Hope and Courage

How can this hand of lowely me,
compete with the baby blue and pink of you?
An October wonder soft across a dusky mountainus sky.
Hold me close beloved, clear my fears of tears.
Awash my thoughts to a palette of more than hope.
Focus me to true- knees weak, I trumble.
In looking through these eyes- so easy to be humble.
Dear sweet Earth and Sky, you kiss lowly me.
That with trimbling hand points brush to canvas,
says courge can, if but in a small way be free.

Shangrila

Oh sweet early morning haze,
with gray-green moutain tops anew.
The rising of thy sweetheart smiles,
where yellow dry grasses wave,
as your scourching Summer's kisses cool.
Geese flock now, in arrows for their journey near-
Redwing blackbirds, Meadowlarks,
their words spoken, I hear.
Gentle breeze, soft lips touch my cheek,
soul alive, smiling now- here clear water flows.
Ah, this place, this lovely Highland Creek.

Mea Culpa

This November day,
as the first blanket of icy white fades,
in your warm kiss-
The texture of softness, blue,
white with gray moves east in Autumn's bliss-
Sensual trees and grasses dip and sway,
time flows-this day! this day!
Birds flit and fly on wing,
so close within your ark.
Across the field sings black bibbed yellow meadow lark.
There a painted pinto pony grazes,
head down, tresses curl, fold and flips-
Leaves sprint and sprawl,
at your sweet breathy lips.
A gift given to lowly me, to see,
to hear, taste and touch your wonderest majesty.
Your hand consistent on me,
this restless quill pointed to your will.
So good to me, so good to me,
when I loved you not, you loved me still-
on this November's rainy day,
I stoke the fire to warm the chill.

For Those Who Know

You are spots and dots my dappled friend,
a perfect black diamond at your peak.
Love is all you give me. Love is all I seek.
We walk this road together, you always at my side.
Astride we stroll, our footfalls a rhymic rhythem glide.
Life springs green through Summer's dust, Autumn's leaves-
the white of Winter's snow.
To time of days and weeks, through months and years we go.
May the loyality in me, match the nobility of you-
You on your four feet, me on my two.

Walking the Plank

Help me! Help me Lord be, why-what you want me to be?
Help me! Help me Lord, be why-what you want me to be.
Day and night fold into a sea of infinite possibility.
Lest I forget your love for me,
this lowly pawn free, not free.
Most loved literate load lo-
fervent passions roam, gig my heart to place.
Stars flow-spin, whorl through day and night of here.
Come close my love, propel propine,
your kiss of life so dear.
Mair, major majesty, mair.
A thousands arrows cast,
missing the mirky mark.
This bent shaft honed true reason to you in sooth.
A humble poet's head and heart pointed,
looking for the truth.

A Daniel of a Judge

If I didn't know better I'd say I was half lit when I posted some of this stuff.
No one in their right mind would call me a witch...just look at my spelling.

My brushes call to me,
in between a drowsy dream of earth and sky.
Waiting colours dance,
on gray canvas where I fly.
Time had stopped for me.
Many years had passed me through.
On waking up to the illumine of morn,
imagine my surprise.
In my bed, down below, I heard your cries.
Now time for us to see,
and paint a sparkling portrait of bright possibility.
My brushes call to me-
A spontaneous, special. spectra hue.
Waiting colours dance-
with gesso-gest anew.


Today is but a few days passed the end of August.
The morning is crisp and clean.
I inspire, sagacious for more.
I watch the ground before me.
My eyes are wide with possibilities of seeing new arenas.
This is my sostenudo walk- my Autumn stroll.
In my dream, time stood still.
I raise a palm to shield the brightness of your starry light,
averring Arurora has a twin.
Touche!
My heart touched with gratitude deep within.
Indeed, we shall see that dreams shall come anew.
So let it be written, so let it be true.

Be Back Soon

Can you dig it?

Moles are from the family Talpidae, talp Latin for mole. I'm guessing this is a Southern Mole, Scalopus aquaticus, scalop is Greek for mole.
Please know that I didn't hurt this little guy, it wasn't easy to hold him down with a trowel and take his picture. A shark may have a mouth full of big teeth, but this little guy has a mouth full of razor sharp teeth too, and he wasn't happy about getting his photo taken.
While watching this mole tunnel under the lawn, he dug right through a red ant colony, the ants didn't like it at all, but it didn't seem the bother him any. I was surprised to watch how fast earth worms can move out of the dirt and scurry along the lawn inorder get away from becoming a happy meal. As you can see this guy is well fed.
I was also surprised how strong moles are. Those front paws are powerful, he almost knocked the trowel out of my hand several times. Moles must have huge pectoral muscles.
Personally, I don't think moles mess up the lawn that bad, and they must eat a ton of grubs. After taking this photo I blessed him and let him go. Can you dig it?

Canon Shot

Hahahah!

