The Way of the Moth

The Full Snow Moon

2012-02-07T18:26:00.000-08:00

GL, 2/7/2012. Prevail.

Only Women Walk Down the Stone Steps

2012-01-26T18:01:00.000-08:00

The farmer’s wife,
her hand brushing to smooth her floral apron,
elastic nylon stockings folded over at the knees,
shoes black and chunky,
takes jars of beets and onions, carrots and sweet corn
that wait next to the red plaid cookbook
and carries them down narrow stone steps
just inside the screen door
to the canning cellar.
In the cemented basement room
shelves lined with paper have been brushed and wiped clean
from swatted, crushed black flies.
The hands that snapped string green beans, sliced apples, peeled potatoes,
and cut flank steak
fresh from a slaughtered cow,
arrange the canned jars in silent rows
on metal shelving that resembles wire-wheeled market carts.
Boxes of fabrics,
bolts of linen, cotton, silk tablecloths
cower in the corner protected by gossamer cobwebs.
Upstairs, simmering on the stove
bone and broth breathes in, breathes out
wafts in and down
covering the old farm house,
musty drawers, old sachets, and bacon grease.

GL, 1/26/2012. Prevail.

Right Looking Crow

2012-01-24T18:42:00.000-08:00

The Year of the Black Crow

GL, 1/24/2012. Prevail.

All Things Are Joyful Near Water

2012-01-12T18:27:00.000-08:00

A mile from the Kentucky farmhouse,
the pond where we fished
bluegills thin as a child’s wrist
swim, seek safety
in algae’s cotton thread-like welcome mats.
Tackle boxes balance on the bank’s edge,
trees lining the pond like a wooden picture frame,
branches casting
tossing leaves in water
midst the din of dragonflies.
My own cast is weak, a knee buckling,
so the father guides my wrist
and my line goes into the deep blue field.
My own bluegill is added to the catch,
strung together, dipped in water,
flopping, stippling,
texturing the surface
like morning’s chicoried coffee
cooked in the black iron of a frying pan.

GL, 11/30/2011. Prevail.

I Speak Bird

2012-01-09T18:37:00.000-08:00

The Year of the Black Crow

Black Crow in Flight

GL, 1/9/2012. Prevail.

The Full Wolf Moon

2012-01-08T18:19:00.000-08:00

GL, 1/8/2012. Prevail.

First Bird

2012-01-01T17:57:00.000-08:00

The Year of the Black Crow

One Eagle among 100ish

GL, 1/1/2012. Prevail.

I See Two Bald Eagles

2011-12-27T18:37:00.000-08:00

GL, 12/26/2011. Prevail.

A Winter Solstice ritual

2011-12-21T19:26:00.000-08:00

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.

An Eagle Soaring

2011-12-17T20:31:00.000-08:00

GL, 12/17/2011. Prevail.

December's Full Cold Moon

2011-12-09T18:59:00.001-08:00

GL, 12/9/2011. Prevail.

Crows almost always look right

2011-12-06T20:54:00.000-08:00

GL, 12/6/2011. Prevail.

Twenty seven

2011-11-27T18:05:00.001-08:00

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.

The Full Beaver Moon

2011-11-10T19:09:00.000-08:00

Cresting

GL, 11/10/2011. Prevail.

The Sun looks like the Full Moon

2011-11-06T18:18:00.000-08:00

The Sun through Early Morning Fog

GL, 11/6/2011. Prevail.

Orange, Black, and Purple

2011-10-31T19:30:00.000-07:00

A Halloween Triptych

GL, 10/31/2011. Prevail.

Songbirds in Autumn

2011-10-26T19:32:00.000-07:00

GL, 10/26/2011. Prevail.

A Black Crow in a Tree

2011-10-18T20:16:00.001-07:00

Shadows

GL, 10/18/2011. Prevail.

The Autoharp

2011-10-05T19:24:00.000-07:00

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.

Black Crow

2011-09-27T17:50:00.001-07:00

GL, 9/27/2011. Prevail.

Haiku 29

2011-09-23T19:00:00.000-07:00

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.

An Osprey in a Bug Swarm

2011-09-21T18:55:00.000-07:00

GL, 9/21/2011. Prevail.

Striped Hawk-moth

2011-09-14T18:48:00.000-07:00

GL, 9/13/2011. Prevail.

September 1, 2011, journal entry, Montgomery, Alabama, and other things that make me feel wickedly wicked happy

2011-09-12T19:27:00.001-07:00

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.

Blue Moth

2011-09-06T20:57:00.000-07:00

GL, 9/6/2011. Prevail.

Black and Orange Butterfly

2011-09-04T18:32:00.000-07:00

Shadows

GL, 9/4/2011. Prevail.

Green

2011-08-31T19:05:00.001-07:00

GL, 8/31/2011. Prevail.

An Egret and a Turtle

2011-08-28T19:03:00.000-07:00

Blount Cultural Park, Montgomery, Alabama, 8/26/2011

GL, 8/28/2011. Prevail.

Sparrow

2011-08-20T19:38:00.001-07:00

GL, 8/20/2011. Prevail.

August 17, 2011, journal entry, I Am Reminding Myself that It Is Still Summer

2011-08-18T19:43:00.001-07:00

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.

Osprey Wings

2011-08-16T18:35:00.001-07:00

GL, 8/16/2011. Prevail.

The Full Grain Moon

2011-08-13T21:38:00.001-07:00

(otherwise known as the Green Corn Moon and the Full Sturgeon Moon)

GL, 8/13/2011. Prevail.

X

2011-08-11T20:51:00.001-07:00

The Moon, 96% of full

GL, 8/11/2011. Prevail.

Luminosity

2011-08-10T22:00:00.001-07:00

The Moon, 91% of full

GL, 8/10/2011. Prevail.

