December 28, 2016.  The year 2016 is just about spent – a year to be remembered for many losses.  On the numerology front, 2016 is a “9” – the completing year in recurring 9-year cycles; 2017 starts us off on a new “1”.   Perhaps losses are obscure completions we must reluctantly release.

The image is a mesquite seed pod, aglow at sunset in the Rio Grande Valley.  Hanging on with tenacity, intrigue, beauty.  But not for long.




Solstice Grace

December 21, 2016.  Solstice dawned clear and sunny, a welcome followup to our first freeze a couple nights ag0, repeated, repeated – now history except for the abundance of plants turning into mush piles.  The Brugmansia was trying to bloom another round.  For a week prior to the freeze I gave it daily encouragement (with a hint of hurry up!)   This morning I stood transfixed by rising sunlight beaming through the still-green wilted leaves and the still-yellow tubular buds – a different sort of beauty, a different sort of strength holding my attention – model for stepping into a radical change of seasons.  Many dire circumstances could derail its Spring emergence, but Brugmansia isn’t burdened with worst-case scenarios.  (Oh, for such clarity of being.)




Guaging Heart Capacity

December 7, 2016.   The world swirls with opinions, oppositions, petitions, all manner of unpleasant realities.  I wrote this poem the morning after the November US election and set it aside till I could think more clearly.   I keep humming to myself the last line of Ray Wylie Hubbard’s “The Messenger” – I just want to see what’s next.  Then and still, the view is murky.






Writing Outdoors

December 1, 2016.  December rolled in on a cold front – but a clear blue sky made for warmth when properly positioned in line with the Sun.  I couldn’t resist, and out I went with my journal. Luckily, I had the camera phone in my pocket to capture the take-over that ensued.  Ziggy showed me an even better way to sit in the sun.