small scissors

big girl.

glimmer bit

bits

"Baking Easter Bread" by William Kurelek, 1968.

reminder

“I love people. I love my family, my children... but inside myself is a place where I live all alone and that’s where I renew my springs so they never dry up.”

pearl s. buck

thankful

preservation

*

window,  jacksonville rd.,  in house that my father lived in with his family.  the house was torn down.

kate

borrowed from kates blog.  my dear friend who is dreaming about change. she has gathered this.

"Make a radical change in your lifestyle and begin to boldly do things which you may previously never have thought of doing, or been too hesitant to attempt. So many people live within unhappy circumstances and yet will not take the initiative to change their situation because they are conditioned to a life of security, conformity, and conservation, all of which may appear to give one peace of mind, but in reality nothing is more damaging to the adventurous spirit within a man than a secure future. The very basic core of a man’s living spirit is his passion for adventure. The joy of life comes from our encounters with new experiences, and hence there is no greater joy than to have an endlessly changing horizon, for each day to have a new and different sun. If you want to get more out of life, you must lose your inclination for monotonous security and adopt a helter-skelter style of life that will at first appear to you to be crazy. But once you become accustomed to such a life you will see its full meaning and its incredible beauty."

Jon Krakauer, Into the Wild

i have another friend that is very dear to me that tells me that if you want something enough, it will happen. 

reminder

i have been blessed.  i have a child that has gold radiating from her core.  she holds my hand and sings 'moon river' to me.  the audrey hepburn version, of course.  i can see the moon from bedroom window at around 9 pm.  i have all of my teeth that i gave willingly to the tooth fairy so many years ago, original envolopes and all.  i have friends that are so encouraging, so devoted and so different.  i have had a hard time but i needed to write this out so i can remember and that you can see my fortune. 

lillys

conservatory

affection

charge forth

simple

patsy cline in the rain. taking the backroads, trees are black against the pink sky. putting on a sweater that still smells like woodsmoke.  eighties love music.  handwritten letters. checked shirts.  walking on peppermint  and tattered jeans.  modesty.  honesty. bravery and sun tea. 

heather

Enough! we're tired, my heart and I.

We sit beside the headstone thus,

And wish that name were carved for us.

The moss reprints more tenderly

The hard types of the mason's knife,

As Heaven's sweet life renews earth's life

With which we're tired, my heart and I.

You see we're tired, my heart and I.

We dealt with books, we trusted men,

And in our own blood drenched the pen,

As if such colors could not fly.

We walked too straight for fortune's end,

We loved too true to keep a friend;

At last we're tired, my heart and I.

How tired we feel, my heart and I

We seem of no use in the world;

Our fancies hang gray and uncurled

About men's eyes indifferently;

Our voice which thrilled you so, will let

You sleep; our tears are only wet:

What do we here, my heart and I?

So tired, so tired, my heart and I!

It was not thus in that old time

When Ralph sat with me 'neath the lime

To watch the sunset from the sky.

"Dear love, you're looking tired," he said:

I, smiling at him, shook my head.

'Tis now we're tired, my heart and I.

So tired, so tired, my heart and I!

Though now none takes me on his arm

To fold me close and kiss me warm

Till each quick breath end in a sigh

Of happy languor. Now, alone,

We lean upon this graveyard stone,

Uncheered, unkissed, my heart and I.

Tired out we are, my heart and I.

Suppose the world brought diadems

To tempt us, crusted with loose gems

Of powers and pleasures? Let it try.

We scarcely care to look at even

A pretty child, or God's blue heaven,

We feel so tired, my heart and I.

Yet who complains? My heart and I?

In this abundant earth no doubt

Is little room for things worn out:

Disdain them, break them, throw them by!

And if before the days grew rough

We once were loved, used, - well enough,

I think, we've fared, my heart and I.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning [1806-1861]

flight

jump

"I don’t want to earn my living; I want to live."
Oscar Wilde

lilacs

view from the second floor hall window. early am. birds are all i hear.

proud flesh

Proud Flesh.  a nude study of her husband, Larry Mann, with whom she has spent the last forty years. Sally Mann, with her true talent. as literate as she is visual, her essay about this work is a testament to the power of deep trust honed over time. moved by this paragraph:

And so it was with fire and ice, the studio woodstove too far away from the light to do him any good on a cold winter afternoon, that Larry and I began this work of exploring what it means to grow older, to let the sunshine fall voluptuously on a still-beautiful form, and to spend quiet afternoons together again. No phone, no kids, two fingers of bourbon, the smell of the ether, the two of us—still in love, still at work.

coming

When lilacs last in the door-year bloom'd,
And the great star early droop'd in the western sky in the night,
I mourn'd--and yet shall mourn with ever-returning spring.

- Walt Whitman,
When Lilacs Last in the Door-Yard Bloom'd
(I, Leaves of Grass)
 
you can almost hear them start blooming.  smiling because we made it through the winter.