the ties..

 

 

 

 

that bind

 

over on Viewfinders this week, I spoke of cleaning out, purging, cutting through all the needless material stuff I have saved throughout my life.

However, there are some things to be held on to and passed down

from one generation to the next

 

They are the words, pictures, fibers and threads

of our story

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

suburban dream

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

passage

 

 

 

 

 

“…I have to admit that I’ve … always felt burdened by nostalgia, by a desire to stop time, to recapture things that have been lost. A sense that everything, absolutely everything, is on a journey from which there’s no return.”

 

 

Natalia Sanmartín Fenollera

 

 

 

 

 

make hay..

 

 

 

 

while the sun shines

 

a day of warmth and sunshine
rare for January
the new year has just begun
tired from the busy-ness of the holidays
every bit of extrovert-ness mustered
has been used up
(exhausting for an introvert)

wandering alone around this farm
a breath of fresh air
before my hibernation begins

to sort things out
to accomplish some goals
to start on a couple of projects
to try something new

 

(in March I will be spending a week up at Maine Media College, participating in a workshop led by Cig Harvey)

 

Is it  possible to teach an old dog new tricks?

 

I’ll let you know come April

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

winter shadows on the table in the hall

 

 

 

 

I hear the quiet
in the dark

and smell the warm sunlight
dancing across the wall

I see the crack in the jar
where the cover doesn’t quite fit

I feel the chip in the wall
in the shape of a ragged heart

I taste the offering of sweetness
waiting on the table

 

I think

this is me

my self portrait