Wednesday, November 30, 2011

on mysterious gifts from unexpected corners


a little brown sparrow flew in the other day, bearing gifts.


she told me the gifts were from a curious acorn, which i found intriguing...


still more intriguing was this mysterious tin, filled with cobalt blue packets of english tea,


and a large blue and white china mug, bedecked with birds and acorns, 
waiting to be filled to the brim.


i suspect my gift may have been the work of a hobbit, as it arrived on her birthday, and those of us familiar with hobbits know that it is their habit to give gifts to others on that day.


whether hobbit or human, the giver shared her faith as well, that despite my present circumstances of ill health, one day we will share tea together, in person. 
thanks, jodi

Friday, November 25, 2011

light through stained glass


"People are like stained-glass windows...



...They sparkle and shine when the sun is out, but when the darkness sets in,


their true beauty is revealed only if there is light from within."

— Elisabeth Kubler-Ross

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

sundry gratitudes on the tuesday before thanksgiving (yes, this is the dr. jekyll to my previous mr. hyde post)



for candlelight (and starfish.)


for a hawk who shared his feather :)


for a new journal to fill with heart and soul and dreams...


for footstools (and feet.)


for early morning walks in the garden and the smell of damp pine needles.

for hot tea on a cool november day.

for bird song.

for the white tip on my dog's tail.

for warm stockings.

for black-winged birds against a true blue sky.

for writing it all down.


for you.

thankful schmankful

i know i'm supposed to be grateful,

and really, i am...

for so many things and people and mercies.

but lately i've been having a really hard time

with this endless loop of pain and sickness

and difficulties —

which has put me in a black mood.

the last two days, especially,

i've been feeling angry

and hateful

and like i just want to shut myself into a padded room somewhere

and scream until i can't scream anymore.

i'm sorry if this makes you sad on thanksgiving.

i have a happier post of things i'm grateful for,

which i'll post directly after this.

but somehow these two me's are existing in the same fragile body, right now,

and i just couldn't post the good

without the bad and the ugly.

it didn't seem honest.

somebody tell me a stupid joke. gallows humor cheerfully accepted.

anybody?


Sunday, November 20, 2011

jacob's ladder...


...or do you think it's charlotte's web?


(linking to recuerda mi corazon for postcards from paradise)


Friday, November 18, 2011

hello to you, from me


I'm wearing my new birthday gift, from me, to me! Doesn't it look like a little bit of sunset around my neck? It was made by the very talented Tracy, of PranaLight, and you, too, can see her wonderful wares by visiting her blog and clicking on the link to her Etsy store. There's nothing like a bit of handmade jewelry (handmade anything, really!) to put a smile on my face :)

Thursday, November 17, 2011

emily dickinson, on time and troubles


They say that 'time assuages,' —
Time never did assuage;
An actual suffering strengthens,
As sinews do, with age.
Time is a test of trouble,
But not a remedy.
If such it prove, it prove too
There was no malady.

— Emily Dickinson


"Though I walk in the midst of trouble, you preserve my life...
the Lord will fulfill his purpose for me; 
your love, O Lord, endures forever — 
do not abandon the works of your hands."  

Psalm 138: 7,8


(self-portrait engraving, by Sue Rovelstad Lawless)


Tuesday, November 15, 2011

through the looking glass


For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: 
now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.

— I Corinthians 13:12

Sunday, November 13, 2011

post-birthday gratitude


 for recycled light that sings when the wind blows ...


 for purple-skirted petunias with white lace petticoats ...


 for hand-copied books of poetry ...


... and hand-made birthday cards.

for love that surrounds me, even on the sickest days.

for another year of life.



Thursday, November 10, 2011

finis, by e.e. cummings







































Over silent waters
                          day descending
                                                 night ascending
floods the gentle glory of the sunset
In a golden greeting
                            splendidly to westward
as pale twilight
                      trem-
                              bles
                                     into
                                           Darkness
comes the last light's gracious exhortation
                                                     Lifting up to peace
so when life shall falter
                                 standing on the shores of the
eternal
god
       May I behold my sunset
Flooding
            over silent waters

— e.e. cummings


Monday, November 7, 2011

on procrastination and the wonder of it all...



here's a secret. i should be paying bills and making doctor appointments and doing laundry. instead, i'm looking at photos of seaweed. strange, bright, glistening orange vegetation from some mysterious underwater world. emerald sea-moss, washed up at my feet one brilliantly hot summer's day, to meet the lens of my camera. 




and somehow the things to do take second place to the things which shout out "miracle!" 

isn't that a wonder? 

Saturday, November 5, 2011

i wish i could write like carl sandburg


The fog comes on little cat feet. 
It sits looking over the harbor
 and city on silent haunches and then moves on. 
— Carl Sandburg



Thursday, November 3, 2011

a cautionary "tail"


She grew weary of their haughty stares and their beaks-in-the-air attitude, so she turned tail and headed back to the sandpipers on the other side of the seaweed...



Tuesday, November 1, 2011

autumn sunset


because it's good to remember


the light and the glory


before the night falls