Tag Archive | photos

Winter Blog

Jan14

MOTHER NATURE

81f0d-turkeys

I’m taking a respite from a short story I’m writing to talk about winter. Specifically, winter in Massachusetts. Now, this winter has been quite a mild one. The only snow my little town has seen was on Halloween. At the time, it seemed a portent of doom, this early snowfall at the end of October. A sign that the climate gods were unhappy and frustrated. A statement of mistrust and disapproval from ye gods on high. Often we can get a dusting of snow in October, but not generally this type of significant storm that causes power outages, downed tree limbs, and all the other usual accoutrements of winter. A weariness set upon many; those of us who intensely dislike clearing our cars of ice and snow, those who have long commutes to work, who aren’t skiers or snowmobilers, we who get little joy out of the white stuff. We anticipated a long, dreadfully difficult season.

Turns out though, we got depressed prematurely. Because since that October storm, we’ve had nothing more than a few flakes of snow in the air. We’ve experienced some very warm days when not only didn’t we need boots, hats, and mittens, but we didn’t even need jackets. This is freaky, I tell you. It is not usual. I had to ask my virtual friend from Canada to write a poem about snow for me, because I can’t write about what I don’t see. I told him: write about the starkness of the trees in winter, your breath clinging to the atoms of air in front of you, the moss peaking up from under the snow. Of course he didn’t (I don’t have much luck with persuading people to do my bidding.)

Do I actually miss the snow? No, that can’t be. But perhaps I miss writing about it. So, here’s a first draft on a winter poem. Be kind – I have nothing to go on this year.

 

Winter poem

Turkeys drenched in frozen rain
Peck at the desolate, rock hard ground
Crowd around the tiny patch of moss green
Peaking up from under the snow
Flutter and run at the sound
Of the garage door opener

And before you drive through the doors
Stop at the mailbox at the side of the road
Step onto the ice pavement
Brave the storm, the sloppy snow
Shiver
And watch your breath cling to the atoms of air
In front of you
Collect the junk mail flyers
And discount magazine offers
Back in the car, honk at the birds
And drive through the gates of heavenly warmth
The blessed garage

While the turkeys
Fly confused up into the lacy trees
Stark nude, with their brown twilight dress
And hunker down for more

I Find the World a Wonder

Jan10

CALMLY RANDOM

feet

I find the world a wonder

A place of suspect substance
No weighty exchanges
Only smiles
Wheezing, joking, tickling
Aching sides, laughing
Cameras clicking
Documenting joy
Eyes shining in disbelief
Craving to stand together
To be
To live
And touches of happy caresses
Such touches
Clarity
Euphoria
Transcendent bliss
Most wondrous of all, authentic talk
A marvel, unheard of
In this modern age
Of strategies
Meant to disarm and conquer

None of that

Sorrow and melancholy revealed

Mellowed, rounded
Accepted
With unselfish consideration
With humanity
With tender kindness
None of the horrors of the times
Only a return
To the garden
To desire
To ecstasy
These surreal moments
Of myth-like legend and confident faith
Can’t be real
I must be dreaming
Or wishing
Desperate for the click click
Of the clock to mean anything

Beyond the misery

Wanting this world to exist

Searching for wonder
Poet’s fancy

Bitter Cold

Jan5

MOTHER NATURE

snowy-road

The weather outside is frightful. Oops, those are lyrics from a popular holiday song. Let me start again. The weather outside is hateful…no, the weather outside is unbearable…no, it’s horrible…no. Let’s start all over. The weather outside is exactly what it should be for winter in northern climes. It’s difficult. It’s cold, frigid, frosty, snowy, icy, windy, freezing. My character Glory in PERSEPHONE IN HELL is somewhat more eloquent than I in her thoughts about winter. She’s hitchhiking her way to school, just got picked up by a trucker who is very pleased to host this gorgeous teenage girl in his truck.

