July 8, 2015

birds and bloom

birds and bloom, summer, garden, lazy days

in the ever precious
long days
of summer

i sit and breathe

taking time



by nothing

needing only
the quiet cover
of dawn’s





January 30, 2015

cardinals like berries

Technically, a terrible photo, but, oh, what a sight.

I had to shoot through the window because I knew
if I walked outside they would all fly away.

Eleven male cardinals and most of their mates,
and harder to see (but there) six blue jays.

A red, white and blue winter day.


Wishing you a weekend filled with color.





September 26, 2014

away they go…


Into a burning away fog on a crisp Friday morning.

Happy travels, I say, happy travels.


Wishing you a weekend of light-filled journeys.




April 18, 2014

filling in the blanks

Because I keep getting lost in the Land of Busy, and this place, this space, keeps waiting, ever so patiently, for me to offer it a bit of attention. And each day I tell myself that this will be the day I get caught up, or get that thing accomplished, or this other thing started. And then it is bedtime and reading is my solace, and even that can’t keep my eyes open as long as I would hope.

The lawn (read: weeds) is slowly turning green and I feel myself slipping into spring clothes and bare feet, even though it’s still too early. Naughty kitten is in the same mode: deceived by the sunshine, he steps outside, but wants back in just minutes later when he realizes it’s not as warm as it looks.

A robin lands on the hydrangea bush outside my window that’s still dry and bare and brittle, and we stare at each other for a moment before she flies off with a bit of stem or grass for her nest, and I want to fly with her.

My gypsy spirit is tired of being shackled to a desk, a room, a ceiling. I want to run, to dance, catch fireflies at dusk. And then I remind myself to be grateful for the roof over my head, the nest I have, the garden I’ve grown. And of course, I am. Grateful.

But a gypsy spirit cares nothing for the rules of reputation, social graces, polite custom. She cares only for her freedom, and she fights me for it, daily. Mostly, I prevail. Only because necessity makes me stronger. But some days, no matter how hard I try, she wrestles my arm down until my wrist hits the table.

And then she dances, already on her way out the door.

I never tell her that every so often, I let her win.




March 19, 2014

snow geese redux

Last year at this time, the snow geese arrived by the hundreds. I haven’t seen (or heard) them yet this year, but yesterday, red-winged blackbirds and the funny silly grackles showed up at the feeder.

Spring inches her way towards us in a one step forward, two steps backwards kind of way, and the light fills my house and my heart.

I’ll be listening, each time I step outside, for the geese to arrive, a final cue for the changing of the guard.

Seasons shifting on the axis of birdsong.

Music to my ears.