bravelilies

Rumbling Bald

2012-01-18T13:41:00.004-05:00

We climbed and we climbed, mostly through brush because the trail was elusive :) In the newly annexed part of Chimney Rock Park, in Hickory Nut Gorge.

If you look closely in the last picture, you can see the small opening, like a little arch, toward the edge of the rock face. I wonder when that will fall away to make a new addition to the big boulder field at the bottom of the cliff?

New work by Tom Ferguson

2011-12-16T12:45:00.001-05:00

Majolica ware, made in Hendersonville, North Carolina

A sense of things...

Grounded

2011-12-05T17:33:00.003-05:00

fall photos

2011-11-16T11:38:00.005-05:00

A tree alive with yellow fire, as we were walking up Laurel Park Hwy.
...up off the Blue Ridge Parkway--a gnarled tree
I love "weeds"!

The view from the top of Curtis Creek at the BRP--it was the first tract of National Forest, under the Weeks Act, of around 1913. We hiked to a fire tower at the top (didn't do the hike all the way up that day...)

Craggy in Snow

2011-11-01T17:46:00.004-04:00

Photos by Don, from a very cold hike along the ridge of the Craggies last weekend...

Hemphill Bald

2011-10-11T16:24:00.007-04:00

the above photo needs to be seen as large as possible...(open it!)

Some great fall color--taken by Don... at a pasture on the boundary of the Smoky Mtns National Park.

Harpers Ferry

2011-09-27T10:49:00.002-04:00

I only took these three photos in Harpers Ferry--not sure why, it's a beautiful spot. I like the hand-hewn stone steps, fun to climb, too.

ice house and farm

2011-09-27T10:40:00.003-04:00

At Hampton House

Hampton House, outside Baltimore

2011-09-27T10:19:00.006-04:00

Just a fun place to take photos... The Ridgely family were not so rich that they could make their historic mansion look as good as it does now, as a national park.

A Trip to Savannah

2011-09-06T10:08:00.002-04:00

Nina Simone's childhood home

2011-07-27T11:56:00.003-04:00

A visit to Tryon while Angelique was in town...

Kayaking

2011-07-27T11:47:00.003-04:00

We must have turned a few heads as we headed east on Interstate 40.

With two 17-foot fiberglass kayaks strapped to the top of a 1982 Mercedes, we cut a different profile than most cars on the road as we made our way toward the Outer Banks.

The idea was to spend four or five days paddling around the Cape Lookout National Seashore—camp on the beach, visit the lighthouse, see some wild horses, lots of sea birds, and maybe a vivid sunset or two.

My boyfriend, Don De Bona, had experience kayaking around the Core Sound, and had recently bought the two “previously owned” British-made kayaks along with all the requisite gear, planning a trip for the two of us in early July.

A night at my sister Brooke’s house in Wake Forest broke the drive into manageable parts—and by the time we left the Raleigh area early on a Thursday morning we were more confident the kayaks were not going to be flung off the car by the massive headwind driving at 60 mph creates.

For, just like the car and one of the kayaks, Don’s Thule roof rack was vintage 1980’s—solid, no doubt, but not as confidence-raising as those sleek new models.

As for my sea kayaking experience, it basically came down to a single day in Kauai about 15 years ago on a tandem kayak with my sisters—when Brooke lived on Oahu.

Other than the amazing experience of swimming with sea turtles that day, I only remember that getting on that kayak was a great cure for the hangover I had woken up with.

I didn’t plan on testing out this boat as a hangover cure, but wished I had had time to try the boat out in some sort of water before leaving for the Banks.

I had a slight but nagging fear of what I would do if the boat capsized—but Don assured me he would be there to help me if that unfortunate circumstance should arise.

Trusting that I would be safe, and relying on my yoga-strengthened arms and core muscles to see me through, I decided to accept his assurance.

First sight

Pulling into the parking lot at the Cape Lookout Visitor Center, the sound came into a full, expansive view, sunk under a massive stack of offshore clouds.

The Core Sound is the body of water between the slim strand of marsh, dune and beach of the Core Banks and the islands off the mainland of North Carolina.

I could see the banks spanning the low horizon, at the center of which the lighthouse beamed.

The Cape Lookout lighthouse looked pretty distant from this vantage point on Harkers Island, like a toy from a miniature display.

It was good to know it would basically remain within view from wherever we were on the banks or the sound—a handy orientation tool, just as it had been to anxious sailors in the past.

The Core Sound is quite a bit smaller than the neighboring Pamlico Sound to the north, but Don said it would still take a couple of hours to get to the banks by kayak.

That didn’t surprise me—it was hard to make out anything but low trees on the banks, as they sit about two and half miles off Harkers Island.

Loading the boats in full sunshine at the Visitor Center picnic area and boat put-in was relatively simple—much easier than packing in the first place, thanks to Don’s expertise.

By the time we set off from the little harbor around 2 p.m., however, strong winds had begun to blow—there were even whitecaps on what was now turning into foot-high swells.

