for refusing to shine his shoes and her silver she was sent to live in the barn

never had she been happier,

she woke warm and happy

hay entwined with her golden hair

and warm milk filled her growing belly.

she was brayed and clucked to, the swallows filled her with song and seed

and the moon followed her everywhere.

weeks later when they came looking for her

she unfolded her wings and flew out the high open window,

she never thought to look back.

***********************************

happy holidays

here's to flying...

here's to not looking back...

here's to finding the sweetness in each of our lives,

our hearts, our intentions...

here's to sharing what we find.

xo

so now we come into this new season;

the flowers putting themselves to rest for the upcoming winter months,

the birds flying off to warmer waters and us going a bit deeper within.

it's been a time of passings and of carrying on..

the both/and of life and love.

i have had the recent honor to be, once again, wintess to the process of a dear one as she moved from this world into the next, i like to think of her, norma, now with the crows she so loved. circling and singing.

i am walking, writing, wondering, re-learning just where and what my center might indeed be.

larry and i celebrated our 27th wedding anniversary last week, we had every intention to head to the coast for an overnight, the timing didn't work out, but we still aim to sit soon near the ocean and remember and feels it's rhythm.

the kids all seem pretty darn good, even us being back here in vermont and seeing jesse, dylan and thea quite often xo i still miss them in ways that i find is hard to understand; the thens and memories, the 'need' we had for one another, and yet too i love to see them becoming more fully who they each are. clay; i miss his smile and strong sweet presence and it's also good he seems to be so happy in oakland. when i lay down at night with a good book and my larry i feel very full and content. blessed. and so my days begin. xo

we had a great week in sedgwick, maine and the surrounding coves.

celebrated my birthday with a little butter running down towards my elbow...

after steaming the clams in some circus boy beer! so good! so very good!

it's been a dark and wet season, so these little boats we could use right about now around

the house, maybe dig a moat and fill it in with some fish of our own,

that way we could go from the moat to the garden and come in with dinner. plus it would be a wee bit of a challenge for the slugs!

this is our state capitol in montpelier, a few days back a little one, maybe 6 years old, and her mama were standing in the grass and she said, oh mama it's so pretty, is that where president obama lives?
on it's tomb-top stands the goddess of agriculture, grain and bread; her name is demeter. her roman name is ceres.
i am always pleased to witness this golden lady up there keeping her eye on things.
this spring though not particularly warm has been wildly green...and abundant.

a little writing to share with you xo

her chest houses the solar system..
elongations,
oppositions,
flare-ups and stars.
her name could be aurora,
or lunar,
or halley.

from the greek wanderer came planets.
from under my feet shooting stars and fireflies.

i tried to stay up all night, like them, but my eyes wouldn't let me.
now the birds are telling a different story
as i watch the light lay itself across the damp grasses.

it's a story that rises and falls,
it's the rhythm of my breath.


be well xo

this spring time has been glorious.

it's been full of lilacs, wind, rain, sunshine, and the greens are so brilliant and varied every day is a show...lovely.

i have been writing and i joined a group of woman who are working to create for ourselves a deck of soul collage cards. (a bit like a tarot deck).

larry and i have taken to walking much further and faster.

mr. man; birken, who we miss ever so much, had allowed us to slow down and smell and witness the closer neighborhood, so now we are venturing beyond a bit.

i am adding this photo to share as a reminder that beauty is anywhere

and everywhere...

this a reflection on the hood of someone's car.

where did you find something to be thankful today?

it's been some time since updating this site. here are a few images of where we have been. on the left is my larry sitting, filling himself with sunset and a wee bit of margarita, this taken in elias calles, on the baja of mexico, where we spend many of our winters. this past one was a wacky winter. we went down to be care takers of a house we had managed two winters back; new owners and not very respectable at that! we moved around quite a bit and headed norte sooner than we thought. second photo is one of our stops in fort bragg, california, a recent past home spot of ours. this an image of a wonderful walking/biking path that lies beside the oceans edge. it had been a few days at this point that we no longer had our dear sweet dog, birken, in our lives and the days and nights were (and are) sad. arriving back in vermont at the same time as spring had arrived was and is glorious. i will in the next day or two share some of those photos and some new writings.
in the mean time i have been on the phone with verizon wireless longer than i have could ever wish to be (with an error on their part) that for some or ever reason they can not seem to sort out...small stuff in a grand big world!
xo

so here we are en route, our annual pilgrimage to the baja sur.
as you can see, we take the kids along with us, they sit right up front and they don't whine a bit! we arrived slightly worn out, a long many miles,

