A boulder resembles a round loaf on a breadboard. Maybe it’s just there for giants in the night. The leaves on the ground give an idea of its size.
Tag: Outdoors
A SIGNATURE FLOURISH
They’ve become a kind of signature for our place every summer, even though it’s been a number of years since we’ve planted any. The neighbors tell us how much they enjoy the sunflowers. They’ve become self-seeded, no doubt enhanced by our bird feeders.
As for all of the goldfinches, now that’s another matter! Just look at that bright yellow on bright yellow …
SIGNS OF STATUS
I learned to backpack as a Boy Scout. Our troop was big on primitive camping using homemade trail tents.
When you successfully passed the requirements for the Second Class rank (twice – ours was a strict troop), you got to construct your own pack frame. When we went camping, you had everything tied tight to it – inside your sleeping bag, which was rolled into the trail tent.
When you were awarded the First Class rank, you were privileged to weave and stain a rectangular basket that was then bolted to the frame. Your sleeping bag would be rolled up in the tent and tied to the top of the basket, while the rest of your goods went into the basket itself – a much more convenient arrangement.
You couldn’t buy a backpack like that anywhere except, maybe, a very expensive outfitter’s.
What I learned along the way was equally priceless.
The pack on the cover of my poetry volume is a more traditional design, but it still stirs the memories.
~*~
To see more, click here.
TRIANGULATIONS
As I said at the time …
So you’re moving out – congratulations! For one thing, it puts you on much firmer ground when you do commit to a live-in relationship – rather than jumping from your parents’ care into the care of another. Yes, your parents are much more liberal than mine were, but I too was forced to spend my first year-and-a-half of college at a local commuter school (fortunately, it had an excellent English department) and to live at home – something that deeply stunted my emotional growth. Getting away to Bloomington was a lifesaver, even if I wound up in political science and urban studies instead.
Well, I have another reading coming up Tuesday, same venue. This time, plan to read one poem – a longpoem in thirty-seven sections. Should take just under an hour. A piece that was nearly published by a highly regarded press twenty years ago – and was withdrawn because of deep cutbacks in federal funding for the arts. When I began to submit sections to journals a couple of years back, acceptances quickly followed. Now, to get the full piece out!
So here I am, wishing you could be with me in that smoke-filled room – have you on as the next reader, in fact, unless I gallantly step aside to let you wow them with an extended reading of your own. Or, more intriguing yet, share the stage, alternating pieces. Yes, I like that!
Oh, yes, you start to apologize about talking so much about him and that love poison. But I wonder, unless we are blessed enough to have a fulfilling life with our initial childhood sweetheart, whether a great deal about any current affair is actually an attempt to work out the failings of the previous hot fling. For one thing, we really do become attuned to the other person’s touch, timing, interests, movement – everything that makes him or her distinct. Nicolas Mosley, an English novelist, has argued that every coupling is actually a triangle – or more accurately, two triangles, with each partner having a side affair, a past, a demanding career, or whatever attached here. I’d agree.
Now, if you decide to hop on that bus and head off to some escape, what can I do to lure you here? (Just phone ahead, to make sure I’m not seriously involved with a very jealous girlfriend by then.) As I was saying, how do you like your coffee? Ever gone contradancing or English country dancing? And you wouldn’t be the only person in this neck of the woods dressed in black and stainless steel or exhibiting striking jewelry piercings, unlike New Orleans. In fact, a number of years ago, Donald Hall once wrote that there’s something Gothic about New England. I was living in the desert of Washington State when I read that, and it intrigued. Even more so, now that I’m living here. But that’s another conversation.
Well, it’s my turn to be up way too late – and to write disjointed stuff. Hope it makes sense. Now, for me, off to engage in, hopefully, some sensual and sensational dreams of my own. Care to bet if you’re starring?
Keep sizzling!
~*~
For a free copy of the complete American Olympus, click here.
JUST DUCKY
Here are some quackers seen at a gathering of Quakers.
THE BIG TREES
I still miss the Douglas firs and the Western red cedars. In their maturity, they stand tall – not quite to redwood stature but still impressive, especially when they’re massed together or the clouds roll through the branches.
Close your eyes and let the aroma present another unforgettable impression.
Maybe off in the distance of night you’ll hear the singing.
~*~
For more, click here.
COASTAL SUMAC AND GULL
A stroll along the Atlantic offers more to see than just the ocean.
CONNECTING BARNS
Many New England farms traditionally had their barns connected to the farmhouse, no doubt because of the deep snow and vicious cold each winter. Sometimes the additions seem to run on and on.
NATIVE INSPIRATION
Dwelling at the edge of a large Indian reservation, I found it impossible to ignore a vibration in the earth itself of their spirit.
Had I remained there a few more years, I no doubt would have collected turquoise-and-silver jewelry, the work of many Native masters.
Sometimes I still see their inspiration in the stars, though. Especially on a clear night. A very clear night, at that.
~*~
To see how it’s inspired my collection of poems, click here.
CHAUNCY CREEK
This lovely tidal channel links Pepperell Cove to a town park called Seapoint and sets Fort Foster off on its own island.