“I’m so damn cold. Will spring never come? She closed her eyes, willing Persephone, the goddess of spring, to arise from the dead. Nothing happened.

Should know better than to trust in the gods. Maybe I’ll thumb my way to Florida.

Her fingers moved up and down her frigid skin, trying to create some heat. The trucker’s hand left the steering wheel and inched across the vinyl seat toward her. “It’s like ice in here,” he said softly so as not to disturb her reverie. “I can help with that.”

Glory gave up on the gods for the moment and stared out the steamed up window. She counted the side streets they slowly passed – Forest Street, Chestnut Street, Spring Hill Lane. Such vernal, innocent places, green and natural. Merry and naked, nothing like winter; no snow drifts ever on Spring Hill.”

Ah, just the thought of the idyllic Spring Hill makes me wish I could thumb my way to somewhere else. Anywhere else. A place where Mother Nature reveals her softer side on a more regular basis. Where ice is mostly associated with cream, and cold with beer. Where a young girl can walk to school past inviting green lawns. Where truckers drive on by and no one misses them. Where cool, invigorating winds come to visit but don’t stay long. Where without the crushing weight of a hard bitter cold, the spirit can float free.

Thanksgiving Leftovers

Nov28

CALMLY RANDOM

thanksgiving-table-2

I don’t count the pounds anymore as it’s too depressing, but surely I’ve gained a few over the last weeks! What with the whipped cream, maple walnut rolls, turkey with stuffing and gravy and cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes with maple syrup, butternut squash with brown sugar, green beans with almonds and mushrooms, corn bread, broccoli with cheese sauce, corn pudding, chocolate raspberry cake, apple pie, and pumpkin pie (not to mention the assorted appetizers, nuts, wine, champagne, and hot mulled cider I consumed), I suppose one could say that I enjoyed the holiday to its fullest! Yes, I handmade from scratch almost everything on that list. Other family members brought the desserts, to give them credit. I am a good cook, probably not a great cook, certainly not a gourmet cook. But I think it all turned out well, very well. We’re still eating the leftovers, and I shall be wearing them proudly on my hips, thighs, and tummy for several months to come!

If you’ve had a chance to read through my book PERSEPHONE IN HELL you’ll find that Glory thinks about food a lot. Her family is poor, there are no luxuries, with six kids in the family one has to move fast to get a fair share. Food in the end is something to remember and savor.

“…let moonlight and soft pines in, blueberries and corn on the cob; strawberries in summer, crisp apples in fall…You’re not too old to run after the ice cream truck, and the breadbox can be clean. It can be full with homemade fudge and devil’s food cake now and again. There’s cinnamon sugared bread for the making.”

Some people eat to live. I live to eat. It’s a cliche but true. In a world that sometimes seems uncontrollable, hard, even cruel, a fine meal can keep a person’s spirits strong. Good food – Mother Nature’s finest work.

 

Mirror of the Past

Nov14

TIME AND OTHER NONSENSE

Mirror, mirror on the wall  e5d7d-mein1969
Why can’t I look
Like I did when I was 16?

We women prefer the mirror of the past, I was told today by a friend on Facebook. We become insecure as we grow older. Men age gracefully. Or, we accept that men grow older. Their seasoned faces show signs of character. We women show wrinkles and sagging skin. We are jowly old crones over time, maturing into bosomy, flabby, ample fullness.

The person who commented that we women prefer the mirror of the past was not being unkind. He was trying to tell me that there is no need to hide behind a profile picture taken when I was 16. He thinks I look better now in photos of my mature fullness than in those of my girlhood. At least that’s what he said. He’s a person of great depth, so I have to believe that he means what he says.

What do I think? Am I better now – me, fully ripened fruit? I look at my photo here, taken when I was 16. How could I possibly believe that I have improved? I, who am hurtling frantically and relentlessly toward old age.

