Periphery
Mind on chore in laundry room,
aside I sense some movement.
Sliding in
and sliding out
at lower right periphery
I guess a dust ball I hadn't time for.
But recurring like a rhythm,
reflexively my head turns,
then does the double take
in noticing the near invisible.
Without glasses I bend forward
peering in on a tiny tug-o-war
made of threads
and transparent film,
daddy-long-legs versus dragonfly
shifting weightlessness
back
and forth.
From my superior height
I judge this event
futile without victor,
so skipping consideration,
I act
to 'put them out of their misery'
with one sweeping-handed motion.
I continue
tugging twisted jeans from tub.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Sunday, June 6, 2010
FIELD NOTES: Meeting My Enemies
(Noted: This is the 113th anniversary of the birth of Anna Maria Gromala Embros, in Poland)
Been dealing with little devils......haven’t written for a month…fighting frustration…but not defeated yet…continuing with this year’s goal of productive purging, I charged up to the attic - a forgettable dumping ground with a very small window of opportunity to work in if you know New England weather extremes - with my skin, nose and eyes being indiscriminate hosts to all things allergic and my long limbs telescoped into unnatural configurations…it began…then moved out into the landscape where hardy and nasty weeds seem to flourish in the blink of an eye and the climate seems to have fast-forwarded to mid-August - Atlas losing his grip, leaving Connecticut on a tropical cant…I came away with bruised muscles, respiratory distress, scratches, poison ivy and whole new list of purges…and through the window I see a big white butt cruising through the backyard brush…ire wells up – I did not work so hard to create a salad bar - then I see a fawn frantically following…it may have gotten stuck in the old wire fence, so I am obliged to investigate…on my approach, it collapses its legs in self-defense… its body and breathing tinier than I imagined…I am meeting my enemy…knowing nature, I look but don’t touch…there is safe egress…Mama will return. In having the capacity to smile and coo at things smaller than ourselves, we recognize innocence fresh from Eden, project hope onto them and invent happiness…there is no way of knowing what this innocent will turn into, what fate will befall it, if it will bring grief or harm to me…or me to it…that goes for my own children, too.
For me, the struggle remains process versus product…to be conscious of joy in the job, the focus of the moment…which is why I didn’t have a camera…which is why there is no fawn photo to go ‘viral’ on the web…which is why I can only show you where it was...
Been dealing with little devils......haven’t written for a month…fighting frustration…but not defeated yet…continuing with this year’s goal of productive purging, I charged up to the attic - a forgettable dumping ground with a very small window of opportunity to work in if you know New England weather extremes - with my skin, nose and eyes being indiscriminate hosts to all things allergic and my long limbs telescoped into unnatural configurations…it began…then moved out into the landscape where hardy and nasty weeds seem to flourish in the blink of an eye and the climate seems to have fast-forwarded to mid-August - Atlas losing his grip, leaving Connecticut on a tropical cant…I came away with bruised muscles, respiratory distress, scratches, poison ivy and whole new list of purges…and through the window I see a big white butt cruising through the backyard brush…ire wells up – I did not work so hard to create a salad bar - then I see a fawn frantically following…it may have gotten stuck in the old wire fence, so I am obliged to investigate…on my approach, it collapses its legs in self-defense… its body and breathing tinier than I imagined…I am meeting my enemy…knowing nature, I look but don’t touch…there is safe egress…Mama will return. In having the capacity to smile and coo at things smaller than ourselves, we recognize innocence fresh from Eden, project hope onto them and invent happiness…there is no way of knowing what this innocent will turn into, what fate will befall it, if it will bring grief or harm to me…or me to it…that goes for my own children, too.
For me, the struggle remains process versus product…to be conscious of joy in the job, the focus of the moment…which is why I didn’t have a camera…which is why there is no fawn photo to go ‘viral’ on the web…which is why I can only show you where it was...
Saturday, May 1, 2010
FIELD NOTES: “It’s ten o’clock. The day’s almost over...”
Sunday morning
...is something I say that makes my children laugh. I am a morning person…I can get up easily…that is to say, at whatever time the sun breaks and the birds chirp …not when it is thirty degrees out and still as hard and black as cast iron at five or six…then, I do have to force myself out of my quilty nest to prepare for work…but this morning, it is Sunday…it is spring…the windows are open – they have been all night – due to above average temperatures (whatever ‘average’ is for New England) and I notice a perfect Symphony of Quiet…an adagio of birds and people sleeping…I go to brush my hair and can still hear the arpeggio of my bacon and eggs in their little skillet and the whispering rondo of the coffee pot…I write a little, surf a little…and then comes ten o’clock…like the surface of water or snow, the air does not stay undisturbed…a crescendo of working vehicles, tools and machines…the neighbors have started their weekender’s construction project…hammers, drills, power saws, male voices in a language I do not understand…I hope they will be finished soon…and then, oh, if I could have a week of spring-like Sunday mornings, what a vacation that would be!
