clamhood...

It was said, sneeringly, by someone that if a clam could conceive of God, it would conceive of Him in the shape of a great, big clam. Naturally. And if God has revealed Himself to clams, it could only be under conditions of perfect clamhood, since any other manifestation would be wholly irrelevant to clam nature. By incarnation, the creator says in effect: "See! this is what my eternal ideal looks like in terms of my own creation; this is my manhood, this is my clamhood, this is my characterhood in a volume of created characters.

~Mind of the Maker, Dorothy L. Sayers

home sweet home...

Note to self... Today you are a homemaker. You may want this every day, but then again, you also want to be a teacher, an artist, a friend, a mommy, a wife... You can't do it all, so let's focus on one thing. Homemaking is not about cleaning. It's about creating a beautiful place where things can grow... people, plants, ideas etc... Creating this kind of place involves vinegar and baking soda (otherwise you might grow some very unlovely things, like mold, fungus, bacteria) but it also involves love and patience, and joy and playfulness. Why am I telling myself this? Because today I want o be free to choose each next step, keeping in mind what is true to my heart. I don't want to have a cleaning day, or a school day. I don't want to have a day off from these things either. I just want to enjoy this day being productive with nothing in particular in mind. I don't quite know how to do that, so every time my mind starts wandering and I start thinking of business that I need to attend to, calls I need to make, or even things I want to do for myself, I am just going to keep saying, you are a homemaker. Does a homemaker make broccoli cheese soup? Absolutely! Does a homemaker read books to small children and listen to them read? Of course. Does a homemaker have whimsy and fly by the seat of her pants? Yes she does. I really can't think of too many things that a homemaker wouldn't do, only I know she wouldn't homeschool from 8 to 5. That is what is known as schoolmaking. She would not clean from 8 to 5 either. That is how we turn a very nice homemaker into a crazy person. So that is quite enough on that topic for now, because homemakers do not spend too much time blogging. They are way too busy being spontaneous, making some things yummy and other things shiny, and making the world a better place for her homies.

 

intermission...

So love it when Ben takes time out from his busy day to call me just to say hi and see how my day is going. Just wanted to remember. Have to hold on to these sweet moments.

the road less traveled...

“A man of my acquaintance once wrote a poem called "The Road Less Traveled", describing a journey he took through the woods along a path most travelers never used. The poet found that the road less traveled was peaceful but quite lonely, and he was probably a bit nervous as he went along, because if anything happened on the road less traveled, the other travelers would be on the road more frequently traveled and so couldn't hear him as he cried for help. Sure enough, that poet is dead.”

~ Lemony Snicket, The Slippery Slope

 

the sweet life...

Woke up this morning to cafe au lait, made by Snow, just the way I like it. It was a nice surprise for someone who was planning to start a diet today, a diet which would exclude this longed for, pleasant-tasting, sweet treat. But how could I say no? This is Snow's new hobby- waking up early to make goodies for the fam. Have I mentioned it? (I don't know if it's that adorable twinkle in her eye or that nonconformist streak that reminds me of a younger, less hairy* me.) It's a bit alarming when your daughter is up before the sun comes up serving hot coffee and piping hot baked goods while you're still under the covers trying to steal a few extra winks. Almost makes a person feel guilty. It's as Lemony Snicket says, "“Criminals should be punished, not fed pastries.”

*hairy- a word which here means hazardous or frightening

a spark of hope...

Sometimes you get to learn things the easy way. This year I didn't gather firewood before it snowed, because it seemed like it would never snow, I guess. Then, it snowed. And the firewood got wet. And I realized that I had done a bad thing. If this was a cold cold winter, I would be in serious trouble. The cold, dry snow might not dampen the wood, but I would be tromping around in the woods, digging and dusting with red cheeks. Anyway, the snow is not cold and dry, it is wet and fading. Though fires are nice, they certainly are not necessary at this point and nevertheless, my passing thought, next year I better be ready. That's me. Always an optimist. Ha. It will be cold next year, right?

diffident proposal...

