Category: Week 5
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Too many choices… I’m contemplating the new year. Not just to answer questions people ask about New Years resolutions. Not just because this is the time people do that sort of thing. I’ve been thinking about what I could do next year for a while, and, beyond that, I’ve been thinking about the next five…
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Boxing Day: a poem… I promise this will be the only poem in this blog. Christmas came and Christmas went With toys and bows and money spent And nothing left but Christmas lint Underneath the Christmas tree. Paper packing, strings, and ties Broken bits of wrong surprise Turkey, ham, green beans, and pies Remain from…
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Merry Christmas… I’m dreaming of a white Christmas, always. But it appears my Christmas will be blue. From where I sit the painted window glass depicting frosty white scenes of snow laden trees atop swirling snow banks only slightly obscures the world of dark green and blue Gulf Island forests beyond. Low clouds smother the…
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Surrender… Deep in the dark of winter a persistent spirit calls me to rest. Weariness takes hold like a longing for the embrace of heavy covers over my body and for feather-light closed lids over my eyes. The sweet ease of not looking, not scanning or focusing or perceiving into things, feels like floating in…
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The grind… The passive intent of my 10 Weeks of Winter project has been to habituate myself to regular writing. Like many writers (or aspiring writers) I have experimented with daily writing practices, like morning pages and daily prompts, and generally to my benefit. A daily writing practice really does build up a kind of…
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Trees and fungi… Last year, in an effort to diversify my social opportunities, I joined a local mycology society. Unfortunately their regular speaking events land on a night I’m otherwise occupied, and their forays fill up so quickly that I haven’t yet been able to get on the list. Nevertheless, I find myself, like others…
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Long winter dark… On the longest night I meet the winter dark. The sun sets with a suddenness shuttering the afternoon into evening. The remains of the day are left to be done in darkness. My eyes grow heavy, but it’s early still. Lights flash on creating pockets of day-like spaces. I’m awake again. Hours…