“Do you know," Peter asked, "why swallows build in the eaves of houses? It is to listen to the stories.” ~ J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan


The North Wind & A Typing Warrior

Back from the land of nothing, where I slept a little later and watched Chocolat more than once, waking yesterday morning to find the sly north wind had shown up here, but I was more Anouk than Vianne and felt the need for home even more, watching the leaves fly hard through the blue air, feeling sad for the out of season late honeysuckle blossoms who'd appeared over the weekend, their "antennae" quivering in the wind and cold, blooming next to the out of season early paperwhites which had also surprised me with a few flowers.

But the weekend had been sunny and warm and Saturday I watched a yellow butterfly the exact shade of the yellow-not-yet-golden ginkgo leaves on the small tree in Mary’s yard – it flew around and up and down and as golden leaves dropped from the pecan tree and pale yellow rained from the hackberry tree, it danced between them. I lost sight of which was leaf and which was butterfly – the leaves poured out into the sunshine onto the brown and golden ground, and only when the wind held its breath could I find the butterfly again, still in the air, still singing the praises of fall with flight, and again the leaves tumbled through the air, and as I sat still and watched, there appeared a red tailed hawk, swooping around the corner of my house, past my front door, eye level if I’d been standing outside, and whoooshed fast fast fast, almost silent across our yard and across the street, heading north, ducking beneath the bare branches of the tulip tree and across AC’s back yard and onward into Mary Lou's trees. Oh! What a gift of the morning, the red tail feathers almost against my door as he made his turn. He was back in the afternoon, taking a perch in the V of a now leafless tree across the street, keeping watch over the creek, sitting in the sun, and Katie suggested perhaps he is my totem, he keeps showing up. I looked it up and of course, it means I am aware - that dreaded word again, the word that sounds so positive, but in this day and age, this uber-politically correct era, it is a word that means you just keep silent when you see the inconvenient truth. But it fit, of course, and I am now wondering if perhaps my muse, which I always knew to be a bird, is a hawk - I like that idea, a strong powerful bird sitting next to me, egging me on, fixing me with his or her hawk eye if I dawdle.

While typing I keep making errors, and while typing that phrase, I accidentally (if you believe in such things) typed typing warriors. Oh yeah. I think it's the hawk.
i embrace that notion - a typing warrior i will be


  1. If you have never seen the film
    'Ladyhawke', it is a must see for
    you. A fantasy film with Michelle
    Pfeiffer as the female lead. By
    night she is a beautiful(yes!)
    young woman and by night an
    actual 'Ladyhawke'. enough said.

  2. yesterday a owl flew over my head after sitting on the fence for a while staring at me.

    i wonder what she was thinking about watching me.

    maybe her totem animal is a typing warrior ;)

  3. i love coming here and reading about your world there.

  4. Oh, so here we are again. Same town, same sorta life. New York to Texas, hello? It's all about the hawks right now, including the one who swooped down in front of my car on the morning drive today, gliding like silk over a narrow creek. Hawks are messengers, too. It's one of my main totems, so of course, it must be yours. :)

  5. What a beautiful gift to watch your muse in extraordinary flight... and this type of awareness has nothing to do with police state of political correctness (I live in Northern California, next to San Francisco where I believe pc was first mutated then unleashed upon the world... ;-)


  6. Oh yes...most definitely your totem must be a strong and powerful (and free) creature...reflecting the strength and beauty in you.



come. sit under the emma tree & let's talk. i have cookies . . .