09/30/18

30 days hath September, April June and November . . .
part of me thought September would never end and
yet another part of me is sad to see it go. We of
yesteryear, grew up with September being this most
amazing month where we celebrated Labor day
knowing school began the next day, 'twas the
beginning of fall and our grandparents came to visit
after all the crops were in. I do understand that those
of us who house these memories are a dying breed,
but dying or not, they are ours. My own memories
of this month . . . bear in the yard three times, plentiful
visits from deer and the odd checking in of the elk.
September also brought visits from my children, family
and not to forget first fires and Autumn Equinox. All told,
it was a glorious month. Good bye September . . .

a fab september
first fires bear deer and elk
october awaits

09/29/18

Today is one of those days . . . pure magic! I get
to see my kids just as they are flying in from Mexico.
I have often wondered if we ever understand the
actual meaning of true love until children. I am so
excited, I feel I could burst. The phenomenon called
children . . . and a truer word was never spoken!
PHENOMENON! Our babies are this kind of enigma!
From that first burst into the belly, until one's own
passing, there is no greater experience. Children are
the Santas that secretly load the surprises under the
Christmas tree. Love, hope, joy, sorrow, wonder . . .
and fear to end all fears. Speaking of wonder, I have
to wonder all the time, what did I ever do to deserve
my children?! Gifts from the gods, make no mistake!
I pray, I prove myself worthy!

to all my children
gifts from the gods that you are
i feel unworthy

09/28/18

Today, I am blest with a day on my own. I've
always been a person who appreciated, nay
required, solitude. Time alone is a precious
gift. I find myself simply enjoying thinking
about it and planning how I'm going to spend
it. Alas, there is always an abundance of chores
that need seeing to; no need to plan those. How
then, will I spend my allotted gift?! Perhaps, I'll
write a few letters; I've always enjoyed correspondence.
A walk sounds intriguing, so I do pray for a nice day.
I have some boxes of mementos that need going
through . . . ah, what a day I'm going to have . . .
but wait, my man isn't even gone yet and I'm
missing him already.

a day on my own
such moments to be cherished
must share them with you

09/27/18

I had to dress up the other day to go to a party. It got
me thinking about this whole dress thing. I remember as
a child, my mom dressed me in hand-me-down play clothes
and I don't think either of us gave it any particular thought.
When I started school, my aunt, who was a professional
seamstress for the 49ers, made all my clothes. I got the
impression the two sisters rather got a kick out of dressing
me as as if I were a live doll. I suppose puberty and all the
wrath of the gods that entails, brought about an actual
interest in dressing. I just had to have an opinion, a say,
and began paying attention to peers and style. I didn't find
much time in college for anything as unimportant as dress.
But, once I started teaching, slowly but surely, I began to
acquire the wardrobe. I had actual taste and choices. Of
course, money played a part, but I dressed! And did so for
over 40 years. Now that I find myself retired and living in
a 120 year old cabin, I suppose I look like something out
of an L.L. Bean catalogue! But, then came the party . . . I
began surveying the remnants of my teaching wardrobe.
I'm not quite certain what stirred me more, the collection of
clothing or my lack of interest in it. Still, it was somewhat fun
to mix and match and put an outfit together. But, when I got
home, 'twas back to my comfy LL Beanies! Is that called full
circle, or what?!

taking an interest
me dressing up dressing down
all around the town

09/26/18

Alas, much negativity is heard about men, perhaps
today and always. I disagree . . . I was reared by a
phenomenal man, WITHOUT PAR! My sons . . .
the artist and the photographer, are remarkable men
that I respect and admire as much as I love them.
My grandsons, who both serve in the armed forces,
are lovely men. So, why all the hoopla about men?
Me thinks, 'tis once again that the many pay the price
for the few. And, make no mistake, in every genre of
life, there is much good and little bad, but human
nature being what it is, 'tis the naughty, not the nice,
that is focused on. I swear, sometimes I even feel
sorry for Santa! So, midst all the mire, I salute the
good guys . . . we're rooting for you, really truly!