4539 to be exact...from pearl street to elias calles.
we have begun to settle down and have mucho work to do, we are care taking again this year, but unfortunately the place has not been very well taken care of by the last folks. the whale are abundant and as always a thrill to witness.

in december i was honored to have 2 poems published in the el calendario de todos santos, which is a great publication serving that baja sur area of mexico, which is where we live most of the winter, it's a monthly publication and very well done.

• 
  

white

why is it you call me white,
white girl?
not pale, or pink
not stucco, not ochre
no straw, nor dying leaf.
the color of an ash tree,
inside out.
the blossom of the squash.

white is the lace she tattered
and held many years later,
to her wet eyes
as she said goodbye to you.

white is the chair left sitting
alone
in the summer sun that called you
home.

white is the space that has no words
your mouth no longer needed.
the things in your hands left
for us to gather, to share,
to treasure
to hold against our noses

to smell the love of you.

• 
  

smooth stones

into my heart small pathways of
smooth stones are laid.
it is here i find an ancient and
familiar love, it mixes with
smaller shards
of red tiles and lost coins.
the path once thought of as solid
is now seen as pieces, and
fragments,
that glitter and hold themselves
together by the weight and
repetition of the ones
that went before me.

polished and left behind.

now i walk on the road out front
of my house and see the turquoise,
the mica,
the pieces that hold me up.
i walk slowly and almost forget
who i am
or where it is i might be going.

both of these are from the chapbook entitled dreams and ginger.

also in december are local weekly hometown paper here in montpelier, vermont called the bridge did an issue called literary review, in there i had a piece published, it also happens to be from that same chapbook.

• 
  

the pink and the yellow

fragrant roses stand in a vase in
the kitchen. almost too sweet.
i picked them for myself.
the pink and the yellow,
the sweetest.
you ask me this morning with salt
on your lips, on mine,
what if you had six months to live?
what if?

i tell you about a house on a
beach. a flight of stairs that
leads to a porch, to the sky.
underneath us we could build things
together. alone.
we could dance, and paint,
and write the words down on the
ocean-sprayed pages.

sometimes six months appears a
long time,
we would make it longer.
stretch the days into nights like
sweet taffy.
hold it between our teeth and
smile, and pull.
when it begins to grow cold we
would put on beautiful woolen
sweaters,
and socks with leather bottoms.
we would drink more tea.
not worry
about the other languages
we never learned.
not worry about the things
we no longer have.

the lawns that needed mowing,
the watering of all those fruits
and flowers.

i think now how the roses, in the
vase, in the kitchen were picked
before their time.
i think of them as chosen,
i dare to add, almost too sweet.
they did not have even
the six months
we hold so fragile.

as you can see we have been getting some snow.
it's very pretty, especially viewing it from between flannel sheets.
with the snow has come some very cold temperatures and icy walking. we are hoping to get out snowshoeing this weekend, we shall see.
this photo is looking out back to the garden shed.
i, for one, am okay with the holidays winding down, so much butta' (butter) (as we say up heyah, (here)) and a bit of ovah (over) eatin' in general...of course, no one is forced into this behavior, but...it just seems so 'right' in the moment(s).

...in the middle of a dark cold night
i remembered that when i was telling the 'pueblo man'
about my own once dodge dart,
the slant six with push button controls,
i called it flesh-tone.
we both looked at our own wrists,
searched and found a thing similar and smiled.
his dart was a station wagon,
blue grey dusty, like my eyes he said.
his were syrup; maple, warm, grade b.
i wanted to pour them onto the pancakes i hoped for later.
watch as each air bubble filled with the sweetness of him...

from a brief encounter in chimayo, new mexico, november 2008
where more than the earth is holy.