That's the way life is...

Return of the Robins

2011-03-09T19:23:00.003-05:00

They have come (as they always do) following the memory of green, of warmth, of the smell of the earth in bloom. They have traveled from far away - from places where Spring does not go.

They swarm, flit, dip, dive, raiding the Hawthorn tree of its berries; the ones they miss fall like rain on the rooftop. A whirl of brown and red, of feather and resilience blankets the sky, only permitting filtered sunlight and the promise of new to pass through. They are back. Finally (finally), it is Spring.

Dusk

2010-10-25T22:36:00.004-05:00

So much of what inspires me comes at dusk - the quiet, bittersweet time after a long day when the sky reminds you what it's like to be alive. Some of these pictures are old, some are new, but all of them reflect the beauty that is twilight.

A Breath In Time

2010-10-11T19:03:00.007-05:00

Solitude

And the still strong roar

Of the ocean fill me

The sky brilliant swirls of pinks and blues mixed on dusk's canvas

And wishing stars hang delicately by threads from heaven

I am alone

Left with the remnants of a breezy autumn day

Left with sea foam

And shells washed ashore

Awoken from hundreds of years beneath the sea

Left with palm fronds used as makeshift shovels

For carving castles and happily-ever-afters

I am small and here I know it

I am but one of thousands, of trillions, of even more

I shout as loud as I can to the sea

Her waves drown my voice

Shush me like a child

I am small here and I know it

I am alone

Left with the remnants of a breezy autumn day

With seaweed from a mermaid’s garden

Plucked from waters dark and deep

A tiny sliver of a moon lights my path;

Shines down from years away

I watch as my footprints disappear

My marks on the world washed away

I am small here and I know it;

I am but a breath in time, nothing more.

Tamed

2009-09-25T22:19:00.010-05:00

“You were once wild here. Don’t let them tame you.”
~ Isadora Duncan

I had almost forgotten it - the feeling that only astronauts and children know. That feeling of pure uninhibited flight, of wings disguised as arms, toes pointed heavenward touching the cerulean sky; spinning in orbit, seeing the world for the very first time; being pulled back to earth only to take flight again. I had almost forgotten it.

Time has a way of taming us. Our eyes become familiar with life’s terrain and we become immune to so much beauty, to potential, to fallen dreams that need mended wings to fly. We work around what we are lacking for fear of the pain caused by mending what is broken – or simply for lack of knowing how to fix it. And eventually what we once knew is all but forgotten, a hole in our hearts, a feeling we can’t really distinguish anymore. We have become tamed.

I had almost forgotten it – the thirst for life that I once knew. The feeling that I belonged, that I had a purpose, that life had something planned for me, and the passion for the possible that once stirred deep within. I had almost forgotten it. I was almost tamed.

Secrets of the sea

2008-09-12T18:36:00.014-05:00

Listen closely and she will tell you her secrets...

Secrets of mothers and daughters

And fathers and sons

Of lovers

Of solitude

And friends

Of grace

Of wonder

Of paths not yet taken

And a thousand dreams yet to come...

Shhhhhhh....

A Lesson in Gratitude

2008-09-03T20:00:00.002-05:00

"At times our own light goes out and is rekindled by a spark from another person. Each of us has to think with deep gratitude of those who have lighted the flame within us."

~ Albert Schweitzer

Last week I found out the extent of the surgery and that for certain it was not cancer. I am incredibly relieved. Some of you know the particulars of the surgery, but suffice to say, the doctor had quite a lot to repair. I have four scars – three small ones and one big one - but when I see them, all I can think of is how grateful I am. Grateful that I was able to have the surgery, grateful to be alive, grateful to have a part of my life back, and grateful for the constant support I have received here, in emails, and via Skype. I know how incredibly lucky I am to have friends like you.

The past three weeks have been trying: surgery, another trip back to the hospital, two visits to the doctor, four rounds of antibiotics, one tropical storm (no electricity for days, but it pales in comparison to what many people lost to the storm), and returning to work, but I think I’ve done well, considering.

So now that’s behind me, it’s on with life. And you know what? It just got a whole lot better.

I woke up!

2008-08-16T21:05:00.003-05:00

I'm home now, but still really sore. Thank you for all of your comments, emails and well wishes. I tried to think of all of the places you told me of before surgery, which was a wonderful distraction -- you guys are the best! I'm not sure I actually dreamt of them during surgery, it's all kind of a blur...and judging by how I woke up, I think it's probably good that it remains that way!

As far as the cancer part, the doctor seemed to think (although he can't say for sure until the test results come back in a week or two) that it wasn't cancer and that my chances of having children in the future are "fair." So, fingers crossed, those were the two outcomes I was hoping for. There is still healing left to do, but apart from that, I'm so glad this is over. All of your well wishes worked and I can't thank you enough for your continued support. I couldn't have done it without you!

Making a list

2008-08-12T20:22:00.005-05:00

The wait is finally over and Thursday I will be in the hospital. I'm nervous about anesthesia, as anyone would be (and this is where your help comes in), but I'm glad it will be over.

I'm putting together a list of things to dream about, just in case there is room for dreams under anesthesia. I know that you probably go to sleep and don't remember a thing and wake up saying strangely funny things, but you know, just in case.

Tell me, please, about the most beautiful places in the world you have ever seen, the company you had while there, what this time of year (or any time of year) is like in your country.

