Things We Have To Leave Behind (6WS)

  sometimes  the forest wins

   or there is no longer a need

    sometimes we outgrow our passions
    or find new ways of working

It can be hard to let go of the familiar

or the cherished

  and childhood is a beginning, often down a cold unfamiliar  road,  not an end in itself

We leave things behind all the time.  Friends,  family, memories,  passions.  I guess the secret is to cherish the memories,  and try not to regret what we can't bring back

Maybe maybe not

he's been hanging around for at least three days,  keeps coming back to the same rock on the wall.  First time I saw him, he was outwaiting the deer and turkeys who swarmed around him  like, um,  a rock in the stream.  Now he sits on That Rock and waits for something edible  to appear .

When I call him he looks over here, a long slow stare.  Not nervous,  just careful.  

put food out for him last night,  dry kibble on the porch.  It looked swirled around a bit but thats all.  Racoons would have eaten most of it ,  flung the rest around, had a fight over the water dish. Probably would have taken the dish home for a souvenir.

We'll see.   It's up to him. 

thoughts in a cold new month (6WS)

Missing

not-knowing balanced
against the known: how sad to  turn,
find you not there

that shift when the tide
changes places with itself
rolls back up the beach

the sound the wind makes
when it stops; whispery leaves
hang silent again

Flash Fiction

End of the Affair Before it Even Got Started

"I won't", he said,

"and you shouldn't"

and he walked away

Frustrated Human--1, Safety Cap--0 (6WS)

one screwdriver, two ratchet wrenches,  two letter openers,  a wicked looking leather awl, and a seriously sharp steak knife later...the cap, by the way, is supposed to look like that,  it looks pretty in the store but you just can't get enough "push down" to make the "turn" work.  what it really needed was a five year old.   

NOW its time to put on the storm doors

Turning Point

there comes a day in mid fall
when the wind is colder than it should be
the clouds are so low you can almost smell them

when the wind picks up
you head back to the house for a sweater
everything looks wilted,  tired,  finished

you know it will rain by evening,
if not before,
a cold slow steady rain

and its a turning point
no matter how warm the days  to follow are
there's that edgy feel to it

that even the small birds sense
and ragged flocks of them begin moving out
into the fields and south.

There's a snow feel to it all
you'd not be surprised to see
a bit of snow mixed with the rain

makes you glad you got the wood covered
and you throw another stick in the stove
just because you can

Half a Conversation Overheard

yes, yes, tomorrow

probably a week

it cant be  helped,  it's where the work is


well, you understood  when we got married
that there'd be times...

yes.  I see

one of the neighbors can take the puppy
until i get back

ill call you when I get home
we can talk then

I think summer is probably over (6WS)

this is what's left outside,  the tatty area is what we started with   this summer ...

and all of that is now in here.   When you open the kitchen door into the shed this is what you see.  Two rows to go, yessah.

and the garden now looks like rats live there, except for the nasturtiums...and one lone about-to-bloom poppy to the right of the nasturtiums...

"I just want to see you be brave"

LJ Cohen posted this at her blog, and its so much fun,  seemed  a shame not to steal it. Thanks, Lisa. 

Now and then everyone needs permission,  if only from  themselves, to dance, to sing, to be who they really are,  and not give a rip who cares.  

Well Lookit What I Just Found (6WS)

Well, silly me.  I've had this blog for four years and counting,  and i just discovered the NavBar search function at the top.  Type in  "bird" and all the posts with "bird" in them come up.  Type in "snow" and the same thing happens (with "snow", of course. Not "bird")

 She is a happy woman, yep.  A bit slow around the sharp corners sometimes, but happy.

Owl Music redux

                           some things deserve a second viewing.

Never Count The Old Tree Out (6WS)

apple trees are notorious for living apparently forever.  This one is (possibly) a  Gravenstein,  a very old very good species.   For the past decade or so we've watched this tree, which had a massive trunk,  slowly get more and more brittle, limbs came off, it looked dead.
Let's wait a bit, I said.   Put away the chain saw ("but.. but...we can use the wood.  it's DEAD")  and give it some time.

This year the few puny branches, like wisps of hair on an old man's head,  became serious foliage.

and on one side:

if you look really closely you can see apples and even the parts that look as if they could be cut off with a pair of scissors now have living branches.  Just 'cause it's old, doesn't mean it's not got value. 

Follow Up to August 10th, moving the beauty bush

                                           
                              It has sprouted in its new home
                                joy and feasting all around

Free complaint dept. day. Feel free to whine

Peeve 3,786

People who see you a half mile across the parking lot and decide to hold the door open for you
forcing you to either break into a brisk trot or let them wait until you're almost there and then they give up and let the door swing shut...

