“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


summer. take 2.

the world outside is taking a breath, and i with it.  july is here, and brought with her a weekend of rain when she opened the door, this summer so unlike last summer, cooler, wetter, greener.  this morning we are all sunshine, a sunshine that is a color yet unnamed - bright, lighting up the house, begging to be partaken of.  

some once-again amazing sunshine out there.  thanksgiving in july.  gratitudes.  big swooshes of movement.  walls to be painted, canvases also, moving me through the remaining days of summer.  i have neglected my camera this year and maybe there will be pictures.  typing tightens my shoulder and i have stayed away from long bits of it, nodding to this sign from the universe.  time to get my hands dirty and my brain emptied of thoughts, painting always my meditation.  my shoulder needs a bigger space than i've been giving it.  time to get physical.

friday, july 13:
by noon the emma tree was down. 
by 12:15 the places on the wall scraped bare by her limbs were sanded and painted. 
by 12:30 she was propped against a different wall in a back room.

i thought it would make me sad, but no.  it made me smile.  it made her smile.  i'd forgotten all the bruises and broken limbs she'd suffered these last few years, forgotten how she was held together in places with wire and ribbons.  no more.  the broken parts are gone and she is resting, healing, waiting for me to find her next home.

it's been in my mind a while, to help her down from that tiresome spot, but others said no, she should stay, and so i left her, but i ignored her.  when a bulb burned out, it stayed burned out.  not on purpose, but it stayed dark.  that corner of the front room . . . well, it seemed neglected.  sad.

so i will start there first.
the yellow-once-vibrant blue walls will change again.
a canvas as big as a room.



  1. taking a breath .. feels so good to know you are as well.. I love the thoughts of you painting as summer moves on ..hugs from down the road

  2. I hope you'll have a wonderful brake.

  3. A long time ago when I had a roommate I suggested that we fix and clean the place up, to which he replied; "Why?, we aren't moving!"
    Coincidently that object in the background does so much look like a 4x5 view camera on the sturdy Tiltall tripod.
    May your shoulder mend and be better than ever. Painters and writers need properly working arms.

  4. resting is equally as important as doing. dirt is equally as important as diamonds of thought. have a wonderful time!

  5. this feels so right, all of it. you made me think of the fact that art is the thing that you can't not do.
    sometimes, a tree plants a new seed. a fresh beginning. new growth.
    and then, new shade to sit beneath.

  6. and our summer so oddly different. almost wrong. dry, dusty, crusty and shades of brown that have never been seen
    before. at least not here :(

  7. It does sound like you have come to a time of movement and change, which is a good thing, a growing thing, and you will survive thing. Lovely to read of change and movement.

  8. i love that you read the signs of what your body tells you it needs or doesn't need.
    you are one wise woman.


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