“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


i feel a bit like vermeer

he with his wonderful window light, me with my wonderful emma tree light, suddenly there with this newly painted wall.  the emma tree has been there all along, but the dark walls hid it, and i was seldom here late late at night, not often anyway, never when i felt good, but now is now and i am and it is.  the combination of this light and my cell phone camera and photoshop and my desire to paint a picture with a camera come together exactly the way i see it when i see it, and i am grateful.  and surprised.  a little extra gift from this new yellow wall.  expect to see a lot of this space ~ i have ideas.

last night was a near panic attack, but i staved it off with drugs and work - coming back here to the business, catching up on a bit of this & that, keeping my hands busy, keeping my brain away from those anxiety thoughts of nothing and everything, at last a bit of lily time in the front room and this emma tree light and i softened into the rest of the evening, the sound of across-the-street trains soothing, the wind up and cool outside the windows; when the wind is up and the leaves flying and the clouds running past the moon, i am enchanted and i am in love with autumn nights.  it is a place to start.  it is november.

i am suddenly in love with that word.  november.  i am in love with the moon that stood guard over my yard last night, when i at last returned home, in love with the sound of raccoons in the dark, with the sound of a nightbird in that wind, with the leaves flying past me.  outside felt more like my home than my home.  there were lamps in windows along the streets around me, the smell of a nearby fireplace, white clouds across the sky from the moon.  maggie's blue flowers are still blooming, even here in november, and i brought them in; they won't last much longer, but i will give them a few more days if i can ~ the moon lit my way safely down the sidewalk and the leaves flew and danced.

earlier in the evening, from the warmth and comfort of my couch, i'd watched leaves tossed from trees; they fell in the dark, but the porchlight caught bits and pieces of them as they fell, and they rained down like falling stars in the night, twinkling past my glass doors.  the lights of november.



  1. it is a magical time where we live .. you make it feel even more that way as line by line you embrace the movement of november .. your words are lyrical ..be well friend..

  2. A day to write about november, to love november, to cherish the way it moves through us. I am so glad that your new space is comforting you, welcoming you, even if it is at work, it sounds like it is a space that holds you gently with its surprise honey yellow.

  3. still those november lights have you mesmerized...it was the october lights for me i've decided, since i can't handle cold and leaves....i need some warmth and november is being a tease.

    today she's forcing me to stay in....nothing on my calendar and 36 degrees for the high. my studio is thankful that i've been home, cleaning her up...such a messy girl....and now i hear my office whining "when's my turn....hurry up".......

  4. wonderful yellow wall. space. a place for dreams to come real.

  5. november is one of my favorite months. you describe it well.

  6. your words sing music in my heart of November and the moon light. I did notice the moon last night and it did make my heart sing.

  7. A few months ago, I read a fiction with a Vermeer painting at its centre: both the painting and the book are titled "Girl in Hyacinth Blue".

    The book flowed in reverse chronology from the 20th century to the 16th century - and each section revealed the Vermeer painting's impact on the life or lives of the people who owned and loved it in that time period.

    It takes the reader right back to Vermeer himself - and what led him to paint that painting ... and then devotes time to his daughter, the young 'girl in hyacinth blue'.

    I quite enjoyed it - and thought I'd mention it to you having seen Vermeer in your post title.

  8. Gasp.
    That last paragraph.
    Oh, how I love that.

    I have the same feeling right now as I did when my mom and I were standing on the edge of the stream last month...she mentioned the leaves tumbling under the water. Something so seemingly familiar was so new all of a sudden. I can imagine these leaves falling through your porch light...and I am filled with the same sense of awe.

  9. Have you ever read In November by childnren's book author Cynthia Rylant? I think you must.

  10. Oh my word, yes, this is magical. And heartstoppingly gorgeous. And oh how my heart smiles at the thought of that sunny yellow wall, the perfect convergence of light and photo, blue flowers still blooming, and starry November nights.


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