Saturday, March 31, 2018

milkweed pods

at the end of my garden just behind the garage is a space preserved for the fairies. my grandma emphasized to me the importance of leaving part of a garden untamed so that the fairies had a place for themselves. today i visited their little place and was immediately drawn to a beautiful glowing object . . . here it is . . . i remember cutting the pods from their stems in late autumn and putting them back here in the hope . . . .

Friday, March 30, 2018

shore lines

Thursday, March 29, 2018

Wednesday, March 28, 2018

breath taking

i searched for words to bring this little moment closer to the surface here.
and so, with your understanding . . . 
a rebuilding of a poem boris pasternak wrote long ago entitled, 

"winter sky".

"ice plucked whole from 
the past week’s stars all frozen in flight.
each turn’s a constellation.
that moon, a numb hound’s tongue
is there, frozen tight,
filled with lava of breathtaking ice."

Tuesday, March 27, 2018

morning reflections . . .

morning reflections. 
the north island of the silver bean archipelago . . .

Monday, March 26, 2018

late afternoon reflections

late afternoon reflections. 
the cliffs on the north island of the silver bean archipelago . . .

Sunday, March 25, 2018

the passing of the ice

i find a place on my journey home where i can slide down the banks to the river each and every day. they are sometimes leaf-covered. sometimes muddy. sometimes steep enough that the journey down to the river's edge and the journey back are little adventures in their own right. these days i am searching for ice. ice that has coated a boulder, a snagged piece of driftwood, anything. i don't know why. it just seems right to hold the moment of the passing of the ice.