Hello Blog. Happy New Year! I know you are busy, but I just wanted to tell you how you've always been a great inspiration to me and often make me smile. Thanks for that. You really are lovely and I'm looking forward to some lovely times together, hopefully very soon.

you know what's not so nifty...

Finally, a blog. So here I am and this day is ripe for sharing. The sun is shining, the grass is green, and I am soaked to the spongy bone with tales of black princes and red roses and deeds done beyond the sea. There is a spark of truth in me and I am overwhelmed by it, yet even the essence of expression escapes me. I'm hindered by my own insufficient glossary, my own distracted, vacant mind. Was there ever anything more piteous? -beauty all locked up in the heart of an utterly deficient, mute poet. Oh how sad and despicable yet exhilarating to be stuck with a fire in one's breast!

rambling...

Last night I watched a documentary on Woody Guthrie. It made me think of my dad, especially when it mentioned Woody going to sea and playing guitar for his shipmates. I never knew Woody went to sea. I think my dad told me once that he was present somewhere sometime when Woody went by in a train. Maybe I made that up. He sort of reminds me of him though, but then most rebels do... Clint Eastwood, Rambo, Elvis, Superman. I don't know if Elvis and Superman fit that description, but they belong in that list. Maybe they remind me of some of his other qualities. Anyway, I may be idealizing my childhood, but I feel like I have a rich folk heritage. I feel like I'm a part of something beautiful in some small way. I love folk art and folk music and when I look back at the little cedar cabin that I grew up in with it's fireplace and porch swing, our dogs on the porch, and my daddy playing guitar and drinking coffee, I feel like I belong in a painting. My dad is gone now, but I have his guitar and it is a treasure to me. My favorite song that he played for me was Puff the Magic Dragon & sometimes I still listen to Peter, Paul, & Mary try to mimic him. I miss my dad. The other night we played monopoly and I don't know what I said, something stupid, but apparently smart at the same time and Ben gave me that same look my dad used to always give me that says, does this kid really know what she just said? That always made me feel special, when we connected that way. My kids wondered how a game of Monopoly could make me cry. So, long story short, I love my daddy's guitar, and the music in my head, and my patchwork fantasy past, my 1970's frontporch piece of history. I miss my dad's funny raised eyebrow looks that peer into my wee little soul. I wish he was still here to tell me all about what's going wrong in the government. I'd ask him if he really watched that train pass by. I'd call him right now & ask him to brave the cold and come over for Thanksgiving and meet my family & my big dogs & we'd sit by the fireplace & drink coffee. I wonder what my kids would think. He's not entirely unlike their daddy, sort of a cross between Rambo & Superman. Ha. That's what it is- deep thinker, tuff guy, handsome, hero. Funny. I never really reconciled those four personas in my mind until now (Clint, Rambo, Elvis, Superman). I recently read a quote that said, "I write to discover what I know." So true. Glad I could apply it here. Ps. I think if my dad were here, he would read my blog. I wish he would. That would be neat.

through the looking glass...

These days the sky is ever at my window waiting for me to look out. Casually we meet time and again and he is always trying some new trick of amazement. In summer he was there and I admired his beauty then, but now that all the fittings, findings, and accouterments of the stage are all neatly packed away, he has my full attention.

seamonkey has my money...

Out of my four kids, three have had stitches and all three somewhere on their face. As a result, each has some sort of vestige to mark the occasion, and naturally, the fourth child has been anxiously waiting to see how she might fit into this picture. We have commented on her record of holding out for so long on numerous occasions, but today my husband noticed that she has finally acquired her very own little red badge of courage. Really & truly, a scar, right there on her chin! Finally! Needless to say, Emmeli did not share his enthusiasm, but not for the reason you might suppose. She was entirely distracted by the fact that she had lost her change purse, poor girl. Still fishing for a smile, he said, "Emmeli, you're a true (insert last name here), now!" Her dismal response, "I can tell. All my money is gone."

