Dec 15 2010

five minutes.
{reverb10 – day 15}


Imagine you will completely lose your memory of 2010 in five minutes.
Set an alarm for five minutes and capture the things you most
want to remember about 2010.

I feel like I did exactly that in the way I answered the wisdom prompt.
But here is today’s five minute synopsis.


I fell in love. With a kitten.

I felt the sun on my face as sweat poured off my body,
taking stress and frustration with it.

I spent a weekend giggling in the Thousand islands,
most notably when my niece dropped her glasses
in the toilet.

I held my husband’s hand many times.

I whispered my secrets to the moon.

I got rained on, a lot, but I did not melt.

I sat in my garden once and wrote about everything
directly in front of me. It was life.

I gave out a lot of hugs. This is new,
I never used to be a hugger.

I started two blogs. I wrote every day.
Every day.

I counseled my children. Sometimes they listened,
sometimes they did not.

I spent time at the hospital with my mom. She spent
most of her time asking questions of her caretakers,
remembering the names of their children.

I stopped my car by the side of the road,
more than once, to take pictures.

I drove for two hours to find the base of a windmill.
It was like finding the end of the rainbow.

Then I fell in love again, with the other kitten.

And it all went by in exactly five minutes.

{reverb10} check it out here

Jul 24 2010

the taste of limits

Today it rains. It is hot and it is sunny, and then it is hot and it rains.  A cycle of weather I must live with.

It is has been so hot, for weeks now, that I stay inside. I want to be outside, I want to sweat and dig in my garden and pull the ten million weeds that call my name each time I open my back door. They mock me, these weeds. Point and nod as I walk by, I hear them: bad gardener, lazy girl, indifferent caretaker.

I give them the finger and go back inside.

The best time to weed is just after it rains, roots are easier to pull from soft, wet soil. I should go out there and do that right now.
But I won’t, it is late already, I need to make pizza for dinner, and tomorrow, I have an art show.

But if I could, I would go out there, right now, and start pulling. And when I finally finished, sometime next Tuesday, there would be a mountain of weeds, a foothill of dill, a backache, and a giant sense of accomplishment. Funny how something so simple can make you feel so good.

Next weekend, I am going to my friend’s house so she can teach me how to make pickles. She is 84 and has lived a life filled with extraordinary amounts of pain, both physical and emotional. And yet, she giggles. A lot. One of these days, on a different day, I will tell you her story. But she called me this week and she said, “The cucumbers are early this year, we have to get going on these pickles.” These pickles that I asked her to teach me how to make.

She is housebound, and most likely bored, and if I could, I would go and spend every day with her, so she could teach me all about 84 years worth of living, and how to make pickles and also how to crochet those amazing doilies. But for now, I had to tell her the pickles would have to wait, I have a show this weekend, I cannot go there until next week, when it is August.

I am going to learn to make pickles.

Sugar and spice,

salt and vinegar,

time and life.

May 29 2010

things to write when
no one is looking

red poppies make me think of blood
they pop off the landscape like pinwheels

green is earth’s favorite color

i am in the mood for popcorn

this moment won’t last

i have been sitting here forever

the hawk that just flew over my head, he is the one,
the one i was supposed to be watching for

a blue chair in my garden is reflecting

white cottonwood falls like snow

today is the perfect temperature

i am surrounded by roses
they have thorns
their scent is cloying
they are beautiful

weeds taunt me and i ignore them

the woodpile directly before me is
the black walnut tree from my parents

when i was a kid we made
necklaces from horse chestnuts
i always cut my palm
boring holes through them with a knife

the necklaces lasted for a day
we spent the whole day before that
making them

silence is not golden it is purple

fireflies are faeries in disguise

i am 47
i would prefer
to be 39

my skin is so dry

i like a tree with gnarled branches

i like the word gnarled

this moment is for the birds

a chickadee


May 12 2010

lessons I’ve learned from
{gardening} about life

Nature will always run its course, regardless of where you stand.

Patience is more than a virtue, it’s a requirement.

Every rose has its thorn. But so do a lot of other flowers.

Healthy roots are the most important thing.

Adapt. Sometimes it rains, sometimes it’s too hot.
Sometimes it’s freezing. Bloom anyway.

The right tools make any job easier.

Life is a mystery. You don’t have to solve it to appreciate it.

Hard work is sometimes the best way to relax.

Things often pop up in unexpected places.

Dragonflies love to dance in the mist from a hose.
You should always stand there and watch.

An empty space is an opportunity for growth.

The things you are afraid of (worms) have a purpose.

Determination almost always wins out. Just ask a dandelion.

Mother Nature has no conscience. And we love her anyway.

No matter how many times you pull the weeds,
you will always have to do it again.