Mom very understandably needs time away from the house (and I support it), so on days when she has Pilates I am going to their place to check on dad. Work breaks allow for it as I work from home thankfully. When she went today I walked over during lunch to check on dad, andContinue reading “Head rubs”
Tag Archives: mother
I need to write more often
Life tends to get so busy these days it’s the last thing I think of. Changed jobs, improved my screened porch, settling into my little home with the panthers. Dad is declining quickly. We honestly didn’t think he’d still be here at this point, and it’s been an adventure with many medical ups and downsContinue reading “I need to write more often”
One more year
Of your towering smiles, your warm arms, Of lumbering voice that could shake the windowsills And terrorize the birds outside If you were less gentle. One more year Of tucking feathers in each other’s messy hair When the trail calls our names And we wander farther than our eyes think, Our feet carrying us asContinue reading “One more year”
When a woman spends time cutting a sailboat into pieces, under the tallest pecans for 100 miles…
Well. About 15 years ago my ever adventurous dad parked his 30 foot sailboat in their backyard down by the creek lining the bottom of the property. It sat there for a while, under the towering pecans, until a storm made the creek flood and picked the boat clean off the trailer, spun it, andContinue reading “When a woman spends time cutting a sailboat into pieces, under the tallest pecans for 100 miles…”
Prime of My Life
My entire existence I’ve been told “a woman’s sexual prime is in her 40’s…I looked forward to feeling that rush, that high, of being there. Feeling more myself than ever. Having a confidence I couldn’t have imagined before. Of being seen by others in a light I never had. In many ways most of thoseContinue reading “Prime of My Life”
Mourn
I walk to the trees, for they cannot walk to me. But in dreams they do. They come to me calling, whispering my name in the sighs of their branches, laughing trickling down to me through their leaves, for they are as happy to be known as I am. No one knows me as aContinue reading “Mourn”
When did you last sleep upon the ground?
Or even sit on her, skin to skin with the planet? When did you last touch a tree, bare-handed, to marvel at the roughness? When did you last say hello to a bird? And mean it? In my readings I find fiction to be a welcome respite. I “save” books about nature for later becauseContinue reading “When did you last sleep upon the ground?”
From “No Rules” by Sharon Dukett
“I stood and began walking through the mammoth trees, keeping the river in sight. There was a hush in the forest as I entered it. The trees seemed to absorb all sound. It reminded me of reverence, like when you enter a church and voices grow dim and respectful. Except church was the exact oppositeContinue reading “From “No Rules” by Sharon Dukett”
Fingernails black with soil
Last weekend I spent half a day clearing out old growth and weeds and grass overtaking my little garden beds. It felt right that when the sun was shining and warm, after quite a bit of rain, that I pull and dig and carry countless armfuls of bracken from the beds. That I pull offContinue reading “Fingernails black with soil”
Loss of a family
I miss my parents tonight. Growing up a Jehovah’s Witness they were my entire world. Our little congregation was all I knew. My father, a pilot, a machinist, a pirate, a fascinating big-hearted man. My mother a hippie, nature-loving, passionate, creative artist. All of course within the confines of the expectations of the religion. MyContinue reading “Loss of a family”
A Burd in Flight 