I look again, and remember. I remember the truth. Back then, I believed I was hideous. I was a mess, a nightmare of insecurity. I wasn’t tall enough; my thighs were too fat, my hair was frizzy; I wanted a model’s cheekbones and found none at all in my face. My lips were too thin, my mouth too small, my upper arms bulgy, my nose enormous, my waist too large, my calves manlike, my limbs too short. I am not making up any of this. These are the thoughts that I had about myself then, at age 16. These are the thoughts that I have about myself now, only amplified over more than 40 additional years and many more pounds.

I remember thinking back then – why can’t I look like anyone else, anyone but me? Why can’t I be anyone but me?

No, I haven’t improved. My perception of myself hasn’t changed. I will forever dislike the present that is me. I think my friend is correct in one regard though. I do prefer the mirror of the past, because the alternative, this real aging woman, is so difficult to face. Whether all women feel the same, I can’t say. I am aware of a few who are more confident about themselves than I’ve ever been. But I would guess that most of us look to our pasts when thinking of our beauty. Perhaps there are even some men who wish the reflection in their own mirrors could record an earlier, more fit time. Perhaps we would all readily hide in the shadows of our past.

Ancients visited

Oct5
TRAVELS
I had the most fabulous time on my trip to Greece and Italy! Not without some issues (okay, we got robbed, missed a flight, had to sleep on the airport floor, lost my sister’s luggage forever maybe, missed almost a day in Venice, slept through an entire day in Florence, and my ears got boxed by a flight attendant – but who’s complaining?)
The Coliseum, Rome Italy – most beautiful sports arena ever
f62ce-greece-rometrip2011261

The Parthenon at the Acropolis – Athens, Greece. There is nothing that can top this sight. I had the privilege of visiting this and many ancient sites in Greece and Italy. What a fabulous trip!

Ruins of ancient temples are everywhere.
Greek restaurants needed our business so badly, they offered free wine with dinner! Who am I to pass it up? Here I am (on the left) with my sister who generously sponsored this amazing trip. We ate well, very well – an understatement. Greek food is delicious!
Beautiful Greek island of Aegena.

Wandering through the beauty of the ancients

Aug21

TRAVELS

columns-at-pompeii

Hi all! I am off on a two week vacation! Will be wandering through the ancients such as the Coliseum, Acropolis, Pompeii, Vatican, Florence, Venice, Rome, Athens, Greek isles – glorious places that I will write about when I get back. Please don’t forget me! Come back and visit me again. Many thanks. Alright then, off I go!

 

Rain

Aug11

MOTHER NATURE

Why prefer a sunny day?rain

When the rain
Is infinitely more interesting
Wets the window sills
If you’re brave enough to leave the gaps open
If you won’t care that the flooring below gets damp
Tap taps sound on the gable, on the shingles, on the asphalt
On the wood dormers and eaves
All the better to hear the beauty raps
Rap, tap

Smells of natural effects
Like
Earth worms reaching out for air
(Otherwise you never see them)
And shiny spider webs
Invisible in the dry
That pop from the lawn like tiny pinwheels
In crystal post-shower light
Oily slick spots on the pavement
Form psychedelic rainbows

The rain pulls color up from every leaf
And stick of grassy cover
Every surface more vivid
Recalling the green of Ireland

Likewise
Grabs the sorrow up from me
Deposits it on my arms and thighs
My wet, prickly, sensitive layer
Clear water thoughts apparent
Vulnerable, questioning
Sitting on my skin

And there’s usually some wind accompanying the drops
The majestic wind
Rap, tap, wild howls
Branches swaying, leaves blowing
Sometimes a downpour
Pelting rain
Exciting
Stirring
Stimulating
Groaning

Or drowsy, dreary, dripping melancholy
My frequent friend

Always mesmerizing
Always enchanting
Never dull like the sun
That relentless boring bright

 

 

Chinese Food For Thought

Jul29

AS SPIRITUAL AS I GET

SAMSUNG CAMERA PICTURES

The secret’s out – I eat Chinese food fairly often. How do we know? The frequent references to my fortunes, of course.

