GL, 12/26/2011. Prevail.
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
A Winter Solstice ritual
Twenty One
A curving staircase
its tilted steps
worn by the tides
of years and footsteps.
Intricate threads
form a continuous black line.
GL, 12/21/2011. Prevail.
Saturday, December 17, 2011
Friday, December 9, 2011
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Twenty seven
A glossy black crow
sits on the branch of an oak
that in Autumn's accumulation
has turned inward,
its shriveled leaves dented and brown
before flying off.
GL, 11/27/2011. Prevail.
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Monday, October 31, 2011
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
The Autoharp
The mother,
expecting the father’s return from work,
watches the steep, narrow gravel drive
for his briefcase
bearing business papers and paychecks,
instead sees strapped to the motorcycle’s metal rack
an attaché
holding the asymmetrical shape
of an autoharp
with its squared shoulders.
Red felt dampers,
like controlling arms,
hover over the diatonic strands
ready to pin those not needed for the chord.
His fingers strum the strings and picks
move like garden snakes through her weeds
and cover the maple-quilted tobacco-stained finish.
GL, 9/22/2011. Prevail.
expecting the father’s return from work,
watches the steep, narrow gravel drive
for his briefcase
bearing business papers and paychecks,
instead sees strapped to the motorcycle’s metal rack
an attaché
holding the asymmetrical shape
of an autoharp
with its squared shoulders.
Red felt dampers,
like controlling arms,
hover over the diatonic strands
ready to pin those not needed for the chord.
His fingers strum the strings and picks
move like garden snakes through her weeds
and cover the maple-quilted tobacco-stained finish.
GL, 9/22/2011. Prevail.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Friday, September 23, 2011
Haiku 29
An Autumnal Equinox Ritual
(Umbra.)
Blue dragonflies skim
The algae green pondwater
Bees bump against glass.
(Penumbra.)
Uncurling at dusk
Darkness enfolds the wake left
By Light’s fleeing heels.
(Antumbra.)
White ribbons of light
Threads rewinding on their spools
An incandescence.
GL, 9/23/2011. Prevail.
(Umbra.)
Blue dragonflies skim
The algae green pondwater
Bees bump against glass.
(Penumbra.)
Uncurling at dusk
Darkness enfolds the wake left
By Light’s fleeing heels.
(Antumbra.)
White ribbons of light
Threads rewinding on their spools
An incandescence.
GL, 9/23/2011. Prevail.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Monday, September 12, 2011
September 1, 2011, journal entry, Montgomery, Alabama, and other things that make me feel wickedly wicked happy
Five miles, the Palouse loop.
Though I am in my purple running skirt, I am wearing my purple gloves for the first time this Season. It is 45 degrees chillier this morning compared to the hot, humid Alabama temperatures that had me seriously glistening and to which I have become accustomed, my new black glasses literally sliding down and off my nose. I really do need to get the temples tightened. Anyway, I now shiver and as I start out on this jog, the pungent odor of Autumn-like decaying humus wafts up, although the leaves I smell are decaying from the water of sprinkler systems.
So today, it is all about hills cuz nothin’ warms me up like hills hills hills. After a level warm up, I head down the first steep hill that, when biking, my bicycologist friend Arch tosses behind him several “DON’T BRAKE, LYNNE!” shouts. I then start back up the sharp incline I have always powered through, whether on a bike or in running shoes. Hill running has always been my strength, the ace up my Coolmax sleeve.
It is Fall.
It is Fall. The Wheel of Seasons spins, disinclined to be dilatory this year, and all my senses are keenly aware as the Veil of Summer thins, declining, yielding to Autumn as She offers her harvest. Acorns have begun to pop from oaks, so many that they sound like crackling snap of frying bacon. The wild turkey babies have grown big while ravens soar above, calling in their low and hoarse croaking voices. Coveys of quail burble and gurgle like running brooks, and the clutter of starlings have donned and now pose and posture in their glittery speckled Winter coats. As I run the country road which curves back down the next long decline, I remember that I do love the golden gold of wheat fields that are being harvested by green and red tractors. I look forward to the Autumn harvest that is to come at the farmers’ market (six more weeks of it, too), squashes, pumpkins, tomatoes, raspberries…gold gold gold and even more gold.
