Sunday, August 31, 2014

A Story From Joe Blair: Dog Days


Over early morning coffee, I read this story from Joe Blair and have to share it. It's about dogs and children and moving (again). It's about bittersweet life, beautifully written.

"We’ve got most of the stuff moved out. The TV and the couch. And the mattresses on the floor. And the curtains and the clothes and the ..."

Addendum: Joe has closed his blog, but I urge you to check out his book: amazon.com/Joe-Blair/e/B005S8YF0U

The cover image is from his book, published in 2012.

Friday, August 29, 2014

Time and Tiramisu



As I stepped outside to take a few photographs last evening, I could hear music coming from down the road, an early start to the Labor Day weekend no doubt. I walked around the crab apple tree taking photos - various configurations of fallen apples in the still green grass of late summer - listening to, "Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is?" I thought of my friend, Amy, who passed in the winter of 2005. I remembered her telling me how much she liked the song as it played in the background at the Tesuque Village Market one Sunday afternoon. We would sometimes go there for lunch and a piece of their sinfully delicious tiramisu. Listening to it play in the distance brought a softly surreal feeling to the evening, an expansive sense of timelessness. As the last notes played, I walked back to the cabin and took a few photographs of black-eyed susans and birdsfoot trefoil growing in the grass behind the cabin, none of which turned out very well. It doesn't matter. It wasn't about the photographs.



                             



The photograph is mine, taken several days earlier, before they fully ripened ...

Sunday, August 17, 2014

Old Poets



"The Old Poets of China"

Wherever I am, the world comes after me.
It offers me its busyness. It does not believe
that I do not want it. Now I understand
why the old poets of China went so far and high
into the mountains, then crept into the pale mist.

~ Mary Oliver, from, Why I Wake Early







Saturday, August 16, 2014

The Days of Fisher Price


When my kids were young, this is the telephone they had. They grew up to be thoughtful, articulate communicators. Tone matters. Emoticons are not tone. Letters are not words (a, I, and O are the only exceptions). Numbers aren't words. Sometimes, I worry about where this Flat Screen culture is leading us.






Sunday, August 10, 2014

Our Human History



"The whole course of human history may depend on a change of heart in one solitary and even humble individual - for it is in the solitary mind and soul of the individual that the battle between good and evil is waged and ultimately won or lost."  ~ M. Scott Peck








Sunday, August 3, 2014

Hanging Laundry



Happy Sunday to my blogging friends. I'm so grateful for each one of you ...


                                    



 "Prairie Wind"

Trying to remember what my daddy said
Before too much time took away his head
He said we're going back and I'll show you what I'm talking about
Going back to Cypress River, back to the old farmhouse

(Prairie wind blowing through my head)
(Prairie wind blowing through my head)
(Trying to remember what Daddy said)
(Prairie wind blowing through my head)

I tried to tell the people but they never heard a word I say
They say there's nothing out there but wheat fields anyway
Just a farmer's wife hanging laundry in her back yard
Out on the prairie where the winds blow long and hard

(Prairie wind blowing through my head)
(Prairie wind blowing through my head)
(Trying to remember what Daddy said)
(Prairie wind blowing through my head)

Late at night, lights dancing in the northern sky
Like the Indian spirits trying to show me how to fly
You can see into the future but it may be a mirage
Like a new car sitting there in your old garage

(Prairie wind blowing through my head)
(Prairie wind blowing through my head)
(Prairie wind blowing through my head)
(Trying to remember what Daddy said)

There's a place on the prairie where evil and goodness play
Daddy told me all about it but I don't remember what he said
It might be afternoon and it might be the dead of night
But you'll know when you see it 'cause it sure is a hell of a sight

(Prairie wind blowing through my head)
(Prairie wind blowing through my head)
(Prairie wind blowing through my head)
(Prairie wind blowing through my head)

(Prairie wind blowing through my head)
(Prairie wind blowing through my head)

Prairie wind blowing through my head
(Prairie wind blowing through my head)
Trying to remember what Daddy said
(Prairie wind blowing through my head)
Before too much time took away his head
(Prairie wind blowing through my head)
He said we're going back and I'll show you what I'm talking about
(Prairie wind blowing through my head)

(Prairie wind blowing through my head)
Going back to Cypress River, back to the old farmhouse
(Prairie wind blowing through my head)
(Prairie wind blowing through my head)
(Prairie wind blowing through my head)

(Prairie wind blowing through my head)
(Trying to remember what Daddy said)
(Prairie wind blowing through my head)...

~ Neil Young




Image from Neil Young's album, Prairie Wind