Saturday, October 30, 2010

missing & gaining

This is not from the white mist day, but this one.

I'm missing my camera today...pretty sure I left it at work taking pictures of other people's children...that sounded unfortunate, but it was meant as purely fact.

But I so want to tell you about the day we are having here:

Today there is a white mist surrounding all of my junipers. It is the type of white mist that seems to form in the near distance, it doesn't roll like a fog. The whiteness lingers at the periphery, like a rainbow; the more you press on toward it, the more it moves on ahead of you.
You are never in the mist, only gazing at it like a star whose brightness you may see from the edges of your eyes.
The rain comes down as if spontaneously emerging from the air...hidden atom-pockets of rain, waiting for me to run into them as I walk. Clinging to my eyelashes and collecting on my hair to curl it.
The mist tells me to read, to drink hazelnut creamer in my coffee, to make the largest pot of soup and then drink it out of a mug. It tells me that I am gaining, and I love that feeling.

Wednesday, October 27, 2010


Yes, I wrote that right...complainy...not complainING...just a little complainy...
no pictures cause I never get any time to take them until I get home and then there is no light because we are swiftly heading into winter and the days are so short now.
I'm complainy cause the dishes are endless.
I'm complainy cause I get myself into awful predicaments sometimes, that seemed to be based on the fact that I am a very bad perfectionist and self-indulgent, and mostly too self-reliant. Now I've gone and made a mess of two perfectly wonderful days, but the stress of thinking it all out has gotten me...well, complainy.

I'm complainy cause I can't seem to give myself very many compliments. I keep a blog to remind myself of what I do right, and I love what I do, but it always seems like I'm some giant liar, cause the truth is, is that my children eat out at least twice a week for dinner, their breakfasts are cold cereal or pre-packaged oatmeal, and I've been too tired to read a bedtime story since the summer.

I'm complainy cause I've had something akin to pms for what seems like weeks.

I'm complainy cause I think I've had an ear infection for what seems like feels like I'm just about to have a full-on know the kind where you can't see out your right eye and everything is too loud, and your forehead skin just about hurts and you HAVE to close your eyes and lay in the dark...yeah, one of those...

I'm complainy cause the new teacher next to me, while she is welcome and young and a bright young thing (did I say young twice), she is seriously showing me up already...shit. Urrgh, there goes that very bad thing I do with comparing...

I'm complainy cause I know I should continue to be blissfully excited about my job and never need to have another wonderful thing happen to me (where do I get this idea?), but there it is, me wanting something else, or something more...jaaaaaaaaaysssssssuuuuus...but I just want out of this 40,000 square foot house, cause we only live in like 10 square feet of it (well, I am exaggerating, but you get the point)...I just want my tiny little 1901 cottage that already makes my heart feel unfettered and free and has it's own passel of troubles (I'm under no illusions now that I'm old and experienced...see how I am)...

Anyway, here I am in plain words saying, "today, I don't feel like being some dark woman who lives on the edge of a misty wood who charms rabbits and keeps her apron full of rose geranuim...nope, I'm frickin' complainy today instead."

Sunday, October 24, 2010

the always

I think
it must be
that Always
my heart has worn a cloak such as this
on rainswept days, on hills thick with musty sage

Always my heart
has wrapped itself in brown linen
thick as fresh-churned butter

I think
it must be
that Always
My hands were ready
to stitch my heart's dreams

no matter how small,
my hands made my tiny dreams

I think
it must be
My heart has tied sweet annie from rafters
of a very old barn
with tiny treasures nestled in every nook

& that brown linen Kinsale cloak
has been infused
in every fiber
with sweet annie and sage and juniper

I think
it must be
that Always
My heart has bundled
and wrapped and tied
broom corn into a besom

it Must be
the always

that swirls sweet annie smoke
through my cloak
through my barn
through my besom
through my heart

one curl of sweetness at a time

Friday, October 22, 2010

October - Robert Frost

O hushed October morning mild, 
Thy leaves have ripened to the fall;
 Tomorrow's wind, if it be wild, 
Should waste them all.
 The crows above the forest call;
 Tomorrow they may form and go.
 O hushed October morning mild, 
Begin the hours of this day slow. 
Make the day seem to us less brief. 
Hearts not averse to being beguiled, 
Beguile us in the way you know. 
Release one leaf at break of day;
 At noon release another leaf; 
One from our trees, one far away.
 Retard the sun with gentle mist; 
Enchant the land with amethyst.
 Slow, slow!
 For the grapes' sake, if they were all, 
Whose leaves already are burnt with frost,
 Whose clustered fruit must else be lost-- 
For the grapes' sake along the wall.

I hear that sound...

Sunday, October 17, 2010


There is a home that lives at the edge of my fingertips
begun on homestead land

There is a garden, unmade
ready for scarlet flax, broom corn and sweet annie

there is a chicken house
perfect in every way, from original paint to rusty hooks

and all I have to do now is to

when I wished for a job
I got myself one

I'd prayed and cried and fretted and finally just hoped
here's to one more


To my sweetest blog friends (especially you Dagmar :),
I am not unhappy with my new job, and in fact I LOVE my job.
We've had our house on the market for quite a few months,
and have our dream home just at our fingertips. This isn't an old dream. In fact, it is what we've wanted for over 10 years now.
Just need some more praying and hoping so we can get that dream home!