As I turn left, north onto the Palouse, I begin the one mile ascent past farm houses, red barns, decrepit sheds with their deteriorating slanted roofs, upturned tree stumps, and harvested golden wheat fields…and I suddenly hear the volleying calls of two red winged blackbirds in one of the cattailed marshes that line the highway. I can’t see them…I crouch and lean, move around and about, this way and that through the tall brown cattails and I hear them. I just can’t see them, except in my mind’s eye, where I can see vividly their red shoulders, red like the leaves of trees after Autumn mornings of crisp cold.
I have at least a mile to go, headed straight up. Straight up, I know this, but after hearing them, I suddenly feel an extra surge of energy…and am wickedly wicked happy, especially as I remember that AWEsome Montgomery, Alabama, trip.
~
Montgomery, Alabama, and other things that make me feel wickedly wicked happy
Montgomery, Alabama, in late August. I know. MONTGOMERY. ALABAMA. IN. LATE. AUGUST. No matter. Montgomery, Alabama, in late August. I {heart} it. Makes me wickedly wicked happy.
My rented Fiat. Perfect for driving the 1 ½ hour drive to and from the Birmingham Airport and Montgomery.
The renowned traditional Southern fried green tomato sandwich and pimento cheese sandwich. Rich and yellow yummy. I remember not liking pimentos as a girl on the Kentucky and Ohio farms where I grew up, but WOWZA! I love this oozing golden yellow with pops of red pimento, cheesy mixture.
And the memory of my Grandma Wright teaching me to like tomatoes on those Kentucky and Ohio farms, convincing me that the “paper” skin of the tomatoes is more than delicious when doused with pepper and salt. I think she would totally approve of the farmers’ market lavender spices I use today.
Egrets and great blue herons in Blount Cultural Park, Montgomery, Alabama, through my BlackBerry viewfinder on binoculars…with ducks and turtles…that make me think of my most favoritist place in Spokane: Manito Park’s duck pond…designed by the same folks who designed New York’s Central Park, my most favorite favoritist park of all.
Montgomery drivers who park in the middle of the street when no parking is available. What a fanTABulous use of space!
Summer bugs on my windshield.
My MHIT Goddess friend Lee. We think that we were related in a previous life…or will be for sure in the next. He is the one I am talking with in the blue shirt in the 10th picture, by the way. I absolutely ADORE him. A true kind kindred and gentle Spirit. (And thank you thank you, Steve Hamerdinger of MHIT.org for the pic!)
The MHIT (Mental Health Interpreting Training) conference every late Summer in Montgomery and being a part of the interpreting team this year. I am a total MHIT groupie..in addition to being a farmers’ market junkie!
Golden yellow meadow ants. I had absolutely no idea that there are YELLOW ants! Makes me wickedly wicked happy!
The sundresses I still wear…
…as I collect acorns and brown duck feathers outside my runs for my Cabinet of Wonders…
…and the black cape that I think I’m now…yeah, I think I am…ready to wear this Fall.
~
GL, 9/1/2011. Prevail.
Though I am in my purple running skirt, I am wearing my purple gloves for the first time this Season. It is 45 degrees chillier this morning compared to the hot, humid Alabama temperatures that had me seriously glistening and to which I have become accustomed, my new black glasses literally sliding down and off my nose. I really do need to get the temples tightened. Anyway, I now shiver and as I start out on this jog, the pungent odor of Autumn-like decaying humus wafts up, although the leaves I smell are decaying from the water of sprinkler systems.
So today, it is all about hills cuz nothin’ warms me up like hills hills hills. After a level warm up, I head down the first steep hill that, when biking, my bicycologist friend Arch tosses behind him several “DON’T BRAKE, LYNNE!” shouts. I then start back up the sharp incline I have always powered through, whether on a bike or in running shoes. Hill running has always been my strength, the ace up my Coolmax sleeve.
It is Fall.
