Friday, August 26, 2016


Through the window I saw a squirrel balancing on the narrow rim of the oak rain barrel. Hanging on with its back toes, it leaned down, down, down for a drink.
I wonder what it thought when the goldfish zipped up for a closer look, eyeball to eyeball?

Thursday, August 25, 2016

release me

"Please release me, let me go, I don't love you anymore..."

I've been de-junking my closets. Isn't that the perfect theme song?


Our old truck has survivor guilt.
I didn't realize that until today.
Then I put two and two together.

Our car was stolen a couple months ago.
Sometime in the dimly lit hours of the morning, with only the moon and the old truck as witnesses.
The driveway looked strangely empty the next morning as I stood staring in disbelief.
"Where did you park the car?" I called up the stairs to my husband, my voice quavering.
I knew the answer.
I knew, but I just didn't want to believe.

Can you love a car?
Ours was a dear and faithful friend.

Yesterday as we hastened across a parking lot to the truck, I remembered The Love Bug and as a joke, called, "Herbieeeeeee, Herbieeeeee."
How startled we were to hear,
across the sea of cars,
a plaintive, "Beeeeeep?"

Monday, August 8, 2016


"It's a squirrel," the woman said with a smile, rolling her eyes at her dog who was standing statue stiff. We followed the dogs gaze and there at the base of a tree was a small red squirrel.
"She's moving her babies."
Sure enough, something was in the squirrels mouth.
And now out of her mouth on the ground.
She fumbled to pick it back up.
And dropped it again.
There it was again, hanging from her mouth like a little limp, rust colored mouse.
A baby squirrel.
The mother bounded over the tufted grass, her grip holding at last.
"I wonder why she's moving them," my husband said, thinking aloud.
And I found myself thinking about realtors and homes with a view.
Location, location, location.

Wednesday, August 3, 2016


I almost didn't stop.
Something had moved, but the woods are full of shadow and movement.
Full of sudden bird wing and squirrel tail.
I almost just kept walking.
But something made me stop.
Made me turn.
Let my vision clear, like binoculars sliding into focus.

Eyes locked with mine.
Bright, startled eyes.
My hand flew to my mouth.

About a foot from the ground, amongst fern and moss on a gnarled, ancient tree trunk, was a baby bird.
It opened its beak soundlessly.
As I continued to stare in amazement, it shifted uncomfortably.
Danger was near.
And it was me.

I forced myself to look away.
To keep walking.
To not draw any other eye.

Small nest and small nestling.
Genuine Geo Cache.

Tuesday, July 19, 2016

children of summer

A little painting of my little granddaughter.
The canvas is a six inch square and I thought it would be a wonderful size to dabble on.
The reality is that for something with detail, a larger size would have been much easier.
Of course now that I've started, I will paint two more tiny portraits of her older brother and sister. Be careful what you start.
When I bought this package of four stretched canvas's a few years ago, I was thinking of painting vegetables or fruit. Something graphic and chunky. That will wait for some other time.
The children of summer are waiting.

Friday, July 15, 2016


A breakfast table laden with waffles and blueberry sauce. "Do you have any cream?" my grandson asks hopefully.
"I don't, but would you like a little dollop of ice-cream?"
"Is a dollop more than a smidgen, or less?" he asks.
"More," I smile.
"Okay, I'll have a dollop."