Another P.S: that beautiful lady is from a very dear friend, who makes divine things with her hands...she is seriously talented...look for yourself.

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

Kahlil's Autumn

Something perfect from my buddy Kahlil...and I can't get over these silhouettes anyway, so here you are:


Let us go and gather grapes in the vineyard
For the winepress, and keep the wine in old
Vases, as the spirit keeps Knowledge of the
Ages in eternal vessels.
Let us return to our dwelling, for the wind has
Caused the yellow leaves to fall and shroud the
Withering flowers that whisper elegy to Summer.
Come home, my eternal sweetheart, for the birds
Have made pilgrimage to warmth and lest the chilled
Prairies suffering pangs of solitude. The jasmine
And myrtle have no more tears.
Let us retreat, for the tired brook has
Ceased its song; and the bubblesome springs
Are drained of their copious weeping; and
Their cautious old hills have stored away
Their colorful garments.
Come, my beloved; Nature is justly weary
And is bidding her enthusiasm farewell
With quiet and contented melody.

~Kahlil Gibran ~

Tuesday, October 12, 2010


I just have to turn your attention to my teaching blog post today...because sharing helps get it off my chest...doesn't make my chest any smaller (pleaaaaaase god make it smaller), but it does make it less of a burden... :)

Sunday, October 10, 2010

autumn darkness...

Autumn comes alive in the High Desert with heady scents. Wet and dripping sage made a scent so thick, I felt as though I was trudging through it. I stumbled over the faded yellow of rabbit brush, and bitterbrush leaves were falling to the ground like confetti (hooray!
- they quietly celebrated - hooray for fall!).
The air became so musky after this October Rain that I could barely stand to breath it for so long, but I felt I must. I had to seek out the season on this afternoon. The rain was still coming down, but only like a mist now and in the understory I found myself dry.
Now and then I took pictures of the bright florescence of lichen along an ancient juniper, or the soft heart-leaves of the bitterbrush.
The rain began to harden, and sent great drips to darken the juniper bark to black and more than ever, I found the silhouettes in abundance, which speak to me always, more loudly than the greens or soft yellows. (Even now, these last two pictures intrude, as a small child does to a deep conversation between adults. So I must create a distance here...)

I found myself standing under and looking up...
The dark trees against a gray sky was stark and beautiful and like a sirens call, I found that I couldn't stand to see the sweet and bright.
...only the black, the gray, the twisted, the dripping, the hard-edged and soft smoke of far away things. I was tired of the sweetness and the loud celebration of confetti and the hoorays. I wanted the quiet knowledge of the turning of the wheel. I wanted the chin-lifted, eyes-closed sort of acceptance of the season's coming...and here it shadow and mist.
I was mesmerized by the worlds that were created in one single photograph.
I began to ask myself, "What is this I am seeing? Surely it is more than lichen on a juniper branch. Surely it is more than pine needles and twisting wood. This must be something more."
And so I clicked and clicked and clicked until I realized that no amount of photo-taking was going to tell me what it really was that had caught my attention.
That had been part of the celebrating; the mind-set of the 'hooray!'
All of this darkness and rain was telling me to be still and listen instead.
Stop wondering, stop the confetti dropping...just look at the tiny bits of gray light inside the black intricate, how perfect...what a miracle each edge and curve is.
I saw the mystery. I saw the gray, the outline, the shape of non-things, the mist, the hardness, the dark, the strangeness...I hope you see it too.
I have never made friends with the twilight...that part of the day when the shadows are long and dark and you cannot make out the monster or the tree. When bats begin to swoop in the brown-black skies and there are dark spots darting on the ground. This day I shook its hand. I nodded to its unknown.
I hope the mystery of the wheel draws you in.

Tuesday, October 05, 2010

Monday, October 04, 2010


There was no rest today...Kindergarten is taking all my energy. I just knew I'd do this. I never like it when people say, "Uggg, Monday." Cause I figured that means they don't like what they are doing, and I still partly think so, but don't you agree that things really get fudged up on Mondays? Running late, forgetting your lunch, your papers, etc.
So, here I am, anyways, about a month and a half into the Kindergarten process. I worked too hard right off the bat, and now I'm fatigued. I keep thinking, "As soon as I finish that project, things will feel better. As soon as this is done, I'll feel caught up." The problem is, is that I am a perfectionist. I cannot just have a Teacher's Plan book bought off of Amazon, nooooo...none of them is just right. I have to make my own, and then tweak it mid-week so that I have to rewrite all of my lesson plans...what?! Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy?!

I am remembering the days of the summer when the heat was too much, and we would make our way to this spot and swim and swim and swim the hours away...and I was all blissed out, for the day, because life was good when you could swim without clothes on a hot day, in a cold clear creek. But things were unfulfilled during the rest of the day, and the day after that. I can't swim in cold clear water on a hot day every single day of the year and be blissed out.

What I'm trying to say, but my metaphors are all muddled because of my tired headache, is that no matter how tired I get with this job, no matter how much I get tired of my perfectionism, this is still a job I love. Just because you love something doesn't mean it is easy. Whyyyyyyy?! Because, for me, nothing is worth it without the ultimate challenge: do it better than you did it before...whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy?!