I think I might have forgotten what thunder sounded like. It is early August and I am looking over the next four seasons at fifty. There is a sunflower I planted, grew from seeds from a friend, that has four blossoms on the top if its stalk. The rest of them are normal singletons. I was drawn outside by the rumble and roll, distant but followed by ( Read more... )

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I've gone and done it but someone else was already corva. That is a very odd thing to say...

So over there I am found at crows_roost.

Who else?

From February 20th ( Read more... )

This month ( Read more... )

Hanging up the telephone, I think about these tenuous connections, how fragile and yet tenacious our lives are! These bonds that we are blessed with, rooted soul-deep and heart-nourished, may give us some directions when we're lost, if we allow them to. This route was not well mapped out. I'm trying to find my way by the lines of old postcards and ( Read more... )

There is a process of stripping away layers of you and your practices, of what you decided needed to be true ( Read more... )

There is wood-smoke and dampness in the air. The night isn't chill enough for me to for me to fire up the stove but soon. The soft wet on my face is almost rain. Beets and their green over brown rice fill my dinner bowl. This is a waiting, in between time wrapped in reflection.

I was up before dawn but home before dark. My shoes and socks are off so I can walk on the rain-damp ground. The last rose of the season was a bud for what seemed like weeks but the blossom is passing within just a couple of days.

I am out on the deck, in the not quite dark, with the not quite settled dogs. There is a old radio on the top of the fridge now, bought at an estate sale down the curvy mountain road for five bucks. There is a deep memory rightness about it being there in the kitchen. I can hear guitars and a man's voice singing but I cannot make out the words. The ( Read more... )