Once in the open water, I thought I heard Don say, “Let’s turn back!” but it took all my concentration to keep the boat going forward.

He seemed to be making a beeline for the banks, so I soldiered on.

The thing we didn’t plan for—it hadn’t even entered our heads—was “what to do in case we got separated.”

Don and his boat were getting smaller and smaller in my vision as I struggled to keep the boat from heading north—the direction the wind, and possibly the tidal current, were going.

After about a half-hour, he was completely gone from my vision, and the lighthouse was looking even more remote.

Land was in relatively close view, however, so I decided to make it to the beach, and look for him once I was out of the boat.

The kayak was handling pretty well—just frustrating me that I couldn’t turn it into the wind to head south—I was a cork bobbing out there, too light for the crossing.

An hour later, I made my way into a marsh and set foot on land—in the form of the deepest mud I’d ever encountered.

After strapping on my hiking sandals tight enough so they wouldn’t be sucked off my feet, I realized how unwise it was to leave the boat.

I could move faster on the water—besides, the tidal marsh was a lot easier to paddle in than the open sound.

I knew Don was south of where I was, and more importantly, would be looking for me.

Honestly, I did panic a little bit—what if I didn’t find him?

The tent was in my boat, so I could set up camp, but I thought about how awful it would be if I didn’t know where he was once it got dark.

Don had the dry bag that held both of our cell phones in his kayak, so calling wasn’t an option—though at the time I didn’t know there was full reception on that remote section of the banks.

The sun was still high in the sky, thankfully, and about 20 minutes later we did find each other.

Don said he had been worried I had taken on as much water as his boat did in the crossing (it hadn’t—though I was the one with the bilge pump) or, even worse, that I had capsized.

Another 10 minutes of not knowing where I was and he said he was prepared to call 911.

Relieved to have found each other, we headed south along the bank, enjoying some unhurried paddling—first spying an osprey on its nest, then a congregation of egrets beginning to roost in a low tree.

Unloading the boats in the marsh was exhausting as we began to feel the effects the crossing took on our muscles.

On the beach, the waves were grey and storm-tossed—it didn’t look like the weather would pass quickly.

Once we set up camp on the beach we were too wiped out to cook.

It was too windy anyway to run the camp stove, so we ate a supper of bread, cheese and fruit in the tent.

By the time we finished, the light had faded and the first rain of the all-night thunderstorms started pounding on the tent.

Deciding to take a break the next day to explore the beach and let the weather blow over, we walked down the bank a few miles, almost reaching as far as the lighthouse before lightning threatened.

We probably saw more sea turtle and shore bird nests than people that day.

I did appreciate the wide-open wild nature of the banks, but didn’t as much like the wind that sent sand into every corner of the tent that night.

In the morning, it was a choice to paddle to the lighthouse—before a 12:30 rainstorm was due, or simply return to Harkers Island.

I truly wanted to see the lighthouse up close, and camp in its relatively protected environs, but once we got the boats ready at about 9:45 a.m. it looked so far away compared to the mainland.

In low tide conditions, we first dragged then were able to paddle the boats in the shallow water of the sound, which was an exasperating effort.

We decided to head for Harkers Island—the dark clouds coming in near the lighthouse being the deciding factor.

Escaping the rain that lasted into the evening was a good call, though it was frustrating to see the next day dawn bright and flawlessly sunny, with calm waters on the sound.

The idea of getting in the kayaks exhausted us, so we indulged in a ferry ride to the lighthouse, where we swam and lounged on the beach for the entire day.

While relaxing, we started planning our next trip—with all the lessons we’d learned, it’s sure to be a breeze.

in South Carolina, while collecting a kayak

2011-06-19T21:28:00.004-04:00

someone should give this guy a kick in the pants!
but such pretty shells...
an absolutely massive oak...
& old plantation house,
with slave houses, on Folly Island.

2011-06-16T15:18:00.001-04:00

These koi are award-winning fish, living in their own special pool in Flat Rock. My photo here was printed in the paper, part of a garden tour story last month...

2011-06-15T09:56:00.000-04:00

2011-06-06T14:22:00.002-04:00

It feels like a desert, this early summer, and with flowering cactus to prove it...

skyfarming

2011-05-07T19:57:00.011-04:00

when the evening breeze

moves too swiftly

for adherance to the strict regime

of conscious cloudbursting

simply take to collecting sky pennies

hovering in that subdued hue of blue

and in honing unfocused attention

on birdsong and a quality

of nothing in particular

as an antidote

to that clock-hewn amnesia

of flightless words

and the rigid monopolies of thought

Hunting Island and the Chapel of Ease

2011-04-19T12:28:00.008-04:00

2011-04-14T03:44:00.000-04:00

spring wildflowers off Pearson's Falls Road

2011-04-03T21:58:00.004-04:00

an amazing Trillium, flaunting its petals...
these Trillium were massive

Black cohosh

Plantain sedge with Mayapple
Trout Lily
Foamflower

Yellowroot
Hepatica (?)

