blueberry picking
rock climbing
driving alongside the Clearwater River
hiking Hyalite Peak
walking to Dora's for burritos
watching the sunset
lightning storms over wheat fields
chickpea harvest dust
Pike's Peak runs
iced coffee from the Patisserie
night hiking, my denim romper
picking up Kia from the airport in Pasco
suntime on the beloved Maasai blanket
driving cross-country with K
the Wind River Canyon
the Bighorns & Tetons & Black Hills
swimming in the St Croix River
cooking up a storm for my man
Friday night dinners (may they continue) and fasting
my new deck!
Eagle Cap backpack weekend
walking everywhere
time in W2 to rest & find rhythm again
being neighbors with C
salsa night at Castillo
going to Life together on Sundays
time with friends in Montana & up north
J visiting
hiking Cutthroat Pass to the PCT
kayaking
raspberry picking
huckleberry picking
trail maintence on Lick Creek Trail
hiking Umatilla Rim
reading so much
the Tiger Tri
celebrating the Solstice with C, D, & T
Farmers Market...
Showing posts with label summer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label summer. Show all posts
9.22.2012
7.31.2012
road trippin' (gypsy august)
W2 to Minnesota...
Grand Teton, Wind River Canyon to Thermopolis Hot Springs
Sundance, Buffalo, and Devil's Tower, Crazy Horse
Minneapolis and Hudson, Wisconsin
7.03.2012
one more for the stars and the eyes of the walls / i saw your face, i heard you calling out
i am on my way, i am on my way
i am on my way back to where i started
california, oklahoma and all of the places i ain't ever been to but
down in the valley with whisky rivers
these are the places you will find me hiding,
these are the places i will always go
these are the places i will always go
so i wish i was a slave to an age-old trade
lord have mercy on my rough and rowdy ways
6.20.2012
6.24.2011
cooking again [3 cheers for greens!]
-cilantro-lemon tilapia
-lettuce soup
-chocolate-chip oatmeal cookies
-granola
-kale chips
-steamed bok choy
-fruit smoothie with chard
and, coming soon, pinenut pesto Greek spinach veggie burgers.
-lettuce soup
-chocolate-chip oatmeal cookies
-granola
-kale chips
-steamed bok choy
-fruit smoothie with chard
and, coming soon, pinenut pesto Greek spinach veggie burgers.
8.16.2010
At Dominion Meadows yesterday, in the small woods and long grass I came across a deer bedded down, not 15 feet away. She arose, startled by my presence, turning to look at me with contracting nose to place my scent. She was chewing on something, at least occasionally, and her jaw moved sideways, her narrow mouth making an oblong shape.
Earlier, running on the path, I chased four quail for 25 yards of so, feeling old and barefoot, running with the birds and wind.
We pushed the canoe from shore last night as the sun went down, crossing the Flats to the other side, where clay formations color the water almost glacial. We stayed on the beach listening to rhythmic waves (from wind, not boats!) well into the turning heavens and quarter moon.
When we crossed again, the dark water was choppy, the skies brilliant, the beauty (tinged with fear of capsize) overwhelming. We made it to the beach and stood knee-deep in warm water, closely wrapped under wide sky.
Who will tell these dreams from life?
Earlier, running on the path, I chased four quail for 25 yards of so, feeling old and barefoot, running with the birds and wind.
We pushed the canoe from shore last night as the sun went down, crossing the Flats to the other side, where clay formations color the water almost glacial. We stayed on the beach listening to rhythmic waves (from wind, not boats!) well into the turning heavens and quarter moon.
When we crossed again, the dark water was choppy, the skies brilliant, the beauty (tinged with fear of capsize) overwhelming. We made it to the beach and stood knee-deep in warm water, closely wrapped under wide sky.
Who will tell these dreams from life?
7.22.2010
i thank You G-d for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky;and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes
(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun's birthday;this is the birth
day of life and love and wings:and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)
how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any-lifted from the no
of all nothing-human merely being
doubt unimaginably You?
(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)
-e.e. cummings
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky;and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes
(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun's birthday;this is the birth
day of life and love and wings:and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)
how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any-lifted from the no
of all nothing-human merely being
doubt unimaginably You?
(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)
-e.e. cummings
7.17.2010
7.16.2010
7.07.2010
on editing obituaries
"Married to her life partner and love at the age of 15,
7 children by the time she was 19
Years of homesteading in Fairbanks, Alaska"
It's interesting, writing for a newspaper (though I hate to be inside those hours, and am thankful for the other, outdoor work that fills the days),
but it's also tiring, in a way,
and I think sometimes by the time my articles are written
there are no words left, for any letters or yellowed pages
or even for you.
The spinach and cilantro in my garden are on,
the squash & carrots, zucchini & tomatoes, strawberries & beets coming soon
and herbs, herbs, herbs:
dill and rosemary, basil and sage.
