Summer sounds like this: The cicadas calling back and forth from one group of trees to the other. The fountain recycling water, round and round every afternoon. The wind shushing in the trees way up high and then moving south towards the ground, tickling the tiny bunny as they nibble buttercups. Crickets warming up their… Continue reading From the back porch:
Tag: family
Illumination
These moments of suspended unknowing are grounded as well as up-gazing. I think, who will know more than me in this moment? And then I sit and look at the trees While I look, I hear things the frogs and crickets, the birds singing lullabies and the brush of the wind. Oh yes, I remember… Continue reading Illumination
swear not by the moon
When the clock struck midnight on New Years, I was standing on the freezing beach in Delaware under the brightest moon glowing on the bundled faces of Mom and Dad, Mackenzie, Rickie, Kyle and Kelly. And of course, Liam the black lab. I looked up at the stars and out at the darkness of the… Continue reading swear not by the moon
Re-finding Twelve
I recently read Susan Branch's novel "Martha's Vineyard, Isle of Dreams" and in it she describes a delicious morning of reading in bed, in the perfect breezy weather, with her cat curled on her legs in her dreamy bedroom. Dealing with major heartache and upheaval; she was coming back to herself in small ways and… Continue reading Re-finding Twelve
A Season of us
When I was a little girl there was a field behind my house that separated the neighbourhood from the rushing water of the Jones Falls and all that lay beyond. The field is still there behind the house although the little girl has grown much taller now. The field, which my young (and even then-romantic)… Continue reading A Season of us
A memory, a hope.
I wake up. The sun is coming through the sheer curtains on the window in the hall very brightly, and downstairs I hear the faint “beep” of the microwave. Outside it is already hot even though it’s nearly 9:00 in the morning. The cicada’s sing in even waves like the surf hitting the shoreline. A… Continue reading A memory, a hope.
The terror, the comfort
Time has passed and that tree outside my window that swayed so gently in the Summer breeze is now bare branched. If you look closely enough you can almost see the tiny buds about to come forth into the Spring. Reaching outward. March is a literally that--a physical action forward in specific time with a… Continue reading The terror, the comfort
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