Blue Cohosh

2011-03-28T10:42:00.000-04:00

greenhouse raising

2011-02-28T11:23:00.007-05:00

The greenhouse in Tom's backyard hadn't been used in years so it has been transferred to the new home of Kate and John Fisher, in Saluda... It was fun spending the warm, sunny afternoon piecing the thing together, a bit like a puzzle.

Tom, connecting the roof...

brave little flowers

2011-02-25T18:39:00.005-05:00

It was so warm with radiant sunshine and soft skies today that I spread a blanket on the grass to read a book. Right next to me happened to be some brave crocuses peeking through--which made me SMILE!!

happy valentine's day!

2011-02-14T13:44:00.003-05:00

Some favorites from Joe's massive yard sale haul of vintage valentines.

Dreamland Laughing

2011-01-24T10:54:00.003-05:00

Both of my sons laugh in their sleep

it's usually around 5 am

(I notice this after they sneak into my bed

and fall back into that dreamy

early morning sleep)

It's never more than a little chuckle

lasting as long as it takes

to draw in a deep breath--

and they must be smiling

while laughing

but it's too dark to see

window hanging

2011-01-19T08:45:00.003-05:00

I've made several of these, and am now remembering to document for this blog. Batiks in a prayer flag/noren type hanging for a door passage or window--this one, for Diane's birthday!

yome and greenhouse

2010-12-11T16:35:00.007-05:00

the "yome"--a yurt with a dome structure...

the solar panels run a fan that blows heated air from the greenhouse interior to pipes that are laid in the ground around the periphery of the greenhouse.

the water tank acts as a "thermal mass" or heat sink--keeping the greenhouse warm & moist on winter nights.

At the home of Meg and Michael Reim, here in Hendersonville--gracious enough to share their experience with Transition folks interested in their unique structures. I loved the passionflower vine growing around the inside of the dome greenhouse door...

bean bag dolls

2010-11-21T14:28:00.001-05:00

for the little ones in my life... sewn with love on my yard sale sewing machine.

Chicago!

2010-11-05T13:50:00.007-04:00

At the Art Institute...

Pat meets the Bean...

At the Chicago Cultural Center, with dome by Tiffany...

In Millennium Park--where it looks like prairie grasses have been planted?

My first visit to this city... lots to look at.

Little Rooms at the Art Institute

2010-11-04T16:47:00.004-04:00

The amazing thing about these rooms is that they are tiny--obsessive dollhouse-sized replicas of rooms all over the world.

Chickens of Harden Circle

2010-10-26T12:19:00.002-04:00

Transition Hendersonville's workshop on hens and worms was a success last weekend--I'd like to thank the critters for letting us into their world for a couple of hours (I didn't bother photographing the worms--they like to be fully hidden...)

more Fall action

2010-10-26T09:42:00.005-04:00

This was taken by Pat up in the hills near Swannanoa Saturday... I think it's mesmerizing.

And this--Tom took of Jack and the Grape Vine!

Fall, on the Parkway

2010-10-19T10:03:00.009-04:00

Graveyard Fields was awash with tints of rose colored leaves, bright orange trees, and tawny grasses--under a brilliantly blue sky. My friend Colleen set up her traveling easel to capture some of the display & I did some sketches (I almost sat on that funny caterpillar...)

Real Life Netsuke

2010-10-10T21:43:00.005-04:00

I'm reading Edmund de Waal's wonderful book "The Hare with Amber Eyes" and it makes me want to touch netsuke, those little Japanese carvings--I love these way acorns look, the strangely-shaped pears, and the overripe persimmon--all found recently, just walking around town, and on hikes.

Edisto Island

2010-09-21T07:13:00.004-04:00

Live Oak Campground (and Pat in the surf!)

Anticipating Distances

2010-09-20T13:15:00.006-04:00

If you're lucky

what passes for disaster will appear

in your rear view mirror

If you're careful

the vista holding your destination

will remain within your gaze

Let go and let momentum carry you

no hands

on the steering wheel

But whatever you do

the sun's heat will continue to rise

from the surface of the road

from the home of auntie beth

2010-09-20T10:19:00.003-04:00

can you hear the breeze in the backyard cherry tree?

photographers and rockers in Seattle

2010-09-20T10:08:00.002-04:00

Seattle Art Museum

2010-09-20T10:04:00.002-04:00

At the art museum, with Aunt Beth!

