views out the back of the barn

my-my-my-my-my

Down East, Maine...

more to come!

it's raining!!!

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.

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)

at Sonnenberg

when you're driving down Rt. 245 and you look east out the window and see this happening:

As I walked over to get a better look, the rainbow was positioned to exactly connect my dad's new house to where the old one was. Maddeningly, my camera's view wasn't wide enough to see it all. And the rainbow passed so quickly before there was time think of better ways to capture it.