Tuesday, June 28, 2011

just this...


because i am endlessly fascinated by the miracle of light shining through fragile vessels...

Monday, June 27, 2011

summer = grasshoppers

Don't you just hate crunching them with your feet?

(This one escaped execution. He wasn't eating anything, just hangin' on the tree trunk. And look at his face! Could you crunch something that looked at you with that wide-eyed expression?)

Saturday, June 25, 2011

rainy day


sometimes —

in between the rain showers,

there is magic to be found.

Friday, June 24, 2011

shadow dancing

as afternoon wanes,
shadow baubles dance upon
white plaster canvas.

(linking to recuerda mi corazon for haiku my heart)

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

lilac envy

does the crepe myrtle have
lilac envy?
i spy them everywhere —
lollipop colors bursting
from sprigs of rosy kernels,
yet somehow sating 
the lilac hunger of my northern roots,
and making me feel 
like — 
coming home.

linking to one stop poetry

Monday, June 20, 2011

my ubiquitous friends

If you have an aversion to small reptilian creatures, then Florida is probably not the place for you. We have an abundance of them, and they like to share our space. (usually not our indoor space, unless the cat has presented you with one as a trophy - but I digress.)

These creatures, sometimes brown, sometimes green, are not chameleons. They are known as anoles (this little guy is a Cuban Brown Anole, to be exact), and they're really quite harmless and entertaining. The Cuban Brown Anole can change color from brown to black, and the Green Anole can change from green to brown. Technically, they belong to the iguana family. They also eat bugs, which is a great boon to this mosquito-ridden place. I've grown quite attached to them, after living here all these years. 

Still can't get used to the tail-dropping-off-when-captured thing, though. Somehow the sight of that disembodied, wriggling tail brings back memories of childhood horror flicks.

Sunday, June 19, 2011

we are not alone...

"...and lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world."
— Jesus, Matthew 28:20

Thursday, June 16, 2011

pine cone for breakfast, anyone?

after all...

it IS the breakfast of champions...

and it makes great dental floss!

Monday, June 13, 2011

magpie tales: for my sister

photo courtesy of tess kincaid

My sister was brave, even as a small child. I was the oldest, but she was the bravest. From the age of seven she traveled alone on the plane all the way from Illinois to Florida, to stay a full month by herself with our grandparents. She did this every summer for many years. And grandma was scary - the original "tiger" grandma. Her house was immaculate, and woe betide a dust bunny who dared to trespass (let alone a small child with sandy feet.)

Somehow, my sister managed to not only get along with grandma, but thrive while she was there. She loved grandma's roses and the persian cat named Chan, and the glass jars filled with cookies in the big walk-in pantry. And she loved shell collecting.

She always found the shells nobody else could find. The perfect augers or whelks, points intact, stripes glistening. She was only seven, but she was patient. And she never gave up.

She's still like that. Give her a challenge, and she rises to the occasion every single time. She might be scared, but she marches forward anyway. My sister is a warrior. And she never stops looking for the treasures hidden by the tides of life.

linking to magpie tales

Sunday, June 12, 2011

"Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest."
— Jesus, Matthew 11:28

Saturday, June 11, 2011


i accidently hit the wrong camera setting and this photo came out a bit surreal. 
fits my mood today, somehow...

Thursday, June 9, 2011


it is the season
of citronella candles
and mosquito bites,

it is the season
of giant beach umbrellas
and sunburned noses,
in spite of.

it is the season
of sticky, sultry mornings
and afternoon rains'

it is the season
of lazy hammock reading
and movie madness,
just because.

it is the season
of seedless watermelons,
blueberries, peaches
and their ilk.

i'll venture a guess
that i'm telling you something
you already knew —
am i right?

(linking to haiku my heart at recuerda mi corazon)

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

corner view: destination

"Love makes your soul crawl out from its hiding place."
—Zora Neale Hurston

(for more "destinations" around the world, check out corner view at fuoriborgo)

Monday, June 6, 2011

giving thanks...

for little brown birds on white sandy beaches

for shy, scuttling fiddler crabs

for friendly beach feet

and friendly fowl footprints

for seeds of new life

and always, always - rising, setting, and in-between,
for light.

"Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows."
— James 1:17

Sunday, June 5, 2011

a sunset right out of charn...

"Low down and near the horizon hung a great, red sun, far bigger than our sun. Digory felt at once that it was also older than ours: a sun near the end of its life, weary of looking down upon that world."

—C.S. Lewis, from "The Magician's Nephew"

Friday, June 3, 2011

it's beginning to feel alot like christmas...

...and what would christmas be without generous hearts and precious gifts?

these lovely little tea mug cozies were knitted for me by the talented tracy, of pink purl. 

knit from pure norwegian wool, they've traveled across the sea from norway (home of my grandfather's grandfathers), to share my home (and warm my tea) here in sunny florida.

i confess i've felt a bit downhearted this week... 

but how can i remain so, when there are so many kind souls who have extended their hands and hearts to me, over the miles, simply... 

to encourage. 
to give. 
to bless. 

thank you. may you be blessed, as you have blessed...

"Give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap." Luke 6:38

Wednesday, June 1, 2011

the sandpiper, by celia thaxter

Across the narrow beach we flit,
One little sandpiper and I;
And fast I gather, bit by bit,
The scattered driftwood bleached and dry.
The wild waves reach their hands for it,
The wild wind raves, the tide runs high,
As up and down the beach we flit, --
One little sandpiper and I.

Above our heads the sullen clouds
Scud black and swift across the sky;
Like silent ghosts in misty shrouds
Stand out the white light-houses high.
Almost as far as eye can reach
I see the close-reefed vessels fly,
As fast we flit along the beach, --
One little sandpiper and I.

I watch him as he skims along
Uttering his sweet and mournful cry;
He starts not at my fitful song,
Or flash of fluttering drapery.
He has no thought of any wrong;
He scans me with a fearless eye.
Stanch friends are we, well tried and strong,
The little sandpiper and I.

Comrade, where wilt thou be to-night
When the loosed storm breaks furiously?
My driftwood fire will burn so bright!
To what warm shelter canst thou fly?
I do not fear for thee, though wroth
The tempest rushes through the sky
For are we not God's children both,
Thou, little sandpiper, and I?

— celia thaxter

linking with imperfect prose