jar of black gesso
scissors, stickers & cardstock
I can journey wherever
my imagination
wishes to take me

jar of black gesso
scissors, stickers & cardstock
I can journey wherever
my imagination
wishes to take me
glowering sky
afore the rain —
winds shifting,
windows darken —
with the pall
of the heavens
blessedly upon us
I always love to play this game. Props to Judy for the weekly challenge! This week’s number is 212 and, from my archives, here are a few photos.











Mondays, I spritz Markus
water the other plants, too
open all the blinds
so that they might too
savor the light
two twin sisters
wearing sage-green tights
draw pink jaguars
on a broken sidewalk,
sunlight caressing
their strawberry blonde curls

a pale autumn sun,
bright with light despite its low arc,
bursts through the delicate translucence
of her simple, cotton draperies
Uber-fans, like me, of the 1979 classic All That Jazz will recognize those lyrics from a film that chronicles one man’s journey toward his demise. The movie is chockful of spectacular performances and never fails to fill my eyes with tears.
Yesterday, less than a month after my own mother passed away, I attended the funeral of a beloved uncle. Sitting there, during what seemed an interminable though well-intended sermon, it occurred to me that I’ve reached that stage in life where one by one, my elders and eventually my familial peers will eventually meet the same fate. As will I…
There will be more funerals, the gaps between each one and the next more slender; they will not occur as infrequently as they did even ten years ago. My mother’s remaining six sisters’ and their spouses’ bodies are in decline, some more evident than others. My husband’s family, even larger, tells the same story.
We will be attired in black, yet again, many times in the coming days, weeks, months and years. None of us know the when only that the if will never fit inside the equation. Never has.
Angelique, the Angel of Death, who troubles and endears Joe Gideon in the film, is beautiful and charismatic. Joe both adores and fears her. Not yet, he tells her at one point, and she demurs, backs away, allows him to live a bit longer.
May we all live – well and truly! – just a bit longer though one day, this same inevitability will arrive for each of us.
humidity creeps back up
soaring temps and ragweed too —
I look towards frost & drier air,
the chill of autumn’s overlay
*
to breathe freely again,
to step outside,
to enjoy nature
& the wide-open outdoors

jagged shadows soften
in September’s luscious light —
sharpened points muted,
& now made beautiful
Chit Chat