hail to the good guys
dont let the baddies fail you
glorious men rock

09/25/18

Pondering womenkind of late . . . what an amazing,
glorious, miraculous circle of all ages is SHE. One
of the good things about aging, is that rare ability
to step back and appreciate in a manner for which
you never before had time or inclination. I find myself
observing my young daughters, each with their own
children of different ages and stages, and I am in
absolute awe. I also find myself dropping the jaw that
I was ever there, capable and successful. I look at the
one year olds and think to myself, "Wow, what a life
awaits you!" And then, the little gals in grade school,
being introduced into scholastic life. I see myself in a
surrealistic movie of the mind . . . first grade, going to
college, getting married, having my own daughters and
teaching. Every now and then, an accidental glance in
the mirror catches me out and I think, "When did this
happen to you?" Still, I am ever so grateful that this
kaleidoscope called life, was ever gifted to me and
my sweet SHE descendants.

thinking of the shes
pondering the gift of life
may they be so blest

09/24/18

This whole moving process from a residence
in the mountains to a tiny, tiny 120 year old
cabin, has to be one of the most amazing
experiences, E V E R !!! I have half a notion
to name my cabin, The Lost and Found. I've
lost so many things, I can't even tabulate . . .
but on the other hand, I'm finding things I
haven't seen in years. One of the treasures
at the forefront would be 100 year old photos
a la black and white. Some of them have been
the postmark, in 1907 . . . 111 years ago. I
feel humbled to even hold them in my hand.
Oh, there's my dad's, great uncle Len, holding
onto his dog for dear life. Great, great aunt
Elsie, on my mother's side, is feeding her
chickens. I'm not sure that any of us have
ever turned photos of our daily lives into
post cards, 'tis a thing of a very distant past.
All of this makes me wonder . . . will future
generations ever find the odd photo and query,
"Is that great, great aunty Linda-Dale? Doesn't
she look quaint, the way she's dressed?" Life
has to be the strangest journey any of us ever
takes.

via olde photos
traveling into the past
feeling nostalgic

Real Photo postcards, are a category some

people collect and are worth more than regular

mass-printed cards. It was easier in the early

days to get them than to have regular photos

made. Not everyone had cameras. ~Sally White

09/23/18

Oh where, oh where, is the sun hiding?

Having experienced the arrival of over 60 Autumns,
along with the diminishing of the sun, it may seem
a bit redundant to ask the question. Crazy as it may
seem, the late arrival of the sun in the morning and
its early disappearance at night, always catches me
out. I'm sure all of us awaken early through decades
of habit . . . alas, the job awaits, doesn't it?! Still,
during this time of year, we rise in the dark. I don't
know about you, but I find it a bit eerie. I find myself
wondering if this is Mama Earth's way of prepping us
for Halloween, ha! Still, I'm looking forward to Fall . . .
celebrating wondrous Autumn colors, collecting leaves,
buying acorns, putting together table decor and lighting
as many candles as I can. Without a doubt, Autumn's
special beauty is without par.

tis so dark so soon
already missing the light
so love my candles

09/22/18

What is it about Autumn that so moves the soul?
I've been thinking about this in the few days prior
to its arrival. Perhaps we accept the shorter days
in exchange for losing some of the Summer heat.
I imagine we're all in love with those magical Fall
colors, to say nothing of pumpkins and squash and
the delicious foods created from them. And, as I'm
so enamored with my porch, it's just nice enough to
still sit out there with just a sweater. Won't be long
though, before I'll be sipping hot tea rather than
cold beer. One thing for certain, living each day to
the max is just a joy in Autumn. Blessed be!

what say you to this
magical colors of fall
are souls black and white

09/21/18 - Autumn Equinox

Me thinks I'm dead . . . or mostly dead! This cabin
that has been the life of me, is most certainly going
to be the death of me! Yesterday, I raked the yard
and hauled leaves. We spread brown bark in the
walkways, arranged picnic tables and chairs. My
man even installed solar lights along the entry path.
We wanted to end the day sitting on the porch and
watch the new lights come on, but we were too tired
to move. We sat under a tree and just chuckled, o.k.
cursed, about aging! When finally we got up and sat
down in the porch, we only stayed five minutes . . .
go figure! Slept like the living dead, though!