Counting My Blessings

Laughter in the worst of times can get you through a whole lot of pain.
This is my dear twelve-year-old neighbor who gave me hope that kindness, and love, and truth, is a strength.

No Makeup!

A little goofy! Who is that woman?
It's not easy to take your own picture.

A Warm Winters Day

Who would have guessed it would take me two days to learn how to transfer a photo from my camera to the laptop, and then transfer it again to this computer? Not me, that's for damn sure, but it did.
Dang! Now if I can only remember how I did it.

I have to drive back in a week or two, Oooh.

Mourning Dove

The sun came out for less than a minute as I watched two doves on the deck. Both had the palest pink tint of colour in the sun light. Coo Hue.

Blessed are the Librarians

And a cool old priest.

Spring in Republic Washington

What kind of dog is that Martha?

Look over there George, here comes six more.

Hot Dog!

Der ist das hund und der bun...and you thought my english spelling was bad hahaha! I had a tail to go with this pic, but I lost it somewhere...a new take on the princess and the pea.

More pooch pics that really pull on those heart strings at Hawk Talk

Highway of Life

When Spring Time rolls around, have you ever noticed how time seems to pickup speed?





Topaz

Rose Portrait

I love this photograph: gloved hands, thorns, that huge pink and yellow rose over Rye's heart, the denim coat and overalls, and that knowing stright-on look into the viewers eyes. This is a photo I can't stop looking at, there is so much here to see.
A wonderful look into a heart of a man.

Franz Marc

What happened to, "We are Family"?

It's As Easy As That?

Encouragement

Shooting In The Dark

Why waste the ammo?

Republic Streetgang

Spring is around the corner, the street walkers are out.















My friend Steve sent this photo to me from home.

Look At Me Photos

Here

What You See Is What You Get

I'm thinking about where I have been, and what I have seen in the past couple of days. Made a three hour drive from Highpoint to the ocean, stayed the night in a place named Southport. Awoke early to a windy morning and stepped outside to walk along the water. Something was floating towards me, so I went to the truck to get the binoculars for a better look; it was a white zippered canvas bag. Where I stood on the bulkhead, I would need a gaff to grab the bag. The bag drifted several yards to snag on some rocks just where the wall tapered, two easy steps down from bulkhead and I grabbed it.
The markings on the wet bag read; "Demo Safety Pac" on one side, and "Life Jackets" in big red letters on the other. While carring the bag back to the deck to finish my coffee, I stoped and looked through a clump of clover for a shamrock. I was thinking a bag of money would be nice... no luck there tho. The contents of the tote: two life jackets, one throwable lifesaver, an orange whistle with lanyard, and a fire extinguisher.
Maybe it's true that you can take the rat out of the river, but never the river out of the rat, I had to smile at what Spirit had sent to me. I'm a totem believing kind of gal, funny, the name of the river...Cape Fear.

Time To Love

Look at this old picture. What was their story? I can almost smell the water in the wind, hear their laughter, and feel the love they had for one another.

I get the same warm feeling when looking at my own family pictures. To step back in time in my mind, and experince the joy of days gone by.

Mommas

All those who momma was a drunk raise their hands. As a kid I didn't understand, I had to growup to forgive her. I would not, nor couldn't have chosen a better momma, she was the best...even if she was a drunk.
To those selfcentered folk who can't understand what pain can do to a person...growup!

The Blind Date

The want of power is no free lunch.

Cold Reality

Twenty-two below zero, no water, electric iffy, but we made it through; Pirate Jenny can't hurt me.

Lost In The Badlands

Fraz Marc

This is one of my favorite painters.
Now I'm going to clean the oven, and then wash the truck.

Spirit Sees Your Heart

Strength for a friend.

The Price of Gas

My friend Steve in Republic sent this to me, I think it's cute.

Cold Experience

"If you can look up, you can get up".

Reciprocity

Critters have their ways.
Drive-by?
I don't know!

Click here

Express Yourself

Most people say animals can't talk.
This female cardinal tells me, "Hay! The bird feeder is empty!"
Makes me think, and think again, when on occasion we call each other, "bird brain".

Safe Landing

It's been a long haul and worth every minute of the trip. I may not know my way around as yet, but I ain't lost.
The Mic and Sarah are happy, and so am I, what more could I ask for?

Media Info-Nix

Weather forcast: 30% chance of light snow, light snow, accumulation one to two inches. Right! Awoke this morning to let the dogs out. Opening the door, both of them just stood on either side of me as if to say, " I gotta pee, but damn mom, not out there!" A gentle nudge with my foot slid Mic to the door sill. Sarah reluctantly stepped out first, she's a hurry up and get back in kind of dog. Brainless wonder I have to teather to the front porch.
It's snowing so hard I can't see the pines across the dirt road. My spliting rounds have grown neatly cut six inch biscuits. I knew it, yesterday was just to nice. Please don't say, it sounds cozy. I've have places to go, and people to meet, and... I'm out of wood. Couldn't get over the first mountain pass if I tried, age has slowed my sense of adventure some. Crawling behind a snowplow for a couple hundred miles is no longer that much fun, I'ed rather split the splitting rounds. The worst part is the dogs have gas... lucky me! I love warm and cozy...

