the draft marathon ~ 6 horse hitch

belgian wash

belgian 6-hitch

clydesdale 6~hitch

30 drafts at once

clydesdales~ the winner!

percheron 6-hitch

it was the antidote to a troubling time. she and i, hungry for adventure, took a road trip to the new york state fair. it was draft horse day and we went to be awed. we were. we sat in section 22 on hard metal benches in unmoving 90 degree air. we glistened and let sweat trickle where it may. it mattered not. the size and the numbers of equine splendor, those giants, kept us riveted for close to 10 hours. we were crazy, yet not.

at 2,200 pounds apiece, they are magical beasts.

the messenger bats

her pond, the last day i saw her.

the 3 backyard bats are out early tonight,

flitting in front of the chunk of a moon.

I hear the high school marching band

 practicing under the lights.

i sit on the bench, watching the bats,

rocking back and forth.

we buried her today.

ovarian cancer won.

she lost and we lost

and there has been a flood of tears.

the messenger bats, they promise renewal.


{The pain is done, Dear Linda. Sweet relief has come.}

come to niagara with me

right next to the horseshoe falls

maid of the mist from above

the rainbow bridge~ canada on left, u.s. on right

on the maid of the mist

one of many rainbows

look how close to the horseshoe falls!

you will get soaked

u.s. on left, canada on right

the american falls

if you have never been to niagara falls,

if you have never been transformed by this majesty of nature,

if you've never been soaked in the mist,

this is for you.

forks and the next magazine

I'm obsessed with tarnishing forks, yet none of the many, too many, fork still-lifes I've photographed made the cut. I'm finishing the last details of my autumn Soul In Bloom magazine and the forks have no where to be inside the pages. The pages are about illness and healing and worth and death. And life. There is rich color, as autumn is wont to display, and words to ease and soothe the soul.

I have experience with illness, personal and next of kin. As I finish this edition, my Aunt is in her last stages of ovarian cancer. I spent a recent day with her in anguish and grace. I learned 10 years of wisdom in 10 and a half hours. She helped me choose a barn photograph to include. It will appear on the back cover. This edition is dedicated to her and my Uncle. It is unlikely my Aunt will see it.

The autumn edition is my most personal. It is filled with the essence of the women in my life who have journeyed through difficult times, my Aunt and Mother included. Just now, I realize it is a magazine meant for women in need, and the men and women who support them. It is my hope this edition will find its way into the hands of those who need to know they are not alone.

The autumn edition of The Soul In Bloom magazine

will be available by mid-September.

The Sleeping Porch

I went back to the porch

and the bed and the lake.

Somewhere in the ink of the night

it thundered and rained.

Cocooned in blankets,

paradise came.

transformation called

she parted company with her old ways.

and off she went.

sail away, part 2

lover of heights, lover of birds,

for me, there was nothing better than this.

sail away, part 1

a dream lifts off.

towed up to the clouds

set loose

the sail plane pilot. 

free bird.

coming down, smiling wide.

in the latest rough patch

of my mother's journey with cancer,

i asked her to make a list.

we had made it to germany earlier in the year.

what else did she want to do, 

where else did she want to go,

who did she want to see?

"i want to go for a sail plane ride," she said.

so we went.

and we flew.

dreams came true.

52 Photos Project~ August 10th

Because they were just a little bit creepy,

those disembodied heads on tin foil

at Lieselotte's Puppenstubchen.

The reflection was a wonderful bonus.

May, 2011~ Husum, Germany

Reflection: 

For Bella's weekly prompt

at 52 Photos Project

rise to the light

the last moments before she splits herself in two

and rises to the light on transparent green wings.

let it be known~ transformation cometh.

there were birds

As the years pass by,

life gets harder and easier to bear.

What was known while youth still had its bloom~

known with absolute conviction~

is found, now, to be vastly untrue.

Or maybe true~

but only from an angle not willingly seen

when slick confidence ruled the day.

There were birds in the shine

and vigor of earlier times.

They were closely observed,

fascinated over,

and bore messages from lesser gods.

Those messages were clear.

Until they were not.

The birds became pale against leaf and sky

until they all but vanished from view.

When life got harder.

Now, it is harder, yet easier.

The birds are back.

Clusters of sparrows,
arrows of swallows.

Cardinals and robins

out-doing each other in song.

Crows, speaking in tongues.

A green heron in flight,

woodpeckers drumming and diving.

All are seen from the less-sure angle,
the one that takes time and patience to glean.

Their habits are recalled,

their feathers known.

Yet, the only message heard

in the hard and the easy is

live life from the earth and the sky.

making hay

it's been a month of fascination with hay.

from the tractors to the wagons,

to the fields and the barns,

i haven't been able to turn away.

 and i haven't known why.

surely there's a message in the adage

"make hay while the sun shines".

the sun has shone, hot and dry, 

and the hay season has lingered,

long and bountiful. 

then today, i understand.

the next bad news about my mother's 

journey with cancer came in the

middle of hay season.

the bad news caused us to

make a list of wishes and

  plan how to make them come true~

while our season of fields

and bountiful dreams

still shine in the lingering sun.