65%

2011-08-07T21:22:00.001-07:00

Approaching the full moon

GL, 8/7/2011. Prevail.

Trampoline Jumping for 40-Year-Old Women, the Saga Continues on Escalators, Elevators, and Stairs…in a 47 Floor Drop and an Eight Story Ascent

2011-08-03T18:37:00.000-07:00

I bid you greetings, Earthlings and my trampoline jumping community, as I have safely returned from Atlanta, Georgia, by way of the wild terrain of escalators, elevators, and stairs and planes, trains, and automobiles!

Yes, the national Registry of Interpreters for the Deaf held its biennial conference in Atlanta this year, and I swear I have not encountered so many escalators, elevators, and stairs in my life as a Goddess! But do not worry as I did not let any fear or uncertainty become a barrier as I decided to approach the EEAS (pronounced in letters like Rachel Ray does with her EVOO...extra virgin olive oil... but meaning escalators, elevators, and stairs) in the same Goddessy manner that I approach my work on the trampoline. With BlackBerry and binoculars in hand, I boldly began to document this Escher-esque journey because I was sure that my Moth readers would and should feel, at least vicariously, the thrill I experienced over and over and over.

As I toured the city, as I am wont to do, I decided to let MARTA zoom me about. I thought it quite pleasant that Atlantians named their subway train system "Marta"...what a nice way to make a subway train feel more friendly!...PLUS the escalator down (and up) to (and from) the train was the longest I had ever seen thus far, and I needed several opportunities for photo ops. I also took time to document with my BlackBerry camera the more than twenty escalators in the Escher-esque hotel, the Marriot Marquis.

It is amazing how folks are more than willing to join in your adventure and are quick to offer tips and leads, cuz as I went through the hotel, shooting pictures with my BlackBerry camera, feeling my aura of spy-like international intrigue return as though I was shooting a laser gun in an episode of laser tag, I was told several times over that the CNN building right by my hotel had an eight-floor escalator just as I was also reminded at least twice of the musical stair video posted on You Tube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RpUoA5slRX4. I knew right away in my golden gut, much like how I knew immediately that the grape-pop-scented t-shirt reminding me of the scratch-and-sniff stickers I adored as a girl at the World of Coca Cola's gift shop needed to be mine, that I needed to fit a trip there in my already busy schedule. I had to fit this reconnaissance mission in between workshops and visits to the High Museum of Art, the Atlanta Aquarium with its moving sidewalk, Centennial Olympic Park, and the Margaret Mitchell Museum. And it didn't disappoint. The escalator, that is. The rush I felt in the two and a half minute, 205 feet long ascension of the world's longest free standing escalator was nothing short of breathless. And I made sure to snap pictures of each of the staircases as the tour group descended the eight stories.

In addition to all the Escher-esque escalators I filmed in the Marquis were the fabulous glass elevators, reported to be fast, that took riders up and down the 47 floors. How I longed to go to the top, feel dizzy and ditzy as I would look over the ledge, and then take the elevator down without the interruption of stops! And how fortunate was I when Goddess Nancy found out from those aforementioned advice givers that if you hold the "close door" and "floor-that-you-want" buttons down simultaneously, the elevator would not stop for any passengers on any floor. Once again, we summoned our Goddess courage and made our way to the 47th floor and peered over its ledge while we fought an ultra weird urge to drop our BlackBerries over the edge (that was really weird, wasn't it, Goddess Nancy? Still haven't figured out THAT one...).

ANYWAY. I parked myself on the floor of the glass elevator while Goddess Nancy manned the buttons, and down we went...for only a foot's distance 'til we got stuck (that feeling was really weird, too, wasn't it, Goddess Nancy? Although this one is easier to figure out why...). No worries at all, though, because after a minute or so, our elevator descended, and WOWZA! I thought that that eight floor escalator ride couldn't be topped, but I was WRONG with a capital W! This 46 ½ floor drop was insanely and wickedly exciting! And I was SOOOO in the moment that I didn't think to activate the video feature of my BlackBerry to capture the excitement of it all. No matter, cuz we were so completely breathless and in awe of our bravery when we arrived at the bottom that we knew in our Goddess guts that we needed to celebrate with sushi. So we did.

All in all, as I reflected on the whole trip while I was removing items from my ultra hefty suitcase before checking it in to bring it down from 58 pounds to 50 to avoid the 100 dollar surcharge (seriously, I know how to travel, but does a girl really need to bring 10 sundresses when she is gone only six days? Uh, YEAH!), and as I am preparing to file this report with The Moth, I knew and know that this was a successful and productive trip. And while I have no advice to offer specifically today, other than DO face an Escher-esque world with the grace and dignity and bravery worthy of a Goddess and DON’T let fear stop you in any of your Goddess endeavors, I DO invite you to sit back and enjoy the slide show.

GL, 8/3/2011. Prevail.

Flyaway Balloon

2011-07-31T20:11:00.000-07:00

GL, 7/31/2011. Prevail.

The Full Buck Moon

2011-07-14T22:41:00.001-07:00

(otherwise known as the Thunder Moon, through BlackBerry Viewfinder on Binoculars)

GL, 7/14/2011. Prevail.

Trampoline Jumping for 40-Year-Old Women, the saga continues as Lady Liberty

2011-07-13T18:45:00.000-07:00

Greetings, earthling community of 40-year-old trampoline jumping women! It has been a while since we last visited, but no worries…because, while Trampoline Jumping for 40-Year-Old Women, Instructional Videos #1 and #2, continue to travel viral throughout cyberspace (457 hits for #1 and 134 for #2), the Goddesses continue to do good and noble works. Of course, April’s National Poetry Month brought forth all kinds of awesome haiku writing and email rhyming while May kicked up my running, and June…well, June had me engaged in yet another esteemed and Goddess worthy endeavor: the upgrade of my annual July 4th Statue of Liberty costume from awesome to SPECTACULAR.

