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wishing flower, vulnerable and beautiful

Let’s just say, I’m not an early morning girl.  Those who know me appreciate this and quietly leave me alone until I’ve had a chance to emerge from my pre-coffee zombie state.  However, there is a bird glee club that begins at about 3:30, yes in the morning.  It’s lovely and melodic; leaving me no choice but to listen.  Translated, this means I’ve been up before my norm.  The youthful hours are warm, but fresh; they beg for a walk, and so does Isabella.
Yesterday was a little cooler so our pace was speedy, at least for my little legs.  We passed cars and bushes and bugs zipping around … and the rejected weed.

pulled up by its roots discarded wishing flower tossed aside left at the edge of the sidewalk
the sun beat down life ebbing from the slender stalk, leaves drying, privately curling desperate to hold onto being
funny, how I noticed the thrown-away on a morning walk my thought to stop and pick up the mopped, fluffy head
full of wispy seeds of would-be, it held a fundamental artistry lying i…
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cool girl

I started to clean the house.  It's a weekly routine, dusting, vacuuming, the regular stuff, basically mundane. And I couldn't seem to focus, flitting from task to task like a moth searching for light.

Cool, down-tempo music beat in the background. 
You know, the kind of stuff you'd hear at a totally chill night club. That's where the pretty people go to sip pretty cocktails. And here I was in jeans with a hole in the knee and a baggie sweater.

I sat down for a cup of Chai and picked up my notebook; abandoning the cleaning.
I allowed myself to be transported by the acoustics to that vibing club. In my imagination, I walked in pulsing to the sounds. I wore a mod black slip dress, hair slightly messy with sun-kissed bare arms and legs.

Several years ago I might have pulled this off. Now, as an old woman, I still have the down beat in my soul and the messy hair; my legs and arms are waiting for the sun to come kiss them. Inside, I'm a cool girl. However, she's disg…

i'm circular

Ever feel like you're living in a roundabout? Where I live, we have several. They move traffic well, except when they don't. And of course, we all remember the scene from European Vacation where Chevy Chase keeps going round and round the Arc de Triomphe. There seemed to be no way out of the never-ending circle.

i'm circular
my weary mind a looping maze
all the paths it wanders come back to the same spot
i try to jump out of the hamster wheel
as it spins faster, but the centrifugal force holds me, stuck

Yeah, that's me. I'm circling around. Going through motions, held in place. Why can't I slow it down or make it stop?

i'm circular
revisiting habits and manners of being
how do i shatter those patterns so ingrained
rutted in the psyche
pushing hard on the lines that inhibit and restrain
one hand reaches through a thin place

As hard as I try, we try, the same stuff keeps coming up and back around. I become indistinct in the same grooves.

i'm circular
a top wound up t…

winter had confiscated and concealed

It's a snow day, and boy I'm having a hard time focusing. Darn Ground Hog. He didn't see his shadow. That should mean spring's coming early. Heck, in January we had spring. The end of February however, has brought old man winter back. 

I use the hashtag "#doilikesnow." That's a tricky question, one that appears simple at face value; yes or no. The ruse occurs in the answer, since I'm more gray than black and white.

I dig a powder-sugar dusting of snow and pendants of icicles lining the roof edge. 
Silhouetted trees with snow clinging to bare branches, catching where limbs meets trunk are simply grand. And, I relish the solace and silence that a snow day creates. All winter dreamy stuff, right? 




very small, insignificant snowflakes drifted down swirling casually before obscuring the dirt, pavement, the people it was quiet and subdued all you could see was white no definition between sky meeting earth everyone, everything holed up dormant, daydreaming of color…

reflecting, remembering, reliving uncle kenny

Reflecting. My uncle passed away last night. He was my one and only uncle. My mom was an only child. My dad had one sister. So, I had one uncle.

Uncle Kenny was a military man. When I was young, I thought it was so cool that they got to live in Germany. I didn't even know where that was, but it was somewhere I'd never been; still haven't.
Almost five years ago, my hubs and I took a road trip to where I was born. It had been scads of years since I'd been to Lakeport. However, I found where my grandparents lived - along with my uncle, aunt and cousins. I thought about the grand adventures Terry and I had. The house no longer existed, but the plot with block retaining wall and outdoor barbecue did.

Returning from a jaunt overseas and to Texas, my cousins landed in the Olympia area. We'd take trips up the I5 corridor to see them. In return, they'd travel to Eugene where our grandparents had a farm. As kids, we'd play for hours in the woods and walk with Pappa t…

a cool and mindful word: hygge

I woke to the sun streaming in through the over-sized window in the living room. Cupping my coffee, I closed my eyes and soaked it in. It was such a welcome relief to the previous day's fog that kept everything cold and frozen; huddled in against the grey.

Stepping outside I could feel the slight warmth of the sun; my shadow elongated due to it's southerly slant in winter. 
Even the birds were more chipper, singing vibrant melodies and flitting about. A few squirrels ran up and down bare trees. Isabella was playful with her nose to the ground and butt up, only to flop down and slide and roll in the remaining snow.

I don't mind a little hibernating in the winter. It's a great time to catch up on some reading or to enjoy a hot drink of sorts with a friend. However, I do love the sun shining bright, making me squint. It enlivens the spirit when everything is monochromatic and dormant.

The Danish have a cool word - hygge - pronounced hue-guh. Hygge acknowledges a special fe…

an empty park

The park was empty this morning. I was humming California Dreamin'. I like seeing people and exchanging a few words, but there's something extraordinary and peaceful about being there - alone. Isabella freely sniffed. 
I could weave my way in and out of the trees without wondering if people thought I was a crazy lady for not walking a straight path.
trees are gray-brown silhouettes 
set against an ashen sky, ready to drop crafted snowflakes
streets are iced
houses bright with twinkling lights beckon us indoors
winter is descending with darkness and dormancy and cold
each breath exhaled creates fog
an innate splendor 
air crystallizes and suspends for a moment
all is calm
all is quiet
in the season of rest and sleep

I could hear the birds and see my breath. 
I was mindful of winter's imminent arrival. The sky had that "snow sky" look. It's time to think about hibernating, where all is stilled and quiet for a time.

Plants and animals need this season to regenerate and grow.…

cocooned in a glass container

I was cocooned in a glass container on top of a hill, shrouded in clouds and mist. Eva Cassidy sang a bluesy "Wade in the Water." Looking out, the infinity deck was like a ship's bow and we were sailing through the storm.

Every other year is our all-family together, together Thanksgiving gathering.
2018 happened to be that gathering year, and I was spoiled; getting to stay in one of our favorite spots - the cabin above the clouds - that belongs to some friends.

Thanksgiving Day was a cacophony of activity. Cousins big and little did their thing. The littles running through the house, even though they were supposed to be upstairs. Tons of giggling could be heard, and of course, the requisite getting mad; just because that's what happens. Love and interaction does that. Family, even at young ages is messy, but I wouldn't trade or discard it.

Stories, old and new were re-lived. Some old stories were given new applications.
All isn't rose-colored and perfect like H…