52 Photos Project~ August 3rd

Rusted

For 52 Photos Project

field trip~ 5 and dime

 

sadly, i was too big for the 10 cent pony ride.

i pick up things that have died

i am in touch with nature.

the living and the dead.

i pick up things that have died.

with my hands.

like the cat, yesterday,

that lay in the center of buffalo street

with its head completely soaked in blood.

it had died hours before i found it,

cars and people having passed it by.

it was just shy of stiff

and i took it by the tail,

apologizing, apologizing

for its difficult death.

it was loved by someone.

  it existed.

  it mattered.

 so it went to the nearest lawn, gently.

i saw the color of blood, still wet,

on fur and asphalt~

the same color as black raspberries

just before they turn ripe.

and the dragonfly, also dead,

held lightly between my fingers.

i saw the cellophane wings

that shimmer the rainbow across

their panes when held to the light of the sun.

52 Photos Project~ July 27th

it fell apart in the heat on the way to the gathering.

(snort!)

as if that mattered.

"Chocolate" for 52 Photos Project

the black cat sings

The mischief maker, he's worried. Render of window screens,chewer of cardboard, destroyer of lamps~ his bravado flies out the tear in the screen when the carrier sits at the door, poised for entrapment to the vet.

He'll cry like a baby the whole way  there. He'll cry louder when we arrive. He'll scold me the whole way home.

But, no matter. I'll gladly take his fuss and live with his exuberant destruction.

He grounds me, you see, especially in times of trouble.

And these are times of trouble, filled with impending loss.

Yet, there is gain to be found in the small moments of each day~ the breeze and the pillars of clouds; the rabbit that hops close thinking I am part of the scene; the hummingbird that mistakes my pink shirt for a flower;  the cat~ at home once more, in a different window~ crying to me of his supposed neglect.

There is no trouble. Loss has not come. The black cat sings.

Tucked in to these moments~ the small, small moments~ gain and goodness abound.

The Bloom and The Interview

"I just got the summer issue of Soul in Bloom in the mail today.

Stunning! Whimsical! Inspiring! And that's just the photos! 

Can't wait to find some quiet time to spend with it.

Thank you again for your gift of creativity."

Cathy 

A heartfelt thank you to everyone who took a chance

on my summer issue of  The Soul In Bloom.

If you'd like a copy of your own,

you can find it HERE.

And the lovely Bella of 52 Photos Project

asked me to be her photography interview for the week!

I'm thrilled and honored. Thank you, Bella!

To read the interview, go HERE.

52 Photos Project~ July 20th

"The table at mealtime" for 52 photos project.

Of course, I'm cheating.

This is no table setting of the week for me.

No surface that has held my food of late

~ the floor, the counter top, the computer desk~

is worth documenting or sharing.

They're barely clean, those make-shift tables.

And what's so interesting about

carrots and blueberries and nuts?

No, let me cheat and show you a table

I dined at almost 2 years ago

on the edge of the Marmara sea.

A table that made a memory and held a fantasy

and changed the course of my days.

52 Photos Project~ July 13th

My new favorite summertime treat.

Bellowing bullfrogs and

sleeping alfresco at the edge of the lake.

I'm headed back for more.

For Bella's 52 Photos Project~ summertime treat.

blue and black

Again, it was morning.

There was me and my tea,

the birdsong and the ceiling of blue.

There were 8 crows and a ruckus,

and gravestones across the way.

There was death amid the already dead.

They were at it once more,

that heart-tugging ritual of sacrificing

another baby for their own.

It was a chipmunk or a rabbit

that was tormented and shredded

while a look-out stood watch from a stone.

I did not turn away.

I did not turn away.

It was morning.

The sky was blue

and the feathers were black

And there was life.

the way

The robin and me, we shared a succulent  breakfast in the early hours of the day. Black raspberries have taken root at the edge of the yard~ all their own doing~ and they have multiplied, as gifts from the gods tend to do. And gifts they be, each honey-combed berry morphing from green to red to eggplant purple. They are a burst of nectar on the tongue, said the robin. They are subtle sweetness. They are reward.

They are also the way, for they are nature, and nature leads should we humble ourselves to follow. The way is letting go, is releasing what has been to allow the birth of the next phase in the full cycle of life. The seed must let go of its casing in fertile ground. The bud must release itself to the bloom. The bloom must shed its beauty to bear fruit. The fruit must give forth its seed to fertile ground for the sake of the vine, the stalk and the tree.

It is the death of each phase that gives birth to the new. Holding a phase, a season, longer than the sun and the wind would advise leads only to stagnation and rot of potential, however safe it may feel to be held. In the letting go lies the gift. The next phase will be vastly different from the one before and will hold its own rare beauty in ways impossible to predict.

The robin, she knows of letting go and takes her rewards as they come. I will humble myself to follow and hold open my heart to the gifts of the seed, the bloom and the fruit.

52 Photos Project~ July 6th

 

What the garden revealed.

For Bella and her 52 Photos Project.

Lit on the 4th of July