June 6, 2018. A landscape chore neglected several years taught me a few things. Our suburban backyard is “yard” surrounded by a U-shaped “dog run”. Chain link fencing (once part of a cat fence-in of “yard”) proves an inviting trellis. Over the years we’ve planted deliberately while battling such as wild grape, cat brier, and a good many unknowns. Uncensored, Moonseed vine and Virginia creeper took over the section of chain link beside the back porch. Beyond, in what’s now the Labrador’s run between chain-link and wooden privacy fences, Mexican petunia (Ruellia) flourishes. I love those blooms – enough to tackle downing a mass of vines.
But I was in for a rude awakening: I was ripping down beauty in its own right, albeit not showy like Ruellia.
May 18, 2018. Transitions happen, ready or not. I wasn’t. This is day eleven of our new indoor-only cat living the outdoor-only lifestyle. I’ll spare details, but she violated Gary’s tolerance one too many times. This has been harder on me than on the cat, but I am observing her absolute glee with the outdoors and coming around to interpreting her plaintive meows as less complaint than plea for me to join her out there!
All changes again when we begin summer travels. Both cats will be indoors for the duration. Both will be very ready to explore the yard when we return. And perhaps at that point, the older cat and younger cat will share in-and-out privileges equally. I have fingers crossed. But I am open to the possibility that this little catalyst may have yet more to teach me.
This image I created for the 2010 Gathering of Circles – http://www.gatheringofcircles.com
January 11, 2018. It’s been a little over five years since I slipped my left wrist into the silicone band bearing the wisdom Celebrate What’s Right With The World – motto of Dewitt Jones, photographer and philosopher. I’d just spent a week “on Molokai time” recalibrating with Dewitt and others. I wondered how long the band might last. At least five years: the one I am retiring to my altar shows no wear until placed on top of a new one. Then I can see it has thinned, which explains sometimes slipping off.
2012 held a pair of life-changing encounters. A week with Mr. Poetic Medicine, John Fox, in Canyon De Chelly broke me open. Mother Nature delivered a Vision Quest where I’d anticipated just poetry and nature appreciation. I came home wobbly, at best. Within days, notice of a Dewitt Jones workshop on Molokai slid into view, and I signed up on the spot. I was a fan of Dewitt’s philosophy from videos in wisdom classes. With crossed fingers, I began another adventure. Getting to Molokai felt a lot like another Vision Quest, but the Island way and the people (once there!) were what I needed. I will never forget returning, standing outside the Austin airport waiting to be picked up, unable to contain my smiles, eager to say THANK YOU! to the one picking me up (the one who put up with me after Canyon de Chelly!)
November 29, 2017. I love to wander the aisles of hardware stores, or Home Depot. Usually I have a problem on my mind, looking for some fix. But I can be sidetracked by a gizmo with no apparent use. Like the day I found the goddess, thinking she would never set posts!
The new power line to the tiny house my daughter is building needed to be elevated, visible above grasses soon to regrow from recent mow. Though others had previously borrowed the goddess for such, this was my first post thrusting. Impressive.
(Yet I continue to revere her for hue and curve aesthetics.)
August 27, 2017. Hurricane Harvey has come to visit Texas, moving inland to squat over family land near Cuero. My mind races back to youthful times when the Guadalupe River overflowed and those who lived out in the country could not get to town for days and days. I worry for relatives still on the family land, as well as relatives in Houston. Houston, already flooded, is the projected target for Harvey’s meander away from Cuero.
Within Harvey’s outer rain bands (5+ inches measly compared to up-to-40 inches predicted for Houston), I mourn the uprooted live oak next door and cringe as images of flooded Houston roadways pour across my computer screen. Houston is the 4th largest city in the U.S. To evacuate that many people is next-to-impossible. Last time they tried (Hurricane Rita) more people died on the jammed roadways than in the city behind them. I am oddly sympathetic with Houston’s mayor, now taking all sorts of flack for his earlier direction to hunker down vs. evacuate. He saw only two imperfect options. Could there have been other choices? Houston is a lesson-occurring – conclusions still beyond view.
With all this stirring my mind, I uncovered this 2013 poem in a pile on my desk. A spark of synchronicity! The image is from recent camping near Cloudcroft NM.
February 27, 2017. I’m stepping back into 2007 for this image and poem, which feel appropriate given prevalent prickly agitation. This image was taken on Alamo Mountain, near El Paso, on a hike to view ancient rock art images left by a culture challenged daily with adversity. Perhaps we, too, will learn to live with constant conflict. But maybe we can bridge polarized opinions – it’s a challenge worth considering.
October 30, 2016. Over the past week, through all sorts of stress and disruption, I have been watching a morning glory vine protruding from a water bottle – sitting on my front porch to catch sunlight, I see it going in and out. That vine has kept me sane!
I guess the plant had to adapt, learn how to bloom in a bottle, as the first 3 buds to mature did not quite make it before dropping off. Then the fourth (pictured) and a fifth succeeded with flourish. Hoorah!