Tuesday, August 31, 2010

August 29, 2010, journal entry, An Autumn Color Wheel in August

Six miles.

I am not sure what to think about the chilly temperatures of morning and the coming Fall that have had me wearing my long-sleeved cool-max Seattle Half-Marathon shirt with my running skirt for the past three days. I am not sure that I am done with Summer and the hot heat and the blue and the water and the splashing and the colorful sundresses I simply adore.


Huge sunflowers, crones in orange, yellow, and purple, bow their heads to the waning Summer and waxing Fall.

Birds fly in abundant flocks, rehearsing their migratory trip South, and swirl and swoop in ribbons stirred up by the wind, much like the harvested lupine that blows and swirls from my hand as I walk the labyrinth at the farm of a Goddess.

I am surprised at the sudden absence of red-winged blackbirds in Hazel’s Creek where velvety cattails slowly transition their landscape from marsh season to dryer land.

I see many lilting butterflies, all in white, like musical notes that have shed their color, a precursor to the leaves trees will shed in the coming months.

I know it is Autumn when I start filling my 5k running waist pack full of acorns that drop in droves from the oaks in Oak Grove where I counted its trees.

Still busy in their business, hundreds of them, bumblebees like sniffing puppies, scramble from flower to flower, and become the shooting blue, grey, yellow, and black marbles of my youngest son’s game. Bumblebees flit about and climb down the blooms of vibrantly colored roses and coneflowers, their petals like colorful marbles themselves. Despite the cooling temperatures, these bumblebees haven’t slowed down a bit as they gather nectar and pollen, mustard yellow sticking to their legs, for honey to last the Winter through.


So I wear my long-sleeved cool-max Seattle Half-Marathon shirt with my running skirt on this chilly morning, the running getting better and better each time out. I expect that I will soon be able to run the early-May Bloomsday course, though two seasons later than I planned because, although Autumn doesn’t technically start until later in September and hot days could revisit, I am convinced that Summer has gone. The Wheel of Seasons, ignoring our paper and BlackBerry calendars, has spun fast forward in Her own timing, disregarding how we quarter up the year.


Today shall be all about embracing change. I shall throw myself into Autumn. I shall wear a sundress in the golden yellow of vitality with butterflies and sparkle and my silver rising phoenix pendant, sunflower side up. I shall hang on to the hour hand…no, it’s too slow…instead, I shall hang on to the second hand’s arm of the Wheel’s clock. I shall take guidance from those bumblebees and peer deeply deep into flowers as though I am Georgia O’Keeffe. I will fill vases and vases and vases with acorns…those alluring amulets…and glue the caps back on their tops when they fall off, and I shall select only those that plop from trees, never plucking them from branches. I shall experience the senses of each Season. And today, I will take pictures and pictures and pictures through my beloved BlackBerry Viewfinder of yellow and black striped bees and transparent bees and blue bees and flowers flowers flowers so I can post on The Moth what shall be my most favorite and longest of my color wheels thus far.

An Autumn Color Wheel in August

Nobody sees a flower really~
It is so small it takes time~
And to see takes time

~Georgia O’Keeffe

GL, 8/29/2010. Prevail.

Friday, August 27, 2010

Trampoline Jumping for 40-Year-Old Women, the Saga Continues at 38MPH

Today, I am proud to announce that I, a 40-year-old trampoline jumping Goddess, have been ushered into the elite club of the intrepid adventurers who have gone down the local water park’s Fastball, a six-story, S.T.R.A.I.G.H.T D.O.W.N slide, at a smooth 38 miles per hour. Although the drop was brief at five seconds, I felt like I was moving in slow motion in a major picture film as I fell and sputtered my way out of the trough at the bottom, the music to Chariots of Fire playing loudly and inspirationally in the background.

Out of breath from the intensity of the whole experience, I decided to take a quick break from the slides to indulge in some hot, just out of the oil, French fries in a paper boat from the concessions stand. I don’t know what it is about the water that makes me ravenous, just wanting all kinds of greasy foods. After I have been in the pool, all I can think is FRENCH FRIES. CHEESE BURGERS. FISH & CHIPS. HUGE PRETZELS DOUSED IN SALT. NACHOS DRENCHED IN CHEESE-LIKE PRODUCT. I want to completely abandon my vegetarian, farmers’ market, organic ways. I simply cannot understand it or wrap my mind around why I do this very much in the same way I have trouble understanding the concept of Dippin’ Dots, which really have nothing to do with dipping anything into anything. Although they do pair perfectly with hot French fries, a bouquet of bliss, after water adventures.

{Happy Sigh.}

Anyway, I have yet to locate that ladder for my dodge ball/trampoline-jumping-from -ladder routine and my hamstring is not at 100% yet, although it is at 87.36%, down from yesterday’s 91.28% (perhaps the water slides have something to do with it?), but I still have pearls of wisdom to offer the wonderful cyberspace community of 40-year-old trampoline-jumping women.

