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A Life Dismantled

A Life Dismantled

sifting through the decades
of accumulated stuff
must haves in the moment
diamonds in the rough
for those timeless treasures,
only bubble wrap will do
shake the dust and cobwebs off
comfy well worn shoes
gently slip the photographs
from old broken frames
happy memories mingling
with faces with no names
shedding all the dross
that held me in the past
so to travel lighter
with only things that last
yet another chapter waits
its pages to be penned
each day, the simple gift of life
to live full to the end


I must admit this downsizing thing has truly disoriented me. I find myself clinging to routine, the easiest thing to assimilate to my new surroundings. But I have yet to find that sweet spot, where words flow like honey, where my eyes see things in ways that only an artist and writer can. I’m learning to live off the grid, with its big, starry black-mantled silence, and amber sunrises over distant mountains in the morning. For now they only manage to take my breath away. There are no words apart from the few sing-songy rhymes I manage to eke out. I know she’s in there…somewhere in the recesses of my mind…the muse who so relentlessly pursued me amidst the clutter and cacophony of city life. But here in the country? She must be cavorting with the faeries, giggling from behind downed tree hollows at my dizzy dry spell. I had every intention to start January 1st, full steam ahead. Part of the issue, I think, may be that I still need to unload the stuff we left behind and sell the dark, drafty, century old house I called home for over a decade. I need to be free of it. And so, I will drop a line now and again until I regain my footing. Peace and love to you. Until next glimpse…❤️

The New House

The New House

No creaky floors, no walls

that groan with century old tales,

no glaring street lights dimming

the star-flecked, velvet veil.

No nosy neighbors peaking

through shuttered curtain slits,

the quiet here is deafening

but for a hawk’s shrill twit.

The timpani of woodpeckers,

a lone owl’s soft hoot hoo,

gray squirrels cluck from lofty boughs

and deer folk bound from view.

Here, just enough is everything

a body needs and more,

simplicity’s perfection gleams

from white-washed walls and doors.

It’s rather like a dream here still,

of drywall, sticks and stone.

She stood here empty on a hill

until I called her home.


(Settling in, finding my voice amidst new surroundings…and perhaps a tiny nudge from a sleepy muse!)



I am a tree in autumn,
limbs stiffening from
dawn’s first frost,
clinging wistfully to
the dying remnants of
summer, old photographs,
books, trinkets, effigies
of a life lived long and
full, roots deeply
entrenched in the
familiar, yielding to
the wind whispering, it is
time to let go, to render
to yesterday its relics,
to turn the brittle page
in naked abandon, to rest
my soul in the cool present,
to sleep, to dream of
another glorious spring


Döstädning, which means “death cleaning” in English, is a method of downsizing and organizing from the Swedish author and artist Margareta Magnusson. Death cleaning isn’t about getting rid of all your stuff, but rather streamlining your life so you’re only holding onto what makes you happy.

I am moving from my big two story home in a month into a sweet little one level home on a hill in foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Hence, I’ve been a little less prolific in my writing here, obviously preoccupied with the details of moving. I am hoping my daughters appreciate my efforts to leave a smaller footprint for them to dispose of when I’m gone. And as for the years I have left (which I hope are many) I am excited to begin a new, simpler chapter. Peace!

Here’s my new view…

Cat Rescue Update…

Integration complete…Schrodinger and Mama cat, Matilda, one step closer to domesticated! I’m so happy!

Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 15 September 2019

It’s been one of those weeks. Long days at work. Busy weekend working. To say I’m tired is an understatement. But it was also a good week. I got a lot accomplished so there’s that.

An update on the mama cat, who we now call Matilda, the black kitten, who will henceforth be known as Schrodinger and our Frankie, the runt, who is now already 5 and a half pounds of spitfire. They are all healthy and thriving. Matilda was spayed – no more kittens for her and Schrodinger is scheduled for his neuter in a few weeks. I had been making great strides with Matilda until the spay. She is a grudge holder, it seems, and is slowly warming up to me again. It’s a good thing I am patient. As for Schrodinger? He is proving just as elusive as he was under our porch. Finding, I’m guessing, a perfect nook to hide in. He lives up to his name. This weekend we also helped transport a very pregnant mama beagle to her foster home. She was found in a shelter and rescued, thank goodness.

In a world where kindness is hard to come by, I try to do my part every day, not only with human folk, but with the least among us. Creatures big and small. The homeless, the hungry, the innocent. It gives me purpose. It connects me to what is important. Kindness. We need it more now than ever.

Have a wonderful week! ❤️

Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 15 September 2019

move on
set up defenses
adorned in golden mist
gray clouds heavy with rain
we’re expected to outgrow
in the mist


A ReVerse poem is a summary poem with a single line lifted from each entry of a collection of work over a particular timeframe and re-penned in chronological order as a new poem. Unlike a collaborative poem, the ReVerse features the words of one writer, providing a glimpse into their thoughts over time. I use it as a review of the previous week.

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