I think the impetus for the day was waling out in the
morning and seeing a doe right in front of me. We
have lots of wildlife, so I never thought for a minute
she would stay. Rather than flee, she took a step
forward and gave me a good look-see. Then another
step, and another.  I whisper-shouted to Russel to
come and see. He crept into the kitchen and put some
raw oatmeal on a plate. She didn't eat it out of his
hand, but when he put the plate down, she ravished
it. We're going to watch out for her today; she's rather
a gift of the gods, if you will. Happy Mabon!

living in the woods
different kind of heaven
just bring me my harp

09/20/18

The cabin saga continues . . .

Most of you know we've been working on my 120 year old cabin
for six years now. It was built between 1887 and 1889. The old
blacksmith who built it, carved out two tiny bedrooms in the attic
in 1930 and attached a little (and I mean little) bathroom in 1950.
The first thing my man did was tear down the privy. We figure since
it's not been in use for 68 years (my age exactly), that we can now
dig it up. You may recall from your history studies that old-time
privies used to serve as dumping grounds and are known to be
veritable treasure loads. My cousin has inspired me to dig it up
next summer. I hope it renders some treasures after all that work,
may have to salt the mine, as it were.

I don't think either of us ever thought in terms of living here
permanently, it was just for weekends and parties, right?! But,
when you're nigh onto 70, your priorities change. It's been slow
going but a lot of fun as well. In looking at this whole six year
rehab project, I seem to be doing the same to myself. It must be
part of the whole aging process . . . this need to rehab, re-make,
re-do, restore, becomes as important for the soul as it is for an
ancient cabin I must say, upgrading the cabin is a hell of a lot
easier than upgrading me . . . wish me luck . . . and time . . .
if you will.

want to live longer
much growing to accomplish
a gift of time please

09/19/18

My lovely man finished my porch yesterday afternoon.
I've never had a porch before . . . there can be no
experience its equal! A couple of chairs, throws against
the evening cool, several lit candles, a glass of champagne
to celebrate and a fine cigar. We literally sat there until
it was well dark. Such enjoyment, without par. It made
me think that perhaps this kind of thing is missing in our
daily lives. We're all about the rush . . . rust to get ready,
rush to get to work, rush to get home, rush to avoid rush
hour . . . all to be followed by take out and television.
Now, if we all ended our day on the porch, a cup of tea,
a glass of wine, talking quietly by candle light . . . might
even be the beginning of world peace. For certain, it does
bring peace within . . . and make no mistake, I am a fan!

the gift of a porch
an hour or two of quiet
silence in my soul

09/18/18

I've been thinking . . . always ominous. I grew up
in a warm, loving household, where anything as
fanciful as fairytales was frowned upon. This, of
course, had the desired effect of making me a
voracious reader at a very young age. (I do mean
reader . . . I didn't get my first television until I
had been married ten years.) In remembering my
first encounters with brave wee lasses such as Anne
of Green Gables, Heidi, Pollyanna and Caddie
Woodlawn, I had my first heroines and role models.
I suppose I'll never know just what an impact they
had on my life, but certainly, one of the greatest joys
of my life, reading, was their gift to me. To this day, I
ask myself, who do you want to be when you grow up?
And, I think I'll go for Caddie Anne. That will do just
fine. I'll sneak across rivers with my brothers, like
Caddie, and watch the Indians at work. I will have
imaginary friends like Anne did and scandalize the locals.
Or, maybe I should be Heidi or Pollyanna. Heidi always
adored her elder grandfather, and not to forget Pollyanna.
God knows I could do well with some of her positivity
just now. No, forget positivity . . . even adventures! What
I need just now is bravery! Here's to Caddie and . . .
Linda-Dale . . . get on with it.