3,787
Traffic lights that try to combine right turns and  pedestrians at the same time.  As the light changes to green,  all the waiting pedestrians cross en masse,  forcing you to wait, and then the light turns red again...

3,788
Ladies' restrooms

3,789
Electric cars that cost more in energy wasted and less value per mile than they could ever hope to amortize or justify by the amount of gasoline used or not used.

3,790
Winter

This is just too cool to keep buried

http://rlavalette.blogspot.com/

My Life in the Slow Lane (6WS)

The only thing more annoying than a company who sells Five Year Planners is knowing there are people  out there who actually have a need for one, and can plan their lives so precisely that they know what will be happening five  years from now.

I am always comforted  by two things:  every morning I'm still here (if I'm not, I'll let you know so you won't worry) and that the sun and moon rise when they're supposed to.

Beyond that,  and a few predictable holidays,  it's all mostly a slow moving train with a  new view at every bend.  And if you don't know where you're headed,  you can't be disappointed when you don't get there.

Untitled, thank you for the prompt (6WS)

Untitled

now there are two trains
one heading east
the other heading into fog
we wave politely  to each other
through half open windows
as we travel on slowly diverging rails
acknowledging the need for individual trains
and the distance  that slowly separates  us
one pretending it matters
one pretending it doesnt

ooops

I lost Wednesday this week.  Maybe it got lost in the wind.  If I had been planning on Thursday it's too late,  I'll have to celebrate it in retrospect.  That does, however, bring me to Friday faster than I had planned, but hey, Im flexible.  I can adjust.

It comes out even eventually;  I'll just give Sunday a pass and that should catch me up quite nicely.

If you peer closely you can see all those little yellow Roma tomatoes waiting to ripen. I have two of these monsters, and have already pulled about 15 pounds from them. it's about 5' high and twice as wide.   My husband is scared of it, and I don't blame him.

Stayin Alive --Rita Hayworth (just for fun)

let's try this one all over (6WS)

summit

a breeze rises up from the valley floor
lifts your hair, pushes at you

and at that moment know
you're over the edge

look back the way you came
to the summit that now looms like a wall

there is no turning back;
the only way is down, moving carefully

over shale and loose stone
with the afternoon sun at your back

the valley spread out in a green welcome
and far below, someone waving,
climbing up 

Routines

I think as we get older our personal routines take on a life of their own.  They become who we are, what we are.

"Oh",  she says,  "I can't come Wednesday,  that's the day I have to bake my cookies".  Even though there may be  six perfectly good unused days left,  and the cookies take an hour out of her morning,  Wednesday is the day she bakes cookies.   It may also be an easy excuse used too often,  when she wants to get out of shopping,  or visiting a  neighbor she really doesnt like,  or just because.  

I  use Tuesdays ("oh,"  I say,  regretfully.  "I can't make  it on Tuesday,  that's the day I volunteer.") And even if  I don't go,  it's still the day I volunteer.

This, The Pause, In The Conversation--(6WS)

--while I consider what has happened, what will happen, and all that other stuff that goes into someone's  life. Nothing bad, nothing evil or even very noteworthy beyond the personal,  but right now the memory banks are on overload (which happens, heaven help us all) and I need to plow through that;  the garden needs cleanup-for-winter very soon,  the lawn needs a serious haircut,  and the eternal woodpile, while it shrinketh, doesn't shrinketh enough without some human intervention.

Sometimes intervention is necessary, but most of the time the best thing anyone can do is wait while it sorts itself out.  I  have friends who are going through difficult times right now;  much of what they are dealing with is personal,  and painful.  Hard to watch, harder to be in the middle of.   There is nothing I can do for them except listen and  love them and let them know that.

When we were kids the big thing was double-dutch jump rope.  Two jumpropes,  synchronized by the girls at either end,  and the jumper was expected to time her own entry into that swirling pair of ropes precisely--and start jumping over both ropes as they whizzed under your feet.  How we did that without garroting ourselves I have no idea.  That's what memory is like, in a way.  All of it coming at you at once, some days, and you know the only way to deal with some of the harder stuff is to just jump in and start moving through it.

Potato season

It's like eating popcorn.   You pull one plant  "just to see" and what's under there looks soooo good you think, oh, lets do the next one--then you realize pulling one exposes the potatoes under the next plant and before you know it the  whole bed is dug and you are left with what seems like--and probably is--entirely too many potatoes

this averages out to about 100 pounds so far, with one more bed to go.    These were planted in leaf mold and hay this year,  rather than straight dirt.  Id say the yield beats anything I've done so far.

Tidying up the edges

2nd chimney cleaned,  everything put away for wintah.