And this effort was so incredibly successful that I knew in my golden gut that I needed to share this experience with my larger tribe. So along with our trampoline jumping, butternut-squash-lasagna-with-rainbow-striped-noodles cooking, purple-Xmas-tree spray painting, and putting-snow-chains-on-purple-car’s-tires exercises, we can now add the making/upgrading of the Statue of Liberty costume to our list of dignified activities.

How to Upgrade Your Statue of Liberty Costume from Awesome to SPECTACULAR in Just Five Steps

Step one.

As a writer, I find that research is of the essence, so I decide to peruse the reputable online resources of Wikipedia and Amazon.com for drapes, torch, and tiara ideas. Page after page after page I scroll on my nifty netbook, trolling for inspiration when I come across a torch that actually lights up (!!!) and a seafoam green styrafoam tiara. With sweaty, shaky hands, I excitedly and immediately click on that dangerous Amazon One-Click button, and they become mine. I can hardly contain myself as I check my post office box each day while awaiting my new accoutrements.

Step two.

It suddenly occurs to me that none of my more-than-50 skirts and dresses match the seafoam green color of my styrafoam tiara. Mulling this over in my thinking spot, I remember my FABulous Xmas tree and know if I can spray paint my Xmas tree, I certainly can spray paint or at least dye a skirt. I grab my keys to my purple Goddess-mobile and make a mad dash to the craft store by way of Manito Park’s duck pond where I take pictures with my BlackBerry on binoculars and collect a bagful of feathers before hitting Michael’s. There I roam the aisles, clearing one shelf of its glitter pencils, then deeply gasp because not only does Michael’s have fabric dye, they have fabric SPRAY PAINT! With hands once again sweaty and shaky, I fill my basket with green and glitter and purple spray paints and boxes of dye.

Step three.

I now realize I gonna probably need a bucket and long rubber gloves, so I stop by my trusty Rite Aid where I found my six foot tall, white fake Xmas tree that I spray painted, and find the rest of my supplies. I rush to the checkout counter by way of the glitter bouncy balls that light up in a fabulous way with each bounce on the floor and clear that shelf, too.

Step four.

I am now ready to dye my skirt so I once again don my purple Goddess-made apron which I use for all of my charitable Goddess activities and promptly dump my two boxes of greenish dye in my small red plastic bucket and turn my hose on in it. I take my skirt and mush it around, splashing my green dye absolutely everywhere. I squish and twist it in my bucket and squish and twist it out of my bucket and hang my dyed skirt in a tree to dry.

Step five.

Next, I rush to the farm of one of my Goddesses who is seamstress extraordinaire to assemble my sparkly seafoam green fabric overtop of my dyed skirt. After a tour of the chicken barn, we safety pin away, creating massive folds and drapes.

Together we look in the mirror.

It is perfect.

So, just as expected, like a hypothesis proven in an science experiment, my Lady Liberty costume totally catapults to levels beyond spectacularism, and I feel fabulous. In fact, I feel as though I AM Lady Lynneberty, transported back to 1886, standing on Ellis Island as I am welcoming weary travelers and immigrants alike.

{Wickedly wicked happy sigh}

Now I know that you are ready to slam shut your netbooks and laptops as you too want to rush to your local craft and fabric stores, but before you do, I have some wise wisdom that I do feel I must responsibly share before you once again don your own Goddess apron and embark on your adventure.

Do understand the life and adventure of the Goddess is fraught with danger from time to time…the danger of the grizzly bear, the danger of stepping in duck poop while you collect feathers, and the serious danger of that Amazon.com One-Click purchase button. Yes, indeed, this life is definitely not for the faint of heart.

Don’t feel bad if you forget your dyed skirt you have hanging in your tree. The thunderstorms and ensuing rain can only help deplete the oversaturated green in the skirt you dyed with the two boxes when you really needed only one.

Do choose the larger bucket over the smaller one, even if it is more expensive.

Don’t forget to keep a wet wash rag outside near your bucket so that you can quickly wipe off the splashes of green dye from your arms right away. This way, you don’t have to traipse through your house to grab one, leaving a trail of green footprints.

Do use duck feathers to line your gift bags instead of the regular tissue paper. They are so much cheaper and when unearthed from beneath items in the pantry, don’t emerge ripped, wrinkled, and torn.

Don’t be upset if you can’t find your safety pins that you purchased at Rite Aid. Instead, repurpose your safety pins from your old running race numbers.

Just as when you are cooking and using the personal possessive pronoun when speaking of your ingredients (I then put my purple potato mixture into my purple casserole dish…), do refer to your Lady Liberty costume making supplies using the same personal possessive pronouns (I dip my skirt into my small red bucket…).

And finally, don’t forget to continue practicing your flips and reviewing the informative information in Trampoline Jumping for 40-Year-Old Women, Instructional Videos #1 and #2, easily accessible through the trampoline jumping for 40-year-old women category label on the lower right side of The Moth.

So once again, my community of 40-year-old trampoline jumping women, joyful trampoline jumping and happy Statue of Liberty costume making/upgrading! I truly speak from experience when I say that tears of noble joy will well in your eyes as the spirit of Lady Liberty swells within you.

(Now I am wondering how I can incorporate a disco ball into next year’s costume.)

~Lady Lynneberty (prevail.)

Large Yellow Underwing

2011-07-10T18:32:00.001-07:00

through BlackBerry viewfinder, 7/10/2011

GL, 7/10/2011. Prevail.

Thirty

2011-06-30T20:06:00.001-07:00

Clouds sift light
While cattail reeds, like shadows, slip shyly down the bank.

