tiny moments (and everything in between)
Is it because I’m getting older that the weeks go by quicker and quicker? When I was twenty-one, a week took seven long days. At fifty-one, a week passes in seven blinks of an eye. How is this so? There are days with sunshine and days with clouds. Mostly it’s humid, still, but the temperatures have dipped a bit … Continue reading micromovements
The first cherry tomatoes are ready for plucking, eating, admiring and so I pluck, I eat, I admire. There is one tomato that remains in the admiring phase, rests on the kitchen windowsill. I look at it multiple times a day while standing at the sink to wash dishes or hands. I don’t know what it is about … Continue reading museum
I see my friend after several weeks’ time. She makes coffee, I bring olive oil cake swirled with blueberry jam, we sit on her porch. It’s a perfect summer morning, a perfect way to begin the week. The rest of the week is good too, though busy. My writing project is challenging my brain in new ways and … Continue reading a string of good
It is quite the week, again. Full in so many ways, none of them bad, but all together, a lot. I am close to overwhelm and, if it’s possible to be a tiny bit overwhelmed—though this seems a word, a condition that is either/or, very big or not at all—I am, a tiny bit. But (a tiny bit) … Continue reading excessively gentle
The week is not quite a blur, but close. It’s full with yoga classes and the start of a freelance writing project. I do not clean the bathrooms except to wipe the sinks. I manage to get the laundry done, including sheets and towels. I do a quick sweep of the downstairs floors but leave the dusty table tops … Continue reading exquisite
I pull a card, scorpion, I almost never pull the Fire element. I take it as a reminder to keep moving, to generate (some) heat, even though my instinct is to pull away, to get quieter and slower and softer and, by degrees, metaphorically cooler. It’s a reminder to be honest, with others and with self. What is … Continue reading (by turns)
Pods are hanging from the birch branches, multiplying overnight. What has been bare for months will soon be full, leaves and green-ness and rustlings-in-the breeze. The tulips have finally opened, I exhale. I’ve been holding my breath, fearing they might not bloom this year, perhaps confused by the extreme back-and-forth we’ve experienced these past two months. I’m still feeling … Continue reading righting
There is ice on the deck, the magnolia blooms are turning brown, spring then back to winter, the weather app telling me it will be spring again this afternoon. We’ll see. Back and forth, a game, a folly. I wonder how my neighbors’ magnolia feels, wonder if it hurts or aches, doubt its enthusiasm for this game. I wonder, … Continue reading maybe
I come across a quote that I love. I write it down, again. How many times will I write these words, how long until they’re etched into my being forever? I will write them for as long as it takes. If you attend to yourselfand seek to come into your presence,you will find exactlythe right rhythm for your … Continue reading poetry, blossoms, presence
When I look out the window, it looks wintry, the colors pale, the trees like skeletons. But I’ve seen daffodils along the highway, I’ve seen crocuses on the outskirts of town, the baby daffodils out front are peeking through. Around me, I see hints of the fullness to come. We have what I feel sure is our … Continue reading the bucket
Michelle GD 