Small Earth

A blue horse turns into a streak of lightning,
then the sun –
relating the difference between sadness
and the need to praise
that which makes us joyful, I can’t calculate
how the earth tips hungrily
toward the sun – then soaks up rain – or the density
of this unbearable need
to be next to you. It’s a palpable thing – this earth
philosophy
and familiar in the dark
like your skin under my hand. We are a small earth. It’s no
simple thing. Eventually
we will be dust together; can be used to make a house, to stop
a flood or grow food
for those who will never remember who we were, or know
that we loved fiercely.
Laughter and sadness eventually become the same song turning us
toward the nearest star –
a star constructed of eternity and elements of dust barely visible
in the twilight as you travel
east. I run with the blue horses of electricity who surround
the heart
and imagine a promise made when no promise was possible.

Joy Harjo

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twisted

Sometimes from sorrow, for no reason,
you sing. For no reason, you accept
the way of being lost, cutting loose
from all else and electing a world
where you go where you want to.

Arbitrary, a sound comes, a reminder
that a steady center is holding
all else. If you listen, that sound
will tell where it is, and you
can slide your way past trouble.

Certain twisted monsters
always bar the path – but that’s when
you get going best, glad to be lost,
learning how real it is
here on the earth, again and again.

William Stafford

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Lady of the Wood

David Walker

Noor ReverieĀ 

Rebecca Maxwell

Ornitho-Maia

(foreground)

Nadine Jaggi

The Exchange

Tatyanna & Natasha Meharry

Stories Upon Stories

Nora Naranjo Morse

Melanie Yazzie

Destruction by Fire #4: Fall From Grace

Rudy Hernandez

Emergence

Andrew Velez

Escaped the heat with a lovely visit to the Fine Arts Center, and especially enjoyed the Wearable Art Exhibition. It’s highly doubtful I would wear anything on show, but wow, what beautiful artistry and dedication to craft. Seriously. Followed our artistic reverie with happy hour at Stir – always kindly and delicious!

It’s hard to go wrong with turquoise…

The horsetail milkweed (those blossoms!!) is in full splendor, as is a lovely miniature rose. The garden gives and gives…

Speaking of gardening, when I hurt my knee on the trampoline and was relegated to the couch, I could not get enough of Garden Rescue! And, truth be told, I’m still watching. A friendly British garden competition and oh, so sweet. If you’re in need of outdoor inspiration, get cracking…

My cousin Allison’s new pup, Rookie. He and Juniper got along like a house on fire, Mutt and Jeff style.

Celebrated this sweet girl’s eighth year! She’s holding a Kate the Unicorn Squeezamal we gave her – it smells like grape bubble gum. So cute…

Driving home from the party – hard to beat the view!

It is said that if you want wildlife to visit a garden, just add water, as it attracts more critters than food. I’m not sure about our numbers, but I will say that we get a lot of activity, with this adorable female Lesser Goldfinch enjoying our hospitality on the regular. We are happy to oblige.

Early last Saturday morning, driving for a waterside hike.

I cannot be certain, but I do believe this butterfly flitted in our wake for the whole of the hike.

Mr. Silly helps me find just the right angle. This cast too much shade on his handsome face.

Happiness!

white evening primrose

These currants were beautiful and delicious!

Post hike cinnamon roll at The Pantry. It did not disappoint!

What a treat to rise early, hike for a couple hours, eat a hearty breakfast AND a cinnamon roll, and be home by NOON. The height, peeps, the height!

porch life…

mountain shadows

Saving the best for last. Do you like shrimp and grits but despair at having an even distribution of flavor? I am known to cut shrimp into itty bits so every bite is just so. A hassle, to be sure, but, like most things, worth it in the end. That is until I encountered Edna Lewis and Scott Peacock’s Shrimp Grits. The shrimp is cooked in heaps of butter then whirled into oblivion in a food processor before being mixed into already cooked grits. They “get to know each other” for five minutes or so before everyone at the table does their best to contain ecstatic outbursts at each and every bite. Yes ma’am, exactly. Just try it!

At Peace

Dogs are our link to paradise. They don’t know evil or jealousy or discontent. To sit with a dog on a hillside on a glorious afternoon is to be back in Eden, where doing nothing was not boring–it was peace.

Milan Kundera

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