listening...

“I was born on the night of Samhain, when the barrier between the worlds is whisper-thin and when magic, old magic, sings its heady and sweet song to anyone who cares to hear it.” 

― Carolyn MacCullough, Once a Witch

flurries in the morning, grey in the afternoon

snow!

gentle, beautiful, peaceful snow.

the robins have been gorging on the fat, red

crabapples for days and now they can barely fly.

the seasons are changing.

i can feel the tug of halloween and day of the dead,

urging us to turn within,

to remember those who have passed before us.

and as november approaches,

our mammal selves yearn for the comforts of 

food and burrow and den.

and even as the reluctance in me grows,

i feel a stirring of new beginnings.

while i dread turning backward on dreams as i head south, 

i cultivate hope and energy for the next chapter.

i have so many ideas for november.

here's a peek at number one...

beginning on november 9th,

i will read my way through this book,
each poem according to the date.

won't you join me?

our little vermont kitchen

at first, i couldn't imagine ever liking it. two different kinds of very old linoleum on the floor. stained and fading formica countertops. dark, ugly cupboards, with metal shelving. ancient appliances. not much room for a large (both in number and in size) family that loves to cook together.

but over the years, we have learned to take turns in here, to "tag team". if someone chops veggies on one side of the galley, someone else can mix and bake on the other. washing up teams have a chance for one-on-one conversations. tea is brewed, soups are simmered, scones are baked, root veggies are roasted, champagne corks are popped, cider is mulled in the crock pot, oatmeal is celebrated and pies are revered. 

sometimes we even manage dance parties in here. 

vermont public radio is often tuned in. "eye on the sky" weather forecasts, BBC news, "on being with krista tippet" on sunday mornings, "moth radio hour", "wait wait don't tell me" and "a prairie home companion" are faves.

sometimes we pull veggies from our gardens, bring them up the stairs and into the kitchen and cook them up in a matter of minutes. that is fast food of the very best kind! and local? utterly! 

we dream of a large, open kitchen, with a family/harvest table front and center. a gas range with six burners and a double oven. a real pantry, filled with our own dried herbs, jars of food put by, containers of beans and grains lined up, baskets of garlic, onions and shallots. a shelf filled with well loved cookbooks. 

open shelving in the kitchen itself might hold nesting bowls, hand-me-down colanders, wooden spoons, a bamboo steamer, pitchers and cast iron skillets. a window shelf filled with potted herbs would be lovely. there will be linen tea towels and lots of them.

someday this little kitchen here in vermont (that i have become so fond of in spite of myself) may turn into the stuff of dreams. until then, i will delight in its simple hospitality, just the way it is.

what might you have in your dream kitchen?

a double demand

Autumn makes a double demand. It asks that we prepare for the future--that we be wise in the ways of garnering and keeping. But it also asks that we learn to let go--to acknowledge the beauty of sparseness.

-Bonaro W. Overstreet (1903-1985)

with thanks to my friend Stacy.

at the brink?

lighting a candle against the darkness.

We here in America are waiting.

Let us be gentle with ourselves in the next few days...

Do not overdose on media.

Take a walk.

Chat with friends whom you admire and respect.

Listen to music.

Catnap.

Eat well.

Breathe deeply.

Hope.

postponing dreams

Well, dear friends, it's official. We have taken our CT house off the market. We will try again next spring. This was a disappointing decision for us to make, and we have worked hard to find some peace with it. Once we finally get to the end of this real estate adventure, I'll tell you the whole story, but right now, I'd just like to let it rest.

Batman and I are resilient, we share a vision of our future and we support one another in this "being patient thing". (That right there is a huge blessing that I do not take for granted).

As the weeks pass, I'll spend less time here in VT, and more back in CT. I'll make the best of it...catching up with friends, getting back into my studio, volunteering and having more time with my sweet Batman.

I continue to work on mindfulness, gratitude and being present.  For me, it's the best way forward. 

Oh, but, part of me is so very sad...

love is love

today is the 25th anniversary of national coming out day!

some of my best friends and family are 

part of the LGBT community

and because i am a fierce ally, i am too.

i've been a proud member of the 

Human Rights Campaign 

since 1996.

HRC works to ensure LGBT people of their basic equal rights, 

and can be open, honest and safe 

at home, at work and in the community.

read about the HRC here,

and if you already belong...hooray!

if you don't, please consider joining today.

thank you from the bottom of my wide open heart.

xo

holding the little things

lake champlain at shelburne farms,

for this opening.

"You did not have to understand miracles to believe in them, and in fact Mabel had come to suspect the opposite. To believe, perhaps you had to cease looking for explanations and instead hold the little things in your hands as long as you were able before it slipped like water between your fingers."

-Eowyn Ivey, The Snow Child

a grandparents' quilt (with a new picture!)

my buddy potts became a grandma this summer.

annell arrived in july.

i wept when i saw pictures of the new baby.
i just couldn't stop for a while.
then, when i looked at the pictures again later,
there were still more tears.
such a mush am i.

i just had to stitch a little something to celebrate 

the birth of this special girl.

a quilt to keep at grandma and grandpa's house

 for playing on, snuggling with, being wrapped up in...

i am not there in person to welcome wee annell,

but my love and hope is stitched into this quilt that has 

crossed the miles to the midwest. 

the next generation of love and friendship.

such an exquisite blessing.

xo

(a photo of sweet annell, posted with her grandma's permission)

transience

Write it on your heart that every day is the best day in the year.

-Ralph Waldo Emerson

When I woke this morning, the view was "almost peak".

At noontime it was "peak".

And now it is barely "past peak".

What an extraordinary day to pay attention.

To soak it all in.

To appreciate the transcendent.

To be present.

"them"

no radio news for me today.

i want no part of their disfunction.

if i could feed them all, i would invite them to come up

and have supper with me.

we would picnic on the ground and be humbled 

by this simple and exquisite beauty.

they would be put to shame.

every one of them.