Friday, July 15, 2011

Good Day_July 15

This morning I headed out to help in the main Feed Fannin Garden. You can see, this place is huge, and the pictures really don’t do it justice. You name it and they’ve planted it. Of course, the usual— corn, tomatoes, eggplant, squash—summer and winter, beans, peas, cabbage, kale, etc. and etc. with bushes of raspberries, blackberries, strawberries, and so much more. 

Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays are the volunteer workdays. There’s a list typed and taped to the storage shed of everything that needs to be done—which plants to hoe, which to pick, which to weed. We (three of us) weeded the tomatoes. We weeded the three approximately 20’ rows of tomatoes up on the hill, not four approximately 30’ rows in the main garden.

Now, mind you, there are layers of thick straw/hay all around these plants, in some areas it’s cardboard (which eventually turns into great mulch I learned), so you would think weeding would be minimal. Either these tomatoes, these outside of the main garden, hadn’t been weeded in awhile, or the hay doesn’t work, because there were lots of weeds, especially those potato vine weeds. I’m inclined to believe the former.

I took a shower before I left the house. Why? I have no idea and it certainly wasn’t a well thought out idea. The gnats clustered round my head for my sweet-smelling sweat. And the sweat poured, even though it was a cool morning, and it wasn’t even 10am yet. (As I sit here on the back porch writing this, it’s an unusually, highly welcome cool day. All the windows and doors—without screen doors—are open.) Still, for someone who hasn’t weeded in over 20 years, it was exercise. A good feeling exercise and much better than going to a gym, and far more productive in a variety of ways.

First, I bent over to weed, and we all know that doesn’t work. Next, I got on my knees, which went fairly well for awhile, until my unused back started cursing. Then, I took the advice of my fellow weeder, and sat on a bucket. What I found worked the best to soothe the screaming muscles everywhere was to alternate between the three techniques. I know the more I work in the garden, the less I will hurt, the stronger and more flexible I will become. One of the many reasons for this journey.

After an hour or so, we finished and everyone went on the way to wherever. I was given some eggplant and that will be mine dinner. I just have to find a tasty, healthy recipe that I can make with my limited supplies.

I got a call from Dreaming Bear who is a healer in the area, and a founder of Women's International League for Peace and Freedom (WILPF) here in GA. She invited me to the celebration of her 70th year. Unfortunately, it is while I’m completing my move down, so I won’t be in Georgia. We talked for awhile though about how the Spirit brought her to northern Georgia 33 years ago when she, like me, was headed for North Carolina. She has many, many acres that she calls BearWalks Medicine Path where she holds sweat lodges, and healing workshops. We are going to get together when I get back and continue her 70th celebration because obviously the Spirit means for us to connect.

It’s been a good day. I made a decision to work in Mother Earth instead of on a yoga mat, I decided to write instead of chase the dollar, and I Skyped with my daughter and took her on a tour of the house and land. The wind is rustling through the trees, the air conditioner is not running, and most of all, I feel great.

Thursday, July 14, 2011

The Black Wind

I need to remember to carry my camera absolutely everywhere here.

The Black Wind

Did he know I was alone? That I was lonesome for companionship such as his?
Did he know that soon, very soon, two will threateningly answer his call?
I heard, I responded, and off he ran, black wind shifting through the grass.
I called and whistled, clucked and snapped but he did not return until
later, enchanted by a mountain sunset, I glimpsed the black wind beneath
my truck. I called and whistled, and he mewed just a bit, a nod of acceptance,
he curled dry from the coming storm, warm and safe.
How did he know where to come? How did he know I needed him?


I've YET to open the damn novel manuscript.

Just sayin'

Small Stone's #12, 13, 14

I had a brilliant and inspirational idea for a writing prompt yesterday. Today, the following was in its place.

They come in a explosive blazes
Then disintegrate into floating ashes
In hair, on eyelashes, in piles
Meaningless bits of gray

Monday, July 11, 2011

Small Stone #11

The heat withers and wilts
Sends lives scurrying
Shade, water, a/c

The Poem of Her Life

Wordle #12

                                                           The Poem of Her Life

The slamming door rattled the tin walls of the trailer.
She said she didn’t care, and she didn’t. She curled
in her mama’s rocker while the moments fluttered
by, and her galloping heart settled. A curl twisted round
her fingertip, and she couldn’t resist the thought
that, if it were true, the world was hers. The preys’
instinct gave her patience, and whispered the logic
that a predator lingers to pounce unexpectedly. At
the buzz of moth wings on the window, she knew,
it wasn’t on a whim. The silence and solitude was a
gift for her lover. He waited as she prepared. Their
passion would finally be consummated. She shivered
as she grabbed her shawl and ran to meet the
poem of her life by the river.

Sunday, July 10, 2011

AROS #10

Today, I am being lazy and stealing stones, but they are my observations, and they both have struck a resounding cord today:

"Eagle was never so strong as when he submitted to listen to crow." ~Dead Man

 "Do not be too timid and squeamish about your actions. All life is an experience." ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

Saturday, July 9, 2011

The Hermit Restored-AROS #9

He nibbles cautiously at the greenery
I chomp at the bit
He hops away at the sight of me
As I call it quits

The berries get plumper day by day
I watch the solar circuit
They’ll become jam, the old-fashioned way
As I restore the hermit

Friday, July 8, 2011

Wordle #11-Refresh the Freshness

The fresh is fading with the amber sunset, sinking, shrieking, swallowed by the masses; turned tail and ran for the horizon never once glancing back, all the while flicking off the flecks of metastasizing sadness and fear. Upon reaching its destination, fresh decided to turn for one last stand, one mighty battle of the wits on who would win the sallow siren. Fresh flew through the dusk, limbs tangled and nerves jangled. Just as it clears hurtles of tears and mountains of loneliness and sorrow thrown before it to halt its resurgence, it realizes how flossed the obstacles are, how easy to destroy. It takes just a bit of fresh to refresh the freshness.

Small Stone #8

Come, let me take you on a tour of my lush solitude full of humming bees, cawing crows, chirping crickets, and pattering of raindrops the rustle the leaves.

Far nicer trip than through my mind,

aros #7

What am I doing here
When I wish to be there

Cubicle, flourescent lights, and demands
Rather than fingers spilling vibrations on paper
Rather than hushed moments of inspiration

What am I doing here
When I want to be there

Wednesday, July 6, 2011


The Cliches of Life

Sometimes, it rains on the parade
Sometimes, there 's a rainbow after
Patience is a virture

Small Stone #5

The mind blinds and cripples
Only the heart 
Only the heart

Monday, July 4, 2011

A Small Stone #4

New space, mountain air, new friends,
Another chance, another life, a new me

Sunday, July 3, 2011

Saturday, July 2, 2011

It's the Same Flag

Happy Birthdays, cheers, smiles and 
children clapping
Distributing flags and waving
        "I'm a Republican"

"It's the same flag, ain't it?"

Friday, July 1, 2011

Independence Day

How torn my fabric
How troubled my heart
Independence celebration
Day to commemorate freedom
While so many remain in chains

2 faces, fork-tongue
white man way
from theft of a nation
onward even today

AROS-July 1, 2011

The blue-gray haze descends, engulfs the brightness
Where did you come from and when can you leave?