uneventful everyday . . .

"There are signal moments, burst of excitement, times of dislocation and distress, buried within long stretches of uneventful everyday. . .
They create a blanket of real life, woven day by day until the thing is all of a piece."
~ Anna Quindlen, Lots of Candles, Plenty of Cake

uneventful everyday . . .

These two words drift around inside my head for a few days, helping me better understand what it takes to make a life piece by piece. Some of it bold and exciting, some of it painful and confusing. But the act of piecing it all together is always a privilege and I am going to pay a little bit more attention on how I assemble mine.

fall walks in

“When you’re young you prefer the vulgar months, the fullness of the seasons. As you grow older you learn to like the in-between times, the months that can’t make up their minds. Perhaps it’s a way of admitting that things can’t ever bear the same certainty again.” ~ Julian Barnes, Flaubert's Parrot

The intentions of summer 
slip away,
quietly and with dignity. 
The cool nights find us reaching for more blankets,
rather than closing the windows
on the cool breeze which finds its way inside.
We wake, covers pulled up to our chins,
and are dismayed when suddenly 
our days don't seem long enough.

Sudenly the TV is back on,
and we sit and try to give it our full attention.
a blanket wrapped around our legs,
the dog curled up between us.
We watch as fall walks gently towards us
getting ready to put on her show.
and soon we will settle in with books and popcorn,
as the glow of the fire warms us.
We will open our hearts and savor the new season, 
and all it has to offer, giving gratitude that we are here,
once again, to participate.  

moving my feet

“The camera’s not a camera, really. It’s an open door we need to walk through. It’s up to us to keep moving our feet.”

— Joe McNally

I suspect the yellow flower is a weed, taking up residence
among the roses
the spider wraps up one of its own in tiny strands of silk,
before delivering the fatal bite
vanilla syrup for my morning latte and nectar for the hummingbirds,
cool in the morning light of the kitchen
I take my cues from what moves me, all of it connected
in my own secret way.

Baker

“Be prepared. A dog is adorable and noble.
A dog is a true and loving friend. A dog
is also a hedonist.” 

― Mary Oliver, Dog Songs: Poems

He is just a dog, I tell myself as we walk out the door.
Don’t look at his eyes, and whatever you do
don’t reach out to stroke his ears.
Leave a treat for him on the floor, something for him to find,
as he sits by the slider and watches for the two of you to come home.
And later, don’t feel guilty when one of you looks at your watch and says . . .
we better get home to the dog.

rainbows and bubbles

"Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection. The lovers, the dreamers, and me."

- Kermit the Frog

When he spies himself in the big mirror at the end of our hallway, he yells, “Gramma look at me in my new rainbow shirt, it is so beautiful.”
Later we go outside to blow bubbles, where he requests that I do the blowing and he will do the slaying.

My rainbow loving knight! I love this age.