September 2010



Wash on the line, phone calls finished, some decisions
made (and lunch, as well), Mom safely in bed for her nap,
some gardening accomplished and a pile of tax paperwork
awaiting me on the low table in the living room…

…which I walked right past as I slipped into my studio
with the softly glowing certainty that this was the perfect
time to watch Bright Star. It had been waiting for me to
get to that perfect moment for the past few weeks…and
here it was. For an hour or so (I haven’t finished it yet)
I was steeped in muted light, billowing fabrics, tangled
flowers and gentle depths….dreamy.

Earlier in the day, when I pulled the heavy, dusty cosmos
from their bed in the hot sun…it was good. I saved the few
flowers and fed the greens to the goats. And the prettiness
of the delicate flowers against the pebbled outdoor shower
was worth the fetching of the camera.

But even better was the pot of flowers in front of the
golden-green fields, and my son next to me helping
me experiment with bokeh. After a few tries, this
was rather lovely to see…

….but eventually, I was able to capture…


Sometimes I forget, in the satisfaction of day-to-dayness,
and the little get-aways of novel and film…that there is
something in between….real, but with a poetic gleam. Or real,
but mysterious… like dreams. I am being pulled by my sleeping
dreams lately…falling asleep quickly, sleeping late rather often
(tho’ I had intended to start a New Habit of early rising!)…just
to see what my dreams have to say to me. The language of of
my dreams is not easy to translate, but it is
interesting to try.

So if I am slow to answer emails or even to post here
these days, it may not just be the stacks of paperwork or
the building decisions claiming my attention….I may be
spending some dreamy moments in a slightly out-of-focus
but very beautiful world.


All of my life I have heard about the farm in Pennsylvania
where my Grandma Grace spent her youth. While I was in
Colorado, in between the helping and caring, I was sifting
and scanning as I pored over the treasures my uncle has
kept so well over the years. I was astonished to find this
little group of photos that made so real what had only
been imaginary to me until now.

Now, as I drive into town along the country roads
and gaze at the dry, rustly corn and the golden stubble,
the dark earth and the twining morning glories…I am
also gazing in my mind’s eye as my great-great uncle
plows the September fields with his white shirt and
his dusty horses.

And when the crisp morning gave me permission to
finally don my faded flowery ankle socks and little
brown boots again (oh joy!), to layer a long skirt
beneath my sundress, and to gather my reading
materials for my quiet afternoon in town….I thought
of my grandmother’s sister Mary, with her boots and
her reading and the quiet porch in October of 1918.

I am so moved by these….the lacy leaves embowering
the porch, the weave of the wicker, the comfy pillows,
the softness of the women and the atmosphere, yet
the substance of the columns and the shutters…the
satisfying contrasts. And the contrasts ripple outward
in my mind as I realize that while Mary and Nettie are
settled on their cosy porch, Grace is on her way to France
as a Red Cross nurse at the end of World War I.

Ahhh….but it is time for me to leave the past, and also
the chill of the library and take my booted feet out into
the warmth of the afternoon for a bit. Then I will pick
up Grace’s daughter and we will wend our beautiful
way home.

Like Grace and her family, we have a
watermelon or two from the garden to enjoy this
weekend…and some ice cream in the freezer and
cones in the pantry cupboard. For tho’ I am rather
over-the-moon that Autumn is stepping closer
each day, I also want to enjoy a few more summery
moments while we have them.