so want to be brave
a rich fantasy indeed
make it real woman

09/17/18

Tonight, I pulled another all-nighter, thanks to my
once-a-month coffee fix. I always say I don't mind,
and I don't . . . it's just that parade of sins marching
down Sleepless Street that bothers me. I imagine
I'm not the only one who joins in the parade when
not resting easy en los brazos de Morfeo! I suppose
the usual wrongs of a fairly normal person, ok, NOT
so normal, don't stand for much in the world we live
in today. Having said that, when demanding such
high standards of oneself, it does indeed matter. I
tend to think of those terms being bandied about
these days . . . learn to let go, forgive yourself, move
on, let it be. And, although I'd like to be 33 again, I
sure wish I belonged to the generation that embraces
those slogans!

reviewing my sins
me sleepless in seattle
high price for coffee

09/16/18

I find it interesting how the closer we get to the end of our days,
the more family and friends matter. I look back over my well
lived life and clearly recognize that this has always been the
case for me. Having said that, still, there was hearth and home,
to say nothing of the job (teaching for just over 40 years . . .
which I loved, by the way) and all that rearing a family entails.
Now, en mi vejez, mostly all I can think about . . . PEOPLE,
real people. My children, all four of them, are such a joy to me.
I don't even need to see them to take pleasure in them, the
memories sustain! I find, in my cousins, the sisters I never had
and I miss them. I wish we lived nearer; I long to hang out. I'm
constantly reminiscing about the past, my childhood, moments
lost in time. I'm remembering my grandparents, my uncles . . .
what's this all about?! I always said I would never grow old . . .
and here I am, not only growing old, but acting just like the
other viejitos . . . old guys, I mean. I wonder if God ever chuckles
as he brings us to our knees?!

feel it in my bones
the mysteries of aging
never getting old

09/15/18

Be positive, they say. Lose the negativity, they say.
Everything's going to be alright, they say. Right!
I'm dancing as fast as I can (my fave Barbara Gordon
quote) and NO, everything is NOT alright. But, I'd
have to admit, it's my fault . . . o.k. Mostly my fault!
What is it about life anyway? You're on a diet for
months and don't lose any weight! You don't spend
a dime on yourself for weeks and yet you run out of
shekels mid-month! You take all your vitamins
faithfully and when you go to the doc, she says you
haven't improved! You spend an entire day cleaning
your choza and it's all dirty again in the blink of an
eye! Alright, I'll cop to it . . . I've gone and gotten
all negative again. I guess that's why the gods only
gave us 24 hours in a day. Tomorrow will be better.

just banging my head
feels most wondrous when i stop
so need to relax

09/14/18

Upon reading the various accounts of racism of late,
I find myself rather astounded. I thought we had finally
moved beyond this! I remember carpooling with a young
black man, back in the day, as we were both teaching in
a given area in Lincoln. We never thought a thing about
it. He was from the West Indies and his fiancee was Asian.
I was from the US and my husband was from Mexico. We
used to joke that we formed our own mini-United Nations.
He and I stopped to gas up his bug one afternoon. A group
of young lads came out of the station and upon seeing us,
began throwing anything they could lay their hands on.
Rather gave a new name to hail storm. They broke the
windshield, dented the body . . . finally coming over and
rocking the car back and forth, once we were in. We were
beyond frightened; we were terrified. Racism is a dance of
sorts, on step forward and two steps backwards . . . I pray
one day we can finally leave this ugly dance behind.