~

A cat sits on a wooden window sill and flicks her tail,
The flame of a candlelight.

GL, 6/30/2011. Prevail.

June 11, 2011, journal entry

2011-06-16T21:15:00.000-07:00

Eight miles.

What a busy run I had today!

Barely two blocks in, I see the most P.E.R.F.E.C.T half-eggshell of brown-speckled blue-tivity near the abandoned building where weeds and hyacinths, starlings and sparrows squat. I am wickedly wicked glad that I carry Ziploc bags for such finds in my 5K waist-pack...which is not quite zipped cuz it’s stuffed to the gills with my small journal, pencil, acorns, precious copper pennies, and feathers.

Then not one breath later, I hear, then see the grand wing beat of the great blue heron landing on the branch of a nearby tall evergreen. “Dude!” I shout louder than I mean to, stopping suddenly in my tracks. No water nearby, I wonder why he has chosen this tree at this time. I think this gorgeous guy must have recognized me and stopped to say HIIIII! on his way from water to water. And I can’t understand why the drivers of passing cars don’t stop to see what I see as I stand in the middle of the road and excitedly point towards this tree.

The lilac season is winding down…at farmers’ markets, I purchase bouquets and bouquets and bouquets of fresh lilacs…purple, white-lined purple, white, and lilac lilacs. I simply can’t get enough, and I simply cannot pass by lilacs without burying my nose in their yummy fragrance. Simply yummily yummy and wickedly wicked delicious.

And Hazel’s Creek…I {heart} this cat-tailed marsh with her red-winged blackbirds who volley their trills to each other. Unfortunately, my path is suddenly blocked by a newly erected fence…UGH! No matter! I stubbornly climb the metal, leading with my left leg so as not to strain my lower back…ergo, my right hamstring…’cause I am wickedly wicked happy to be running pain-free…

And then the rain…and the smell of coming rain (yes, I can smell imminent rain storms…my farm girl background, perhaps? Who knows…)! Despite the fact that Wind has been whipping up dust and leaves, making me think I underdressed in my running skirt, She stops, and rain drops in mini-bricks...and I think, WOWZA…I have had a busy run! How wickedly happy I am to be running despite my numb-cold hands…and the fact that I am completely soaked.

I turn the corner for the last leg of my run, and I see yet another eggshell of blue-tivity, brown speckled, just like the half-shell I found in the beginning of my run…and in the same place. Two pieces of the same egg? I’m gonna think so…just like I’m gonna think that that great blue heron was Oliver…and that he did indeed recognize me.

Simply because it makes me wickedly wicked happy.

~

A Very Busy Run and Other Things I {Heart} that Make Me Wickedly Wicked Happy

I {heart} National Poetry Month.

Haiku!!! I {heart} the five-seven-five seventeen…and haiku in any number of syllables.

Wicked…and misunderstood Elphaba…

I {heart} the farmers’ market. Despite the rain and cool weather, I wear sundresses each and every time I go to the market to buy purple potatoes, spring sweet pea shoots, and purple speckled romaine lettuce.

Pasta blackened by squid ink…I {heart} it with my farmers’ market veggies…

Manito Park’s duck pond {happy sigh}…the Peace I feel there…immediately…

I {heart} blue and white and brown-speckled shell-tivity.

I {heart} lilacs. Do I hug lilacs so much because their season is so short? I’d like to think that I would bury my pierced nose in their blooms each time I passed by them even if they remained longer than six weeks.

Oh, and I {heart} my newly pierced nose.

I {heart} Oliver.

And crows.

I {heart} my FAB.U.LOUS Lady GaGa-esque flashing-light glasses I wore while playing at Silverwood Theme Park in my floor-length pink sundress.

I {heart} Lady Gaga. I know…{heart} the Indigo Girls, Tracy Chapman, Train…and Lady GaGa…go figure!

Lady GaGa’s Born this Way…{heart} {heart} {heart} … DEFINITELY my theme song.

~

~

GL, 6/11/2011. Prevail.

Thirteen

2011-06-13T19:12:00.000-07:00

The sun creeps up behind her
Leaving glints of light in her hair.

GL, 6/13/2011. Prevail.

Nine

2011-06-09T19:04:00.000-07:00

Outside
Grey deep clouds rumble
Like an empty stomach.

GL, 6/9/2011. Prevail.

One

2011-06-01T19:33:00.000-07:00

Insouciant.

GL, 6/1/2011. Prevail.

Thirty

2011-05-30T21:19:00.000-07:00

I turn the smooth grey stone over in my hand
Like pages in a story

~

Purple lilacs blooming

~

His fenders drawn out
An osprey hovers
Then plummets like a stone.

GL, 5/30/2011. Prevail.

Twenty-five

2011-05-25T19:25:00.000-07:00

Grey, green, blue and light
Folded together
With a painter’s palette knife

~

Water whispers and swirls
Approaches the bank, hesitating
Before continuing across the pond.

GL, 5/25/2011. Prevail.

Eighteen

2011-05-18T19:35:00.000-07:00

The great blue heron
Launches himself over grey ridges
His feathers like fingers brushing the spines of books.

GL, 5/18/2011. Prevail.

Sixteen

2011-05-16T19:46:00.000-07:00

Ripples pursue each other
On the Sun lit surface
In a wild Tag, You’re It! game.

GL, 5/16/2011. Prevail.

May 11

2011-05-11T19:37:00.000-07:00

Barely visible
The folded letter’s white corner
Inside its thick envelope.

GL, 5/11/2011. Prevail.

May 7

2011-05-07T21:26:00.000-07:00

Eyebrows
A thick comma
above green eyes.

GL, 5/7/2011. Prevail.