 

radiance, full and fair...

Either we have had several days of endless gray weather or my eyes have been closed, because it is a beautifully blue day and it feels like a new phenomenon. Black twiggy trees silhouetted against a cheerful sky with little white floating islands drifting along the currents; blinding rays streaming through my window; and the grass still vividly green as if by the glory of a summer rainbow. I'm drinking in the sunshine and the warmth and loving every minute of this. A little longer and the sun will be hid for many a wintry day.

aliens are watching my blog...

I was going to write this blog a while ago, and i was going to title it something like "wow, i'm famous!" or something like that, because i learned how to check the stats on my blog and found that there are thousands of page views. What?! And not a single comment? I don't understand. The only logical explanation is that the intruders could not understand the language and could not type because they didn't have the right kind of fingers. I'm not offended. Really, i'm flattered that they keep coming back; and i feel a little sorry for them that their fingers don't work. How frustrating! Well, in an attempt to come in contact with my own species, i posted a blog link on facebook today, which is completely against everything that i stand for, but i was trying to be brave, and i'm proud of myself. All that aside, if you are human and you have ever posted on my blog, i just wanted to say thank you. And since there are only a handful of you, i have each of you in mind and can sincerely say "i love you all". Obviously, the reason why i post this most intimate and personal information online for all the world/worlds to see is an attempt to connect. I know that you know that i like to talk to myself as well, so don't feel bad if you want to respond but can't for whatever reason. Anyway, some days i am more chatty than others & to my dearest friends who receive these blog posts via email, i apologize for bombarding your inbox today, i am at the mercy of my own whims.

 

luck, schmuck....

Brendan luck! Yay! A happy blog! Last night we went for a night-walk through the woods. Snow said something to the effect that she is never happier than when in the woods. We were walking the trails by the dam with it's pseudo-waterfall. I'm sure i have mentioned it before. It's the place where you park under the biggest cherry tree in existence & the home of the tree around which we filmed the lovely fall footage set to Rodrigo Y Gabriela. We took the side trail which doubles back by the river, then makes a loop back to the bridge at the start of the trail if you take a shortcut across the railroad tracks. We all had headlamps, but didn't need them due to the super bright light which Ben carries that has it's own little extension cord leading to a battery which he carries in his pocket. Ahem. So, anyway with such a headlight, we were all able to trail behind with enough light to pretty much black out the scenery & it was chilly so we were moving at a magnificent pace. Daniel even carried Emmeli, bc her little legs were not able to keep up. Speaking of trains, I would like to mention that a train did pass by on the tracks, which was cool and served well to drown out the barking of a neighboring dog aroused by all of the flickering and tramping and rustling of leaves. Okay, on to the point. So, when we arrived, as Ben passed out lights and we gloved our fingers and covered our heads, Daniel and Hannah took the trail under the bridge and grabbed up some small boulders. So as we crossed the bridge, Daniel lobbed them in and we all leaned over to admire the graduating rings in the river in the moonlight. Ben mentioned that sound waves travel in a similar pattern and i felt proud to have such a scientific husband, especially since i was off-duty. So here it is, the crowning glory of this lucky tale...this morning, reading about Leonardo da Vinci (Larry da Vinci as Emmeli likes to remember him), Hannah & Emmeli heard it straight from the horse's mouth. Leonardo wrote a treatise on the motion and measurement of water. Not having known that myself, and especially since this tidbit was buried in a chapter titled "The Last Supper", this certainly was not a planned follow-up to last nights ad hoc experiment over the river. He recorded his thoughts on the connection between the behavior of water & that of air. "As the stone thrown into water forms various circles, so a sound spreads in circles through the air." And i exuberantly (i thought for sure that that word had an H in it- it definitely deserves an H) pointed out, "Just like we saw last night." At the end of the chapter, predictably, and like the good teacher that i am, i gave my students some creative writing time so i could come here to share the good news. P.s. i don't believe in luck. See "brendan luck" (2011, February) .