Well I hardly know your name anymore, if I ever did,
and my own tastes unfamiliar, salt on my lips
but your veined arms are still difficult to look away from,
your carpenter hands continuing to build things I don't understand.
7 children by the time she was 19
Years of homesteading in Fairbanks, Alaska"
It's interesting, writing for a newspaper (though I hate to be inside those hours, and am thankful for the other, outdoor work that fills the days),
but it's also tiring, in a way,
and I think sometimes by the time my articles are written
there are no words left, for any letters or yellowed pages
or even for you.
The spinach and cilantro in my garden are on,
the squash & carrots, zucchini & tomatoes, strawberries & beets coming soon
and herbs, herbs, herbs:
dill and rosemary, basil and sage.
Well I hardly know your name anymore, if I ever did,
and my own tastes unfamiliar, salt on my lips
but your veined arms are still difficult to look away from,
your carpenter hands continuing to build things I don't understand.
6.21.2010
9.08.2009
Fog covered sunrise this morning
evergreens and firs growing silently out of the white
we, dressed in down vests, thick socks, boots
strapped canvas bags to our shoulders,
huddled around trees picking Bartlett pears
red and green, we picked every one, climbing the hard ladders,
pouring the bounty into wooden, spidery crates.
My Dad and I walked through the field last night,
the now autumnally greenish-grey field,
counting pine saplings.
The dead and the survivors (only 55 didn't make it this year)
which leaves 200 to become strong Ponderosas--
the best numbers we've ever had!
My Dad, solemn and focused, counts carefully
(for him, tree-planting is no small responsibility),
credits the July thunderstorms, the blessed rain this weekend,
weather that redeemed an unnaturally hot and dry June.
The puppy, its big paws and young face, is growing so fast
soon it will be faithful and obedient
(oh, how I long for a dog)
I have studied so many sunrises and sunsets this summer,
have stood every day under a changing sky
have faced, despite sweet skateboarding and a boy I am quite taken by,
no small amount of loneliness.
But oh, I'm not finished finding stories on windy beaches yet!
My ear is to the ground [the song is in the soil]
evergreens and firs growing silently out of the white
we, dressed in down vests, thick socks, boots
strapped canvas bags to our shoulders,
huddled around trees picking Bartlett pears
red and green, we picked every one, climbing the hard ladders,
pouring the bounty into wooden, spidery crates.
My Dad and I walked through the field last night,
the now autumnally greenish-grey field,
counting pine saplings.
The dead and the survivors (only 55 didn't make it this year)
which leaves 200 to become strong Ponderosas--
the best numbers we've ever had!
My Dad, solemn and focused, counts carefully
(for him, tree-planting is no small responsibility),
credits the July thunderstorms, the blessed rain this weekend,
weather that redeemed an unnaturally hot and dry June.
The puppy, its big paws and young face, is growing so fast
soon it will be faithful and obedient
(oh, how I long for a dog)
I have studied so many sunrises and sunsets this summer,
have stood every day under a changing sky
have faced, despite sweet skateboarding and a boy I am quite taken by,
no small amount of loneliness.
But oh, I'm not finished finding stories on windy beaches yet!
My ear is to the ground [the song is in the soil]
9.07.2009
you keep asking me what this means
what it means, what it means
that i was wearing linen when our sojournings crossed
that you were dusty, from living so long in a desert
and i met you in a dream carrying suitcases
flowing like water (my name, you see)
because it is the nature of water to want to be somewhere else
the trail turned this summer,
and i can see the autumn in the locusts, now,
i can feel it in the smoke
i told you, your skin was honey
but i can't stop coughing,
even bronze can be too much for these old eyes to see!
and i need the Spirit like the wind on my face
i've been searching for so long among these trees,
looking for the Shining one in so much refracting light
sometimes, dreams are life.
what it means, what it means
that i was wearing linen when our sojournings crossed
that you were dusty, from living so long in a desert
and i met you in a dream carrying suitcases
flowing like water (my name, you see)
because it is the nature of water to want to be somewhere else
the trail turned this summer,
and i can see the autumn in the locusts, now,
i can feel it in the smoke
i told you, your skin was honey
but i can't stop coughing,
even bronze can be too much for these old eyes to see!
and i need the Spirit like the wind on my face
i've been searching for so long among these trees,
looking for the Shining one in so much refracting light
sometimes, dreams are life.
