Monthly Archives: July 2015

Adventures of a Reluctant Gardener Part 3…On the Brink

Tonight…tonight some 39 years ago, I became a mother to a dark, curly haired sprite who would change my life forever. Tonight…this night, as the moon glows just a breath from fullness, I experienced the thrill of another kind of “mothering”. That silly volunteer tomato plant, that calls my back porch home, is laboring with her first fruits.    This will be another truly life changing moment for this reluctant gardener!


As I enter the last chapters of my time on this planet, I find myself falling into step more easily, rhythmically, with the ebb and flow of the tides and changing seasons. Daughter to Mother to Grandmother…planting, watering, harvesting…letting go of those things that no longer serve me on my journey, and starting new, embracing change again and again.


Tonight as I surrender my soul to the surging energy of this month’s special Full Blue Moon, embracing some unrealized dreams now rising to the surface, it is comforting to reflect also on some past great shifts in my journey…mothering in its many forms. All of them bringing life and light into the world…my world. And to wonder about the new life sparks just on the other side of tomorrow calling me to the dance!

for the 35…

From the cover of the July 27 to August 9 issue of New York magazine, Article By  and Portfolio By 


rising from
the muddle of
buried truths,
voices no longer
silenced by
pennies, seeking
vindication, seeking
validation, vilified
unjustly, but
free to speak
in bellowing
whispers, a
symphony of

kat july 2015

Heartstops  (encounters into and out of love)


the edge of my peripheral view
caught a glimpse of you
drinking me

i dared not return your gaze
for fear of succumbing

piercing intensity
branded the nape of my neck

trembling waves of air
fluttered wisps of my hair
as you blinked


hair on end
arcing to brush
your aura

when not
by chance
we touch

then try to pull
away like mercury



rapturous refrains
swelling syllables


the wind
played its part
wooing when
seconds past
your passing
bore your fragrance
seizing me


you exhaled
in close proximity

i turned
inhaling deeply

perchance to share
the moist warm air
that once filled
space inside
of you


fleeting images

pale light dancing
on luminous skin
scintillating splendor
soft tossed hair

time eclipsed
in memory
if ever my soul longs
i find you there


aching distance
taunts my senses

scents startle
shadows hound
voices mimic

daggers pierce
my soul

i bleed
kat 2001

Living in the Moment Part 6 – rites of time passage

no matter that
the dawn is fading,
ticking tock into mid
day, I am persuaded
to indulge my heart,
to stay a spell, to
drink this dance of
shadow play full swig,
sweet honey dribbling
down my chin…to linger
a bit more, my spirit
needs to take this in!

kat 2015

Adventures of a Reluctant Gardener ☺️ Volunteer Plants Part 2 

 Nature can teach us a thing or two about grace and adaptability. At least my little volunteer tomato plant has much to say on the subject.

I am certain that tomato plant would have been quite happy to thrive, unnoticed among the weeds on the rocky slope in my back yard. But, of course, we wouldn’t have that! Ripping it from its cozy hillside, roots dangling proves the point that humans have a need to control the wild greenness around us. In truth, we humans like to control everything. But audacious nature is determined to thrive no matter what life throws at it. And that gives me hope.

Give a plant a bit of soil (even if it is confined to a paint bucket), water (this, of course is a deal breaker as any fledgling gardener is aware), a position where the sun can warm it, and a little structure so it doesn’t lose its balance when it bears fruit (because that, after all, is what plants are born to do), and even a wilted, transplanted tomato plant can and will thrive!

People are a lot like volunteer tomato plants. At times we may find ourselves uprooted from the original course we had planned, with no semblance of control, roots dangling, exposed. Sometimes all we need is a soft fertile spot to settle, to establish roots, a bit of nurturing, a touch of structure to ground and balance us. Given a few simple things it is possible, inevitable even, that we can thrive and even bear fruit doing whatever it is we were born to do and be.

And I know this because sometimes nature grabs me between the ears to remind me. I need to be reminded. Especially those times when I find that I am not as in charge as I think I am. Yes! There is hope for me no matter the circumstances of my scuttled plans because a limp, uprooted, audacious tomato plant told me so!

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