A Boot-ist Meditation

Alone at the table I sit, pen-in-hand, remembering. I'm writing a eulogy. For my boots. They were my best, most rugged pair of fire boots: Danners, with thick rubber soles and knowing, thorned-in scratches. Victims of a brutal crime: an unannounced cleaning spree at my parents' house. It is a eulogy, also, to the migratory …

Continue reading A Boot-ist Meditation

Advertisements

The Nature Shelf

It all started with a sycamore ball...then an acorn, an oak leaf turning, a wisp of goldenrod. Just one or two small treasures at a time, laid out on a porcelain tray on a bookshelf near the old cord phone. I was living in Washington, D.C., apartment-sharing near Capitol Hill with a woman in her …

Continue reading The Nature Shelf

Canine Kisses… and the Power of Story

I've been touched by a wolf, wrapped and changed and marked by her wild energy. Some years ago, during a weekend session of "Art, Advocacy and Landscape" class held on the campus of the Earthfire Institute, a spiritual retreat and animal sanctuary near Driggs, Idaho, our facilitator, Jean, halted us during a conversation about the nature …

Continue reading Canine Kisses… and the Power of Story

When the Wind

"So like many women before and after me, I lived my life as a disguised criatura, creature. Like my kith and kin before me, I swagger-staggered in high heels, and I wore a dress and hat to church. But my fabulous tail often fell below my hemline, and my ears twitched until my hat pitched, at …

Continue reading When the Wind

Times and Tides

  The language of pregnancy is future-minded, emphasizing not what is, but what's to come; I am "expecting," a lady-in-waiting. Meanwhile, everything I read tells me to loosen those expectations: to plan, to nest, but not to cling too tightly to those plans or expectations. Birth and life have other plans. My husband and I have …

Continue reading Times and Tides

My Inner Outtie

She moves!  A Galilean proclamation. For two days I walked too fast and too much, and she moved too little. Now, as I settle on the couch into my own fetal curl, I watch her as she purrs. Gallops, really: tumbles, whorls, leaps and dives like a porpoise. Sometimes she will push outward slowly toward my fingers, …

Continue reading My Inner Outtie