It is Fall. The Wheel of Seasons spins, disinclined to be dilatory this year, and all my senses are keenly aware as the Veil of Summer thins, declining, yielding to Autumn as She offers her harvest. Acorns have begun to pop from oaks, so many that they sound like crackling snap of frying bacon. The wild turkey babies have grown big while ravens soar above, calling in their low and hoarse croaking voices. Coveys of quail burble and gurgle like running brooks, and the clutter of starlings have donned and now pose and posture in their glittery speckled Winter coats. As I run the country road which curves back down the next long decline, I remember that I do love the golden gold of wheat fields that are being harvested by green and red tractors. I look forward to the Autumn harvest that is to come at the farmers’ market (six more weeks of it, too), squashes, pumpkins, tomatoes, raspberries…gold gold gold and even more gold.
As I turn left, north onto the Palouse, I begin the one mile ascent past farm houses, red barns, decrepit sheds with their deteriorating slanted roofs, upturned tree stumps, and harvested golden wheat fields…and I suddenly hear the volleying calls of two red winged blackbirds in one of the cattailed marshes that line the highway. I can’t see them…I crouch and lean, move around and about, this way and that through the tall brown cattails and I hear them. I just can’t see them, except in my mind’s eye, where I can see vividly their red shoulders, red like the leaves of trees after Autumn mornings of crisp cold.
I have at least a mile to go, headed straight up. Straight up, I know this, but after hearing them, I suddenly feel an extra surge of energy…and am wickedly wicked happy, especially as I remember that AWEsome Montgomery, Alabama, trip.
~
Montgomery, Alabama, and other things that make me feel wickedly wicked happy
Montgomery, Alabama, in late August. I know. MONTGOMERY. ALABAMA. IN. LATE. AUGUST. No matter. Montgomery, Alabama, in late August. I {heart} it. Makes me wickedly wicked happy.
My rented Fiat. Perfect for driving the 1 ½ hour drive to and from the Birmingham Airport and Montgomery.
The renowned traditional Southern fried green tomato sandwich and pimento cheese sandwich. Rich and yellow yummy. I remember not liking pimentos as a girl on the Kentucky and Ohio farms where I grew up, but WOWZA! I love this oozing golden yellow with pops of red pimento, cheesy mixture.
And the memory of my Grandma Wright teaching me to like tomatoes on those Kentucky and Ohio farms, convincing me that the “paper” skin of the tomatoes is more than delicious when doused with pepper and salt. I think she would totally approve of the farmers’ market lavender spices I use today.
Egrets and great blue herons in Blount Cultural Park, Montgomery, Alabama, through my BlackBerry viewfinder on binoculars…with ducks and turtles…that make me think of my most favoritist place in Spokane: Manito Park’s duck pond…designed by the same folks who designed New York’s Central Park, my most favorite favoritist park of all.
Montgomery drivers who park in the middle of the street when no parking is available. What a fanTABulous use of space!
Summer bugs on my windshield.
My MHIT Goddess friend Lee. We think that we were related in a previous life…or will be for sure in the next. He is the one I am talking with in the blue shirt in the 10th picture, by the way. I absolutely ADORE him. A true kind kindred and gentle Spirit. (And thank you thank you, Steve Hamerdinger of MHIT.org for the pic!)
The MHIT (Mental Health Interpreting Training) conference every late Summer in Montgomery and being a part of the interpreting team this year. I am a total MHIT groupie..in addition to being a farmers’ market junkie!
Golden yellow meadow ants. I had absolutely no idea that there are YELLOW ants! Makes me wickedly wicked happy!
The sundresses I still wear…
…as I collect acorns and brown duck feathers outside my runs for my Cabinet of Wonders…
…and the black cape that I think I’m now…yeah, I think I am…ready to wear this Fall.
~
GL, 9/1/2011. Prevail.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Saturday, August 20, 2011
Thursday, August 18, 2011
August 17, 2011, journal entry, I Am Reminding Myself that It Is Still Summer
Five miles.
