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I too have known loneliness.
I too have known what it is to feel misunderstood,
rejected, and not at all
beautiful.
Oh, mother earth,
your comfort is great.
Your arms never withhold.
It has saved my life to know this.
Your rivers flowing, your roses,
opening in the morning.
Oh, motions of tenderness!
Mary Oliver
Tags: Quoting
Time does not give one much leeway: it thrusts us forward from behind, blows us through the narrow tunnel of the present into the future. But space is broad, teeming with possibilities, positions, intersections, passages, detours, U-turns, dead-ends, one-way streets. Too many possibilities, indeed.
Susan Sontag
Tags: Quoting
Oh, the variety of plants in full flower now, this almost fall final hurrah! Though I only captured one feasting bee, the garden is positively alive with them, and birds, zooming hummingbird and not so plain of every other local variety, including a Cooper’s Hawk who visits nearly on the daily, plus butterflies and regular ole flies. A garden cornucopia.
Juniper digger dog caught in the act. She has two holes she digs with abandon and our permission, this one included, and one she tries on the sly and for which is regularly scolded. A dog’s life.
Labor Day Weekend Ritual:
Rise alongside the sun, dress and wash-up quick, lace shoes, harness dog, top head with straw hat. Walk, grateful for the cool before the heat. Ascend on mud soft ground to the pinnacle of the shortest double hill and wait in the low wind. Eyes south to witness the rise of balloon after balloon to crowd the sky. Our aging eyes wonder at the non-standard shapes: pig in coveralls, fish, unicorn, frog, smiling blue horned creature, Darth Vader, Yoda!! Quiet save our sighs and a single engine splitting the sky above.
Then the descent, peppered with flowers and our commentary on this small luxury. Nothing and everything before eight a.m.
There was a smell of Time in the air tonight. He smiled and turned the fancy in his mind. There was a thought. What did time smell like? Like dust and clocks and people. And if you wondered what Time sounded like it sounded like water running in a dark cave and voices crying and dirt dropping down upon hollow box lids, and rain. And, going further, what did Time look like? Time look like snow dropping silently into a black room or it looked like a silent film in an ancient theater, 100 billion faces falling like those New Year balloons, down and down into nothing. That was how Time smelled and looked and sounded. And tonight-Tomas shoved a hand into the wind outside the truck-tonight you could almost taste time.
Ray Bradbury
Tags: Quoting