 

broken dreams...

Incase the title was not enough, this blog is not light & fluffy, i thought i might warn you. So i've been thinking about the idea of safety & how people need to feel safe in order to be who God made them to be- to their fullest potential. I think few reach this potential because of poor parenting, bullying in school, teasing etc... I say poor parenting bc parents play such a vital role in our lives and i feel they need to be mentioned separately. The influence they have on us is different from that that we get from our peers. Anyway, in an attempt to be brief, i just feel that children need to be free to make mistakes without judgement, ofcourse they need direction, but people will feel insecure about their own creative abilities if they have been made to feel a fool or incapable due to failed attempts. What artist has not failed at some point and had to go back to the drawing board? What skill does not take practice? Even an accidental spill or broken glass which generates a frantic response by an overwhelmed mother, i think chisels a piece of strength and confidence out of a child's soul. As children grow, they will learn that parents need forgiveness & mercy, but this morning i am mourning the sad loss of beauty, courage, and adventure in man's soul due to man's own folly.

love, love, lovely...

Surely he who loves aright will not only find love lovely, but become himself lovely also.

~Westward Ho!, Charles Kingsley

boy trouble...

Snow & I discussing one of the characters from her book:

"That's what I based my character, Duplica, off of.... what if Daniel could get away with anything?"

Claire chiming in from the backseat:

"It feels like he has that superpower already!"

i see it feelingly...

Sometimes finding the right words is something of a fairy hunt, but I don't just see life with my eyes, I see it feelingly and words will follow as a matter of course.

gotcha...

Great big wind take long lost kite from too tall tree and land it safely in wee little tree where me can reach it. Thank you!

waiting...

Have you ever been thirsty, gone to get a nice cool glass of water, set it down due to some distraction, & then forgotten about it for some time until a renewed thirst catches you looking around for the prespiring glass with melted ice cubes? Did you find it only to find that some new distraction will keep you from quenching your thirst yet again? Sometimes this happens to me. In fact this is a regular occurance for me. I have described this as if there are forces outside of my control which keep me from drinking. Actually, I'm not convinced. Maybe I just lack the tenacity to see things through, or maybe I wish to prolong my suffering in order to increase the joys of long awaited fulfilment. Seriously, why procrastinate at this most critical juncture? I don't know what it is, but somehow I am content just to know that I have a glass of water. The mere presence of the liquid says 'provision is at hand', and somehow that is enough. This is sort of how I feel about the rope swing hanging outside my window as it sways in the breeze waiting patiently for me. There's no pressure, but there is the swing, and I will get to it...eventually.

friendly reminder...

"This day's adventure, however, did not turn out like yesterday's, although it began like it; and indeed to-day is very seldom like yesterday, if people note the differences- even when it rains."

~ The Princess and the Goblin, George MacDonald

reflection...

This is the year that we hung the rope swing, planted potatoes, mowed lines in the grass, & got our bees. It's the year that Snow started texting, Emm scared us all to death when she got Sage's lead wrapped around her neck, the year that lightning struck the big tree right outside our back door. This is the year that we got the kite stuck up in the tippy top of one of our tallest trees, the year Daniel made bows with no arrows and wound wreaths from grapevines. This year we planted an orchard and Ben tore down an old building so we could line our walls with metal. This year we took apart the girls' bunkbeds, Ben started remodeling Daniel's room, and Snow went to California. This year Hannah had an amazing birthday with a surprise visit from cousins, we went to Washington D.C., and we all went fossil hunting in Pennsylvania, every last one of us. This year Ben & I had a vacation together in Florida. This year we watched the Olympics and the Breechers stayed with us for a whole week. Sadly, this is the year I found out that my uncle has cancer and my grandparents got divorced. This year we didn't really hike at the Potto that much. This year we took Owen & Sage to the beach for the first time. This year we started our deck and Emmeli will probably get braces. This is the year that we picked blueberries for free and the kids were not in the art fair. This year Snow will turn 16. This year there were hardly any mosquitoes and lots of raspberries. This year we read Ivanhoe, Robin Hood, Once and Future King, Five Children and It, Wind in the Willows, How the Heather Looks, Joan of Arc, & The Princess and the Goblin. This is that year.