I am cold. I leave at six this morning for my run, and I am not convinced it isn’t Fall. I rub the goose pimples on my arms under my pumpkin-colored long-sleeve Coolmax shirt (though I still wear my purple running skirt).The slant of Sun also says Fall, when light begins bowing to dark. I suddenly don't have the energy for this morning run. I am not ready for the chill because August’s heat has just barely emerged. The Wheel of Seasons can’t have revolved this quickly because, in fact, the path through Hazel's Creek hasn’t yet dried, my running shoe sucked ankle deep in mud. Don’t get me wrong...I am looking forward to the Autumnal Equinox (how can I top last year’s Goddessfest with my Tattered Wings tattoo?! AND I have ideas for the third tattoo I shall get during next year’s Spring Equinox celebration…suh-WEET!).
But I suddenly realize, as I pull my foot from sticky mud with a slight sob, that I haven't seen the red-winged blackbirds in Hazel's Creek lately. Nor have I seen the orangy robins lately, those robins who arrived in February. I also notice the honking Vs of Canada geese that have begun to fly the skyways, and young eaglets and osprey fledge, practicing their wings.
I'm not gonna go far, I encourage myself. The 10K I’ve signed up to race this October (my first race since figuring out my hamstring/back problem) will sport colder, chillier air than this, its air crisp like Fall apple slices. I also remind myself that I always warm up and have regretted a run only a handful of times, so I wrap my hands in my sleeves and continue running, mud flakes sloughing off my shoe much like how the late Summer days slough off bits of light. I decide to remember the day is predicted to be in the 80's and that I shall visit the farmers' market today though I usually go Thursdays and Saturdays. The market always makes me feel wickedly wicked happy with their bounty of Summer harvest and jovial warm air, the companionship always and always boosting my mood.
So this year, Summer has been running…no…sprinting away from me, but I’m not gonna think about that now. I am wickedly glad I when I finish my run and wickedly enjoy the farmers’ market…and, of course tonight, there is always the sky blue pool.
{Wickedly wicked happy sigh.}
~
Things that Remind Me It Is Still Summer…and Make Me Wickedly Happy
The farmers’ market and its array of colorful bounty. And the fact that I still have just over two months left of the market’s season! Today, I am ALL about the market…
~Yellow and orange watermelons. Totally worth the serious seed extraction effort.
~Green tomatoes I cook into fried green tomatoes…I think the southern girl is comin’ out in me…
~Orange raspberries from Mushroom Farmer Mo and orangy tomatoes. I’m tellin’ ya, once you’ve had a wicked fresh tomato from the farmers’ market, regular supermarket tomatoes just don’t cut it.
~Figuring out how to cook with tomatillos…I have absolutely no idea what I’m gonna do but I am wickedly excited about it.
~Same thing with the baby artichokes. I had absolutely no idea that artichokes are in the thistle family…I LIKE thistles and the thought of them and purply thistles makes me wickedly happy.
~A basket of cherry tomatoes that I typically don’t buy because I always feel like I am biting into a bug…kinda like raisins…but these…oh my goddess, these are red, yellow, purple, orange, white…WHITE and PURPLE tomatoes! So wickedly worth the slicing effort!
~The wooden coins of the farmers’ market.
~Today in 1907, Seattle’s Pike Place Market opened and is the oldest continuously operating farmer's market in the United States.
Huckleberry’s Natural Market’s wine steward Drew who can hold a wine glass with his cheek and who loves Wicked and Lady GaGa as much as I do (we think we were sisters in a previous life).
Fabulous sundresses and sushi with the Goddesses, dining outside.
Summer buggy beetly bugs.
The MOON! I just simply don’t know why I go loonier than a loon over the Moon in late Summer…oh, wait…yeah, I know why! Cuz I can actually see her! Cloudiness lingered way too long and seriously overstayed its welcome this Summer. Ugh!
Definitely and absolutely, water slides…to infinity and beyond!
And running…remembering that YES! I am running again, running alongside Summer as she runs into Autumn…and that makes me totally and wickedly wicked happy.
~
~
GL, 8/17/2011. Prevail.