DO allow yourself to be ushered into the elite club of the intrepid adventurers who have gone down the local water park’s Fastball, a six-story, S.T.R.A.I.G.H.T D.O.W.N slide, experiencing the five second drop in slow motion as though in a major picture film as the music to Chariots of Fire plays loudly and inspirationally in the background.

DON’T feel the need to wear your glasses. Not being able to see can either, one, add to the goose-pimply thrill as you encounter the unexpected dips, turns, and drops of the slides, or two, aid in your denial if you really don’t want to see the unexpected dips, turns, and drops of the slides.

DO strongly anchor yourself, leaning forward deliberately as you drop down so not to have your head thrown back onto that slide that has the potential to concuss as much as the salon grade hair dryers that hang dangerously low from your favorite hair salon’s ceiling, both having the potential of leaving big bumps on your head.

DON’T be surprised that grasshoppers bite.

DO be sure to periodically visit your trampoline even if you are not ready to cartwheel/front-aerial-somersault/cross-legged/lift/jump/twirl/cartwheel/back-somersault-to-a-stand/hands-raised/then-deep-bow-at-the-waist. Sitting on the trampoline…or even laying on it for stargazing reminds yourself of your inner trampoline artist.

And finally, DON’T forget to once again revisit the tips and schema offered in previous trampoline posts. You can access with ease this important information on the right side of The Moth in the category of “trampoline jumping for 40-year-old women.”

So please! Continue to prevail as I hunt down those ladders and dodgeballs for future Trampoline Jumping for 40-Year-Old Women, Instructional Video series. Onward and upward…unless you are heading down those slides…

GL, 8/24/2010. Prevail.

Thursday, August 26, 2010

Sunset in Haze through BlackBerry Viewfinder on Binoculars

Sunset on a windy, windy day in Spokane through BlackBerry viewfinder on binoculars, 8/26/2010

GL, 8/26/2010. Prevail.

Monday, August 23, 2010

Sunset through BlackBerry Viewfinder on Binoculars

Pacific Ocean, San Diego, California, 8/21/2010

GL, 8/23/2010. Prevail.

Monday, August 16, 2010

Constellation Poem 4

The Perseid Meteor Showers, 8/13/2010


As evening slows down
The Sun tosses rays of light
A candle’s flicker.


Venus, Mars, Saturn
Climb the trellis of night’s sky.
A constellation.


Night prickles my skin
Stars blinking in night’s spilled ink
Moon moves to first fourth.


In the northern sky
Meteors from Perseus
Ancient debris streams.


Eyes dark-adapted
A shower of shooting stars
Wish upon a star.

GL, 8/14/2010. Prevail.

Wednesday, August 11, 2010


Duality, 8/9/2010
(Osprey-let eyes, wires, and wood through BlackBerry Viewfinder on Binoculars)

GL, 8/11/2010. Prevail.

Monday, August 9, 2010

August 7, 2010, journal entry, Summer's Color Wheel

Seven Miles.

Canada geese have taken over Manito Park’s pond while scuttling ducks taxi on water after skidding in their splashy landing.

As I start my run early this morning, I shiver a bit, a tad chilled, and think Autumn. Perhaps it is the slant of light that is different from the light cast by early Summer as Sun crawls South. Oh, I know that the Sun really doesn’t move...that I see things from Earth’s rotating tilted perspective. Nonetheless, I still feel Autumn as I see small patches of crimson creeping in ivy vines, and I must look closely to distinguish growing ducklings from adults. The eagles’ nest appears empty though I know the eaglets must still be nearby, practicing the craft of wings. Grasshoppers continue to hum while crickets begin to silence at night. The robin’s-eggshell blue ceiling of Summer that soars over my head seems subtly deeper and more distant. Imperceptibly, the fleshy glory of Summer is turning to Autumn’s dignity.

The edge of the wind wrinkles pondwater into prints like the swirls on my fingertips.

I rub away goose pimples from my arms and remind myself of the farmers’ market I shall hit with all its Summer goodies following this run.

And the Summer delights I find. I fill my blue and black canvas bags with rich, firm tomatoes, vine-ripened, warm from the sun. Bitter lettuces in deep greens and purples and yellowy-white lacy clusters of dill. The orange of peaches and carrots and pumpkin tomatoes. Purple basil and purple green beans, the purple sloughing away in cooking. Fresh lavender, a fragrant den for the plump handsome bumblebees I adore.

Nonetheless, the Wheel of Seasons continues to roll South through the tunnel of Summer towards Autumn. Soon, I will switch out my pink running skirt and sundresses of Summer for my long black running tights and black floor-length dresses of Winter. But…for the moment…today…it is still Summer.

GL, 8/7/2010. Prevail.