August 9::Monday

Posted on | August 9, 2010 | 7 Comments

Us, through the eyes of my friend Willow. It is somehow enthralling to see ourselves from the back–a view we will never have of ourselves; a glimpse of us more vulnerable maybe, always leaving wherever we are, turning, going, doing. I love this entire set. Loved the day filled with thunderstorms and an accidental perfect meeting with T right after he finished work.

August 8:: The urgency of now

Posted on | August 8, 2010 | 10 Comments

I find my way in the dark, fingers slipping across the smooth surface of the wall, across the lip of the door frame, the lights needed now at 8pm. The rain is falling outside. Along the road today the first red leaf with a hole in it’s heart; chicory and queen anne’s lace at the roadside ruffling like a party dress. The monarchs have arrived; gold finches flit high into a golden sky before the twilight. Bats come just before dark, then rain.

My friends ask: why do you feel such urgency? Why more now than any other time?

I fumble with my reply.

We are sitting on a blanket in a field of grass and black eyed susans. Above us the clouds twirl, gather, disperse, and play hide-and-seek with the sun. I want to say: don’t you feel it too?

I see myself differently through their eyes; these friends I have known longest, who kiss my kids and spend the morning with me in the garden picking beans, and later in the kitchen blanching and freezing them for winter. I see how I am more permeable perhaps. Thin skinned. The spinning world is always close. I hear it’s whispered pulse.
Things fall apart; the center cannot hold.

Look at the headlines, I say. Listen, listen. This is your only now, your only life here among these clover and fat green grasses. This is what I know.

Maybe you are thinking: we’re here aren’t we? Doing the day, living, waking, working, eating. And it’s easy to shrug in the isle at the grocery store and buy the mangoes from Guatemala (feeling incapable after all of doing much at all to save the world) or to bask in the hundred different freedoms that we have that others elsewhere cannot know (imagine, if there were no roof. What then of the rain? Of Internet. Of this.)

You might think: we’re doing fine.

And it’s likely true, we’ve mostly turned out fine, but think what you could be. What can you be?

In the coop the hens lay perfect oval eggs, each one a gift. When they see me coming they come running, follow as I walk, a fluttering eager flock. They want handouts, of course. Bread broken, peels of things I do not want. And in the garden there are miracles I cannot understand: new potatoes, thyme as high as my knees, purple peppers waiting on the bush for more sun to sweeten their crisp flesh, slugs, beetles with sharp masticating pincers making holes in all the kale. I pull plump beets and sprinkled lettuce seed in the soft earth, then and bury it with a prayer.

And this, this is what I do every day: spread wonder with my fingers; bow again and again to this day that is mine.

This is a joyful wondrous spark: if this is your only day, what then? What then?

August 7::Saturday

Posted on | August 7, 2010 | 5 Comments

All about friends. The best of friends. (Miss you Jess.) Long walks to fields dappled with light; clouds above, laughter, the kind of honesty that comes from knowing someone for more than a decade; good wine and pasta with fresh corn, and chard, basil and tomatoes from the garden; the promise of Sunday bacon and a few more hours to watch my kids play with some of my favorite people in the whole world. (Also love that seeing my family through someone elses lens…)

August 6::Friday

Posted on | August 6, 2010 | 5 Comments

A couple of snapshots from the festival of fools today. Tired, enthralled boys. (The first shot was a happy accident.)

What are the things you juggle? What are the balls that can drop, or the ones that are made of glass? (This man also juggled machetes twelve feet up in the air on a pole.)

August 5::Thursday

Posted on | August 5, 2010 | 7 Comments

This boy makes me smile all day long. I snapped these right after his nap… when he was all sleepy and mellow still. Love his little bum in the air.

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Today was all about long walks and conversations with my best friend… Conversations interrupted by little boys asking for snacks and finding caterpillars and banging on drums. Conversations about purpose, about passion, about direction, about contentment.

About the difference between these three terms:

Self absorbed.

Selfish.

Self confident.

What do you think of when you read these words. What does each mean to you? How do your definitions change when you apply them to your best friend, your lover, your mother, your child?

August 4::Wednesday

Posted on | August 4, 2010 | 5 Comments

Humidity; swimming in the pond; watching airplanes land at the airport observation deck; cherries and chocolate; what it feels like to be surrounded by your favorite people in the whole world.

August 3:: Tuesday

Posted on | August 3, 2010 | 4 Comments

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Summer is slipping. Thunderstorms rut the roads and send lightening forking through the afternoon sky of late. Across the world, people sit bare headed without shelter in fields flooded with rain. My heart aches for them. Since becoming a mother the news is almost too much to bear. I don’t know why this is, except I know now, how my sons’ little round bellies mean everything to me. How the fragrance at the back of their necks is heaven. How their laughter fills me up. How I want everything for them. Every single thing. (This makes my heart ache too.)

We took a hike with friends along the river and came to a spot where a tornado must have recently touched down among tall pines: each trunk broken in half like a handful of toothpicks; the river was swollen and fat with rain. Ahead of us the boys leaped; carrying nets; feet bare. I didn’t bring my camera: my hands were full with Sprout who is is a daredevil, a water baby: plunging towards the rushing water headlong, arms and legs covered in mud, in sand, in pine needles, in glee.

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T. starts his job tomorrow!

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How is your week shaping up?

August 2::Monday

Posted on | August 2, 2010 | 7 Comments

Today: crushing on Leonard. (Really, it’s a forever crush.) Makes me want to re-read Cities of the Interior. For some reason the two always go together in my head.

Today: a storm came crashing through; rain so hard the sills were wet in seconds. Thunder above the maples; sky the color of whipped wet ash. I always feel giddy in storms: equal parts anxious and delighted. After, the air was cool and the sky such a beautiful blue. Already evening comes sooner. Summer’s ending.

Today: my very dearest friend in the whole world just booked a flight out to see me. This week. I am over the moon.

Today in no particular order: the best piece of writing on the web right now; the sweetest peach of summer; these photos; and this quote (from here):

Z is for Zoometry: Originally a term from zoology (pronounced zo-ology, in case you were curious), zoometry is the science of instigating and learning from change. This is the revolution of our time, the biggest one in history, and it’s not just about silly videos on Youtube. One by one, industry by industry, the world is being remade again and again, and the agents of change are the winners.