Oregon Coast

2010-09-20T09:54:00.005-04:00

Pacific Northwest

2010-09-20T09:45:00.005-04:00

At Lewis and Clark's fort on the coast
Luke, at the pool in Portland
bronzed animals at the Portland Zoo
Animatronic dinosaurs! (some even spit...)
Cian & Aunt Maggie xoxo

La Luna Plena

2010-08-04T11:21:00.006-04:00

for Rafael Jesus Gonzalez

A kind of moonlace

stitched among stars

a watchful blind eye

hiding quietly in a corner of the sky

It hoards the complicated daylight

as an offering to night's shadow

tugging the fast-twitch muscles

of rabbits and ocean waves

along its silent trajectory

I find this habit of orbit

this puller of surf

tied to endless rhythms of

unspoken grief and madness

impossible crescent

slim and worn thin with wandering

dragonfly eye

2010-07-30T17:53:00.005-04:00

As I was getting out of my car just off Main Street

the fastest dragonfly darted this way and that way--

hovering over the sparkles of the blue green paint

and the daylight sky blue of the windshield's reflection

that looks as inviting

to a dragonfly eye as a pond cool and wet

deep and restful

and I thought, as this winged thing of tremendous

and ancient beauty flew off in search of true water,

how my eyes see differently than compound eyes

but how often I myself mistake something else

for the thing I really want

without ever realizing it

New Poem

2010-07-20T20:09:00.006-04:00

I was getting really inspired

about the poem I thought I would write

it was going to be about angry frogs,

but then I thought, when do you ever see

an angry frog? maybe that one in

The Wind in the Willows, but I think

he was just drunk, or reckless, and

fumed when his plans were stymied,

or that perhaps Frog was often angry

with Toad--or maybe it's the other way round

And then I thought, shouldn't frogs get

really, really, steaming mad? Throw a fit

big enough to stop freeway traffic, loud enough

to disrupt corporate meetings, or US Senate

deliberations, maybe send out threats by text message?

But I figured, in reality, they never really would.

2010-06-14T17:11:00.000-04:00

Leisa's garden

2010-05-28T20:59:00.005-04:00

(Garden was formerly Amy & Dave's... :)

I like this better than cotton candy

2010-05-23T11:03:00.001-04:00

candy-scented peonies...

CLoud

2010-05-21T18:19:00.001-04:00

Energy Security

2010-05-21T10:04:00.007-04:00

My neighbor's artfully constructed wood pile. This looks like a warm, cozy, winter to me!

Learn about the Transition movement: http://www.transitionus.org/welcome-transition-us

Transition Hendersonville is in the 'mulling' phase, but is on its way to stage events, and other forms of action--after the recent completion of its first study group.

Leftwich Pottery

2010-05-15T20:46:00.006-04:00

The wonderful art of Kim & Rodney Leftwich. I took the above face jug home--Kim is the creator of face jugs, and the filial jars below:

A couple of Rodney's amazing cut-out vases:

2010-05-13T16:46:00.000-04:00

mini-golf

2010-05-12T07:29:00.007-04:00

2010-05-02T22:26:00.008-04:00

I sipped at a storm
in a teacup
and noticed the porcelain
had cracked
a flood flashed into
the saucer
it ended up
all over the tablecloth

Mini thunderclap and
lightning bolt shocked
me out of the chair

I did my best to contain it
with sandbags and cement
but I was too late
the sugar cubes had
melted
the teaspoon was adrift
so I boiled the kettle
and tried again

NC Wild Foods Weekend

2010-04-26T12:06:00.008-04:00

Some (inedible) centerpieces...

Many of the breads were made using acorn flour.

Hudson & Anna (with the centerpiece Anna made for the ice cream table!)

Our second year in Reidsville for the Wild Foods Weekend was a blast--my favorite part being the massive coordination of food preparation. It's instant community between all different types of people--a lot of work, but a lot of fun. Everything from squirrel soup (I didn't try that) to paw-paw punch, ice cream & cheesecake, to the delicious appetizers from my group--like dandelion flower fritters, thistle 'straws' as well as cattail heart & creasy greens quiche (I made that one...)

Captain Underpants

2010-04-20T10:27:00.003-04:00

a couple of wonderful new collages from Maggie, in Portland:

Estatoe Creek Heritage Preserve

2010-04-11T22:20:00.004-04:00

in upstate South Carolina...
A handsome reddish toad (that I didn't kiss)
So tropical-like, no?
The water rushes down so fast in the narrows (Jack is in full contemplation...)
Fuzzy!
All the essential camping gear (including the new collection of poems--Green Revolver--by Jack's friend Worthy Evans--winner of the South Carolina Poetry Book Prize!)

Flowers at Estatoe Creek

2010-04-11T22:08:00.005-04:00

Jack-in-the-pulpit
Nodding trillium
Doghobble
Trillium
Foam flower

pinks and blues

2010-04-07T10:39:00.005-04:00

cutting through the blue
fresh weather systems
vanish the wind in
shadowed gingham

flattened to flowered
wallpaper it's stalling

there can be
a loss of gem-like
sunshine and bloss
even on the prettiest days
deepening eventually
to a garish dusk of
pinks and formal shade

the elements sever
a cloud and thunder
is contained
but only slightly

The hush of ceased speech

2010-04-06T17:38:00.004-04:00

the hush of
ceased speech
settles into
the shape of a
floating silence

revealed in the
pared down beauty
of birds in flight
and of tangled trees
that have lost
leaves from limbs

in the near distance
a bell rings
and its stirring
reverberation
spills into
the quiet--
sending ripples
into the peace

on lacking the key, book, or bell

2010-03-28T11:20:00.003-04:00

Lee Falls & Oconee Bells

2010-03-22T10:40:00.005-04:00

Off scenic Highway 11 in upstate South Carolina is a little hike to a wonderful waterfall... There are some green, grassy fields perfect for napping in the sunshine (which we did on the walk back!) A tremendous first day of spring~

Hanging on to a tree trunk, resurrection fern is poised to come back to life...

