some days I’m blue like the sky watching the world from above, or like an ocean waves of thought crashing into shore scattering sand swallowed in the undertow of emotions…so many… too many to count and some days I am red furious, ferocious filled with rage with disbelief with determination for justice, for fairness from a bankrupt nation and then there are days especially at dawn I am green my feet longing to feel the cool loam, blades of grass pushing up between my toes the scent of dew drenched earth and honeysuckle thick in the air an entire 64-count box of crayons can’t touch nature’s hues but the smell of a new box stirs memories of the rainbow that colors my world
~kat
Today was a rush. Between work and other obligations a whirlwind that had me holding on. Some people might call it a typical Monday. I am weary of Mondays. Tomorrow is another day. A new day. Thank goodness!
retirement in the time of a revolution is not at all what we were sold when life was simpler and families lived closer, when socializing meant sitting on your front porch chatting with the neighbors across the way while our kids played ‘mother may I’ and ‘Simon says’ in the street until the sun set, fireflies flickered, and the street lights came on
the retirement I imagined was filled light streaming in at dawn coffee brewing…or tea steeping, the smell of browned toast, the mellow, sweet tang of butter and homemade jam on my tongue, sitting for a spell to take it all in, to read a little, to write a little, with time enough for a walk before lunch. soup…maybe a light salad or a sandwich on fresh slices of homemade bread followed by a lovely afternoon nap, with the windows open, a cool breeze softly tossing sheer lace curtains while my old cat purrs nearby…
retirement in the time of a revolution requires one to draw from the deep well of experience, to revisit the idealism and bravery of youth, to rise early, to stand, to be counted, to give voice to the truth, in poetry, on posters, in letters to editors who still have souls, to leaders who still have spines, to be a gentle voice to the young to be kind to the oppressed and needy, to be a safe place for those who need a place to land, to hide, to rest
I’m not sure I would have survived my imaginary, fantastical retirement plans I’m sure I would have become a bored, grumpy, old lady hiding behind drawn shades…
what a surprise to retire during the time of the great lie, fired up and charged with protecting the truth, keeping it alive, shining a light to show others the way home
much love, peace, and glimmers to you!
~kat ✨✨✨💚💚💚✨✨✨
gabby peeking in to remind me and you to be sure to take a moment for a glimmer. It’s a good thing she qualifies as a glimmer herself! ✨✨✨💚✨✨✨
there’s a stillness a quiet resignation as summer fades
the trees slump in the August heat a few surrendering to the inevitable shades of sage, amber, crimson…
leaves break free first to dance with the wind
first fruits of autumn’s harvest
first to return to Gaia’s embrace
~kat
The leaves of this red maple tree at the edge of the woods have always turned well before autumn becomes official. No deep frost needed…no cool temperatures. It may even be a bit earlier this year than last year. I’ve been watching it transition in late summer since it was a sapling. The first year I was worried, but as the years have passed and the tree has grown taller, I have come to expect it.
I decided to research this to find out why. I discovered that this has been happening all over. There are various reasons given. Depends on who you ask. Some say it is excessive heat, some say draught. Some say too much rain. And some simply blame it on global warming.
I also discovered a fascinating fact about red maples in general. Their gender can be a very fluid thing. Some are primarily male, some are female, some are primarily one or the other with a few flowers of the other gender on the same tree. And then there are those trees that that shift from one gender to another. Polygamodioecious hermaphrodite trees…imagine that!
