Posts in Words
Ten.Three Hundred & Eighty-Five

1. Each day I type the number out and I can't believe it. 

2. I dig out the linen pants. It feels like a day for linen pants. The trees are bending and the skies are still low, clouds moving south and west. There will probably be more rain. 

3. 11 years. For some reason, 11 years feels more important than 10. Maybe it's the double digits. I also like odd numbers. 

4. This time I remember everything on the list but add avocados.  

5. Water and reading in the alcove. It’s overcast and breezy and quiet.  

6. Everyone wants to know.

7. Why do her compliments make me uncomfortable? 

8. Tattinger, Scribe Riesling Pétillant Naturel, Sake flight, Wind Gap Syrah.

9. A big plate of dessert. I should have asked for coffee. 

10. Full in more ways than one.  

Ten.Three Hundred & Eighty-Four

1. Mars. Blue=gray skies. Storms? I haven't checked the weather yet for today. 

2. Scones. I stuck a stick of butter in the freezer last night. I think there's just enough flour. And I have enough blueberries too. I need to do something with those peaches though. Maybe this weekend calls for a cobbler. 

3. My face is puffy from too much salt and other things. I can see it in my skin. I don't know that this is the time to make any more extreme changes, but my body is telling me otherwise. I've gone back and forth enough now to notice the difference, to have gathered enough evidence to see the cause and effect. 

4. I walk out to the garden because now I can't tell if it really will rain or not. I spot another small watermelon, look up at the sky and decide to risk it. 

5. Crossing things off feels good. 

6. Rain. So much rain. The sound it makes when it hits the windows. The gentle rattle of the screens when a gust of wind comes. Little black birds with their beaks in the ground plucking up whatever has come up to the surface. 

7. I still haven't gone to the grocery store today. 

8. That distance between what you see and what you're making and the difficulty in closing the gap. 

9. We order pizza. 

10. We sit in the alcove and watch the clouds move. It rains a little more and it makes me think of the Green House with its sloping porch and peeling paint. I still miss that house. 

Ten.Three Hundred & Eighty-Two

1. Maybe today is a dress day.

2. Cravings: Bacon and eggs and toast and coffee. What is today? Wednesday? Yes, this is a good midweek breakfast. 

3. Jeff always waters the plants in his pajamas: a dark blue cotton shirt, silky-looking navy pajama pants that stop just above the ankles, and black athletic slides. 

4. I had asked the sky to see them again and here they are. I look up just in time to catch a glimpse of her from the window over the kitchen sink. I walk over to the sliding glass door and open it to feel the cool air and to watch her eat. Then I see the baby bound up the hill. This one is less cautious than last summer's child. They stand there together for a few more moments before disappearing behind a blanket of trees.

5. Three hours of screen time. I take the kids to the pool and bring a book. It's the just-right temperature. The sun is hot but when it slinks behind the clouds a coolness returns. I have to cover myself with a dry towel to keep the chills away. 

6. One dead moth with beautiful markings in orange and yellow and black. I leave it where it is. 

7. Not enough time to cook. Mediocre take-out BBQ. Cooking would have been worth the weight. 

8. Same argument over and over. None of my answers to the questions make much a difference. I don't know what to do. 

9. I drape the shawl over my arms and legs. The breeze is gentle. Lots of people are out this evening on account of the drop in temperature. 

10. I try to stay awake but I just can't. Besides, tomorrow is a long day. 

Ten.Three Hundred & Eighty-One

1. I don't want to get up. 

2. Watering. The melons are getting bigger and bigger and I think I see a new one. I had thought for sure that we were just going to have a big bed of vines so a little over a week ago we cut the plant back so that we'd have room to sit in the garden. Well, of course after that the watermelons appeared. It wasn't that there had been no cross-pollination. The root system couldn't bear the work of supporting all of the vegetation and fruit. By cutting away the excess we freed up energy for the good stuff. 

3. I look across the wetlands to try to spot the deer but I see nothing. Just a red-winged blackbird balanced so precariously atop a tall weed/flower. And there's also the smell of skunk. 

4. It's cool enough for me to use my shawl. I write words and then try to read a few. The dragonflies and I sit and watch. 

5. The thing about interviews like this is that I quite often forget the question once I begin to answer. At the end I always wonder if I actually said anything of substance but ultimately just trust that whatever needed to come out did. 

6. The Sacred Rebel. 

7. I decide no pool and instead opt for more wine study on the front porch. My eyes are tired from looking at screens. This is another reason I had not wanted to return. The phone is still my most favorite method of numbing away the anxiety I'm carrying about what's happening in the world and in my own life right now. 

8. Craving ice cream. 

9. I need to figure out how to trim back some of the growth.

10. The fool.

Ten.Three Hundred & Eighty

1. I sleep in just a little bit but long enough that sun beats me.

2. What is today? Monday. There is laundry and a load of client work to attend to. But first coffee and some re-heated steel cut oats with walnuts and blueberries and a drizzle of honey. 

3. The pink and yellow petunias and the thin petals of the hydrangea, chocolate colored mulch, green grass, and black asphalt, gray-white concrete, stone and ants and dragonflies.

4. All the emails. Fever Dreams soundtrack to keep me going. 5 spots left. It seems like a dream. A few days ago I told her that we had created something special, really special. Honored by the trust and the desire and the curiosity of these women who are choosing to be with us. 

5. I want to sit in the sun but it's too humid for the heat to feel good. I settle back into the basement where it's almost too cold.

6. Dragonfly meeting me again in this space. Prosperity. Good Luck. Strength. Peace. Harmony. Purity. 

7. Popcorn with butter. 

8. I know that this is just the manifestation of stress. I'm focusing on the wrong things. 

9. Crock-pot chicken tacos. I keep skipping lunch. Part nerves, part laziness. 

10. The stone feels cools against my feet. The sky does this interesting thing where, just before the sun sets behind the hill, the neighborhood glows a little brighter before night settles in.