Shameless treehugger!

Ed, checking out lichens under the falls...

Rare Oconee Bells (at Devil's Fork State Park) which Jack & I sketched--I loved the light, sparkling on the water.

All things are made new...

2010-03-15T13:35:00.003-04:00

"Spring is Christ raising martyred plants from their shrouds."

-Rumi

some of spring's first growth, down in South Carolina, off the Eastatoe River...(Jack's photo of a Hepatica flower:)

I will be the lady with the sea monster

2010-03-10T10:07:00.003-05:00

for maggie~

If only my feathered skirts skimmed the surf
as elegantly as yours do, brown on brown velvety tooth
capturing the late afternoon light like pink mist
set on fire by a hundred tropical suns

So whether horned beasts loom on our horizons
we will not betray fear, effortlessly holding a Victorian portrait
sitter's gaze, while soft sand sifts between our toes
and the wind plays around our bare shoulders

You are the beauty, the melody and the tune of the song
that unchains my heart, the sweet vision of serene days
smiling into the tender, boundless love we share

Going back, knowing what I know now

2010-03-03T14:54:00.004-05:00

to times I was starry eyed, and full of useless hopes

I take a deep breath, and am made new

tingling with limitless possibility

Broken Hearted

2010-03-03T14:48:00.005-05:00

I saw my doctor recently for an annual visit

I didn't tell her about how sometimes

my heart feels like it's ripping in two

whenever I think broken-hearted thoughts

Maybe I didn't tell her because

I know of a remedy for the heart--

Letting go of all I thought I knew,

I let love spill silently

over my heart's front steps

Public Art in Charlotte 1

2010-02-28T20:19:00.005-05:00

don't step on that bee, jack!
the new Bechtler Museum of Modern Art (before I was busted by the guard for taking photos...)

at the Bland Street station on the new light rail (jack is looking blissful)

Public Art in Charlotte 2

2010-02-28T20:15:00.006-05:00

I love this! the little girl was really enjoying this one, part of a Nicki de Saint Phalle sculpture, outside the Bechtler. I'm in there too, as is jack's shoe...

hanging out at table rock

2010-02-21T21:14:00.004-05:00

Leisa playing native American flute, on a house-sized boulder...
Jack, wedged between two rocks...
Stairs cut into the rock, and a view looking westward from a pluton at the ridge:

snowflakes and carrot cake

2010-02-12T17:13:00.003-05:00

Quite often, I might write

about somnolence, or maybe

about carrot cake--

Kelly made a cake

with carrots and crushed

pineapple bits, it was

very tasty, the combination

of moist, super-delicious

cake and that wonderful

white icing that tops

it off so well

I had to call her right

away to tell her how much

I liked it

while I could still taste it

in my mouth

frog love

2010-02-03T13:11:00.005-05:00

This is a photo taken by Cindy Carpenter at the Cradle of Forestry of the egg masses of Carolina wood frogs from a year or two ago--see the tadpoles? I am so excited about their appearance! My story about Frog Love in the Pink Beds will be linked here soon...

Oops! the event has been canceled due to yet another Friday storm. Here's the story--maybe they'll reschedule? http://www.blueridgenow.com/article/20100212/SERVICES03/2121011/1151?Title=Frog-love-for-Valentine-s-Day

Cloudfarming

2010-02-01T10:01:00.001-05:00

If I were a cloudfarmer

I’d lasso a sunny day

the sheets of blue might

gather momentum

on the sunset’s wide horizon

and spark the dawn’s pinkish

grey influx of stratus

and highflying cirrus

what would become of us

if we rode all day on a tidy

little nimbus, oblivious

to the grid and patchwork

below, just us two stretched out on the vapor

peeking into the distance—

overgrown cherubs

laughing and eating sky fruit

until it came time

to bring in the wind

and harvest a ripe thunderstorm

snowy romp

2010-01-31T21:21:00.008-05:00

How wonderful to hike in the white stuff! Leisa, Jack & I jumped over the barrier at Holmes State Forest to climb Wildcat Rock trail--smooth, virgin snow--no one had been there since the snow started falling on Friday afternoon... Deep drifts in steep places were a fun challenge, and switchbacks hard to trace but we managed to edge up the hill. Little skittering critters' tracks lit up in the snow at the ridge. So peaceful. My favorite part was skipping down the trail, relaxed as a rag doll (except when a snowball was being hurled at me--I threw plenty, so I deserved what I got.) Meeting friends who were sledding at the bottom of the hill was fun too--that specially-designed snow inner tube is the way to go--spinning out of control is scary but thrilling! Thanks to Jack for the photos.