Bring on the snow.


err.  Maybe not right way...

Chimney talk

The kitchen chimney is clean.  I am not.
It's been three years,  and last winter I was a bit nervous about letting the fire get too hot, especially when I first started the stove up.  But faithfully I kept putting the Rutland (unabashed plug here for the stuff) Creosote  Cleaner to it, once or twice a week.

This is amazing stuff.  I've never seen such a clean (pre-wire brushing) chimney.  That means i do NOT have to do this every year,  I do NOT have to hire someone to do it for me.  Yet.

Tomorrow,  I do it all again in the dining room.  I may not even mind.

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.

Some Days It Feels Like Overload (6WS)

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

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. )

perfect, just perfect

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.

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  

ChiaPet field version

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

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

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

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.

Waning Crescent

As our side of the moon
fades  into the dark sky
I often wonder
what the people
on the other side see

Half Moon

savages once made up stories
about the sungods eating the moon
and crafting a new one
to take its place
i guess when you dont know the answer
you make up one to fit
whether its about a half moon
or a half memory that won't go away

Today we had company and lived (6WS)

They brought the dog, they brought the baby (who is now walking),  we had lunch,  we went for a walk,  we discussed deep throaty matters, and they went home.
I"m exhausted.   Either we have to do this more often, or never again.  =)

Tomorrow, it will have been fun. Right now it's just over.

Three Quarter Moon

I f you knew just where to stand
between the sun and the moon
at the right horizon
on  top of a  very tall mountain
you could make shadow puppets
against the biggest blank wall
in the universe

waning gibbous 2

one slice at a time
it slowly turns its back
and moons us

Waning Gibbous

no full moon tonight
last night was quite enough
for everyone

Go, turkeys, go

about two weeks ago,  nineteen baby turkeys, two mothers.  They join forces sometimes to protect their young,  and in the past it has been a very successful venture.  if you look carefully you can see that one brood is slightly larger than the other, perhaps by a day or two.

this was the day they learned how to Cross a Road safely

They have also invaded my garden, wiping out an entire generation of slugs and icky beetles in one pass,  19 little Hoovers,  bless 'em.

some weeks are a blank wall... (6WS)

Well, sort of...
   

Small things are sometimes the best

Finally found a temp. conversion chart that does not require a degree in math or the ability to remember 6 difficult things about fractions.  Plug in the number,  and you have the temperature in many many forms.  Possibly more than you ever wanted.

http://www.temperatureconversion.us/


>>>>it's also in the interactive list ovah theyah >>>>

and  welcome to Melissa and Mary,  ty for joining

Low whiney sounds

After spending  several days with reading glasses and tweezers trying to manipulate a memory chip that could hide under a broken cornflake,  I am convinced that miniaturization really  has a bottom line; and for me, this may be it.
"Just because we can"  is no longer an acceptable excuse when you realize dropping one of these things on a pile rug means the next entity  to find it could the the vacuum or, god forbid, the dog.

Yes, yes, these chips  can hold the entire Library of Congress and all the music ever recorded and barely make a presence on the chip,  but if the dog sees it as a yummy new edible,  it really wont matter, will it.

(deep despairing sigh)

Change is good yes it is (6WS)

Kicking and screaming I have been dragged into the century of Google Chrome.  It has not been pretty.  Some things work, some things elude me,  some things I would like to take a three pound hammer to.
As with all things Google,  it likes to direct traffic whether the traffic wants to go there or not.  I woke  up this morning to find half the icons on my desktop had been changed to Google icons.  Mine,  it gurgles,  all mine.  

By nature I dislike change.  Adopteds have that problem (considering the traumatic goings on at the beginning, all out of their control) for their entire lives,  to one extreme or the other.  Some of us dislike leaving (home,  friends,  changing schools), some dislike being left behind, no matter how innocent the intent.   So when change is forced on us by outside sources it becomes doubly difficult to handle.  Lotta whining and moaning.

A little voice keeps saying, "It shouldn't be this hard' and another little voice just sniggers.

well this has been an adventure

I'm getting a tad weary of google chrome, and golly it's only been with us for fifteen minutes...however it looks like I may live.   This has not been fun.   Working in Google has always been like walking a narrow tightrope over quicksand,  and this was no exception.

this may be my last post on this blog since i am unable to use the post box and i am getting a runaround from Google about it

however this seems to be working at the moment if I overflow the title box. 
Stay tuned this just got interesting.

