About to hit Half….2017 slow down will ya?

Posted Posted in Autobiographical

Here we are about to hit 6 months into this year. Doesn’t it seem like it just started? It’s not that I don’t look forward to the warmer weather of spring and summer. More sun! Keep it coming! The thing is, all those goals are getting less time as it sprints onward. Am I maximizing my time? In someways I am! It’s just that there are new balls in the air and other older ones that are finding themselves bouncing on the sidelines. While it’s all about healing, there are some things I need to center.

I have checklists with no checks. That morning stretch time is so damn important. No Skipping! The Spirit needs fed too. Don’t starve her!

Another project? LP is bouncing. I need to get busy. She won’t wait around forever. The wind in her sails will leave me by the wayside if I don’t keep with good habits and practice. Storygrid help me get her in line!

To my credit on this day, I did rescue a poor little birdie from Tuna cat spit! check!  coffee check…. backups, check  ___ check


They are still here! #Cedarwaxwings

Posted Posted in Photo Gallery

The cedar waxwings arrived ever so early this year! Much like the cherry blossoms that opened long before the Bradford pear trees, the birds are also on a different schedule. Does this mean that we will have a longer spring before we plunge into summer?  One could hope! Warm weather come on over!

Candles again?

Posted Posted in Autobiographical

Back to Basics is an old theme that needs brushing off.

Tools are organized and tests are commencing… I’m a little excited to try a few new things.

Smashing old notions and starting new traditions!

Soy Wax Melts poured with Bergamot Essential oil. A couple of test candles were poured at the same time.

Beeswax is next!



Signs and Symptoms

Posted Posted in Poem

Symptoms, clues, spots,
A look that disappears within seconds.
A slight change of color,
The lingering of hesitation,
The quickness just a little more sudden,
The blind look just a little listless,

Bumps that rise and resurface with stress,
Clouds that reveal themselves thin and smoky at first,
The sight of respiration in the form of condensation,
The sniff and drip, sleeve damp
Cheeks no longer pinkish but flush with deeper color
Heat that radiates from within in the suggestion of fever.

Fear surfaces.
Red flags, stop signs, traffic lights
Heed or ignore?
Indicators that show themselves in ribbons and bows
Otherwise in a tangled mess.
Another form of camouflage
Shape shifted
A wall paper in the form of flower
Is it just that
Or are we headed for dark and cold weather?

Is that dread around the corner?
The one that shadows the light andsymptoms
Disrupts schedules and plans
The one that smells of something not quite right
Just before the awful stink.
Can we put our finger on it?
Did we see the signs?
Could we have stopped it anyway.

Come hell or high water.
Is the water rising? What if we get wet?
Bathing in warm clean water, hot tea in hand.
Shove it back.
It cannot come through.
Give a hand, put your finger right there,
The dike will hold.

Surely it would. Pray.
Flood it. Flood it with soup.
Flood it with information.
Buy what you need.
Soothe it. But where is the “boo boo”?

It’s there! Target attained.
Nope, mirage.
Take a deep breath and try again.
New view point,
Start from the bottom.

Foundation of solid ground,
Back to basics,
Building blocks, knock the rotten ones down.
Start again.

Tidal wave coming,
Knocked back into another path
Where are you?
Can you go through the list?
Back to Basics.

Changes subtle.
Reaching out a helping hand,
Taking a helping hand.
Not realizing that vice is versa.
Getting it,

Understanding, even if for a moment,
Glimmer and fade just after the bright light.
Warm and balmy,
Gentle breeze and water recedes.

Recognized Voice

Posted Posted in Sketch

[Repost from 2012]

It occurs to me that it is a recognized voice, unexpected from its origin. Poison. Instead of the curse words that surface and shouldn’t be said, I wonder how I should respond with more description. I need a peacock to suck out the poison so that it’s feather plumes can transform it into beautiful colors. May the pen in my hand blot out the stink that arises from the pile that arrived in my text box with an invisible cloak wrapped about it. May I spill enough ink on pages to purge the ugliness and turn it into the light and beauty that is only sometimes glimpsed in this place we call Earth.

The wonder and awe of childhood is that these beautiful beings see right through these cloaks we use to “think” we are hiding behind. To them, cloaks are much more transparent. I am guilty of this myself. I’m starting to see it.

When I get honest and spill ink, I am closest to understanding myself and those that have nothing better to do than hurt me. On the flip side, I also recognize those with love in their eyes. They are who I seek.

The challenge of imagination can only expand and get larger when a person drops the anger and floats in a place where perception’s reality is but a veil of lace.

Imagine: I imagine this ever so subtle poison that many wouldn’t even suspect. While it wants to spread out and infect, I see it shrinking smaller and smaller until it is the smallest black dot that is no larger than the “no-see-em” insect that stings for less than a second and is flicked off and not thought of again.