tea

2010-01-26T09:31:00.007-05:00

In some countries

it's pure ritual

in slow gestures, hands pour

and the cups are distributed

(tabletop ceramics, curlicues of steam)

in honorific process--

the subtleties of its yang

filling the ambient space

like a long-lost memory

for me, it's a kettle

that sputters like an enraged woman

and only a lowly bag

a hag filled with the shredded remnants

of a whole leaf

it can't hold a candle

to tealeaves releasing in boiling water

like a lotus, revealing

its thousand-fold petals toward the sun

Who is dreaming of spring?

2010-01-23T19:33:00.007-05:00

She begins to speak of spring,

and a voice cries out--

What do you know of spring?

Of the meadows overstocked

with flowers and delicate

chrysalises, the sun inching

higher at each noon,

the thrushes teasing the soft

warm breezes, or of the easing

of frost? What do you claim to know

about these things

in the middle of this bitter winter?

And she spoke a reply that left

no question:

I am the light in the forest

that sings the buds to life

and releases the furred,

the winged and the hard-shelled

alike from their sleeps--

I am the quickening in the earth

that kick starts the trees'

yearly thickening--

I am the sound of the rain

as it falls from noiseless clouds--

I am the restless drift of seed and spore

trusting in fruitful destination--

I am the trajectory to the longest day--

I say, I am the tender-footed stepping

that first wild step

into the green green heart of summer.

Now and again, the ordinary moment seems terribly beautiful

2010-01-17T23:19:00.002-05:00

earthquake

2010-01-17T11:02:00.006-05:00

aeons of continental drift slip

and churn in continuous collision

the earth disks spin and twist

the hapless undercrust

temblors tremble their terrible tectonics

perhaps rearranging pangea,

maiming cities and citizens

or simply altering the everyday hillside

cohesion crumbles

as the landscape reinvents itself

without a care for its inhabitants
I spied this poem, same title as above, by Aime Cesaire (1913-2008), translated by Paul Muldoon, which speaks a bit more than my 'heartless' poem, above, speaks:

such great stretches of dreamscape

such lines of all too familiar lines

staved in

caved in so the filthy wake resounds with the notion

of the pair of us? What of the pair of us?

Pretty much the tale of the family surviving disaster:

"In the ancient serpent stink of our blood we got clear

of the valley; the village loosed stone lions roaring at our heels."

Sleep, troubled sleep, the troubled waking of the heart

yours on top of mine chipped dishes stacked in the pitching sink

of noontides.

What then of words? Grinding them together to summon up the void

as night insects grind their crazed wing cases?

Caught caught caught unequivocally caught

caught caught caught

head over heels into the abyss

for no good reason

except for the sudden faint steadfastness

of our own true names, our own amazing names

that had hitherto been consigned to a realm of forgetfulness

itself quite tumbledown.

ages of the moon

2010-01-14T08:55:00.004-05:00

for ages the moon

just stared back at me

chalky, mute, and still

not willing to disclose its secrets

or unlock the puzzle of the waves and tides...

I forgot about the moon

and its cycles

until I felt rather chalky and still

myself

I pleaded for the moon to sing to me

to sweep the sky while

writing my name in the stardust--

perhaps to even mail me a moonbeam

tucked in a silver envelope

so I could open the flap and smile

as light from a thousand orbits

made glowing patterns across my face

several haiku

2010-01-08T09:40:00.005-05:00

Last night I finished reading the brilliant novel by Carson McCullers--Clock Without Hands--next to which these little poems pale, but they are fun to write...

January moon

suspended in a cold sky

radiating light

frozen flower pod

dark against the white snowbank

such brittle petals

icicles on cliff

exposed to a noonday thaw

the loud crash echoes

kitty cat heat seeks

curls into a round, black ball

quietly purring

Dream of the Disappearance

2010-01-04T09:04:00.003-05:00

There were all around me monuments/tombs topped with glowing marble statues of all the animals that have recently gone extinct... Rare types of animals, with pointed ears, glossed back fur, etc. There was a polar bear, too. Each had the name of where they were last seen (one had the name of the hotel we stayed at in Mexico.) The dream took place in a past 'version' of a European village--a building that I knew had been restored was in shambles... No creatures roamed the hills.

The Cove

2010-01-03T17:05:00.008-05:00

We didn't do this, but in Puerto Vallarta there is a "Swim with the Dolphins" program you can sign up for, and now I know where those dolphins come from--they are bought from a town in Japan for $150,000 each, in the same place where around 20,000 dolphins are slaughtered each year... I learned this from watching The Cove, a thrilling, well-made documentary. Check it out: http://thecovemovie.com/

http://www.takepart.com/thecove

Did we and the dolphins speak the same language once?

do you feel the moonpull?

