The greenhouse, though potentially functional, was the last real eyesore for me on the farm. Sitting there, raw and naked in the sun, weeds and chipmunk burrows sprouting up through the gravel base….
It seemed possible then, an almost epic journey I felt needed to be made. This giant rock, a rough and monumental kind of thing, making its way back to me, following the same path I took a long time ago…
I loved my rocking chair. Sitting out on the front porch in it, watching the world pass by was a sometime occupation for me.
some choices lay like linen sheets, whose creases will never come out, no matter how much I tug or iron, or try to smooth them down…
A photograph or story or poem can be crafted, controlled, tweaked to the artist’s particular desires. At some point you can be done, content with a finished piece or product. But a garden has a mind of its own.
What’s my purpose here? Should I stay? And if I do, what, if anything, do I do with it all?
Antique stores and flea markets have always been magical places for me. I used to frequent them diligently most every weekend, back before I started running out of places at home to display my finds. It’s always a fine mess inside, and a kind of happy one, filled with endless delights […]
I’m traveling this week with my boyfriend to Pennsylvania, staying in the house where he grew up while his parents are away in Colorado. They had a beautiful sunroom added on to their house several years ago, where his mom’s plants bathe happily under big, bright windows. It’s a lovely […]
I haven’t posted anyone else’s poetry on the blog before. But after reading a quote by the Native American writer Louise Erdrich, I went and researched the full poem it came from. Happily, I found a new writer and poet (new to me, at least) whose work I’m now excited to read more […]
This morning I unearthed my mother’s small collection of bells from their basement purgatory. I’m not sure what possessed me to finally seek them out. The only thing I can imagine is, that lately I’ve been thinking and writing so much about my father’s belongings and why I still have so many […]