this year it totally blocked the front door and was just five feet short of the roof edge and something needed to be done.



                                                      So, we moved it.


One giant step at a time


you can see the outline of it on the house



and the space it left  


a short trip across the lawn 


and its new home  


Tuesday, August 6, 2013

Monday, August 5, 2013

waning crescent 2.3% light


Morning moon,  morning star
the thinnest of edges 
as night lights go
you'd lose your way for sure
sometimes a little light
is worse than no light at all
it can blind you to the possibilities
all around you







Saturday, August 3, 2013

Trying to Make It Out Alive (6WS)


now and then around sunset
he takes his favorite flute--
the one that could summon  whales
if there were any to call--
and heads out to his favorite
flute playing chair on the porch

sometimes he calls the whales
tries not to think about what would happen
if one showed up after all
or just plays that one low note
that gets all the dogs barking
across the valley below

and sometimes he just studies the flute
thinks about the music it makes
and the magic it makes inside him
trying not to look up
when a plane drones by
far overhead;
trying to make it out alive
for one more day

he plays the sun down
and if he's timed it right
the moon rises right on cue
and when the stars come out
he knows he's made it
and maybe she'll be home
tomorrow

Friday, August 2, 2013

waning crescent 2



watch the sweep
of wind across the fields
hurrying August
ahead of it
and  clouds
that turn  the crescent moon
to smoke

Thursday, August 1, 2013

queen anne's lace

We  mow around this on the side lawn,  and it's turning into it's own little field;  I  noticed this week that other people do the same thing, now.  I like seeing that.