On Writing
Good writing requires time to taste. It begs for fine china and grandmother’s silver and low lighting and most importantly, time - time to read and taste the flavor and to feel the texture of each word. Most written works these days can be read while waiting for the light to change or for the receptionist to call your name. Most works are flavorless, like a meal at a restaurant more known for it’s ocean view or it’s grand ballroom with crystal chandeliers. Have you ever noticed how so many wedding receptions offer guests lackluster food?
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Giving Birth
I have a plant on my counter and it has taught me about life and art and inspiration. I know, it sounds crazy. It’s just a plant. About a year ago I rescued this fine plant from Lowes. It was in the dollar section. Did you know there is a dollar section? I like to visit that lonely corner and rescue plants no one would otherwise purchase. The pot in which it currently resides was 10x the cost of the plant. What can I say, I like to give them a good home. I have watered my plant (fairly) consistently, so it thrives (for the most part).
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Inspiration
In today’s world, you are able to surround yourself with whatever you desire. Topics that required great effort to be exposed to twenty years ago have become nearly effortless to experience on a daily basis. We can thank social media for delivering this right to our palms. Although it can be seen as a distraction...a constant distraction…there is an underlying positive element tangled up in the onslaught of words and images.
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A Piece of My Friend
I got a piece of my friend today. It came in the mail disguised as a book of poetry with her name on the cover. When it arrived, I ripped open the envelope with excitement. I jumped in, right into the center, like jumping off a rock into a deep pool of water. It was probably the wrong way to begin. I’m guessing the order of the poems was painstakingly chosen. In any creative work you give birth to, every particle of the thing matters. But I jumped in.
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Sunrise Magic
The sun rose this morning in a fiery hello and her arms, a bright, glorious red, stretched high above the tree tops and the rolling hills. The naked December trees stood black against the fire, lined up, captivated by the show. It was so beautiful, so breathtaking that I wanted to wrap myself in the cloak of color. I wanted to lay at the top of the mountain and be enveloped by the brilliance. I likened it to floating in the Caribbean waters, azure sky and sea surrounding me like a blanket with no beginning or end. Or walking through the springtime woods with bright green leaves above and a new carpet of ferns at the feet of all the trees…a green silk sheet spun around me.
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Haylofts
There is something magical about a hay loft. I am not certain what world we enter upon reaching the top of the ladder, but I know that when I'm there everything else falls away. It's a peaceful place that calls you to linger. It sits above the busy action below. I imagine it would be the same if we could sit in clouds, above the hustle and bustle of everyday life. I love being able to take the time to sit in the hayloft. Every season is so different. Today it is raining and the pinging of the raindrops fall on the metal roof making music which echoes in the indoor while the gurgling of the gutters drones on and on.
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Fairy Dust
This morning as I step out of the barn, done with chores, the sun is still hiding and the deep indigo sky stretches out before me from one horizon to the next. That backdrop gives the stars, still bright and dancing, a stage for their performance not yet finished. I lift my chin to see the constellations stuck to the dome of blue, like window clings wrapped to the curve of the atmosphere.
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Elusive
Elusive, like a flicker of movement in the corner of my eye, you disappear each time I look for you.
Focus on my own actions and suddenly you reappear, dancing in my peripheral.
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Caught in a Rainstorm
The trees are heavy today, their branches arching down, dripping from the overnight rain. At first, I thought they looked sad with their leaves hanging like upside down cups to let the raindrops roll off. But then I realized that they didn’t look sad, but instead gluttonous, full and tired from the seemingly endless days of precipitation.
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