“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


Last Night I Dreamed of Blue Flowers. Again.

I dreamed of Mary last night.

All my dreams of her are of the night, and her house is never quite the same, it is always missing some walls, opening into the yard, into the darkness, and it is always full of color. I don't remember much of the plot, I just remember she was there and able to walk around, and I remember the house, which was turned a good 45 degrees or so from the last dream, and like I said, it was night, and there were flowers open to the moonlight, softening the corners of the house, easing the way from inside to outside, forming rooms of their own.

My love of the night in this neighborhood is a powerful thing. The owls have returned; there were 4 babies around the corner, all gone now, off into the night themselves, the nest empty, but they always bring magic with them, always, always, as if their feathers are dusted with enchantment, they fly and it scatters in the displaced air, falling to earth, falling to our streets, onto our upturned faces. It is the beginning. Soon I will be out and about in the darkness, listening to the cicadas, watching the stars, and it will be warm, sometimes hot, it will be summer in Texas, and my muscles will loosen in the heat, will relax, I will lay back in the hammock and count the satellites as they pass overhead. Nothing new except there will be no Maggie nestled on the grass beneath me, and I like that nothing-newness, that sameness, I like that it is still as she left it, that I can say to her look, there's the dog tree, see the limbs swallow the moon?, and though I can't reach down and touch her, I know she sees it, I know that she knows.

The blue flowers above were waiting at my door the day after Maggie's death, a gift with no signed card, but I knew they were from JY, a condolence card of summer blooms. He didn't know that I buy these every year for the back porch, every year but last year when I couldn't find them, he only knew that I loved blue flowers. They will last all summer and they are the first thing I see when I open the kitchen blinds each morning. I see friendship and love and loss and memories in those blue petals, quite a lot for such fragile blooms, but they smile and nod good morning and when darkness comes, they fall asleep in time with the house. The hydrangeas are blooming, blue all around us, a creamy white under Katie's stairs. The honeysuckle is dancing along the sides of the creek and the crepe myrtles are leafed out, and we are almost there - my favorite time of the year, the hot time. The time of baseball and tornadoes, and boats on the lake at midnight, of homegrown tomatoes and okra and fireworks and white moths fluttering against my glass doors, nothing behind them but the night.

And this year, maybe a travel or two.
Maggie whispers in my ear that she is with me and will be always.
That I can take her with me.
I think I will.


  1. Screen doors slamming. Ice clinking in tall glasses. The dreamy stupor that ends a day well spent. Like Maggie we all travel with you when you write these images for us and transport us to where you are

  2. Thank you.
    For reminding me of the beauty in/behind/above/below the heat. All this Texas wonder.
    And Sweet Maggie on the grass, in the stars, blooming like the flowers in our hearts.

  3. I am sitting here, barefoot, fans blowing, house quiet. It is a warm night already, I think of just what you describe. Those night of summer that are endless.
    I see you there, in your hammock, swaying. Blue flowers. Forget me nots. Anchusa. Corydalis. Delphinium. True Blue.

  4. Ahhh blue... anything in blue is perfect to me. Maggie's right there beside you~ xxVicki

  5. ... i do so love the texas summers.

    you describe them perfectly.

  6. Oh my such beautiful words. I love how you write...I feel as if I am right there. Those little blue flowers... I think traveling somewhere would be fun...go for it!

  7. Your loving, open, artists heart brings you such friends. How lovely that they know you so well. How fitting.

  8. How lovely and summery and wistful and very, very blue.

  9. "nothing behind them but the night"......what an amazing description.

    and you know don't you, that thoughts and stories and photos of maggie will always be welcomed by us....

  10. i am honored to read of your travels through the loss of Maggie..i have my older daughters cat for the summer..they really are very special beings....blessings friend with lots of blue sprinkled about !!

  11. yes indeed, she is always with you.

  12. All these little things...these little details that seem so insignificant, but really truly are the MOST significant. You shine a light, a magic fairy light on every tiny beautiful thing, so full of meaning and importance.


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