 

my friend shadow...

I wrote a poem. I better post it quick before I change my mind. I reserve the right to tweak this later.

I love to see my shadow

A silent version of me

She visits me on sunny days

And likes to walk with me

 

How friendly is my shadow

And lovely as can be

She's lacking any detail

Just a familiar shape I see

 

Unlike the critical mirror

How unforgiving is she

My shadow is a gracious friend

Who always compliments me

 

beauty & strength & valor & wisdom...

Today in class we were reading a historical novel, and in it a baby dies leaving behind her big brother who is small enough to fit in a cradle, but just barely. Soon after, the father, who is a sailor, comes home with a baby found at sea. The children & circumstances & ideas were introduced into the story so quickly that we had to stop reading for a minute to sort it out. Here, Humphrey, the older brother, thinks that his father has brought home his baby sister, so I tried to explain this to the girls. You should have seen Hannah's eyes as she considered what I was saying; and you should have heard her unflinching, resolute response as she said, without hesitation, "And he can keep on thinking that."

 

a holy howl & a helping hand...

There is a reason for blogging. That said, I am almost there. In fact, I am quite there, but still acquiring the gumption, gumpf, and gusto needed for dynamic blogging. ^__^ Frankly, I haven't been writing much, partially due to a lack of inspiration, and partly due to lack of time, but mostly because I have been a little self-conscious about being so self conscious. Moving forward, I hope to overcome this perplexity and at least be a "hero of selfhood". If I am going to talk so much about my self and my life, let me be a hero to self and be a good example to myself, at least let us hope to be that. Speaking of heroes, my latest inspiration comes from two people, one tall and witty whose name starts with D, and one slender and pretty, a little shorter than me. The first impressed me twice this weekend when he freely offered his services, showing himself to be a perfect gentleman, and the second sang so sweetly in church, and in perfect harmony that I was totally blessed by this offering as well. Keep shining you precious little souls, and I will be there to notice.

lucky hit...

So i wanted to blog all weekend, but never found the time. All i really wanted to say was that last week felt normal and it was awesome. Before, if you would have asked me what a "normal" week looked like, i probably would have told you that we wouldn't have any plans, we'd have school every day, the house would be clean & running like clockwork, everyone would get along, etc...etc...etc..., but that's not how it was at all. We had company, we cleaned the basement, we went into town almost every day, we had a doctor appointment, & we stayed up 'til midnight almost every night b/c of the olympics. I don't understand it, really, but all i know is that the week went by sooooo sloooowly, and i was present in every day as opposed to constantly looking to what's next. I wasn't doing it on purpose; it just sort of worked out. I had fun doing little improvements on the house (a new hobby of mine) & the kids had fun playing capture the flag & kick the can & making flip books & card decks, but other than that, i don't really know what makes one week normal & another week not. Apparently, my normal includes home improvement, feeding ducks, weeding, violent games of croquet, & shoveling money into the Key Master (our primary motive for our recent trips into town-we just bring bread, so we can say we're going to feed the ducks). But anyway i guess i shouldn't be too surprised to find a little cleaning, complaining, mistakes, yelling, regrets, & scurryfunge mixed in. I just never would have guessed that a week so chock full of madness would go off so well; & i love that my ultimate goal in life is not to have the most amazing week possible, but to just be normal. Go figure. Anyway back to my new hobby... Ben says it's like the renaissance all over again. Not sure what's come over me, but seriously I had to restrain the little hippie in me who wanted to paint daisies on the wall in the garage last week. Well, today is Monday. Let's see what this week has in store. For now, there's a short window of opportunity for me to walk to the garden in the perfect temperature. I love mid-morning & i love my freshly weeded garden... maybe i'll take my camera. Love to you all...may your week be long, slow, & normal. Peace.

room to grow...