dancing the two step
one step forward two steps back
lost going nowhere 

09/13/18

I've been pondering culture. It's such a vast word in and of
itself. There is the culture we live in, the culture of the different
groups of people we hang with, and of course, our own personal
culture. Obviously, there is more, but I want to simply think about
my own. Did I choose it? Did I create it? Or, was it simply visited
up me by life, by family, by personal choices? Or, is that all one
and the same? I recognize that the Mexican culture is very important
to me. Ditto my teaching culture. The culture within my family realm,
the culture of my personal belief system, all part of what makes me,
ME. Then, I ask myself, why is this important at this time in my life?
It does seem to me that it is important. Important to understand me
and what I'm about in this life. It becomes even more important when
I realize I'm much nearer the end of my life than the beginning. I do
recognize that it's paramount for me to love rather than hate, to hold
my family and friends above all else, to give rather than receive.
Perhaps, those three things actually comprise my personal culture.
Bears thinking about . . .

family and friends
my creed beliefs mother earth
sustain me through time

09/12/18

In pondering my life, I've wondered exactly how much
of it is indeed fantasy. Of course, there's the daily grind
and obviously, not much fantasy to that . . . but the movies
I watch, the books I read, the odd visit to a fave restaurant,
my hopes and dreams . . . may all well fall within the purview
of fantasy. And, in thinking about it, I can't for the life of me,
find anything wrong with that. After all, 'tis one's razón de
vivir to enjoy the path along the way. And quite frankly, a
little salt and pepper, along with the odd dash of chili (talking
about my friends here), make it all that much more delectable.

to live or exist
i want to go out living
to hell with exist

09/11/18

I dreamt last night that I was looking for someone, at
least I thought I was. Turns out, I really was searching
for me. I found myself in a heavily wooded area near the sea.
Enormous waves were lapping the shoreline. My line of
sight allowed me to see both the water and the trees. I was
deeply enamored with the beauty of the scene but felt anxious
as I didn't understand where I was nor how I had gotten there.
I saw a path nearby in the wooded area. I began ascending
it, hoping to find out where I was and why. I came upon a
lovely family home. There was a mother and child in the side
yard apparently building something in a small garden area.
The child was playing with different rocks, trying to pile them
up to create a small structure. The mother handed him stones
from time to time, but simply seemed to be enjoying him. I
approached and spoke to the woman. I explained that I had no
idea where I was nor how I had gotten there; I hoped she could
enlighten me. She smiled, rather knowingly, actually. It made me
wonder if she had experienced this before. She got up quietly,
stated that she needed to go inside for a moment and would
I please keep an eye out for the little boy. A few moments
later, a man, obviously the father, arrived on the scene. We
spoke a bit and it soon became apparent that he could shed
some light on my queries. As I awakened, I felt a rather
instant understanding that I had been searching for myself.
The terrain I walked between water and forested area indicated
choices. The mother, child and father were all different parts
of my own psyche and by searching for them, meeting them,
I was exploring my own distinct personas. Part of me is a tad
fearful, but mostly I sense the excitement of unlocking the
mysteries of my own soul . . .

who am i and why
donning courage I query
is it time i ask

Makes me think of Jung, Whitman and Kierkegaard... all of whom had interesting insights into the self. Here's a bit of Jung: "the Self...embraces ego-consciousness, shadow, anima, and collective unconscious in indeterminable extension. As a totality, the self is a coincidentia oppositorum; it is therefore bright and dark and yet neither". Alternatively, he stated that "the Self is the total, timeless [parson]...who stands for the mutual integration of conscious and unconscious". Jung recognized many dream images as representing the self, including a stone, the world tree, an elephant, and the Christ.

The warning of the dark aspects of self are also fascinating: "the dark side of the Self is the most dangerous thing of all, precisely because the Self is the greatest power in the psyche. It can cause people to 'spin' megalomanic or other delusionary fantasies that catch them up", so that the victim "thinks with mounting excitement that he has grasped the great cosmic riddles; he therefore loses all touch with human reality.