2010-01-03T10:41:00.016-05:00

Where have I been? Away from winter's icy chill... Staring at these mountains, Mexico's Sierra Madre, bordering the Bahia de Banderas. Can you see me flying above the coastline? Those birds joined me one morning...

It's my goal (a resolution?) to write a poem a day this year. Admitting this here will help my goal, right? Feel free to write and ask how it's going. Perfection is not the goal, just a continual flow... Here's yesterday's poem (by no means perfect):

Moonpull

the waves roll on moonpull

a metallic gravity of liquid feet

the mountains, jagged & stubborn

shadowed beneath restless cloudburst

even the trees get caught up in the rush, talking to one another

in their common language

we are not allowed to listen in

we have done too much harm

but one day, when we are accepted

once more, the trees will bend their limbs

and someone will fashion a boat: a solid-hulled thing

it will radiate the story of the forest

while skimming the waves-- the restless metallic waves

reflecting the moon's mirrored light

Shaker Love

2009-12-20T23:33:00.004-05:00

her calling was simple

lift the newborns to skies

brushed clean with promise

imbue the children

with the wisdom of animals at rest

untangle the forced love of

women with waspish waists

(their struggles to breathe now over)

impart to men the unflinching

compassion that looks you

straight in the eye...

she writes, and

the frantic curves of her

calligraphy--a sweet, shaky graphic--

unlocks a puzzle that utters

all those words never spoken

which is then carefully distilled

to a tentatively growing thing

teased into blooming

(a surprisingly fiery flower)

(a rather gaudy blossom)

before ending

its strange fruition as a pink radish

tipped in haloes of light

Carl Sandburg Home in snow

2009-12-20T11:19:00.002-05:00

One of my favorite places--in a different light...

Inner Kandinskys

2009-12-14T11:34:00.004-05:00

Thanks to Maggie for encouraging me, Cian, & Luke to greet our inner abstract painter selves and create some spontaneous art!

Angels tend the miraculous unfolding...

2009-12-08T12:52:00.003-05:00

A tunnel book I made, not so recently. Some more of these need to be created!

2009-12-01T10:52:00.004-05:00

My heart split open to reveal

tiny glowing cities

filled with empty reliquaries

These little containers

were covered with a fussy

kind of silvery filigree

But inside--nothing

to see, nothing to take home with me

except a lining of ruby red velvet

both smooth and plush to the touch

2009-11-29T16:34:00.001-05:00

Bless the Whistle Pigs

2009-11-24T01:17:00.008-05:00

It may stem from a deeply anti-social vein

in me, this wish to see

Instead of blacktop and three

color traffic lights and a tangle

of telephone wires, to see

wide expanses of native grasses, beetles, and the

harmonious networks of earthworms

Bless the burrowing creatures

for they labor and rest in their own time

Instead of 1.5 acre outparcels with potential

restaurant or retail site, to see

the wide arms of an ancient oak

almost as wide as it is tall

above which circles a patient hawk

Bless the creatures of the air

for their keen eyes and for balance they restore

to the fields

Instead of the repetitive molds

of houses and their attendant towers

clustered against the edge

of a forest, to see

rivers aged into meandering curves

and the silent horizons of rocky ridgelines

shining in fading light

Bless the fish hidden in dark waters

for they have not witnessed a world

stripped of mystery

firedream

2009-11-17T10:10:00.008-05:00

for Janisse Ray

Some people thirst for big weather--

Fat, ballooning raindrops,

roiling clouds and wind

that rips through trees

I like that too, but

to be a hovering witness to the thunder

and crack at the tip of the top

of a Longleaf pine seared by lightning bolt

and follow the seam of fire racing

down massive trunk to the tinder

of bluestem grasses at the base

of a proud grandmother pine--

(where, upon igniting in a dance of flames

passion of dry spark, nest of inferno,

there is only unquenchable heat)

this would bring me a radiant type of joy

This violent healing unleashed

over endless miles of generously spaced trees

doted on from an understory of wiregrass,

pitcher plants and the peculiar silence

of Saw Palmetto

to bring the next generation of Longleaf--

extending roots deep in the sandy soil

The once familiar Bachman's sparrow,

the red-cockaded woodpecker,

the Eastern indigo snake, and the gopher tortoise

so at home here, even with fire

Or even cougar, elk, and woodland bison--

now, names in a book, struggling to get off the page

Where, in this now shrunken, patchwork forest

can this fiery dance let loose in joy and

longing for itself

sweeping the distance with happy flames

ancient and able, so perfectly adapted

to the destruction that allows for life

in a howling rage

and then, slowly, carefully, in the quiet that follows

Meanderthals

2009-11-15T20:55:00.012-05:00

With Tom ("the Beatnik") Ferguson and Jack ("the Frost") Drost, Beth ("Totally") Beasley scrambled up to a low ridge on Weed Patch Mountain, in search of the elusive White Irisette, which was giggling at us from the leaf litter as we slid and slipped, and I ultimately fell in the creek on the way back to the car. A fitting end to a *funny* hike... chewing on anise goldenrod and mountain mint, trying to avoid using rotting trees for support, and admiring Lake Lure from a height.

