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Little Notebooks
I always carry a little notebook in my purse. Just in case. Sometimes I’ll carry the same one for years, if it doesn’t fill up fast. When my kids were younger, there would be tic-tac-toe games or weird scribbles on the middle pages, if I’d handed over the notebook in a desperate ploy to entertain…
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Cardinal Reflections
It’s a firebird, or maybe a flower. I was out cutting flowers early this morning, six a.m. and muggy in a way it seldom is in Oregon, or maybe my hurry just made it seem warm. And then I was looking for pictures of cardinals, and found instead reflected light on wood. Of course, there…
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And then when I wasn’t looking. . .
The prunes tree burst into bloom. Fat buds on Saturday, full blossoms on Thursday. With bees.
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Pruning the Prunes Tree
For years, I called it a prune tree. And my Brooks prune, once it had been in the ground a while, obligingly provided a prune nearly every August. Maybe September. One prune. It dawned on me that perhaps I should call it a prunes tree. Much more obligingly (or equally obligingly, if we follow the…
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The Long Run
Today was my long run of the week and, being a big fan of efficiency, I thought I’d write a thoughtful little essay about the meaning or effects of the 12-mile run, or the insights arrived at thereby. But running 12 miles makes me feel accomplished and pleased with myself (yay), tired (predictable), and also…
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Mitigation
I rode along on my son’s middle school science field trip last week. Because I’m a great mom, of course, and I wanted to do my little bit for the schools before my work schedule ramped back up, and because you learn something about your kids and their lives if you spend some time seeing…
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Layover Butterflies
Sometimes the butterfly matches its flower. Or the rest stop accommodates the traveler, opens just the right amount of space, offers tasty cookies with that watery free coffee, anticipates what might seem like nectar in the middle of a journey. This is us making the most–the best–of a 7-hour layover in Chicago, enjoying the…
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In memoriam (decedent unknown)
Unknown to me, that’s all, or only slightly known. Familiar, but not close. I expect (I hope) she was better known to others. There’s an assisted living home down the hill from us, close to the stop where I catch the bus to work. Ours is a neighborhood of hills and uneven sidewalking–sidewalks seem to…
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Studio Date (a thank you note)
My friend Sarah invited me to her studio the other day. I won’t describe the paintings (or, not quite); that’s for her to do. But I will describe the conversation. She’s working on reflections now, on remembered water (among other things). She talked about the importance of noticing, in all of her work. Her tools…