Lately i keep being reminded that i have "room to grow." It's kind of strange. I know i definitely have room to grow in the sense that there's always room for improvement, but this is obvious & no new information. I don't think this message is a check to my pride, but it may be two-fold. You never can be too sure about these things. What seems more relevant to me at this time is that i have actual room to grow (here i want to draw little roots coming down from the g-r-o-w). We all know i am exceedingly grateful for all of this space that we've been enjoying since our recent transplantation, but there's something more to it than just having room to walk around. As fellow human beings, i'm sure you get it. This has everything & at the same time absolutely nothing to do with actual space. It's ROOM to GROW! & what i'm getting from this voice at this time is something like a gentle nudge. Actually, it's not even a nudge, it's more like a nod. (I have to tell myself and you that i almost got a chill when i said that word and that is what i love about writing- saying the right word at the right time.) If you ever watched Little House on the Prairie as a child... O.k. scratch that. That's not the visual that i want here. Forget Little House on the Prairie. I know that there is something special in store for me. I feel like i can grow & it's a new feeling. Isn't that strange? Why so new? I'm not just thinking of the recent past. This is like a new concept for me. It makes me both happy & sad at the same time. So, anyway, i could say more... but i won't. Let's just say i'm ready for what's next. I feel my little toe roots digging in, arms raised high, i'm ready and waiting- full head, full heart, & long toes.

 

sunnyside up...

I grew up in the Sunshine State. That's why I'm so sunny. Look at me! Don't I look happy?!

(don't mind me. i'm just grumpy...& confused. this is one of those moments where i want to laugh & cry at the same time. i hope i captured it with the perfect eggs frying in the skillet.)

for our friends on the run...

Keep an eye out for old wagon ruts. The best preserved Oregon Trail ruts are in Guernsey, Wyoming (Guernsey State Park). Wish I could come along for the ride. What an adventure! You better be glad I'm not there though, because if I was, there'd be none to eat but bacon n beans n biscuits n coffee. Happy Trails!

early morning stupor...

A strange and beautiful beast lies on his bed and wags his tale as soon as i stumble into the room.

I start a fire for boiling water and a well-dressed someone kisses me good-bye. He leaves me there & walks out to a large dewy garden where he picks fresh greens to take with him on his journey.

Out front someone small leans over the murky waters of a little unfinished fish pond with a net. She's wearing a pink taffeta skirt, retro t-shirt w/ hearts on it, & bare feet (this is what she slept in). She has stepped outside half-awake to try to catch frogs.

Here comes someone who is trying to feed the beasts first thing, but this morning she strays into the wrong room with their bowls as she's looking for something to feed them, b/c she too is still waking up.

And up there two more lie sleeping in bed, still entranced by the hum of fans, and no doubt willingly decieved by the dim light of this gray overcast morning.

I look out the window and wander outside in my pajamas to find the one who kissed me because i notice his car is still in the driveway (i know exactly where to find him). We walk together in the morning, in the grass, holding hands. And then i return to plunk down contentedly at the school table one whole hour before school is supposed to start because i never know what to do with myself this time of day other than watch & wait for the day to begin.

 

magic wisdom...

Schmendrick the Magician says, "Men don't always know when they are happy." I think he's right.

today...

Today I love everyONE & everyTHING

There's no stopping me now

I'm happy, I'm free

The music is loud

I'm busy as a bee

Even interruptions are welcomed with open arms

Why can't every day be like this day

(This picture cracks me up. I couldn't resist!)

go fetch...

I so love my puppies. My message to the world... Get A Dog!!!

happenings...

"Now happenings so come upon us in this world that the serious things of this world become so mixed up with the merry things that our life is all a jumble of black and white..."

The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood, by Howard Pyle

 

here's the wagon...