I am cold. I leave at six this morning for my run, and I am not convinced it isn’t Fall. I rub the goose pimples on my arms under my pumpkin-colored long-sleeve Coolmax shirt (though I still wear my purple running skirt).The slant of Sun also says Fall, when light begins bowing to dark. I suddenly don't have the energy for this morning run. I am not ready for the chill because August’s heat has just barely emerged. The Wheel of Seasons can’t have revolved this quickly because, in fact, the path through Hazel's Creek hasn’t yet dried, my running shoe sucked ankle deep in mud. Don’t get me wrong...I am looking forward to the Autumnal Equinox (how can I top last year’s Goddessfest with my Tattered Wings tattoo?! AND I have ideas for the third tattoo I shall get during next year’s Spring Equinox celebration…suh-WEET!).
But I suddenly realize, as I pull my foot from sticky mud with a slight sob, that I haven't seen the red-winged blackbirds in Hazel's Creek lately. Nor have I seen the orangy robins lately, those robins who arrived in February. I also notice the honking Vs of Canada geese that have begun to fly the skyways, and young eaglets and osprey fledge, practicing their wings.
I'm not gonna go far, I encourage myself. The 10K I’ve signed up to race this October (my first race since figuring out my hamstring/back problem) will sport colder, chillier air than this, its air crisp like Fall apple slices. I also remind myself that I always warm up and have regretted a run only a handful of times, so I wrap my hands in my sleeves and continue running, mud flakes sloughing off my shoe much like how the late Summer days slough off bits of light. I decide to remember the day is predicted to be in the 80's and that I shall visit the farmers' market today though I usually go Thursdays and Saturdays. The market always makes me feel wickedly wicked happy with their bounty of Summer harvest and jovial warm air, the companionship always and always boosting my mood.
So this year, Summer has been running…no…sprinting away from me, but I’m not gonna think about that now. I am wickedly glad I when I finish my run and wickedly enjoy the farmers’ market…and, of course tonight, there is always the sky blue pool.
{Wickedly wicked happy sigh.}
~
Things that Remind Me It Is Still Summer…and Make Me Wickedly Happy
The farmers’ market and its array of colorful bounty. And the fact that I still have just over two months left of the market’s season! Today, I am ALL about the market…
~Yellow and orange watermelons. Totally worth the serious seed extraction effort.
~Green tomatoes I cook into fried green tomatoes…I think the southern girl is comin’ out in me…
~Orange raspberries from Mushroom Farmer Mo and orangy tomatoes. I’m tellin’ ya, once you’ve had a wicked fresh tomato from the farmers’ market, regular supermarket tomatoes just don’t cut it.
~Figuring out how to cook with tomatillos…I have absolutely no idea what I’m gonna do but I am wickedly excited about it.
~Same thing with the baby artichokes. I had absolutely no idea that artichokes are in the thistle family…I LIKE thistles and the thought of them and purply thistles makes me wickedly happy.
~A basket of cherry tomatoes that I typically don’t buy because I always feel like I am biting into a bug…kinda like raisins…but these…oh my goddess, these are red, yellow, purple, orange, white…WHITE and PURPLE tomatoes! So wickedly worth the slicing effort!
~The wooden coins of the farmers’ market.
~Today in 1907, Seattle’s Pike Place Market opened and is the oldest continuously operating farmer's market in the United States.
Huckleberry’s Natural Market’s wine steward Drew who can hold a wine glass with his cheek and who loves Wicked and Lady GaGa as much as I do (we think we were sisters in a previous life).
Fabulous sundresses and sushi with the Goddesses, dining outside.
Summer buggy beetly bugs.
The MOON! I just simply don’t know why I go loonier than a loon over the Moon in late Summer…oh, wait…yeah, I know why! Cuz I can actually see her! Cloudiness lingered way too long and seriously overstayed its welcome this Summer. Ugh!
Definitely and absolutely, water slides…to infinity and beyond!
And running…remembering that YES! I am running again, running alongside Summer as she runs into Autumn…and that makes me totally and wickedly wicked happy.
~
~
GL, 8/17/2011. Prevail.
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