growth

The mist rose like magic crystals, turning pink and gold and glimmering as the sun lifted it up toward the sky. An unveiling, calling attention to what she was doing, until the mist was gone and what remained was a day washed in gentle tropical breezes, lit by clear skies and a fanfare of light. I hear at least five different birds singing, and I remember how four short years ago, there were no birds at all. They say everything is bigger here, but what they should say is that everything grows faster here. Palms that were to grow a foot a year now lace fronds in thick clumps that the rain forest with feel comfortable with, and the wisteria has taken over both a bench and two sections of fence.

And between all the singing and all the lush growth, the sunrays still find their way in to me, as though saying there are things that no amount of foliage can hide, because they live inside, protected from the fanfare of the mist and the opus of day. And they keep growing, too.


~~will try to post something else later today... words or pictures... hard to know. but i wish you all had the weather we have in south texas today.~~

This day needs Chocolate.

Another day of rain, which means another day of milky sky without distinction. I started to write more about the world outside, the color of the flowers in the lawn, the cold, the way it makes me want to pull the covers over my head. But I re-read that first line, and wondered if I could actually be satisfied with that… a day without distinction. And the answer is no. Because I cannot stand the thought that something as miraculous as the sky, something as unique as another day in this world, should be marked by its nothingness.

So I will try again.


A million prismatic crystals or rain splattered against the windows, driven by wind from the mountains I hear. It brings with it the chill of snow that never quite makes it to me here near the coast, and I shiver in the pale morning. The sky is hidden behind the rain, its clarity obscured by the falling droplets, until the effect is milky, the light all jumbled into a mass of gray. I don't like milk, it is too thick on my tongue and so is this sky on my brain, too thick, too many nuances and conclusions to be drawn.


I do know its value though, understand health and the strength to be gained. I accept it, I know it is for my own good.


Maybe the day, like milk, will improve with chocolate….

inside out

The sky is the color of cold wind this morning, though compared to much of the country, a mild cold. The clouds are creased, turned inside out and there are only traces of what might have been silver in their lining, only gray seams to hold them together. They are effective, though, in keeping both the warmth and light away.

I could dwell on it, feel the melancholia and the chill, or I could hide from it, crawl back beneath the sheets and let the feather pillows knot beneath my head until they scrunch up around my face and block my view. There are days when that would be better.


But today there are things I want to do, moving forward things, so I will smooth the sheets, and wear a sweater, and dare the wind to ruffle me. I feel more alive when tousled anyway.