8.27.2009
dark was the night
the way chickens run is all shoulders
speed of the neck, no arms
the preposterous stillness of the grouse
eyeing me warily
my eyes telling yours secrets my mouth will never speak
peace pie, peach cobbler, peach fuzz everywhere
these are the last days of jumping into the river
take one step nearer, two steps back
to him and even You
i need You like the sun rays on my skin
and he is reading my face
he is translating my body
he is looking me in the eye,
but he can never know me,
this i know,
oh, help me tell the truth!
speed of the neck, no arms
the preposterous stillness of the grouse
eyeing me warily
my eyes telling yours secrets my mouth will never speak
peace pie, peach cobbler, peach fuzz everywhere
these are the last days of jumping into the river
take one step nearer, two steps back
to him and even You
i need You like the sun rays on my skin
and he is reading my face
he is translating my body
he is looking me in the eye,
but he can never know me,
this i know,
oh, help me tell the truth!
8.22.2009
three women may walk this road at any time of the day or in darkness,
carrying bowls of fresh-picked raspberries with shining eyes.
on the beach not far from me,
a boy has picked up a flopping, dead fish
now he swings it by the tail, taking ginger steps on the hot sand
he pointed out a heron to me, plucked his banjo patiently
recording deep layers of stratus clouds, the gentle ambling of a turkey flock
i climbed into tree branches to pick the plums
greeted the small quail scurrying at the edge of the road
oh my body, betrayer and sustainer
my hands, that have known work and yet remain soft
this is my summer skin, meeting yours as the rain falls down
rest your jaw on my clavicle
your calloused hands on my smooth back
i have seen the scenes and scenery stretched out like canvas over the pilgrims' west
have squatted like a hobo to drink soup from hand-thrown mug
have returned to a land as overwhelming as any i've yet seen
now i examine tree bark
now i stand tentatively under the waning moon
carrying bowls of fresh-picked raspberries with shining eyes.
on the beach not far from me,
a boy has picked up a flopping, dead fish
now he swings it by the tail, taking ginger steps on the hot sand
he pointed out a heron to me, plucked his banjo patiently
recording deep layers of stratus clouds, the gentle ambling of a turkey flock
i climbed into tree branches to pick the plums
greeted the small quail scurrying at the edge of the road
oh my body, betrayer and sustainer
my hands, that have known work and yet remain soft
this is my summer skin, meeting yours as the rain falls down
rest your jaw on my clavicle
your calloused hands on my smooth back
i have seen the scenes and scenery stretched out like canvas over the pilgrims' west
have squatted like a hobo to drink soup from hand-thrown mug
have returned to a land as overwhelming as any i've yet seen
now i examine tree bark
now i stand tentatively under the waning moon
8.13.2009
have been finding old pictures,
looking for them in the wake of my grandfather
my parents, like most pictures of our far-west parents,
look happy, beautiful.
pioneering through the 70s on a steady diet of simplicity and scenescapes.
pioneering through, for my mom at least, the overwhelming pain the 80s would bring
i can't stop looking at her face in these pictures--
her young face. (my age!)
her old soul, grey-blue eyes,
knowing more than her size and youth let on
her mouth, not smiling, but looking, smirking,
showing strength and tenderness and resolve
like she had an inkling not all ahead would be sunlight & bikini tops & ski trips with her new husband
now i think of these things sipping coffee
now i try to piece together who i am
and what this means.
7.18.2009
summers in washington are like a dream
i've been going out with a beekeeper,
crushing cherries into wine,
painting porches and weeding fields and chopping wood
but i wanted to tell you about the dancing last night
the peasant skirts, chaco sandals
socks with birkenstocks
about nearly falling over under all those stars
and whispering ts eliot
listening to aspens shiver
yes, summer is strange and wonderful
and we will swim and bike and work and eat berries until we fall flat under the stars
i've been going out with a beekeeper,
crushing cherries into wine,
painting porches and weeding fields and chopping wood
but i wanted to tell you about the dancing last night
the peasant skirts, chaco sandals
socks with birkenstocks
about nearly falling over under all those stars
and whispering ts eliot
listening to aspens shiver
yes, summer is strange and wonderful
and we will swim and bike and work and eat berries until we fall flat under the stars
6.23.2009
The Black Forest, Germany
The travels continue. We are now in a small village in southwest Germany, visiting my friend Claudia, who studies theology here at a seminary.
Claudia opening her birthday champagne.
Happy Solstice!
Bad Liebenzell
Claudia and Laurie
Have been drinking good tea and weak coffee like it's my job, and longboarding a lot, and hiking in the forests around the hamlet. And chocolate! The Germans love their chocolate! I can't wait to get home and eat vegetables and protein again... It's a bit difficult being vegetarian in Europe. I am growing rather tired of bread, even good German bread:p But all the community and chance to rest more than make up for it.
Claudia opening her birthday champagne.
Happy Solstice!
Bad Liebenzell
Claudia and Laurie
Have been drinking good tea and weak coffee like it's my job, and longboarding a lot, and hiking in the forests around the hamlet. And chocolate! The Germans love their chocolate! I can't wait to get home and eat vegetables and protein again... It's a bit difficult being vegetarian in Europe. I am growing rather tired of bread, even good German bread:p But all the community and chance to rest more than make up for it.
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