First Bird 3

2011-05-03T18:25:00.000-07:00

The Year of the Black-Capped Chickadee

Two Owlets

GL, 5/3/2011. Prevail.

Moon Poem 30

2011-04-30T21:41:00.000-07:00

Epilogue

6%

A month of Argent
The Moon calling, now whispers
Luminosity.

GL, 4/30/2011. Prevail. Happy National Poetry Month.

Moon Poem 29

2011-04-29T20:34:00.000-07:00

11%

A crinkly birch tree
Its papery white bark peels
Molting in places.

GL, 4/29/2011. Prevail.

Moon Poem 28

2011-04-28T19:46:00.000-07:00

17%

Spring petals shimmer
Eyelids fluttering slightly
Caught in a quick breeze.

GL, 4/28/2011. Prevail.

Moon Poem 27

2011-04-27T21:08:00.000-07:00

25%

Bubbles line the edge
Wind over the pond’s surface
Simmering water.

GL, 4/27/2011. Prevail.

Moon Poem 26

2011-04-26T21:24:00.000-07:00

34%

Listening to snow—
Tiny birds peck against glass
A dogwood Winter.

GL, 4/26/2011. Prevail.

Moon Poem 25

2011-04-25T20:08:00.000-07:00

43%

A long charcoal coat
Buttoned up to the collar
Gold Sun peeks through rain.

GL, 4/25/2011. Prevail.

Moon Poem 24

2011-04-24T20:24:00.000-07:00

Last Quarter

The tips of branches
Birds burst in a brilliant bloom
A transpiration.

GL, 4/24/2011. Prevail.

Moon Poem 23

2011-04-23T20:28:00.000-07:00

Water

63%

Though not thought beauty
The starling’s green-black feathers
Stunningly glimmer.

GL, 4/23/2011. Prevail.

Moon Poem 22

2011-04-22T21:10:00.000-07:00

73%

Bright rays of Sunlight
Settle in the pinched corners
Of the pond’s creased face.

GL, 4/22/2011. Prevail.

Moon Poem 21

2011-04-21T19:47:00.000-07:00

82%

Grey clouds liquefy
In a spray of white diamonds
Hopscotching on grass.

GL, 4/21/2011. Prevail.

Moon Poem 20

2011-04-20T19:46:00.000-07:00

90%

A gust of Sun hides
In the armature of pines
Furtively prowling.

GL, 4/20/2011. Prevail.

Moon Poem 19

2011-04-19T19:47:00.000-07:00

96%

The glossy black crow
Atop a tall evergreen
A glittery broach.

4/19/2011. Prevail.

Moon Poem 18

2011-04-18T19:10:00.000-07:00

99%

Wind whirls white snowflakes
Spring leads, spins and dips Winter
Corybantic ball.

4/18/2011. Prevail.

Moon Poem 17

2011-04-17T19:46:00.000-07:00

Full Moon

After reaching full
Moon pauses in the doorway
An inhalation.

GL, 4/17/2011. Prevail.

Moon Poem 16

2011-04-16T20:33:00.000-07:00

Earth

97%

Crawling rivulets
Green edges dirt-embedded
Stratrigraphical.

GL, 4/16/2011. Prevail.

Moon Poem 15

2011-04-15T20:13:00.000-07:00

92%

Yellow daffodils
The thin flickering gold flames
Of votive candles.

GL, 4/15/2011. Prevail.

Moon Poem 14

2011-04-14T19:46:00.000-07:00

84%

Tree buds opening
Spring lighting the wicks of leaves
Capillarity.

GL, 4/14/2011. Prevail.

Moon Poem 13

2011-04-13T19:56:00.000-07:00

75%

Relief briefly thrown
Onto the face of the pond
The slant of Noon Sun.

GL, 4/13/2011. Prevail.

Moon Poem 12

2011-04-12T20:49:00.000-07:00

64%

Ducks land in splashes
Slicing the roof of the pond
A corrugation.

GL, 4/12/2011. Prevail.

Moon Poem 11

2011-04-11T18:28:00.000-07:00

First Quarter

The wind’s strong fingers
Smear clouds, sun, rain together
Against morning blue.

GL, 4/11/2011. Prevail.

Moon Poem 10

2011-04-10T17:54:00.000-07:00

43%

The raven’s wingbeat
Bolts of blue-black fabric snap
Modulatory.

GL, 4/10/2011. Prevail.

Moon Poem 9

2011-04-09T19:48:00.000-07:00

Fire

32%

Evening Sun descends
Fusing afternoon to night
Gold crocuses bloom.

GL, 4/9/2011. Prevail.

Moon Poem 8

2011-04-08T21:03:00.000-07:00

23%

Sunrise in the East
The gleam of the heron’s eye
My shadow darkens.

GL, 4/8/2011. Prevail.

Moon Poem 7

2011-04-07T19:53:00.000-07:00

15%

Above blue wrinkles
The grey heron folds his neck
Moves between poses.

GL, 4/7/2011. Prevail.

Moon Poem 6

2011-04-06T19:40:00.000-07:00

9%

The great blue heron
Wind scuttles across water
Rippling grey feathers.

GL, 4/6/2011. Prevail.

Moon Poem 5

2011-04-05T20:03:00.000-07:00

4%

From a low tree branch
A loud quarrelsome squirrel clicks
Scolds the cat below.

GL, 4/5/2011. Prevail.

Moon Poem 4

2011-04-04T18:59:00.001-07:00

1%

Hunched on the shoulder
Of a utility pole
A hawk drapes his wings.

GL, 4/4/2011. Prevail.

Moon Poem 3

2011-04-03T19:49:00.001-07:00

New Moon

The New Moon complete
A secret drawing in black
An exhaling pose.

GL, 4/3/2011. Prevail.