a few months from now I’ll be thinking of summer these long hot days…and spring, the warmth that it brings
when the trees are stripped bare I’ll be longing for green, with dreams of cool rain, and flower dense plains
from beneath woolen layers of long-johns and sweaters I’ll peer out my window to bleak, with little to do but drift off to sleep
the heat swelt of summer is making me wonder when this fierce inferno will end…
come brief autumn respite, though lovely you’ll exit too soon for my liking for now temps are spiking
I shouldn’t complain there’s nothing to gain by wishing away these hot humid days
with hummingbirds chirping and spring babies growing the Tom’s, Jennie’s, deer and the crows
though summer drags on winter, likewise will tarry each extreme has its cons and its pros
I would miss each one’s splendor might as well just surrender to sweat and to shiver with grace through it all
~kat
The summer heat has been exhausting. I sometimes wonder if it is my advancing age which makes me less tolerant, but I have never been a summer girl. Give me a cool dark corner, a fan and a good book and I am quite content to wile the hours away until dusk comes with a blessed relief to the heat of the sun.
Contrarily, in winter after the first snow, hopefully on a weekend when I have nowhere to go and can view the wonderland through the window…I’m not a real fan of long winters either.
I prefer the in between seasons. But it occurs to me as I get older that wishing away one extreme season for the other is actually wishing precious time away.
How many seasons more do I have? Definitely less than I have drudged through up to now. It has caused me to have a new appreciation for the wonders of each, however small. With little time to spare I am determined to savor every moment. But can I at least say…it is a blasted inferno out there!!! Followed by a deeply felt uggghhhh!?!!!!
Summer and I have moved on in our love-hate relationship to a mutual place of respect I think. I promise to stop saying I hate summer, and summer for its part will do its best not to give me heat stroke…at least that’s my spin on our negotiation.
they spit this word at wide-eyed apertures to the invisible throngs of loyal lemmings as if words matter
like thoughts and prayers mumbled post mass-slaughter, canned comfort facilitating a contemptible exit, accountability averted…
for, or as penance, it rolls off the tongue like salty retch but their putrid hot breath, reeking of bile, reveals their vapid souls
accountable to none impossible to hold to or for while stripping away autonomy tipping liberty’s scales drawing lines in the sand encroaching decency rendering those seeking to hold them accountable voiceless, vulnerable, voteless…
accountability is just a word
~kat
I had written this yesterday morning, tweaking it a bit, but had not managed to get photos of the most wonderful glimmers…a half dozen or so young turkeys running circles around the deer and older turkeys in my yard at the woods edge…and the emergence of an old friend…a lame doe who has wandered through for several years now, with a fawn in tow. There was also a glimmer from my youngest…a few actual snapshots of her youngest heading off to preschool!
All fine glimmers. All much needed glimmers on a foreboding day of unsettling events…our leader announcing Marshall law in essence in the capital city over a trumped up declaration of urgency employing a fantastical skewing of the facts. He is dictator itching to deploy troops to a city, a state, the country to terrorize the people into submission. I am late to posting, not because I ran out of daylight this time, but because I needed time and a few winks to make sense of it all.
There were such wonderful glimmers presenting themselves to me. They drew me in and held me…searing a memory into me that perhaps was not meant to be captured by a photograph. The young turkeys who I had feared gone, lost to predators, seem to be alive and well, full of life and joyful mischief. I hope you can imagine it. It was a delightful sight to see. And then my dear tripod doe with fawn in tow…hope, joy, resilience…relaying just a few messages, very much needed messages, to snap me back from the edge.
To witness the stunning unraveling of this country at the hands of a madman and his growing army of miscreants, with seemingly no end in sight and no one to stop them, feels like a nightmare…if only it was just a nightmare. Destruction amidst a growing number of people going through the motions of normal, working, playing, shopping, laughing feels a little crazy. It is a little crazy.
While I will have fond memories only (and no photos to burn up memory on my phone) of the visitors to my peaceful oasis…the turkey teens and the doe and her fawn, there were photos captured of my youngest grandson, full of joy, excitement and life! I’ll leave you with a glimpse of those here as a reminder. This is why we can’t give up trying…why we can’t stop fighting for justice.
So it is easier for you to find all the parts/chapters of my ongoing fiction series, I created a new page that lists all the links. You can check it out HERE!
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like mercury colliding... 