?

nothing comes out of my head.   i walked in hopes of igniting a thread.  but i cannot tease any cohesive thought from within my body.  i have been looking: in my heart, my mind, even my dreams and nothing has lasted long enough for me to feel it.

reeling in the eye of a storm.  as if everything is about to click into place, but there is the other half of the storm to live through before it shifts.  this is what decision making feels like?

i must delve into my imagination for the inspiration and reliance i need to make this happen.  it will be strength of heart and forgiveness that will get me in the dirt.  so i pull my shoulders back, lift my gaze, and open my heart.  i am going to find my way.   

november daydream

in afternoon shadows bleak fallen leaves crunch under my feet.  

a gray sky gives way to the burning rose afire on the horizon.  

blue ink bleeds through the fire and stars show themselves peaking into the mirror of the running river.  

Glads

My family held hands around the dinner table.  In turn we would each say one thing we were thankful for.  Afterwards we would sing a song 'thank you lord for bringing us together, and may love grow within our hearts.'

I had completely forgotten this traditional anecdote of my childhood until the other day I was talking with my brother.  He mentioned that his family has adopted this practice, with a minor adjustment to the word lord.  

Immediately I remembered the tune of the song and began humming it to myself.  Then I realized the power of those words... May love grow within our hearts.   At the time, my little self had no idea of the importance of these words, the great simple message that was reverberating over our food and through our voices, our hearts together as a family.   I wonder if my  mother knew that at some point in my adult life I would find these words again and realize how truly blessed with love my childhood was.  

In this season of gratefulness I would like to begin with saying thank you to my family for fostering love in my tiny little heart.  

and then it was november

as if i had not paid any attention to the passing of time because i was sipping a glass of red letting the layers fall.  i never anticipated losing time.  i just smiled and accepted a second glass.  her eyes never told of the days she would consume, the thoughts she would pull from my mind.
i wrote dates on stars and affixed them to the wall to remind me of her.  
yet really i need no reminder.

these october days

i feel as if i am experiencing october for the first time.  it is magic.  the light hits my body at a new angle its warmth is promising and yet fleeting.  the wind flirts as i cross the bridge over tumbling river waters.  ducks line the tree trunk jutting from the surface.  i want nothing except a blanket and a book and a cup of tea.
oh and there is post season baseball.  that is always a treat.

look what i made!

lavender, chamomile and sage smudge sticks

1877

the wind bit at her neck as she wrapped her shawl tighter. her toes were numb and she assumed wet, but she tried to erase the cold from her mind. she had a mile to go before she could sit in front of the fire with a cup of tea. snow fell lazily and the occasional street lamp cast shadows that jumped in the falling snow. there was an immense stillness in the evening. the familiar surroundings cloaked in snow seemed deformed and odd. her footsteps were silent but offered a rhythmic distraction from lines repeating in her mind..

Since young brides have hearts that can be persuaded easily, light things, palpitant to passion as am I,

the words had been all through her dreams the night before. and now as she made her way home in this dark night she began to feel warmth as the poem echoed. she had finished the book the night before. it was sitting on the side table next to her bed. she would finger the inscription when she got home. to feel the marks the pen had made on the page.  but now in the darkness of this storm she repeated the line out loud.