Friendship

Now tell me true, is this not a cute picture of you know who?

Walkabout

Haven't been off this mountain in over a year and a half, and I feel a twang of agoraphobia from time to time. Snow is forcast for in end of this week; I love driving in snow.
Today will be another busy one with a few more things to do.









One more cup of coffee and it will be time to get busy, I'm moving slow this morning. Actually, it looks and feels like snow already, a very grey day. Guess it's time to get off my ars and get to it.

Morning Snow

A frosty white cloaks this morning in peaceful stillness. Dauntless chickadees flit and flutter through pine boughs outside my window.
I'm burning the last row of wood, rounds cut close to the ground, heavy with mastic pitch. They were hard to split, but well worth the labor. The stove hums and snaps like teenage girls chewing gum. The Sarah and Mic sleep close to the fire, they twitch spasmodically and drift, deep in doggy dreamland.
I am content to sit for awhile, drink my coffee, muse, and listen to the sounds of winter.

The Scent of Peace

It snowed to the west last night, missing my mountian top by several hundred feet. Looking out my kitchen window the sun is shinning and the sky bright blue. Looking north is another story, a ground fog like a grey blanket covers the mountian in ice. I wonder which of the two conditions will prevail for the day? The outside weather forcast is in Spirit's hands, but I am the maker of my internal state of mind.
The two pictures are of a plant called white sage; I know it to grow in the foothills of southern California. It is a sacred plant to many native americans all over the country. It has a pleasant smell and is used for many things, one of which is smudging. The smoke from sage can cleanse the soul and bring peace to balance troubled thoughts. Why can't I arrange these photos and script the way I want? Oh well, just another little thing for me to learn, not to worry for now.
It's funny, as a little girl I watched my father burn small pieces of white sage in an abalone shell, weither he was drunk or sober. I just thought it was a dumb Indian thing. It was a custom I knew nothing about until I saw a woman in a shop smudging. Being as self centered as I am, I wondered if we were related in some way. She answered all my questions, and many years went by before I was able to accept the part of me that I kept hidden in shame. Today I do my best to forgive my father for his faults, and his not teaching me more of my native culture. Maybe he knew best, probably my blind judgment would have caused me not to understand anyway.
I am still caught between two worlds, but through prayer and a little ceremony of burning white sage, I find the balance needed to walk foward with hope and a strength that is not my own.

Spiritual Cookies

Paperwhites are my favorite of bulbs, and to watch them bloom in winter is a sweet treat. This morning I awoke to a milagro pequeno, a little miracle.

All Things Have Their Time.

When my mother died, it took ten long years to go through the grieving process. To even say the words, "My Mother" caused me such pain and sorrow, it would take my breath away and the tears would flow no matter where I was or with whom, I would have to walk away to compose myself.
I worked as a bartender in San Fransisco and became friends with a woman named Kathy. At the begaining of our friendship she wanted a closeness that I could not give. I told her we would remain friends for a very long time, she agreed, and so we were. Kathy had been the tennis coach at a small private collage, she was tall, brilliant, and with a wit I seldom find. We became drinking and softball buddys. She was my ship in the night.
One night after work, she drove me to the beach in her vw bug. We drank and talked for hours. Some how the subject of "mother" came up and as always I lost it and opened the door to get out of the car. She held me back and ask me to tell her what I remembered and loved most about my mother. I told her, "reading to me when I was a little girl".
"What did she read to you?", she ask and held hold of my arm until I closed the car door.
"All kinds of books, and my dad read to me as well."
"What book did you like the best?"
"Uncle Remes, brair rabbit and tar babby", mother always moaned when ask to read it, she said it was hard to get the rhythem right. It was the rhythem of the words that I loved in her voice. She had a gift of many things, but couldn't see it.
Kathy started speaking to me in a black dialectic, das right, etc. We laugh and cried until the sun came up.
Something happened that night, a healing that has never wavered til this day. The open wound of loss transmuted to acceptance and even a comforting joy. My friend gave me a gift that night, a gift that there are no words of gratitude in me that can express my feelings with.
Soon after that time, I moved to the east coast and lost touch with Kathy. I can only hope that when we dream, I can reach out to her and say, "thank you".

Playing In The Dirt

This is where we're all headed, isn't it?
How many years do you think you have left?
What are you going to do with them?
If you could uncover one thing about yourself, what would it be?
What other questions does this picture bring up in you?

I'm still digging for answers.









Photo by Pedro Meyer

Shvuntz?

photos
Pedro Meyer
Joseph Szabp

Remember Fun?

Nothing to post, I just like this photo.