Posted on February 12, 2015
…We want the spring to come and the winter to pass. We want
whoever to call or not call, a letter, a kiss — we want more and more and then more of it.
But there are moments, walking, when I catch a glimpse of myself in the window glass,
say, the window of the corner video store, and I’m gripped by a cherishing so deep
for my own blowing hair, chapped face, and unbuttoned coat that I’m speechless:
I am living…
~ Marie Howe
(excerpt from “What the Living Do”)
Posted on January 15, 2015
“The country seems bigger, for you can see through the bare trees. There are times when the woods is absolutely still and quiet. The house holds warmth. A wet snow comes in the night and covers the ground and clings to the trees, making the whole world white. For a while in the morning the world is perfect and beautiful. You think you will never forget.”
Wishing you all a wonderful weekend, friends.
If you are looking to curl up with some good reading, you may want to consider visiting a new online magazine, The Writing Garden. The editor, Suzy Hazelwood was so nice to feature my photo on the cover…but it’s the writing inside that really shines. Enjoy!
Posted on October 8, 2014
You’ve been living for this for weeks
without knowing it:
the moment the house empties like a city in August
it forgets you exist.
Light withdraws slowly
is almost gone before you notice.
In the stillness, everything becomes itself:
the circle of white plates on the kitchen table
the serious chairs that attend them
even the roses on the papered walls
seem to open a little wider.
It looks simple: the glass vase holding
whatever is offered—
cut flowers, or the thought of them—
simple, though not easy
this waiting without hunger in the near dark
for what you may be about to receive.
~ Esther Morgan
In celebration of National Poetry Month
Posted on October 6, 2014
Posted on September 25, 2014
“Use what you have, use what the world gives you. Use the first day of fall: bright flame before winter’s deadness; harvest; orange, gold, amber; cool nights and the smell of fire. Our tree-lined streets are set ablaze, our kitchens filled with the smells of nostalgia: apples bubbling into sauce, roasting squash, cinnamon, nutmeg, cider, warmth itself. The leaves as they spark into wild color just before they die are the world’s oldest performance art, and everything we see is celebrating one last violently hued hurrah before the black and white silence of winter.”
~ Shauna Niequist