December 2012

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Happy Monday from our Sunday afternoon walk. The sun gleaming bright enough for movie star sunglasses, with me gasping at the hubster in his aviators. You’d think, after nearly twenty-two years together, that I wouldn’t be caught off-guard by his handsomeness, but there we were, in the middle of Tibbets, and shazam, I am seeing him again, for the first time.

We tramped on bits of the frosted and decayed, under a dazzling canopy of blue. The kind of walk where the body never warms, never yearns to shed scarves and gloves, but is happy nonetheless, for all that delights the senses.

Like a gorilla hood ornament! Attached with what appears to be Gorilla Glue!

A Little Free Library, from which we borrowed no books, but I did partake of a pepper-minty candy cane.

Our favorite Salmon on Salmon, looking as good as ever.

A mysterious mechanical room, humming, thrumming, and whirring.

Giant and tiny leaves.

A reminder of how small we are.

 A sweet garden gate.

For some reason, the theme to The Odd Couple ran amok in our minds, with one or both of us humming at intervals, and me doing a little skippity-skip in time. I suppose it all makes sense, in the end.

Home again…







I am so small I can barely be seen.

How can this great love be inside me?

Look at your eyes.

They are so small, but they see enormous things.




Weighted and buoyed by the preciousness of moments. They, of the unphotographable ilk. Things real and felt but not alive, flashes of memories, sensations, scents wafting, light refracting, sounds, voices, laughter.

The potent yearning for them to manifest, a gilded leaf in my palm, a fil-um scrolling, before they are lost to time and my own failings.

Like this week ago walk. Cold and soggy with mist on my nose. Hands chilled in their woolly wrappings. Shoes sloshing from overgrown puddles and a moment of inattention.

The price I dutifully pay for joy. For being alive. For love.



Where you come from is gone, where you thought you were going to was never there, and where you are is no good unless you can get away from it. Where is there a place for you to be? No place. Nothing outside you can give you any place.

Flannery O’Connor

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