Monday, February 13, 2017



When even the mainstream feels woke.

Thursday, February 9, 2017



A few friends shared this song with me a few months back — Every so often it comes to mind again.

Wednesday, February 1, 2017

Red Brocade
Naomi Shihab Nye, 1952

The Arabs used to say,
When a stranger appears at your door,
feed him for three days
before asking who he is,
where he’s come from,
where he’s headed.
That way, he’ll have strength
enough to answer.
Or, by then you’ll be
such good friends
you don’t care.

Let’s go back to that.
Rice? Pine nuts?
Here, take the red brocade pillow.
My child will serve water
to your horse.

No, I was not busy when you came!
I was not preparing to be busy.
That’s the armor everyone put on
to pretend they had a purpose
in the world.

I refuse to be claimed.
Your plate is waiting.
We will snip fresh mint
into your tea.

Copyright © by Naomi Shihab Nye.

via

Saturday, January 21, 2017



On the turning away
From the pale and downtrodden
And the words they say
Which we won't understand
Don't accept that what's happening
Is just a case of others' suffering
Or you'll find that you're joining in
The turning away
It's a sin that somehow
Light is changing to shadow
And casting its shroud
Over all we have known
Unaware how the ranks have grown
Driven on by a heart of stone
We could find that we're all alone
In the dream of the proud
On the wings of the night
As the daytime is stirring
Where the speechless unite
In a silent accord
Using words you will find are strange
And mesmerized as they light the flame
Feel the new wind of change
On the wings of the night
No more turning away
From the weak and the weary
No more turning away
From the coldness inside
Just a world that we all must share
It's not enough just to stand and stare
Is it only a dream that there'll be
No more turning away?

Thursday, January 19, 2017

Be A Light

Ghostlight Project at BVT






I want to remember that this night happened.

Thursday, December 1, 2016


(after the fact, I always wish I’d shot more video of moments like these – but in the moment I worried about annoying others sitting nearby, plus I didn’t want to just experience the whole thing through the camera viewfinder. That annoying clicking sound is something internal that my point-n-shoot camera introduces as I try to adjust functions ...doesn’t even make that sound when I’m using it, but somehow it’s there in the video afterwards. :(

use the + - slider shown at lower right in window above to zoom in/out

Saturday, November 12, 2016


Forgot all about this song, but it popped into my head and somehow it works for me today.

One of my first rock albums as a kid: Abacab! I remember being so pleased when I realized during a piano lesson that a-b-a-c-a-b referred to notes on the musical scale. (Now you wanna go back and listen to the whole album, don't you?!)

Friday, November 11, 2016

Sunday, October 23, 2016

Road trip to Maine with my sister... Somewhere between here & there:


.
.
Two mothers on rocky ground:

Thursday, October 20, 2016






above Garlinghouse Road, Naples

Wednesday, October 19, 2016




.
.
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soft part of a broken egg shell found on the path:





Friday, October 14, 2016

Just as I got myself all nestled down in the frosty grass to get some glittery pictures, my battery died. :(


And I might wish for a better camera, but this is what I got, okay? Don't be such a snob.
I still think it's purrty.

Thursday, October 13, 2016



views out the back of the barn

Wednesday, October 12, 2016











Tuesday, October 11, 2016


my-my-my-my-my

Monday, October 3, 2016

Down East, Maine...




more to come!

Thursday, September 1, 2016

Monday, July 25, 2016

it's raining!!!


Saturday, July 23, 2016

discomfort

I hope this summer is an aberration, that next season or maybe next year will feel normal again. It feels like the world has been in a holding pattern, waiting for this moment to pass. The weather, politics, culture - it's all going to get back to normal, right?

Or maybe I'm just a privileged white girl starting to feel what people in other parts of the world (or even here) have always felt.

Thursday, July 7, 2016

Friday, June 17, 2016

Good Bones

by Maggie Smith

Life is short, though I keep this from my children.
Life is short, and I’ve shortened mine
in a thousand delicious, ill-advised ways,
a thousand deliciously ill-advised ways
I’ll keep from my children. The world is at least
fifty percent terrible, and that’s a conservative
estimate, though I keep this from my children.
For every bird there is a stone thrown at a bird.
For every loved child, a child broken, bagged,
sunk in a lake. Life is short and the world
is at least half terrible, and for every kind
stranger, there is one who would break you,
though I keep this from my children. I am trying
to sell them the world. Any decent realtor,
walking you through a real shithole, chirps on
about good bones: This place could be beautiful,
right? You could make this place beautiful.

(via)