Fifteen minutes ago

Fifteen minutes ago It was that day. The day I flew. The day I decided not to counteroffer on a house I really liked. The day I last heard “I love you so much.” The day I last shared a newspaper with anyone. I wonder when this day’s awareness will fade from my brain. When…

Thoughts from the week

I feel like I’ve joined the ‘writer’s abstinence club’ of sorts lately. I think of great things to write, but I’m busily doing something else, and then I have tasks to tackle or familial bonds to reinforce with listening, advice, interventions or the like, and a dog to walk and a job, and well, then…

Minimalism, life and hiking

When you begin to consider carrying all that you need on your back for a few months, the contents of your home begin to loom in the mind as well. The idea of ‘comfort’, ‘luxury’ or ‘morale’ items becomes a topic of thought. We really don’t think about these things day to day, just like…

Who are you and what have you done with my Mother?

I can tell you first hand that widowhood sucks.  Just like when you marry, you learn to blend, compromise and bend to fit into a pair and it is a little awkward – stops, starts, spills, so too, is widowhood.  In a culture that practically elevates partnership to sainthood status, suddenly finding oneself pulling in…

Vulnerability has a scent, and I wasn’t wearing it

…and other unusual things said to me lately. Scent has always played a huge role in my life. As such, I own probably an inordinate amount of scented things, personal and home. I picked up a new perfume on a trip.  It is very green, woodsy with a mossy undertone at dry down.  It reminds…

“Dreams for Sale”

Ivory towers are difficult to maintain Too much melancholy seeps into the cracks Jostling the dust for position of primacy Longing for an out; escape is a feather duster ride She hovers among the secreted garden of words Slender stalks of them over here, ground-hugging clumps over there Flinging some violently against the canvas of…

Floundering for Words

I always have words.  Words to write, words to say when given a chance.  And I am full of them now too – well, thoughts actually would be more accurate. What does one write on a death anniversary, when writing is simply what one does? Does it make others uncomfortable? I don’t know too many…

8.27.14 Wordless Wednesday – Memories

   

Life Snapshot

Today is Shabbat.  A time free of work world constraints.  Time to absorb beauty, reflect beauty and warmth, radiate that back to others.  A time for thinking, for being. A time for giving thanks.  I smell like the woods, having finally finished my sun-steeping of a new body oil I created, scented with vetiver, peru…

Getting better acquainted with Berry, and an ode to solitude.

This week is the annual customer visit for one of my largest clients, so time will be sparse to write, as well as the solitude and quiet that I require to do so.  But discipline is required to form habits, so…go easy on my content this week 🙂   I first read Wendell Berry several…

Being alone with greedy eyes and an open mind

As you know, I live in the city, in a studio smaller than most people’s garages, filled with boxes and containers from my farm.  It was small before I brought anything in, it is much smaller in navigable space now, lol!  So open space, I love it.  It ain’t happenin’ here on a day to…

When reality beats imagination

Yes, I know I said I’d be posting from the woods, and I didn’t.  Something about being out there made me wish to eschew the computer, a rare event in my life, since nearly everything I do revolves around computers.  Part of the issue was with my generators – one was more suited for phone…

“I went into the woods…”

It is almost time.  My apartment looks worse than usual (tiny thing that it is) because of all of the camping gear staged around.  Tarps. Sleeping bag. Sleeping mat. Food bags. Hiking boots.  Portable generators.  Chargers. And so it goes.  Looking at all of the ‘stuff’, I thought that possibly ‘primitive camping trip’ might perhaps…

When opportunity knocks, answer the damn door!

Sometimes I believe in serendipity.  Sometimes I believe that serendipity actually knows where I live.  This is one of those times. When a writer writes, we really toss our inner selves out into the light waves of the universe to be bandied about a bit in the head space of others.  Some people skim over…