( The Transformation of Silence Into Language and Action )

( Read more... )

Things I'm thinking about:

Yesterday I saw a family of wild turkeys and an old condemned Catholic Church on a reservation that gave me the willies. Also, a residential school that's been converted into a fancy casino and resort, but that nonetheless also gave me the willies. I saw a lot of other things too and learned a lot.

I'm rereading To ( Read more... )

I went camping this weekend. Swimming fixes everything.

H and I shared the first ripe cherry tomato last night in the garden, grinning like fools at the sweetness. We followed that with a whole bunch of tart blackberries. The dogs go out there and graze on fallen apples to their hearts' content. I have only ever imagined life being like this.

Regarding deer, dead and alive:A few days ago I was driving out of Procter and, as usual, was scanning next to the roads for animals as I went. I saw something I wondered about, but then decided was a dead dried up fern. Just as I went past, the fern turned it's head and bolted in the other direction and proved that it was actually a fawn. A ( Read more... )

Today the first raspberry turned red, 'sweet baby girl' suddenly has three little green cherry tomatoes on it, the zucchini are blossoming, and the evening primrose I got as a housewarming present has flowers. A few days ago I ate the first tiny cucumber from the garden. A few days before that H and I were eating wild strawberries on Meadow ( Read more... )

( ...fragrant and sturdier, delicate hands for shoulders sliding down... )

The last two weeks have been filled with good things: tobogganing, bonfiring, napping, so much cuddling, openness, eating remarkably good food, sending packages, presents (um, fiddle!), playing odes to a dying cat on that fiddle, warm-spell-we'll-just-pretend-its-spring cleaning (not as fun as the rest but oh so satisfying and pretty), laughing, ( Read more... )

"Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does." (Allen Ginsberg)