what they can hold

 

 

 

 

 

treasures found in the basement of this here rental. old bottles. royal blues are my favorites, from "emerson drug, baltimore, md" Ancestor love. Whispers from my grandparents and great-grandparents found in my basement. Washed and put up so sunlight can flood through and bless this space.

Putting Things By (a harvest series)

August is the month for courage. Shifts in light and reason. Sound. peepers, cicadas. "Mom, it was so cold in the middle of the night I had to put a sweatshirt and pants on." J actually pulls the covers on. Sun's setting around 8pm. Meteors cruise on by and time stands still. For some (the lucky ones, daresay) it even hiccups. and a chance for reinventing and reorganizing and re-invisioning and even, re-asoning occurs (add an 's' there and I'd be happy, as mine is notoriously tiny *wink wink* :). Reasoning, and rationalizing the separation from sun and the start of another something.  This is how it happens here. in our family's time. Leaves dance in the breeze- the maples, especially seem to be waving goodbye. And around we go. trying to remember our stored up knowledge of how to prepare for the winter. In this house (as well as in every other home we have owned, rented or squatted in together), during the harvest time, as a family, we can. Food, that is. As much as we can can, we do can. And so can you can. I hope to, in some photo installments, show you what August looks like here. In our new place. Which will soon enough be our old place...Wherever we call home, we put things by. It is a human thing to do. So, my hope is to document our putting comforts up and storing them away for when the sun isn't as bright. I'm not sure if the posting will last, but I'm in the mood to create and share, and....my daughter asked me, "Mom, why don't you write and put pictures in a blog anymore? They were beautiful." And really, this is for her. For them. All of it. Because "I Can." (harty har. a chotch of a pun if I do say so.)

 

Sometimes it hurts

"How you spend your days, is of course, how you spend your life."-

Annie Dillard.

However plump and green and lush and fervent those leaves are waving at us, "Come join us in our glory" sometimes, we ignore them. Sometimes we miss the point and summer's never long enough and we forget to document what's really around us and gratefulness wanes and we forget to remember that we won't get this back. Slippery moments are meant to be let go of. When our hearts are too full and we've got cucumbers to pickle and a loathsome hot kitchen and dreams of snakes every night. . When those things happen and the dirt is welled up in the crevasses in our chest and we forget to breathe it out and we want answers to come wrapped up in pretty perfect paper and when we shout incomprehensible absurdities at those whose hearts work to steady our own. We lose. When we want and want and want and want like kids in candy shops. When there is no hiding the lack of courage or character or kindness without.  What should we do? What do we do?

And by "we", I mean "me."

I take my daughter to the salv and find harry potter on tape and head over to the fabric store to buy the cloth to make the robes I've been promising her. And I say I'm sorry and I reside in what is enough .And maybe Jim makes me one of his world famous drinks, maybe just after the clock strikes 5.

What we do

"Where I was born and where and how I have lived is unimportant. It is what I have done with where I have been that should be of interest."- Georgia O'keeffe



figment art festival (governor's island nyc)



Yes, as someone else said (whose name I can't remember just now), "we are part of all we have met." But it is what we create out of what we've been dealt that is glittered with meaning and importance and hope of more creating. A glass raised to that actual doing! (One example: A blog post- perhaps I can maintain these smaller posts with more regularity)

Book suggestion of the day that has connections to O'keeffe, but you must read it to find out. A Ladder to the Moon

On Kale juice and quiet

Like a classic April fool's joke, mother nature has it snowing/raining/schmoozing yet again. So the quiet of winter remains. And we are called to stay inside. Inside with our thoughts and energy, trying not to gorge ourselves with food as our bodies call for yet more comfort. I'm trying to stay steadfast to my veganism. Craving change (of diet, environment and internal dialogue) but have yet to manage the gusto I know it will take to burst those on through.

Found this poem over at scratchingonpaper.blogspot.com and had to repost it, for it catches my sentiments for the path we are headed down to a T.

To live content with small means,

                                         to seek elegance rather than luxury,

and refinement rather than fashion,

to be worthy, not respectable, and wealthy, not rich,

to study hard, think quietly, talk gently, act frankly,

to listen to stars and birds, babes and sages,

with open heart,

to bear all cheerfully,

do all bravely,

await occasions,

hurry never -

in a word, to let the spiritual,

unbidden and unconscious,

grow up through the common.

This is to be my symphony.

~ William Ellery Channing

from Earth Prayers from Around The World

That said, it is a "path" that I tread on. I fall short, and slip and get bruised brown. Watching these ones makes it, well, not "easier" but "it." And in this haze of watching and waiting for spring, I pull my mind back to focus on what awaits a steadfast heart. Not ease or contentment, but small bits of overflowing joy.
 

 The kind I see in the proud eyes of these ones as they sport jerseys and balls to honor their dad and his own steadfast, patient heart as he begins to plan out his first season as "head coach."  Waiting for the "right time", meant finding ourselves in the presnt with those looks in their eyes.

Now.I'm hoping that my Kale juice (really just kale, apple, frozen strawberries and some maple syrup in a blender) can keep me "qi-ed up" to carry on with my duties quietly and kindly (enough) until Spring really comes through.

Until then...".wait for it, wait for it" Chug-a-lug, and oh yeah, Cheers!

Yet again, Thankful

Click for an ear in to our world these days

Forsythia brought to bloom early
"Nectar of the gods" (aka grapefruit and lime water)
A prayer in a tree (oragami crane for Japan)
Brightness. Boy. Breath. and the Buddha.

These are a few of the things I am so very grateful for.

This Moment

{this moment}- Amanda Soule

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.