July 29, 2013

Mexican blanket wraps me lightly
Just the right weight to ward off the nip in the air
This July morning

How could school be starting back so soon?
Football games? Yellow buses?

I am just settling into summer
When she reminds me that she will not last.

Nothing ever does.

Paul said it.

But I don’t agree with him.

Love doesn’t endure all things.

Abuse is the obvious, but what about waiting?

Patience has its pause.

Its limits.

I have waited for much in my life–and I’m just giving you a heads up, God–I’m tired of waiting.

Love doesn’t endure all.

Tennis with Betsy

July 16, 2013

Her laugh is like our ball–friendly, lobbed, lilting

We haven’t played since high school

But there we are, two girls at Lewis Park,


What we did best.

Clouds: Part Two

July 13, 2013

Yesterday, I wrote about clouds and sunsets.

Today, I want to follow up with another observation:

The incredible colors and shapes of the clouds I photograph at sunset do not last long.

In a minute, they are different. No light reflecting. No brilliant orange-red. No feathered canyons.

The beauty is gone.

The analogy is obvious: Shall I state it?

I think not.

Clouds Got in the Way

July 12, 2013

I’ve been taking photos of spectacular sunsets.

Pinks, oranges, reds fire up the horizon, reflect on random cumulus clouds, high against a blue backdrop.

If there were no clouds, the sunset would not be as interesting or beautiful.

A great metaphor for struggles in life.

Clouds get in the way, as Joni sang, and with them, immense, breath-stopping beauty.


July 10, 2013

The book is weighted with them
Immense sagas
Divine tales

I turn the page
And start a new one

The sound of summer for me is the tree frog.

Cicadas are good too–the long, dry buzz.

But tree frogs take me back to the moist Georgia woods I grew up in, where the heighth of the oaks, hickories, and poplars rival the redwoods. I’m not making this up.

Go to my parents’ backyard and tilt your head way back and find the apex. You can’t.

Sit on my parents’ screen porch and listen. To the night. To the hundreds of tree frogs happy in the green canopy.

Like a rain forest.

Cooking with Sara

July 8, 2013

She leans over the bowl
delicately measures each grain of salt like my grandmother used to
She stirs with small hands
The ricotta and goat cheese mixture
She slowly fills rigatoni shells

Sara is feminine
She laughs easily
Her long dark hair shines
As she bends down

She is my son’s girlfriend
I couldn’t be happier

Wild, Ocean Hair

July 8, 2013

Wild, ocean hair.

Falls in sea waves

Salty strands

Sandy pieces

Blow against my face


July 6, 2013

I gave four massages this morning.

My hands are numb.

But what a pleasure to help others relax, drift into dream-world, escape.

My children work so hard.

They deserve a break.

Vacation is necessary.

Large spans of time to do nothing. Gaze at the sea, shimmering and great.

Our boats are so small and the sea is so wide.

We need loving touch.

Lots of it.