Sure is tough getting back on that wagon after a day of running amok.

prequel...

"Tra-la-la-la-la spring is in the air, and I'm a flower with nothing interesting to say."

(If Y is a prequel to X, then Y's storyline precedes X's, yet Y is released at a later date than X.)

how to get a mouse lost...

Yesterday I went to the hardware store to buy mouse traps. I honestly spent about 20 minutes there contemplating what to do as I looked at all of the pictures depicting the fatal ends of various death traps & I could not bring myself to do it. I spent about $80 on a trap for catching live mice, scent pouches (2 types-which presumably deter mice & trigger a flight instinct), & a device which sends electronic pulses into the walls to make life there a little less desirable. A regular old mouse trap probably costs about 99 cents. I wouldn't know. I was trying to avert my eyes. Anyway, I don't know why I'm telling you all this. We did catch a mouse, and I did do some research on how exactly one goes about losing a mouse. We drove the little varment south to the end of the property & I hope he has a happy life there. The End.

peace, patience, permanence...

"Poor Sam! It will feel like that, I am afraid. But you will be healed. You were meant to be solid and whole, and you will be..."

~Tolkein, Frodo, The Lord of the Rings

 

beautiful as the day...

 

"As we are stewards of the natural world, so can the natural world minister to us, not only through medicinal plants but through beauty, freshness, and the simple joy of all life. These things have a measure of power to heal our souls."

~Tolkein's Ordinary Virtues, Mark Eddy Smith

 

to the rescue...

No words necessary. (see previous blog)

 

tut-tut, it looks like rain...

Honestly, I was so gloomy on my birthday. I had a great morning scooting about town with Snow, but when we got home, the grey clouds moved in, literally and figuratively. Pure, raw emotion came streaming down, for no particular reason. At first I thought it might be a mid-life crisis, but I've already had one of those, maybe more than once. Anyway, once Ben got home & found me in that state, he sang, "It's my party & I'll cry if I want to," and laughed at me & tried with all his might to shine like the sun & conjure a birthday rainbow using the available elements. That was beautiful. Well I'm here to say that now that the dark spell has been lifted, it's sunny & clear & I just want to say, I feel so loved and it's a lovely feeling.

 

paper flowers...

All of my windows are pasted with magnificent paper flowers, soaking up the sun. Curious bugs, real blue skies, puffy clouds, and swaying trees complete the luminous backdrop. It's the most peculiar unity of opposites, wanting only a recording of birds to speak for the silent ones who fly behind the glass.

 

welcome fellow-travelers...

Stardate 4/24/2012: Today the little bee people will be arriving. I hope they prove to be friendly invaders and that we're able to extract the golden goo without casualty. There's no rush, ofcourse. We'll be watching and waiting.

 

“Well," said Pooh, "what I like best," and then he had to stop and think. Because although eating Honey was a very good thing to do, there was a moment just before you began to eat it which was better than when you were, but he didn't know what it was called.”

 

a bird in the hand...

 

There's been a lot of talk about winning the lottery in these parts of late. I guess it's funny and call me simple, but I have no interest in winning great gobs of gold. I don't know why, but I've never wished to be rich (or famous). I think if I should ever have such a thing happen to me, I shall cry like the Wart when he pulled the sword from the stone, when Sir Ector & Kay so suddenly and unexpectedly perched themselves at his feet. Having said that, I have to admit that I've always felt that I was destined for some sort of greatness. Like all those reared under the tutelage of Walt Disney, I've anticipated a Cinderella moment, but in my heart it was never about the tiara. All of my hopes and dreams are rested in the prince and love and acceptance. That's all I have for today, but just that little mite of a word has made me mighty & I think I shall blog again one day.

 

the grass so little has to do...

