the blue muse

.

and I laughed because he sounded so far away

but when I looked up, there he was

telling me stories, oh so quietly

.

they must have been secrets

.

.

.

.

For surely autumn is upon us, summer having already flown off to vacation elsewhere, and September came dressed as October.

I don’t mind so much, really, fall is my favorite time of year, though it feels a bit like time is moving too quickly. Then again, it always feels that way at this time of year.

But already, the field across the street has been laid bare, the nights are cold enough for closed windows and furnace heat, the first indoor fire has warmed my toes.

My monskhood has yet to bloom, buds have formed and we will see, some years it blooms in October, some, November, and some years, it never blooms at all.

These perennial sunflowers are thugs, big, bold, beautiful thugs, ruling with their unruliness. I keep cutting them down and they keep showing up in new places, another lesson from the garden on how little I control. I can’t blame this happy flower though, turning its face to the sun, reaching high into the sky, hoping to touch the soft wisp of autumn cloud.

I pulled weeds yesterday, crazy, overgrown, sometimes-taller-than-me weeds, restoring order to small sections of earth in a futile gesture of optimism. They always grow back, but perhaps that is the point. If I didn’t have to fight them, I may not have spent those hours outside, listening to birds and grasshoppers and the crazy crickets that are everywhere this year (even in my bedroom).

Summer. Autumn. Summer. Autumn.

No matter. I breathe it in.

And it’s good, all good, even the mess of it.

It smells of change.

.

one day

one hour

one moment

at a time

.

my feet slip, often

the view is ever changing

dark

light

up

down

.

always,

beautiful

.

.

.

.

to the bird’s whisper and the child’s song

the trumpet blare of sunshine

the hum of nights too long

the growth of tree and fall of leaf

age creeping in on silent crow’s feet

.

this is the music

the rhythm

the truth of it

.

life’s simple symphony

ever playing

.

shhhh…

listen

.

.

.

.

We had a bit of a disaster at our show this weekend, our tent collapsed overnight Friday night and we’re still not exactly sure why, we had it weighted down as always, and as far as we know there were no high winds. But somehow, when we arrived at the show Saturday morning, our tent looked like this:

Fortunately, with the help of our neighbors, we were able to get things righted and go on with the show, though our tent is permanently damaged.

Thanks so much to the people who helped us, and for everyone who came out to see us at the show. It was certainly a memorable one!

This morning the air is chilly, and I can feel autumn creeping in. Some leaves are shifting color, and the nights have been cooler, even as the days stay warm.

And so it goes, another show, another obstacle, another season. Life circles and cycles and some days you just have to laugh at the things that get thrown in your path. And soldier on.

It’s always something, and life has a strange sense of humor.

At least we never get bored.

Today is going to be red hot, and tomorrow, cool and rainy.

But I am ready for the show, finally,
and the weather is beyond my control.

These black-eyed-susans have been the stars
of my garden this year, and how can you
not smile at their happy faces?

Looking forward to seeing a sea of faces this weekend, too.

…

.If you’re in the area this weekend stop by to say hello!

We’ll be at the

Clothesline Art Festival
Memorial Art Gallery, 500 University Ave., Rochester, NY 14607

Booth 310
September 6th •  10 a.m. – 6 p.m.
September 7th • 10 a.m. – 5 p.m.

…

.

.

.

The lazy days of summer give way
to the crazy days of September
and already my shoulders grow tight.

Deep breaths.

Open.

Raise my face to the sun.

Ah, yes.

That’s better.

.

…

.

If you’re in the area this weekend, we’ll be at the

Clothesline Art Festival
Memorial Art Gallery, 500 University Ave., Rochester, NY 14607

Booth 310
September 6th •  10 a.m. – 6 p.m.
September 7th • 10 a.m. – 5 p.m.

I know that summer isn’t really over, yet,
but for me, Labor Day still marks the end
of the season’s lazy days.

…

Wishing you a weekend filled with love and sunshine.

…

::

we all have one.

that place where we feel comfortable, cozy, safe.

and while it’s good to get out of there and grow a little,

somewhere out past your comfort zone,

once in awhile it’s just as nice

to slip back in

unnoticed,

for a little nap.

::

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.

This post first appeared August 19, 2011

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.

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what do you do when you wake up and
the world is gray and there seems no chance of sunshine?

what do you do when the list before you
stretches longer than your arms?

what do you do when all you really want
is to curl up on the couch and read?

what do you do when you are running behind
before the day even begins?

what do you do when the colors of fall
are hidden in shrouds of mist?

what do you do when your brain
feels as scattered as the raindrops?

what do you do when sadness rolls in
on waves of fog?

what do you do when you’d rather
be writing?

what do you do when everything around you
needs to be cleaned, cared for, put away?

do I have the answers to these questions?

i do not.

i simply have the questions, rolling off my fingers
faster than i can type.

dancing around in my hand in a slow, whispy dance,
and mocking me on this day when gray
is the color of more than sky.

but these questions are a gift.

or at least, today, i will choose to look at them that way.

i am not afraid of sadness,
or blue, or gray, or wistful.

i am not afraid to stand here, in the rain,
and wait for the sun.

i am not afraid of fog and mist
and lack of focus.

i am not afraid of time that marches on,
with me or without me.

i am not afraid of words or metaphors
or crazy ideas.

i am not afraid to dust myself off,
clear my mind, begin again.

i am not afraid of the blank slate
that lies before me every morning,
even when its emptiness intimidates.

i am only afraid

of numbness.

::

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This post first appeared September 30, 2010

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