~Luis Ferreyra

09/10/18

Walking through the market, I spied an
elder gentleman who was obviously the
worse for wear, but with a decided look
of a nostalgic past . . . sweet beard, fabulous
hat and a costume that would have put him
happily at the Renaissance Fair. I actually
found myself making an effort not to stare.
As I wandered ear him, I commented, "Fab
outfit." Being a bit of an odd dresser myself,
I wasn't surprised when he spied the artist-
made silver star on my suede vest. "Oh, and
I just love your star; it's a must have, how
much do you want for it?" he queried. I'd
have to admit, it was one of those moments!
I simply reached up, undid my precious star
and handed it to him. With words to the effect
of, "Enjoy!" I walked off, chuckling at the look
of pure astonishment on his face.

those precious moments
all the more fun for the shock
never to forget

09/09/18

'Tis always with a tad of fear and trepidation
that I return to the land of my birth. The plethora
of memories, memories of every color, shape
and size, keep me at bay.  I find myself drumming
up the courage to return. Once there, it's never as
bad as I anticipated, so why the drama? Why the
reluctance? I've pondered and pondered and
certainly I've put my finger on a few things . . .
This was the parental home and birth place, this
was where I lost my father. I remember my young
school days fondly, but not so church. I have a
myriad of feelings regarding friends, puberty 
and leaving home at 14. But here too, is where 
I find my daughter, my niece . . . great loves of
my life that they are. And perhaps, re-encountering
the geography of my mind, painful that it may be,
is just what the gods require.

must have a wee peek
tentatively opening
scrapbook of my mind

09/08/18

My beautiful star . . . the gift of a daughter must
surpass any and all gifts. She comes to you, quite
unexpectedly, over and over, reappearing just when
you need her, even when you didn't realize that was
the case. You carried her in your hear and soul for
moons a many, and then suddenly, she's in your arms
never to be torn away. When I find myself in times
of trouble, 'tis my very own Mother Mary I turn to.
She comforts me, listens to me, soothes me and
fails to judge me. She is a gift of the gods; make
no mistake. I pray I be one day deserving of her . . .

my soul is weary
pray send me mother mary
in my time of trouble

09/07/18

I read an article on the elderly this morning,
and it rather kick-started me into thinking
about this whole aging thing. Obviously, you
notice those changes in your looks, your body
as the years pass by, but thank the gods, it's all
rather gradual or we'd be in hospital for nervous
breakdown. Still, once I retired and found myself
running into mirrors on the odd occasion, I'd
always feel quite startled. Maybe, not to the point
of shooting all the mirrors in the house, but still . . .
'Tis a blessing we are all somehow forced to accept
the inevitable, but you have to admit it takes a
certain amount of courage, nonetheless. And, it's
not only actresses that make the effort to eat right,
work out, dress in modern mode and learn the
current lingo . . . and yes, in the depths of my soul,
I sometimes wish I were one of them. But, I was
busy . . . busy spending time with my children,
enjoying my teaching career, falling in love, taking
the odd campout into stride, to say nothing of my
book a day vice.  So, when was I ever going to do
the nasty (as I tend to think of it) with this whole,
"going to the gym, catch you later," thing?
Guess it might be time to shut up about it and
endure the choices I made . . .

old body and soul
the choice of inner beauty
a small price to pay

09/06/18

In looking at the menu life has to offer,
I think I'll have the Do Over, please.
It's sad, actually, the images that come
to mind in the wee hours of the morning,
all those things you should have done
and didn't, all the accomplishments
unaccomplished, the longings unsatisfied,
the veggies left uneaten but the sweets
consumed. You don't have to look far to
turn your entire life into a sin of one kind
or another. So, maybe it's not a Do Over
that I'm looking for, maybe it's some kind
of acceptance so I can move on. Get over
it! Get a life!! Accept yourself, already!!!