The Grass so little has to do
A Sphere of simple Green
With only Butterflies to brood
And Bees to entertain

And stir all day to pretty Tunes
The Breezes fetch along
And hold the Sunshine in its lap
And bow to everything

And thread the Dews, all night, like Pearls
And make itself so fine
A Duchess were too common
For such a noticing

And even when it dies – to pass
In Odors so divine
Like Lowly spices, lain to sleep
Or Spikenards, perishing

And then, in Sovereign Barns to dwell
And dream the Days away,
The Grass so little has to do
I wish I were a Hay

~by Emily Dickinson

it's joyful & triumphant...

This morning I had a mini Christmas moment with Hannah & Emmeli. We were willingly transported into familiar surroundings of yule tide gaiety while making applesauce & apple muffins. The aroma of cinnamon & apples permeated the landes as we admired the long awaited snowy vistas, and without warning, a Peanut's song, stored on my ipod (not from A Charlie Brown Christmas, but from The Royal Tenenbaums soundtrack) made its entrance into the scene and worked its magic. I gladly recieved this Christmas combo even if it was being delivered a little late, it was by all means necessary for the completion of winter, and now I can march confidently into spring being satisfied and wholly restored to what is a good and right and natural order of events.

power to the people...

“The Wart did not know what Merlyn was talking about, but he liked him to talk. He did not like the grown-ups who talked down to him, but the ones who went on talking in their usual way, leaving him to leap along in their wake, jumping at meanings, guessing, clutching at known words, and chuckling at complicated jokes as they suddenly dawned. He had the glee of the porpoise then, pouring and leaping through strange seas.”
~T.H. White, The Once and Future King

tree in the wood...

I like the Pixies and big snowflakes and cozy places and iced coffee and fingerless gloves- pretty typical for someone my age, I think. I never realized until now I was so main stream. I used to like oysters when I was little and that got me lots of attention, but now that I'm all grown up, I think I'd rather just like chocolate like everyone else. Yesterday, I realized that I really will be old one day & it bothered me a little. Youth is like a little flower & old age like a tree in the wood, both are beautiful, but I'm not sure how a flower turns into a tree. I've a feeling it gets all shriveled up somewhere in the process and I don't think I like that. I'm much too clingy to grow old gracefully like I always thought that I would. I'll probably be a very awkward grandma- listening to the Beastie Boys and drinking iced mochas in my fingerless gloves, but I have no intention of changing with the seasons, and that's all I have to say about that.

the bear swamp...

My last blog was a prelude to this one. While reading aloud from The Lay of the Land in class yesterday, a chapter titled "The Buzzard and the Bear Swamp," I was thinking about the ominous aspects of people who are not unlike forests with murky places. I was reminded of how forgiveness is the only way to preserve a lasting bond between friends, but the most intimate fellows don't even think of forgiveness because they are not offended. When you understand the natural world, the marsh is not "primeval, desolate, and forbidding." "Letting the light of day into the deepest of its recesses," you "slip to and fro as a shadow" unmuddied and unscathed because you "know it well," "its gloomy depths, its silent streams, its hollow stumps, its trails, and its haunting mysteries." There's no need for courage. If you love the forest, you'll be undaunted face to face with the "Bear Swamp."

 

pocketful of posies...

I am a thinker, a premeditator, a ponderer. That is not to say that any great and wondrous thoughts are produced in this fertile mind, but there are many things growing and thriving here. Some are beautiful, many are wild. I don't really know if this kind of prolific mind is desirable. All of this thinking can be very distracting and exhausting, especially when there are more fruitful endeavors in want of more attention. When I'm reading a book, my mind is so busy crafting analogies and reading between the lines that it's as if I'm reading two books at once; and if I'm not reading a book, it's as if I am, and it's always the same book of poetic philosophy. Anyway, there's nothing to be done about it. I've always been this way. In truth, I'm happy to be the ground where wildflowers grow. My wanderings are like dear little friends and I'd be loth to part with them. Is it safe to trust these little suckers, cute as they are? They've taken over a good portion of my brain already. Am I too much in my own head; and if this is the way that it's to be, then what good can come of it? What is my purpose as an affectionate weed farmer?