Moon Poem 2

2011-04-02T20:32:00.000-07:00

Air

1%

Evergreens swaying
Bitter cold waves flow and ebb
Morning wind draws tears.

GL, 4/2/2011. Prevail.

Moon Poem 1

2011-04-01T19:39:00.000-07:00

Prologue

3%

Air, fire, earth, water
The Moon waxing and waning
Quintessentially.

GL, 4/1/2011. Prevail. Welcome National Poetry Month.

March 19, 2011, journal entry, Ode to Raggedy Ann's Camel with the Wrinkled Knees (and more of what makes me wickedly wicked happy)

2011-03-21T20:29:00.001-07:00

Six miles.

My legs feel heavy. I don’t know if it is ‘cuz of the weights I’ve been lifting, the antibiotics for that long-lasting cough I am starting to kick, from the loss of four friends in two weeks in February, or just from the rebuilding of miles of recent weeks. No matter…I am determined to finish this slow and what-feels-loonnngggg six miles like how this year’s slow and long Winter finishes today. The Wheel of Seasons seemed to have hit a snag late February into March with Her repeated refrain of snow and cold much like how an old fashioned record gets stuck on a turntable, repeating over and over the same segment of song. I head out a little bit later than I planned, totally unmotivated from overnight’s snow, but less than a mile in, I have a realization: I am warm, and I believe I have overdressed today!

I am wearing my typical winter running gear of black tights and purple Adidas jacket, pockets filled with pencils, little journal, feathers, pennies, and acorns, and black headband covering my ears under my pigtails, and black and purple thick mittens. But Sun and blue sky in a quilt-like fashion patch downy white clouds, and it feels warm. And I feel warm…and overdressed. I stop to remove my jacket, and I see my reflection from Sun on grey cement…and see how my tights in shadow sag at my knees, wrinkled, in fact, reminding me of one of my favorite childhood books, Raggedy Ann and Andy and the Camel with the Wrinkled Knees.

I still have this book, as well as the rest of the 1920’s Raggedy Ann books by Johnny Gruelle. I love this book, where Raggedy Ann and Andy pause in their busy busyness of “thinking nice kindly thoughts” to rescue a kidnapped doll when they meet the Camel with the wrinkled knees, legs stickless and wrinkled, yet who is seriously okay with it all ‘cuz he can now walk softly without the graceless THUMPS of the sticks. Suddenly, my own legs, with my own wrinkled knees, don’t feel so heavy anymore as I start off again, my purple jacket tied about my waist.

I like Camel and decide to follow his directions: “you must go this way. Then when you get to this you must turn and go that way until you come to this way again. Then take the first turn this way, until you come to that way and after walking [or running] that way ten minutes you turn and go this way. Then you are there.” And, of course, you must spin around three times…or the 21 of my daily pre-run Tibetan rites… before you start so you don’t get mixed up in all your directions…

So I go this way and that through happy meadows before turning left and going this way and that, left and right, there to back, then straight and curve around by the lovely little nest sewn with Fairy blue, soon to be hidden by leaf green. Crocuses and tulips and daffodils are emerging, and robins call cheery cheery cheerily. My jacket pockets jangle and jingle with copper pennies and pennies copper, and I decide to add them to the wishing well in my study/office/studio/library-depending-on-what-I-am-doing room, when I finish my run. “Moon light, Moon bright/March’s full Moon night/Wish I may, wish I might/See your Super Moon tonight,” I think in tune with my running stride and chant as I drop my copper pennies in my wishing well as well.

Yes, I am overdressed today. This six-mile run has not felt as long as I thought it would've, and I had no idea where I was gonna go. But I like Camel-with-the-wrinkled-knees’s philosophy when he answers the question of “where are we?” with “I don’t know but that means then we must be getting somewhere!” Winter has been long and slow. I miss the four friends who have left this planet. But like Raggedy Ann, with her red heart tattoo, I, too, shall think nice kindly thoughts…thoughts about Spring. She is coming…tomorrow, according to the calendar, but in Spirit and weather, Her arrival, unknown…but, after twirling three or 21 times, I know we must be getting somewhere, me and my wrinkled knees.

~

Ode to Raggedy Ann’s Camel with the Wrinkled Knees (and more of what makes me wickedly wicked happy)

The last day of Winter today and Spring’s Vernal Equinox tomorrow.

The wrinkled knees of my running tights in Sun's shadow.

Nesting season two of Eagle Jack and Eagle-ess Annabell…and Lake Washington’s eagle-cam starting up again.

Awaiting Spring, the robins and red-winged blackbirds and eagles have returned. I wonder when the osprey will come back to her nest…

Hard hats atop utility poles, especially the white one recently placed on top of the pole just west of the one with the yellow. I am seriously wishing the next one is purple.

My dust covered Raggedy Ann and Andy and the Camel with the Wrinkled Knees (and the rest of my Johnny Gruelle collection), rescued when I was a teenager ‘cuz I hid these books when my brother and sister decided to get rid of their own collections of The Hardy Boys and Paddington Bear series. Yeah, I lied. I outright lied and pretended to be rid of these books and am wickedly glad and unrepentant for it...

And the soft heart-tattooed Raggedy Ann I got for my ninth birthday. Yeah, I still have her, too.

Mallard ducks on roof tops.

Spring’s upcoming farmers’ market!!! I bide my time impatiently by reading the brain candy mystery, Fruit of All Evil, a Farmers’ Market Mystery…

My purple stripe in my blond-brown hair. I think I’m gonna go even more purple next time…and get purple glasses…

Crows crows crows...they are such a gorgeous, glossy blue black (can’t argue with that!). They are smart and saucy (yeah, can’t argue with that, either). And they make absolutely no apologies for who they are (can’t argue with that at all and seriously gotta love it!).

