Each step I take brings me into deeper healing, brings me back to poetry, opens my heart to sky!
It was just a short walk today…from camp to water’s edge. I jogged back up the hill, though. This weekend I refused to rush myself. I did little of what I had planned and I slept a lot.
On the ride to camp, I read poetry by Russel Thorburn from his book, “The Whole Tree as Told to the Backyard”
I love these lines:
At my typewriter close to the window/the cold earned its right to be a metaphor,/but none could be found as we heard/the tree crouching in its dreams.
We took things from the yard and garage (at Craig Street) to camp for winter storage. We brought home wood for the garage woodstove. I picked up buckets and pots. Found three small pumpkins in the garden.
We dropped lumber at Michael and Beth’s home, too.
Dinner was re-warmed roast chicken and I smoothed yesterday’s leftover mashed potatoes into a casserole dish and baked them until slightly crusty.
Now, I have little energy for anything else.
I feel ice forming. It’s below 30-degrees. I am ready for an afghan and more poetry.
From photo series, “Images from Camp” this photo was taken during November. I am trying to learn contrast, finding light in dark, and texture. Winter is coming to the Upper Peninsula and the color gray is something I dread. But this gray, this wood, I want to embrace. I feel on a threshold. When opened, I wonder what I will find.