All going well, this area (about 1600 acres) will be soon be preserved--through the efforts of the Carolina Mountain Land Conservancy.

Pepper-spore lichen (or is it Peppercorn lichen?)

2009-11-04T22:31:00.001-05:00

Rivers must flow...

2009-11-04T10:50:00.001-05:00

Close of the Mesozoic

2009-11-03T11:31:00.005-05:00

The earth bled under an electric sky

bright like nectarines ripe with life

a soup steeped with spores, saprophytes

and the slow pulse of outsized beasts

encumbered by their own heavy hearts

lumber along within jungle tangle

in fits and starts

toward an unexpected demise

in the clean horizon of Jupiter's eye

this wayward meteorite

sacked the light

and upended in a fine spray of loose dust

creatures clambering for air until

in the darkened chill

heavy eyes stare in silence

and footprints fossilize

while the inheritance of the meek

is quietly established

Transition Towns

2009-10-29T09:54:00.009-04:00

I can't stop thinking about what I've heard about the equivalency of the energy in one tank of gas compared to simple, straightforward human labor--of the fetch wood/carry water kind. One tank equals 4 years of one human laboring. Four years.

When I told Cian this the other day, he sighed relief at the fact we had fossil fuels. We now live at a standard higher than any other society has before on earth because of oil. Just so we haven't painted ourselves into a corner.

I got the one tank/four years information from a video on 'transition villages'--an intriguing idea regarding peak oil issues that is starting to gain momentum in England, and also here in North Carolina.

See a video on transition towns here. I love that they bring humor into it--Americans can be kinda sanctimonious when it comes to environmental/cultural issues. Simple solutions are best, no?

chalk monsters

2009-10-26T12:39:00.005-04:00

I love this photo of Cian and a neighbor's dog--the surprise of spots of sun shine.

And a lithe alien, from the mind of Luke...

Sam Knob on a sunny fall day

2009-10-26T12:15:00.007-04:00

Leisa & I nibbled on mountain ash fruits & took in that feeling of being on top of the world in this odd, magically beautiful place... That's a huge chunk of quartz that I'm leaning on--you can see bits peeping out from the hills in the 360 degree view from the top of Sam Knob, just off the Blue Ridge Parkway.

trees in flight

2009-10-25T21:33:00.005-04:00

This week I saw a little dogwood tree crammed with what I think were starlings--there were more birds than leaves on the tree. I knew it would happen, and it did--a huge burst of wings as they darted upward in a flash. I don't think I could describe the sound it made. I was standing only about 20 feet away. Wow.

Which of the birds decide when and where to go? Is there a leader? What if they truly move as one being?

fading in concentric rings/a swoop of starlings forms a joyous backdrop/against the evening sky/rejoicing in the vigorous/breeze and the readymade roosts/of patient trees

as she speaks her words ring clear and bright

2009-10-21T08:51:00.002-04:00

Sounding out across the crystalline

green of distance

where sweet encouragement never fails

to whet her tongue

and loosen the darkening

stars set like diamonds in the depths

of immobile coal

Here emerges an eye, like a glassy chrysalis

umbilical, newborn to breast

in clean parthenogenesis she releases

her own diaspora

bread unto water

wine in the desert

light into darkness

Like the eye of a slow moving hurricane

hollow, hooded threat

of a bombed out building

like a white sheet rumpled

and now snapped to tautness

she awakens the moment a word

sounds out like a bell from her breath

LEAF

2009-10-19T20:45:00.007-04:00

The Lake Eden Arts Festival seemed a little less crowded this time--maybe it was the forecast of 35 degree weather on Saturday night? To stay warm, we danced to the Squirrel Nut Zippers, Los Amigos Invisibles, and Zap Mama, then Cian and I snuggled together in my little mummy bag. It was cozy & warm, though my head kept feeling the outside chill, while I heard snowflakes dissolve on the roof of the tent. Sunday dawned clear and we enjoyed sitting in the sun eating crepes, hula hooping, doing some acrobatics, & listening to Mamadou Diabate, Billy Jonas, and Arrested Development (while we broke camp across the lake.) I think the thing the kids enjoyed most was being free to run around with friends, play around the streams and in the 'forts' of trees and shrubs. Idyllic times.

Red Hat Ramblers

2009-10-19T14:32:00.005-04:00

High above Camp Rockmont and the hubbub of LEAF is a ridgeline that includes Cedar Cliff & Eden Rock, at about 3800'. We couldn't quite hear the music that far up, but the cold wind had some snow flurries...BRRR. Holly, Ed & I returned to the Festival in enough time to catch the tail end of the Red Stick Ramblers, with some Cajun dancing. I've always wanted to do this hike--only wish Leisa had been there too!