Usually we have two holiday trees. But now that we live in the Little House in the Big City, that wasn’t an option this year. Also, neither of us were in the holiday mood, for a whole host of defensible reasons. So, not long after my St. Nicholas Day birthday, …
The rhododendron’s leaves and branches in the sunlight across the back of the orange living room chair.
The crisscross lines of the window’s panes bisecting the shadow of the candlesticks with their red and yellow yet-to-be-lit candles on the butter yellow wall….
Photo by Avishka …to convey the utter gray blear of this Monday afternoon. Here’s all I’ve been able to come up with so far. Rain …
It’s not dawn but it’s a cold wind out there. The emperor gong hanging off our bedroom above the deck is getting a workout today.
I walked to and from the grocery store where certifiable madness is in progress: too many people with too-full carts,
Here’s what gets noticed when a person’s isn’t trying to figure out how to get an imaginary person into and out of a rental car at a diner along the highway in the Coast Range of western Oregon: One of the yellow tulips in the blue porcelain vase droops.
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I was hoping to get in my 3.2 mile loop to and from New Seasons market this afternoon but, alas, it’s really coming down cats and dogs out there! The crows have invaded the front lawn, picking worms I guess…
I got home from my four miles to/from the public library and, lo and behold, after writing about everyone else’s roses still in bloom, I found a drooping flower on the climber on the south side of the house, one of the sunset-colored and mightily fragrant roses that smell of rain or cinnamon or cut flowers or maybe even grass…
Actually, now that we are city folk, all we have to do is flick a switch and the gas fireplace with its ceramic log pile comes to life. Been there, done that re: the hauling of wood for the past nine years. It’s nice to have a touch of luxury,…
Finally today, the clouds over my psyche, my perception of what is now my life, lift for a host of reasons—hormones shifting, new allergy drugs working, sun returning even if only for fifteen minutes to light up this morning in my life. The weekend is an artist’s date of sorts—heading to Medford/Ashland with a friend and the matinee of Chekhov’s The Cherry Orchard at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival on Saturday. A break most welcome, a cultural outing sorely needed…
Photo by Helgi Halldórsson. That’s the sum total of my life here on this green, dry summer spot on the earth today. Silence so deep …