longing to be good
acceptance at any price
sleepless nights ahoy

09/05/18

The 4th would have been the first day of school.
Let's see, I have a hankering for about sixth grade.
We had a great teacher, I'd begun to have an interest
in boys (one of them lies beside me right this moment).
The older girls were beautiful, experimenting with
their hair and clothes as well as sneaking a bit of make
up. We got to hear all about first dates, first kisses and
the new term, making out, was being bandied about a
bit. In looking back, I can see the difference between
the sweet innocence that was then and the knowing 
that is now. There's nothing wrong with either, it's
just that we were living precious moments and didn't
even know it. Which makes me wonder, will I look
back on today, when I am a proper oldster, and think
that this time of my life was precious moments as well?
I'm going to make an effort to value this moment in
time rather than moaning about my yesterdays and
secretly wishing for my tomorrows.

precious memories
but id rather make new ones
always much more fun

09/04/18

The class of worlds happens to us all, I suppose.
My young world, a more innocent time perhaps,
where we didn't have the technology we enjoy
today, is now infused with all the glory of computers,
cell-phones, i-phones, head-phones, game boys, and
a plethora of other techno-objects too long to list.
Last night I was checking my E-MAIL and per usual,
erased each note as I answered. The messages I needed
to save, I sent to SENT MAIL and proceeded to ultimately
erase my trash box. Feeling all satisfied that I had indeed
completed my daily mail duties, I clicked on a box called
ALL MAIL. To my dismay, there were hundreds of missives
there that I mostly had never seen. I suppose ignorance is no
excuse, but there you have it. I'm still not sure whether 'twas
a treasure trove or a quick sand swamp, but I spent the next
couple of hours reading through ancient to new messages
that I had never seen. At best, it was an interesting exercise,
at worst, an embarrassing one. There are people that must
have wondered why I never answered their missives and
others that I would have much enjoyed the interactions had
I written. I have no answers, but it's almost the first time I
truly felt elder, as it were. I appreciate and enjoy technology.
I have learned, along the way, to use what I need and not to
bother with the parts that don't particularly interest me.
However, from time to time, my own ignorance brings me
to my knees. Not sure where to go from here, but, I am
dancing as fast as I can, to quote Barbara Gordon.

just feeling my age
how old did you say i am
yes old as the hills

09/03/18

Me thinks I'm just like a little kid . . .
we got to have our first fire of the
season. Obviously, it hasn't been
cool enough, even in the mountains,
to justify a fire. Make no mistake,
I love summer! Nonetheless, there's
nothing quite like a fire of an evening!
Sitting there with my guy, glass of red
in hand, staring at the fire and sharing
dreams. It doesn't get any better than
that! So, bring on the cool evenings
 . . . but let's wait on the cold nights!

sharing time in fall
not really about the cold
bring on the fire

09/02/18

So, the power of positive thinking vs.
that wretched self-loathing thing is quite
the war, make no mistake. Human being
that I am, and yes, I do wonder about that
sometimes.  I often vacillate between
the two. I can't help but wonder if it has
something to do with being a Libra . . .
that whole unbalanced balancing act. Me
thinks I'm probably the most unbalanced
Libra in the Universe. Oh well, provides for
some much needed comedy from time to time.

ms libra listen
up and down and all around
best get some balance

09/01/18

What a delicious month is September . . .
days bathed in sepia tone, leaves changing
and falling, apples magically turning into
cider, the donning of light jackets but not
being properly cold . . . I enjoy all the
seasons and as each one approaches, I
find myself thinking, "This one is my fave."
Still, I seem to say that with each new
season. Perhaps the wisdom to take away
from Mama Nature's message is this,
"Welcome each season as it comes, enjoy
every single day as it moves into the next.
Each moment, day, season is precious.
Don't waste the joys of today with the
anticipation of the morrows."

dream fiery hues
fall stealthily approaching
anticipation