A year ago today, she was alive. A year ago tomorrow she was killed.

I am in no condition to try to untangle myself; it will be more than enough just to ride this through.

She took that picture of me. I was looking at her when that image was captured. It remains utterly unsettling to think of never seeing her sgain.

I trundle out with the dogs, twilight this time, generally early morning light. They sniff about what the night brought through and I sip my way through my first cup of coffee ( Read more... )

I am enthralled by the darkness and the sounds of the night, the soft shift of the dry September dirt under my bare feet and the cold burn of the stars above. Three dogs explore these moments with me, led by their noses through a shared world similar to mine. A moth shivers across my arm and I follow the flutters shortly out of sight. Over my ( Read more... )

Mort & Touched by the Rain

1) smallish, plastic, bulldog sort of dog skeleton, with glowing red eyes from Costco
2) carefully crafted, cut with looping patterns, fits snugly in my palms held together, cup...finish was marred before firing because it was near the window left open during a storm

Relax your eyes on the twilight sky and the stars begin to appear. The sounds of the day, the last of the cars heading home on the road behind, are overcome by the rising of the night. The hills are defined by the angles of the tree tops, now that the colors are gone. Inside, an open bottle of red wine and a purring orange cat are waiting.

Slept in, then watched the morning a while through the Redwoods ( Read more... )

Not nearly twilight yet, just the day drawing in here. Across the creek and up the rise, a young velvet buck raises himself to his hind-legs to pick late spring apples. Two rascal jays, one Steller and on scrub, land on far ends of the porch railing: head tilts, pause and motion, a few seeds sampled, flights back to the Redwoods. The last cup of ( Read more... )

I was so certain, for just a few moments, that I saw you driving a slate gray pickup truck, yesterday downtown. It wasn’t just how much his features looked like yours or the way he wore his hair. There was something of your playful grace in the way he left one hand on the steering wheel and raised the other one to wave to me, when he caught me ( Read more... )

Living up in the Santa Cruz Mountains again, back beneath the forgiving spread of the mighty Redwoods, I find different rhythms are moving my days ( Read more... )

I find that I am experiencing odd levels of joy from finishing off containers of household items. I used up the last of two kinds of tea today and over the past week I have been working on emptying (from use of course) a variety of skin and other bath products that haunt my cabinets. Expired medications have been disposed of. Brown paper bags of ( Read more... )