My new certification as a qualified mental health interpreter…my week in the deaf unit of Montgomery’s mental health hospital…and that 8 ½ hour written test…I almost ran out of time cuz I just simply don’t do things half-assed…

Copper pennies jangling in my purple Adidas jacket jingling into my wishing well. “Moon light, Moon bright/March’s full Moon night/Wish I may, wish I might/See your Super Moon tonight,”

And that gorgeous Super Moon. Yeah, She made Her appearance and I saw Her tonight. Makes me wickedly wicked and insanely insane happy.

~

~

GL, 3/19/2011. Prevail.

Super Moon

2011-03-19T21:18:00.001-07:00

March's Full Moon

GL, 3/19/2011. Prevail.

Liquid Kaleidoscope

2011-03-18T21:45:00.001-07:00

(through BlackBerry viewfinder)

GL, 3/18/2011. Prevail.

A Little Blue Nest

2011-03-12T19:46:00.001-08:00

GL, 3/12/2011. Prevail.

She's back!!!

2011-03-11T19:52:00.001-08:00

The bald eagle calling
(makes me totally and completely wickedly wicked happy)

GL, 3/11/2011. Prevail.

Two Crows Chasing a Red-Tailed Hawk

2011-03-08T18:58:00.001-08:00

Apparently, I wasn't the only one chasing this hawk.

GL, 3/7/2011. Prevail.

Two Thick Black Lines

2011-03-06T20:45:00.001-08:00

GL, 3/6/2011. Prevail.

February 28, 2011, journal entry, The Wind Almost Tripped Me

2011-03-02T20:06:00.001-08:00

Five miles.

The wind almost tripped me today.

I start off my run YakTraxed ‘cuz as of late, it’s been so be-blizzardly and be-coldedly, so much so that I have needed to wear my ski jacket in the midst of all my Spring robin excitement. I find it is warmer today though, and the snow is wearing out at its knees like jeans, road surfaces knobby, more exposed than not, sloppy and thready. And, as my YakTrax are tightly squeezing my feet in an uncomfortable manner, I am wickedly relieved to happily remove them.

I do not mind carrying them for a couple of miles as I am used to carrying a small journal and pencils alongside the variety of things I have gathered on my daily runs. I stop for each precious copper penny I find, pocketing it for the Wishing Well I keep in my office/study/library/studio-depending-on-what-I-am-using-it-for room, and among the bags and bags of acorns and leaves I gather in Autumn, I have carried pinecones (they seem to me to drop more in the Winter-to-Spring turning of the Season’s Wheel revolution), feathers, marbles, and branches along with the small stones and rocks, even blocks of wood that have caught my fancy for my Cabinet of Wonders. And I have more than once even considered carrying the bricks I have seen from time to time, sorely tempted to scoop them up. What great bookends they would make, I think…or fabulous organic paperweights…or great plop-on-top-of-my-cookbook-to-keep-it-open-thingie while I am cooking…although when I am cooking rarely do I follow a recipe. It is kinda like my right-brained runs: I start with an idea of what route I’m gonna take ‘til I change my mind at the drop of a whim, adding twists and turns, compelled to add all the bizarre ingredients I might find in my run’s refrigerator.

Ahem…{cough}…ANYWAY. After contemplating the pros and cons of taking those bricks home on my run, despite their bookendedness, the cons literally outweigh the pros, so my Cabinet of Wonders and bookshelves remain brickless and my cookbooks flop closed…and I am content to carry my YakTrax…

Carrying my YakTrax, I loop west, and a gust of wind from north to south…or was it from south to north?... weighing more than all of me, cuts in front of me…and I almost trip, my shoe close to nicking my ankle. I catch myself…and do not fall…and am wickedly relieved to have not landed on the ground…so I decide to pretend I am frolicking in this wind among those saucy smarts crows… and, like those crows, make no apologies for it…

I Don’t Trip on the Wind Today and Other Things that Make Me Wickedly Relieved…and Happy

The orange of Spring’s robin that emerges from Winter like the orange that emerges from the Kraft cheese powder product that colors the bland beige combination of boxed macaroni noodles, milk, and butter…{happy sigh}…

That berry-eating orange Spring robin thru my BlackBerry viewfinder on binoculars. I A.D.O.R.E that picture.

The patches of slush and ice, like the splits mat halfway through a race that I pretend I am crossing…as long as it is mostly sloppy slush and not slicky ice.

The quick ten minutes it takes to chain up my tires of my purple Goddess-mobile (my third time this Winter) and the couple of minutes it takes to chain up my running shoes yesterday and the fewer minutes it takes to remove both.

The short shifts of the Moon these days as She rests, waning after long hours of Her working towards full.

Spring robin/jolly yellow cedar waxwing/crow chasing in Winter Snow.

And those gorgeous crows that ride the strong winds, holding their pose for minutes at a time on waves…preferring the tippy tops of those evergreens on which to perch.

Mary Oliver’s poem Crows

From a single grain they have multiplied.
When you look in the eyes of one
you have seen them all. At the edges of highways
they pick at limp things. They are anything but refined.
Or they fly out over the cornlike pellets of black fire, like overlords.
Crow is crow, you say. What else is there to say?
Drive down any road, take a train or an airplane
across the world, leave
your old life behind, die and be born again—wherever you arrive
they'll be there first, glossy and rowdy
and indistinguishable.
The deep muscle of the world.

~

GL, 2/28/2011. Prevail.

A Robin Triptych

2011-02-23T19:13:00.001-08:00

Chasing Spring Robins in Winter Snow

GL, 2/23/2011. Prevail.

The Same Red-Tailed Hawk

2011-02-22T18:55:00.001-08:00

Sunset Light

GL, 2/22/2011. Prevail.

