i am not a good listener. it's not that i'm not interested or sympathetic; it's because i can't really do two things at once and my brain never stops working (just ask my insomnia). so, as someone is talking to me, i'm having rapid-fire reactions that makes me a. lose the train of the story … Continue reading roses
Category: prose
feed
the birds have been sparse this winter. not that there aren't a metric tonne of chickadees at the feeders every day, but there isn't a lot of variety out there. a half dozen blue jays, the occasional nuthatch (white bellied and red), two sizes of woodpecker (hairy and downy), a few too many mourning doves, … Continue reading feed
insulate
winter is the season when every part of your life comes into sharp focus. every flaw in your life, every small thing that you've brushed aside, saved for later, or fixed "good enough" comes back to bite with cold, sharp little teeth. you plan for the worst and still come up lacking. snowflakes become avalanches, … Continue reading insulate
personal
this autumn season has been a series of tiny vignettes, none of them poignant or significant enough to get me writing about them. there was the hour i spent being a human chickadee feeder, standing with my arms out, palms full of seed, and letting the little wonders take feed from my hands. that was … Continue reading personal
empty
many years ago, we lived next to a strange building. it was a grand victorian, a queen among the painted ladies, and had once been a prodigious home. in the years i knew her, she was an empty, echoing shell, an abandoned nursing home, her walls saturated with age and sadness. the locks weren't very … Continue reading empty
freedom of the garden
a couple of weeks ago, one of my old hens disappeared in the middle of the day. she was a dear thing, a sweet soul that would spend the whole day picking along in your wake if you were outside. she had a limp in old age, the wages of a leg injury in her … Continue reading freedom of the garden
canis
after a lifetime of poor circulation and cold extremities, i have reached that age when my body has turned into a furnace that burns around the clock. i used to sleep with a heavy duvet piled up around my head during the dog days of summer. these days, i sleep with my window cracked open … Continue reading canis
moonstruck
i went out last night with the dogs (my two and one extra that i'm watching while her family is away for the holidays). our early winter is suspiciously warm (thanks, el nino!), so i didn't have to hurry back inside to thaw out. instead i walked out into the yard and surveyed the kingdom. … Continue reading moonstruck
ramble
something that my soul absolutely craves in the fall is long rambles through the woods. i think i know, at a cellular level, that i will have months and months when the paths will be impassable, when the trees will sleep with no visitors that don't have wings. i feel like i rush, rush, rush … Continue reading ramble
on the edge of the bliss
i was born in september; it's my time. we who live in temperate climates have an almost primal tie to the cycles: to the the holding up of light against the darkness, to bonfires, to harvest, to the dying land. there's a thrum in the blood, a return to the hunt, something fierce and violent, but right on … Continue reading on the edge of the bliss
the gumboot gumshoe 