“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


once upon a time, there was a wedding

i didn't take a camera, but then there was this song, and the night was falling, so when the bride began to dance by herself, i borrowed a cousin's new iPhone which i didn't know how to use, and just clicked away anyway. it's about the moments, i told myself.  it's about that swirl of a white dress that might be a bride, dancing, or maybe a flower, blooming.  perhaps the september moon in a sky aswirl with stars.  possibly all of the above.

it was the perfectest of weddings - a white horse drawn carriage, a lake catching the sunset, fireworks in the darkened night sky.  a couple so in love you could feel it when you got close.  and family, family, family.  a cousin helping his youngest daughter down the aisle, she the shy flower girl who had to think a minute or two about tossing those petals, though not so shy when the dancing began. another cousin performing the ceremony.  friends who count as family.  the bride's young daughter walked her mother down the aisle, in a matching white dress and bare feet and flowers in her hair. there was laughter and there were tears, and then there was dancing.

no matter your age, you were on the dance floor.  no matter if you didn't know the song, you were on the dance floor.  no matter if you had no partner, you were on the dance floor.  and the bride?  who had a partner, who'd slow danced that first dance of the rest of her life with him, didn't stop.  she danced with young cousins, and cousins her age, and uncles and, as i said earlier, even by herself.


when i got home, i tweeted
hermit though i be, i danced the night away under wedding stars and fireworks, and i say to you that it is the cure for whatever ails you.

and it is.  i meant it.  truth.



katie leaves her christmas lights up all year long because this

it's all curves and curls on that side of that house - spiral staircase, sidewalk curving past it, leaves and limbs and climbing vines.  in the darkness i move to the back yard, the leaves just a kiss or two above my head, bathed in the red of those lights.  the cat chases me, climbing the stairs and down again, hiding in the tall grass, pouncing at me when i pass her again.


autumn showed up this morning on cool breezes, her skirt flying up in the air, not a bit of shyness in her bones, teasing, hiding, flashing one lovely leg at a time from behind a tree still flush with green leaves.  tonight she is sexy sly, slow dancing, a glass of something red in her hands.  the cicadas are mostly gone, and the evening fills with different sounds. the cat comes in without an argument and curls on the couch, almost asleep.




sunday almost autumn

day softens into night and back again.

fall is just about here, which means it is warm enough to sit outside all day, but also cool enough to do so.  night falls early and confuses you.  you blink twice and the skies are darkening.

yesterday was a friend's house in the country with 3 dogs, one gone totally blind in her old age, but who nevertheless rolled in the happy spot of sunshine she followed around the yard.  it was a lot of talk about art and photography and new orleans, and it was walking barefoot to get more beer from the neighbor down the road.  it was water with lemon for me, and it was hours of laughter, and suddenly it was almost night.  i'd not meant to stay that long, but there were no mosquitoes, and the afternoon just slipped away.

this dragonfly was waiting to say goodbye, and there was a discussion about taking its picture, the photographer/friend shooting it against the open sky, me wanting the mood of the day in the picture. he thought a bit of background would interfere with the dragonfly's wings, seemed surprised i thought not, seemed surprised i wanted something besides those wings in the picture, but i knew the moment was the picture.  funny how that is.  i am so much less interested in the exactness and perfection of things, so much more about what the day has to say. i love the out of focusness of that one side of wings, blending into the sky and treetops, summer into fall, day into night, and despite me telling him i would photoshop it soft if needed, i knew i wouldn't need it.

and i didn't.  



stories from a broken camera. #1

early morning fog. semi-broken camera.

the path leads this way,
through fairy tales and what have yous. 
no point in getting upset when the man says it's not worth fixing.  
if it will take a picture, i will take a picture,
will follow this path and see what it teaches.  what gifts it brings.

this morning felt like,
what was it aragorn said?,
i'd strayed into a dream.
to be awakened by the meows of a cat,
she who'd followed me down the road.
almost cheshire, blending into the beginning of the day.

i like it already, one day in.



the morning after saturday night's rain

flowers in the street.
autumn is coming.

there's always the moment when you know.  when the wind and rain shake blooms from the trees and knock them from their homes in flower beds,  when the morning breeze feels different, as it does today.  i slept through last night's full moon, never minding the light filling my bedroom.  i never do that, even when i'm exhausted, but last night i did, and it was a good sleep.  perhaps the moonlight sang me to sleep.  moon as mother.

september usually moves slowly into autumn, and even at that slowness, i am usually sad to see it do so - i cling to summer with every ounce of my being.  perhaps my being weighs less this year, or perhaps i've finally learned what will be will be, or perhaps, maybe maybe, i am okay with autumn. perhaps we are learning to be friends.

it's warm still, in the mid 90s today, but then will begin to drop.  the sound of the wind this morning is cool, the trees and grasses moving in the come and go sunshine.

i have no story, but something feels changed.
me, the season - it's hard to tell.
i like the way this morning's one singing bird sounds.
this past weekend a dragonfly hit my windshield and it sounded like silver.
the bird this morning sounds like a diamond.



and we have a winner: Bella Grace

we step from august to september.
and we have a winner.


thank you to everyone who commented, who told me some of their sweet nothings. every day - every day - it made me smile to read your thoughts and happinesses. it's been such a fun week. i've felt a connection with each and every one of you.  i've visited many new blogs and found new friends and rediscovered old friends.  thank you once again so much.

and remember - 
keep holding out your hands to catch the everyday magic that is always there.

my neighbor's granddaughter came by to sell me some kind of school fund raiser thing and i negotiated a deal - if she would draw the winner's name from the bowl i held out before her, i would buy coupons.  i'm sure she thought i was crazy, sure she was thinking that most people just say yes and hand her money, or no and close the door.  but she smiled a shy smile and said yes and drew out a name.

the winner is deb from deb posted from home.  i just took a tour of her blog and she has fun news of her own -  i recommend paying her a visit.  i know i'll be back.  in the meantime, deb, i'll be getting in touch with you and we'll work out shipping details.  congratulations!  the magazine and the print of my painting will soon be on their way to you.

again - thank you all.  you made me happy.  i want to say you were the small nothings of my week, but you were more than that.  you were magic - all of you.

in the meantime, don't forget you can enter more giveaways (this blog hop ain't over yet), by keeping up with who's on first and who's next and who's still accepting entries, with the Bella Grace blog hop link.  Right here.