Tonight’s revelation: “Focus on trusting your intuition and you will get through it.” This fortune seems rather appropriate and timely. I like to think that I have an intuitive sense about myself and the obstacles I face. But what about conflicting intuitions, those instances where communication appears to be real and yet the people involved are light years apart in understanding? One person’s intuition is another’s indecipherable attitude. In this 1968 scene from PERSEPHONE IN HELL, Glory and her physics teacher couldn’t be further away from understanding each other.

“Stay a minute, will you, Gloria?” Mrs. Standish asked.

What’s important enough to make me late for my next class?

Madeline Standish looked at Glory. She saw a vibrant girl with a movie star figure, startling violet eyes, and wild dark hair strung with colored beads. Those hippies, Madeline thought, out to change the world. Our perfectly good world.

“Miss M_____, you simply must pay more attention in my class. Your grade depends on it. You want to go to college, don’t you? Well, of course you do, a bright girl like you. Not that girls need college. But you don’t want to end up a nobody, do you?”

I’ll never be a nobody.

Glory drew herself up out of her self-indulgent slouch. Her eyes turned dark and piercing. She looked at Mrs. Standish with the wrath of the high born.

I am Elizabeth of England, the great queen, and being talked to as a lowly sailor.

Madeline sensed she had said the wrong thing. She tried again.

“Glory, as a member of God’s Chosen People, you have a special obligation. You have to try your best. We know that all Jews are smart. That’s God’s truth. God expects a lot of you.”

Oh, is that all this is? I’m not about to let on to Mrs. Standish that I don’t believe in the god of the Jews, or any other god for that matter.

She’s complicated and interesting, Madeline admitted to herself. But Jews are tricky. I much prefer our normal girls. Still, I treat everyone the same and I’m proud of that. It’s a modern world, after all.”

Tonight, along with my Singapore rice noodles, beef with broccoli, and Peking ravioli, I contemplate my life. I sit in front of this computer with a glass of red French wine and wonder where the world will take me. What trust should I have in my own intuition, when it’s clear that intent can so easily be misinterpreted? Even one’s own mind must be subject to scrutiny. How long, how deeply should I think things through? What about feelings? Am I thinking too much? Focus…trust…intuition – Chinese food for thought.

Florida Revisited

Jun30

TRAVELS

I thought I would write prose about my trip to Florida in July to see the final space shuttle mission. But it turns out that I am more inspired to write poetry about my experience.

 

Florida Revisited

I sat on the edge of the bayspace-shuttle
In the sandy green weeds
And watched
In near fatal pain and agony
As the liftoff began
Those seconds of flight
3 – 2 – 1 and liftoff
And the horizon filled
With a fiery light
A vertical prayer
Answering my call
Pull away! Set me free!
A vortex of glowing flame
A roar
And then Pele, the goddess of fire
Flung a column
Straight up through the gaseous
Whirls of smoke and steam
Miles of cloud reaching
For eternity
Taking the space vessel
And the fire within me
Shooting it up
To her heavens
Forcing its unnatural path
Pulling against gravity
Shoving through the dense air
And up
Away from me
Leaving an emptiness
A hole in the sky
Where once there was sunlight
And birds, and natural vapors
And agony
Now leaving nothing
Nothing
No pain
It was carried away
To the vacuum of space
No agony
My agony had no base
No foundation
Once the space shuttle launched
There was nothing to hold it
Nothing to keep it in place
Gravity is not so tough
Einstein would agree
It’s relatively easy to overcome
Unlike the magnetic life force
Of the epic vessel
Compelled to leave this earth
Careening into space
Breaking free
Leaving nothing
No feeling or substance behind

But over time
Pele will be satisfied
She’ll have ripped me sufficiently through
Tortured the vomit-like anguish out of me
Until the next epic flight
Birds will wing back
Filling in that void
Cumulus and nimbus will return
All things natural
Will resume their destined tracks
Though agony is gone for good
Pain
Finds a way to return