Standing on One Leg

2011-02-18T21:04:00.001-08:00

GL, 2/18/2011. Prevail.

The Hunger Moon

2011-02-17T20:00:00.001-08:00

GL, 2/17/2011. Prevail.

First Bird 2

2011-02-16T20:07:00.001-08:00

The Year of the Black-Capped Chickadee

A Sparrow among some Chickadees

GL, 2/16/2011. Prevail.

Journal entry, February 9, 2011, Red-Winged Blackbirds and Robins!!!

2011-02-14T18:51:00.001-08:00

Five fast miles.

I’m gonna try not to judge today’s run by its cover. It is still in the upper 20’s/lower 30’s, stone gray and cold, and ponds remain frozen in their own stone gray cold. Bare branches are stark, and cattail stems try their best to stand tall although they are seriously broken, having taken a serious winter beating. I am thinking that I do not want to read this cold and stone gray run, unlike the book I just finished, purchased ‘cause I simply judged it to be a good book by its cover of white and its title Room, letters in orange, red, green, and blue. And it was a good book as I inhaled its contents in almost one night, staying up way too late. However, I am getting back into ReadingReadingReading after my six weeks of breathing, reading, and studying mental health/interpreting/Deafness research articles in preparation for my week last week spent in the Deaf unit of Montgomery’s mental health hospital, so I decide I am gonna go ahead and open the gray covers of this run and read…

Although I don’t wear them today, my YakTrax remain at the ready as it has been an icy season, and once again, I zip up tight my purple Adidas jacket as I open this gray book. I remind myself that there have been parts of this Winter volume that I have loved, like the crows and crows and those Canada geese who zip above me, whip around, change their mind and turn back once again. I can actually hear their wings whipping up the air as they fly the sky airways, and I always think of Mary Oliver when I see them and tell myself, You do not have to be good./You do not have to walk on your knees/for a hundred miles through the desert repenting./You only have to let the soft animal of your body/love what it loves…(hey, lower back and hamstring, thank you for having taken me this far…I will always speak gently and kindly of and to you…)

I decide to run the same five mile loop today that I ran yesterday and two miles in, I head into the marsh of Hazel’s Creek. It wasn’t necessarily silent yesterday as sparrows and quails burbled and gurgled like Spring creeks and Winter-cranky quarrelsome squirrels scolded as they zipped up tree trunks to branches, but it still felt Winter-cranky, and it still feels Winter today. But I am wickedly wicked surprised as I SEE and HEAR two red-winged blackbirds toss trills from wire above to cattail stands, and orange robins abound…red-winged blackbirds and robins!!! One day they are not here, the next day they are, busy in their business as though they have never left…and in early February, too! These red-winged blackbirds and orange robins make me wickedly wicked happy and leave me feeling totally glad that I didn’t judge this run by its cover.

Robins and Red-Winged Blackbirds and Other Things that Make Me Wickedly Wicked Happy

The Shakespeare Festival/Bount Cultural Park in Montgomery, Alabama. I adore this park, with its white great egrets, posing black double-crested cormorants, robins, and interesting ducks, and its Montgomery Museum of Fine Art, as much as I adore New York City’s Central Park with its street artists and acorns, and Manito Park with its lilac garden and duck pond where Oliver the great blue heron fishes and ducks take off and land in fabulous splashes.

Tomato juice with ice on my flights. Despite the fact that I love tomato juice, I drink it only on a plane. Go figure. Maybe I should go to the market tonight and buy some!

E. Annie Proulx’s latest book, Bird Cloud, a brand new hardcover, purchased at full pop at the Minneapolis/St. Paul airport bookstore…‘cause my brain and heart, completely filled to the brim with research stuff, my whole self emotionally and completely spent, saw and impulsively wanted only this book…that I devoured while drinking that tomato juice on the airplane.

Those Canada geese and their contrails and the contrails of airplanes. The air skyways…

Crows STILL make me feel wickedly wicked happy. Saucy and smart, gorgeous black crows that play (I swear they are playing!) in strong wind gusts. I simply adore them.

Getting back to my books and books and books…and my purple Xmas tree that I haven’t taken down in the midst of research…but I’m thinkin’ I am gonna keep it up until Mardi Gras…a month’s measuring cup of time from now…(a month ago, I was visiting the Picasso art exhibit at the Seattle Art Museum…)

Orange. Red robin’s orange.

Judging a book by its cover…especially when it is a fantastic read. Room, by Emma Donoghue, has moved into my top ten favorite books, which includes To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee (the best book ever written, in my humble opinion), A Thousand Acres by Jane Smiley, Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Café by Fannie Flagg, Plainsong by Kent Haruf, The Shipping News by E. Annie Proulx, and Housekeeping, (a novel not a how-to, by the way) by Marilynne Robinson. Oh, and anything by Mary Oliver.

And those red-winged blackbirds, their gorgeous red shoulders standing tall, and robins in their beautiful orange that weren’t here yesterday but are present today…and, despite Winter-cranky gray, totally surprise me into some serious wickedly wicked happiness.

GL, 2/9/2011. Prevail.

Montgomery Birds

2011-02-07T19:05:00.001-08:00

Double-crested cormorants in Shakespeare Festival/Blount Cultural Park, Montgomery, Alabama, 2/6/2011

GL, 2/7/2011. Prevail.

Montgomery Moon

2011-02-06T21:13:00.001-08:00

Waxing crescent at six percent, through BlackBerry viewfinder, 2/5/2011

GL, 2/05/2011. Prevail.

A Crow Triptych

2011-01-26T19:33:00.001-08:00

There were more than these seven crows at the intersection.

GL, 1/26/2011. Prevail.

Morning Crow's Silhouette

2011-01-25T19:14:00.001-08:00

I really like crows.

GL, 1/25/2011. Prevail.