I dont even care what it is

                                                                 but i want one

Sometimes It Just Sneaks Up Quietly (6WS)

This morning I realized it wasn't Friday the 5th,  but omg Saturday the 6th,  and  then I remembered why that sounded so familiar.  Ahhh. it's our 45th anniversary.  Rarely do I remember the date, since I have always been a bit vague on 'was it the 6th or the  8th" and get really funny looks from the mister when I ask. 

But eventually one of us remembers,  which is nice,  and then he says 'im sorry I forgot" and I say, "it's okay, I did too" and it really is okay.  In a way, at least for us, it isn't the event itself that looms, its the fact that we're still here to appreciate it. 

45 years.  wow. Me too. 

Lord of the Woodpile

This is my damn woodpile, you get that?  I found it,  I claimed it,  I OWN it.  Anyone got a problem with that?    GOOD.

yay its here

Hapi drum is here

boing boing boingity boingity boing bong bong twang twangtwang  bing bing binnnnggg

tingtingtingting ting taing taing twingtwing tong tong bingbing binnnggg

Too Much Rain, Too Much Rain (6WS)

Universal Gesture

she stands at the wndow
cradling her coffee cup
in both hands

something in a minor key
playing on the radio
makes her close her eyes
go quiet inside

she takes a sip of coffee
laced with music
outwaits the song
one more time

Anticipation is always half the fun (6WS)

Waiting through a long cold winter and a long cold spring and a long cold June,   weeding and mulching and mucking about with plants (this goes here and where the hell are the onions, I know I planted them somewhere),  and suddenly realize you got what you wanted,  and all that hard work really did pay off

Finally bit the bullet and ordered the damn thing--this is all your fault, mr. lavalette,  and I'm very glad it is.
To save myself numerous anxiety attacks I have mentally scheduled this to arrive a month from  now. 

                http://www.hapitones.com/virtual-hapi-ufo-drum.html

(Oh.  And sometimes in the middle of all that anticipation you forget to look up and understand that yes, this is right. This is where I wanted to be.  And isnt it lovely. )

Albert April 1994-June 2013

Came down stairs this morning and found him on the kitchen rug,  in his last sleep.   I buried him in the garden,  with a rock as a marker.   When I think of albert, I always think of these: 

This was his first encounter with catnip, many years ago

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It's Nearly Time For The Solstice (6WS)

                                                         For six months i row
                                                         toward this day
                                                         and then I sadly

                                                         row away

Way too many poppies

If I have to suffer...

http://www.eyezmaze.com/eyezblog_en/blog/2008/06/eyez_labs_seek_ver0.html#monster

wait till you hit level 5 bwahaha

Emergency Waiting Room? Bring a Book (6WS)

unless you're bleeding visibly when you go in,
or are not  in huge amounts of obvious pain,
even if the waiting room is empty, be prepared
to wait. An hour, sometimes, leaving you to wonder
what happened just before you got there
that has tied up the entire emergency room staff.
Your mind starts listening with both ears,
and you hear someone saying, 'burns all over her arms
and face" and you think, 'oh dear' and then you hear
that  rustle-thump of  feet running fast and quietly
somewhere. Suddenly your own scary problems
become less important and, cradling the beeper
in one hand, and the book in the other, settle
in to wait your turn.

Poem: Apostrophe

To Whom it May Concern

you are the nameless, the faceless,
the as-yet-to-be-announced
in wills and deeds, and in notices
that a spouse has left you
and you are no longer responsible
for their debts

you are the legal John Doe
encompassing the as yet unborn,
married, or divorced. All bases
are covered in your name.

the voice that belongs to the speaker
looking out over a crowd
at commencements, award ceremonies,
funerals, the meetings of heads of state
implying by his very tone that he is quite aware
of your presence in the audience,
gazing up breathless and awed
by his ponderous concepts.

the letter that comes addressed to 'BoxHolder',
"Current Resident" or "Present Owner"
and reads, intimately, "Dear Sir or Madam".

The greeting card couched in generalized passion
suitable for any lover, or in adoration that targets
any mother, anywhere, in a one-size-fits-all
tone guaranteed not to offend
even the most offensive recipient

New fawn and mother

The doe came out of the trees to the west and stood very still, watching. I thought, something is going on.  And sure enough about ten seconds later out came this little guy, not more than a day old. The mother let it nurse for about four seconds, then began to walk across the field while the fawn scrambled to keep up.

I tracked them as they walked across the front field, taking  pictures through the admittedly less than pristine windows.  At times she would pause just long enough to let the fawn nurse,  but the message was clear: learn

to keep up, or you'll starve.  Learn to stay close or you'll be food. 

Everything is A Miracle

On the lawn, just under that pear tree, yesterday.  The shells belong to a sparrow or some other small songbird, since the ends barely fit over my little finger tip

How Fog Separates Close and Closer (6WS)