day in the mountains

Aaah!!!! A day spent in the mountains! Everyone needs a day beneath the protective arms of pine trees on a regular basis. I have a stomach bug and so spent the bulk of my mountain memories, lounging on a blanket atop a bed of pine needles surrounded by yellowing aspens tinkling in the wind. The boys hiked through the woods, exploring, adventuring and regaling one another with tales of imminent grandeur. We all longed for a tent to extend the experience but alas those two great spoilers of fun- time and temperature- called us home sooner than we might have hoped, but not without a few captured moments.

Comments

china cat said…

Oh the yellow leaves of Aspens dancing with the wind! Wathcing them too is a favorite past time of mine and now that I know it is one of yours I wil think of you each time one of their sparkling leaves flutters in orchestration with the fall wind. I love you sister.

September 28, 2009 at 10:39 AM

a story recently shared by a friend

Once upon a time, there was an island where all the feelings lived: Happiness, Sadness, Knowledge, and all of the others, including Love. One day it was announced to the feelings that island would sink, so all constructed boats and left. Except for Love. Love was the only one who stayed. Love wanted to hold out until the last possible moment. When the island had almost sunk, Love decided to ask for help. Richness was passing by Love in a grand boat. Love said, "Richness, can you take me with you?" Richness answered, "No, I can't. There is a lot of gold and silver in my boat. There is no place here for you." Love decided to ask Vanity who was also passing by in a beautiful vessel. "Vanity, please help me!" "I can't help you, Love. You are all wet and might damage my boat," Vanity answered. Sadness was close by so Love asked, "Sadness, let me go with you." "Oh . . . Love, I am so sad that I need to be by myself...

He is no longer here

Another day has begun. I have lit my candles and incense. Sat in silence. Worked up a sweat at the gym. Eaten breakfast. Straightened house. Answered mail and dropped my man off at the airport. It is eight in the morning and the world stirs with wakefulness. The sun climbs in the sky. The birds sing. The squirrels chip and chur in tree branches. A dog barks. And I look with dull eyes at the long day ahead, contemplating a single phrase, "My father is dead." What strange words. My father is dead. The man has been leaving for as long as I can remember and yet his death robs the wind from my lungs. My chest throbs and throat tightens. He isn't coming back. My mom and dad had slipped out of one another's lives before I'd barely begun mine. Two weekends a month my brothers and I stood on a saggy porch, bags packed, eager for our hero to arrive in his old blue Ford to pick us up. We vibrated with hope...

say no to stone suckling

I have spent my life a stone suckler. Begging milk from stones. Begging bread from tight fisted paupers. Lips cracked and bleeding, Tongue dry and swollen, I have turned again and again to rock, Pressing mouth to stony nipple, Demanding nourishment. Nourishment from a stone, Water where there is none, Life from a rock. Call it by a thousand names Call it lover or mother or dad, Call it sister or brother or man, Call it money or security or education, Call it by a thousand names and a thousand more. I have explained and rephrased. I have wailed and torn flesh. I have sweat blood before a senseless alter. I have cried out against the ravages of fortune. I have been thirsty. I have been dying of thirst. This alter does not give in return. I leave offerings: blood, sweat, tears, My life, At stony feet and expect redemption. No More. No more stone suckling. No more begging bread where there is none. I AM the bread the wine and the water. I. I, in the...

angelbirdflies

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