The World's Quietest Places
...is something I say that makes my children laugh. I am a morning person…I can get up easily…that is to say, at whatever time the sun breaks and the birds chirp …not when it is thirty degrees out and still as hard and black as cast iron at five or six…then, I do have to force myself out of my quilty nest to prepare for work…but this morning, it is Sunday…it is spring…the windows are open – they have been all night – due to above average temperatures (whatever ‘average’ is for New England) and I notice a perfect Symphony of Quiet…an adagio of birds and people sleeping…I go to brush my hair and can still hear the arpeggio of my bacon and eggs in their little skillet and the whispering rondo of the coffee pot…I write a little, surf a little…and then comes ten o’clock…like the surface of water or snow, the air does not stay undisturbed…a crescendo of working vehicles, tools and machines…the neighbors have started their weekender’s construction project…hammers, drills, power saws, male voices in a language I do not understand…I hope they will be finished soon…and then, oh, if I could have a week of spring-like Sunday mornings, what a vacation that would be!
The World's Quietest Places
Thursday, April 22, 2010
HAPPY 40TH EARTH DAY!
REDUCE...REUSE...RECYCLE...REPEAT
Just a few encouraging words to be kind to our planet with simple, small steps...
ONE: Try composting from your kitchen...it's EASY!...it really is! (email me if you have concerns)...I'm excited about the new compost-able Sun Chip bag and also the corn starch packing peanuts I received in a recent mail order (why aren't ALL packing peanuts dis-solvable like these???)...then I'll bring this compost to my preschool's science center for the kiddies to experiment with too!
TWO: limit plastic water bottles
THREE: recycle as much as you can
Side note: one of my favorite parts of visiting my daughter in Seattle, was how much she was able to recycle...how ironic that there is now a garbage strike in progress...
The Plastiki Expedition
The Cove: Japan Dolphins
Just a few encouraging words to be kind to our planet with simple, small steps...
ONE: Try composting from your kitchen...it's EASY!...it really is! (email me if you have concerns)...I'm excited about the new compost-able Sun Chip bag and also the corn starch packing peanuts I received in a recent mail order (why aren't ALL packing peanuts dis-solvable like these???)...then I'll bring this compost to my preschool's science center for the kiddies to experiment with too!
TWO: limit plastic water bottles
THREE: recycle as much as you can
Side note: one of my favorite parts of visiting my daughter in Seattle, was how much she was able to recycle...how ironic that there is now a garbage strike in progress...
The Plastiki Expedition
The Cove: Japan Dolphins
Sunday, April 18, 2010
FIELD NOTES: Behind the scenes is where I am most content…
Through the window
…I went to visit mom…she was lonely…we had tea and read the newspapers…I did the crossword puzzle my father used to do…I drove home…alone,not lonely…transported elsewhere by public radio’s Echoes…cutting through the hills on 254 to Litchfield, imagining the horizon line like former tribes of Connecticut…the day was a confusion of weather…cloud-cover one minute, a peek of sun the next…wind…calm…drizzle…I felt taken back behind the scenes to nature’s weather board…cue: cloud blanket above horizon…now spotlight trees in hills, cue: sunlight…wait…cue: raindrops…just a few…no, cue ominous dusk…ah yes, I am home…behind the scenes.
…I went to visit mom…she was lonely…we had tea and read the newspapers…I did the crossword puzzle my father used to do…I drove home…alone,not lonely…transported elsewhere by public radio’s Echoes…cutting through the hills on 254 to Litchfield, imagining the horizon line like former tribes of Connecticut…the day was a confusion of weather…cloud-cover one minute, a peek of sun the next…wind…calm…drizzle…I felt taken back behind the scenes to nature’s weather board…cue: cloud blanket above horizon…now spotlight trees in hills, cue: sunlight…wait…cue: raindrops…just a few…no, cue ominous dusk…ah yes, I am home…behind the scenes.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
FIELD NOTES: It's all the same to me...
A walk in the park
…I drive out of my neighborhood…notice a dog with his nose to the ground on his front lawn…a young man sits on his front stoop playing his guitar…at Harrybrooke I notice the reflection on the water looks just like the photograph I took one April ago. Wasn’t I just raking? Wasn’t I just bracing for a long hibernation? And here it is…the closed bridge that used to be the way to town…the horizontal branch I admire like grandma’s arm guiding the river water below…watching her adorn herself…and un-adorn herself…for seventeen years…someday she will collapse…and the bridge…and me…but not today… today, spring’s white-noise water falls from the rocks in twenty-thousand tones to make it all the same…back in the neighborhood, I notice the dog…in the exact same place…as is the young man and his guitar…my heart hasn’t missed a beat…like a wheel, I have been nowhere…and everywhere…because it’s all the same to me…
…I drive out of my neighborhood…notice a dog with his nose to the ground on his front lawn…a young man sits on his front stoop playing his guitar…at Harrybrooke I notice the reflection on the water looks just like the photograph I took one April ago. Wasn’t I just raking? Wasn’t I just bracing for a long hibernation? And here it is…the closed bridge that used to be the way to town…the horizontal branch I admire like grandma’s arm guiding the river water below…watching her adorn herself…and un-adorn herself…for seventeen years…someday she will collapse…and the bridge…and me…but not today… today, spring’s white-noise water falls from the rocks in twenty-thousand tones to make it all the same…back in the neighborhood, I notice the dog…in the exact same place…as is the young man and his guitar…my heart hasn’t missed a beat…like a wheel, I have been nowhere…and everywhere…because it’s all the same to me…
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)