September 1, 2021
Too cold to swim and no campfires, we went on a rescue mission pulling green plastic balls from the creek (what are they? fishing lures? But without holes to string them?). Then we had a talent show. Elaine fully remembered a cartwheel and handstand. I half remembered the hand jive from a high school production of Grease. We half-heartedly crafted through our happy hour. Finally, we made some collaborative public art with sap from the one sappy tree as glue. Also hammocks. Also books. Also wee animals. Also 33 years of friendship.
September 6, 2021
Messages made on the reservoir floor. Messages left by wind and grass.
September 8, 2021
We are what we were
Always in part
September 9, 2021
I have to remember that the park near sunset is a simple magic. To get to there I have to walk past the overflowing garbage across the street, the sound of revving engines a few blocks away, the SOLD sign on the neighbor’s tiny half a million dollar house and the line of tents huddled against the fence of the giant parking lot. I move my legs uphill and my knees have no complaints. The crows leave the cedar at the edge of the seminary making me look up. Someone’s basil has gone to seed making me look down. A woman sits on the sidewalk and paints flowers on the side of her truck. For a second, the air smells like sautéed garlic. For a second, the air glows.
September 10, 2021
Beautiful and nutritious
September 11, 2021
Miss Maggie Meatball was rescued from a place with 39 cats then rejected by another adoptive family before finally landing in our home at the age of 10. She had no teeth and didn’t care. She was beautiful, endlessly confident, and so kitten-like we forgot she was an old lady until she got sick. She was all sweetness and will be sorely missed. 💔
September 14, 2021
What story do you think this fig diorama is portraying? I can’t decide.
September 15, 2021
Someday I’ll stop taking photos inside the car wash and just enjoy the ride.
September 17, 2021
I mostly just want to hang out with this chestnut today. Take a walk, appreciate the clouds, admire other people’s shoes.
September 20, 2021
Doom at sunset
September 22, 2021
Worlds within worlds. We are all giants. We are all specs of dirt.
September 24, 2021
Succulents earning their name.
September 25, 2021
This chestnut wouldn’t stop laughing at their own jokes. Fig and I grew weary.
September 26, 2021
The sweet scent found me first then I looked up and saw grapes eating the sun. The whole world turned perfect.
September 30, 2021
In the tiny logging town the trucks carrying tree bodies drive both east and west down the main street. In seconds, they’ve passed the antique store, the gun shop, the saddle shop and the abandoned theater. The grocery clerk double bags my chips and eggs in plastic. The girl at the coffee shop has beautiful fuchsia hair.
Next to the road a thread of a trail has been built where trains once carried out the bodies in droves. I walk across the trellis. I walk beneath it. Ferns applaud a family riding by on bikes. The sound of a stream hums through me. And the blast of a truck, heavy with wood and chains.
October 5, 2021
(The day before Instagram, Facebook, and What’s App went down for five glorious hours)
Yesterday I thought, who will see this pomegranate? Just the people who planted it and the people on the sidewalk passing by and the crows and the spiders and and the lucky raindrops that got to slide across its skin and the dirt beneath it readying itself for impact.
October 6, 2021
Autumn is not all cherry red and lemon. Petals are not all smooth. Please, come in close.
We too are eager for a fingertip and some warm breath.
October 9, 2021
Better than a box of jewels. A branch of snowbell fruit.
October 12, 2021
October 13, 2021
In the end, we grow stranger. Tiny translucent hairs catch the light. Our bodies strain open. New forms for next paths.
October 14, 2021
Lost cat, help wanted, show announced, service offered, art.
October 17, 2021
The couple ahead of me stops in the strange pink shadow of the maples. One bends and picks up a favorite leaf. I’m next and aim my camera at the ground. I move on to make room for the person approaching behind me. We all need a moment in the glow.
October 18, 2021
Mad, off-balance, hanging on by a thread.
October 22, 2021
I listen for ten seconds. Then a minute. Then all the minutes. Until I no longer know how the world is spelled.
October 24, 2021
The bright trees flirt. The soft rain soaks my jeans.
October 26, 2021
Scenes from a recent rendezvous
October 27, 2021
Why dahlias are my favorite: Late bloomers. Long bloomers. Varied and complex.