First, I'll dream about the Christmas Market in Belgium because that's where Zoe is. I think this might be a long-ish dream, so more places are in order. Where should I go next?

Dreams

2008-08-10T16:54:00.007-05:00

Dreams swirl in my head and cling to my night clothes, refusing to fade with morning’s light, feigning innocence, feigning unfamiliarity with the morning routine, beckoning me to return to them. As sunlight spills through white curtains, I acquiesce, following them as they lead me to the sea, to the dune flowers, to the sirens’ song carried gently in the wind. I listen as they sing to me of the beauty hidden beneath the sea. Even in the deepest darkest water, they tell me, there is beauty, there are stars. A kitten’s nose presses against mine, nudging me back into morning, and I rise and follow my own path to the sea.

(more on Flickr.)

Here & Now

2008-06-30T19:49:00.003-05:00

I don't know anything more now than I did last month, except that surgery will be in August. In the meantime, I'm trying to still my mind (easier said than done) and remember the here and now.

Perspective

2008-05-26T09:09:00.003-05:00

First, I would like to thank everyone – those friends who have remained constant over the years and those who I have just met - for your words of support, emails and comments. I thought long and hard before making the last post. I’ve had my share of things go wrong over the past couple of years that I felt that talking about this would be complaining, but life is about the good and the bad and I hope that this blog reflects how hard I’ve tried (and succeeded) to find happiness and joy in spite of all the bad.

I have had a little bit of time to think about everything, to let it all sink in and to try to gain some perspective. I’ve tried considering the odds. For my age group, odds of ovarian cancer are 1 in 100. If you have an ovarian mass, the odds are 1 in 7. I am hoping for the best and trying not to worry as the diagnosis is not certain yet. However, what is certain is that surgery is necessary and imminent, and that really does scare me. I’m also trying to come to terms with the fact that this, when the time comes, will be harder than it should be at best, if it is even still a possibility. That alone is devastating - a wound that is still fresh, raw, and remains at the very pit of my soul.

The coming weeks will provide more answers, maybe some more hope, and I’m certain more tears. But I will get through this, just as I have everything else. So, onward and upward and into the unknown. Thank you to all of those who walk with me through this.

~Joanna

Rhythm, the Big 3-0, and CA-125

2008-05-19T21:17:00.004-05:00

The elderly couple walking arm in arm, one steadying the other, slowly, slowly, down the same path each morning as the sun rises. Children waiting, books beside them, clapping, Miss Mary Mack, Mack, Mack, all dressed in black, black, black, with silver buttons, buttons, buttons, all down her back, are interrupted as the school bus sighs mightily and comes to a momentary halt ushering them off to school. The bell rings and draw bridge lifts letting ships pass through. I watch the harbor beneath me and the lazy kind of hustle and bustle that is life on a barrier island. Every morning is the same, a rhythm that I’ve come to know and love. And the evening has its own rhythm, too. The man walking the brown speckled Great Dane, the woman in the park feeding the birds, the fisherman at the pier, the vagabond weaving tipsy steps as the shopkeeper turns his sign in the window to closed, please call again. The sound of the crickets chirping at night and the distant roar of the sea, a melody all of its own.

Not too long ago, I was afraid that I would have to leave this tiny town in order to work. Far away to the city, to traffic and smog and billboards and Starbucks and two a.m. traffic jams. How I would miss the sunsets and the salt air and all of the beauty that called me so often to the sea. But things changed and a few months ago I accepted a job (in a completely different field) that would keep me here, a job that I love with people that I now consider friends.

I have been thinking about how well things have been lately, how the good has finally started to outweigh the bad, how life is finally turning out how I want it to be. I have been looking toward tomorrow, my 30^th birthday, with mixed emotions - how it seems an entire decade was wasted struggling, pushing past one obstacle after another, but now I’m on the cusp of something new- something good. Things are finally coming together and I can feel life’s rhythm more than ever I could before. This will be the decade that makes up for it all. The decade that I find someone to love. The decade that I have children. The decade that is less about surviving and more about living.

Four days ago that rhythm came to a stop.

It started several months ago. I was sick and landed up in the ER. A ruptured ovarian cyst, they thought. I spent that night in the hospital with an IV of fluids and strong antibiotics and the next morning, they sent me home.

After battling the nightmare that is American health care, last month I was granted a follow up appointment with a doctor, who ordered more tests. Then one more test last Thursday, just to make sure they were seeing what they thought they saw. The same day, they called me and left two messages stating that I need to come in immediately, that they needed to discuss the test results with me, that more tests need to be done and that I need be referred to a specialist. I left work early on Friday to see the doctor.

The first thing the doctor asked me was if I have family to support me. I asked why she was asking me this and she said that I would need support through this…and then she told me that they had found a large mass on my ovary. I asked how big the cyst was. “No, it’s not a cyst, it’s a large mass,” she corrected me. I asked her what the difference was. “A cyst is like a blister. A mass is a growth,” she said. “Like cancer?” I asked. “We need more tests,” she said, avoiding me, “and you need to be seen by a specialist.” “Can I still have children in the future?” I asked. “I don’t know,” she said. Then she said, “I don’t think it’s the bad kind of cancer,” she said. “Are you saying I have cancer?” I asked her. And again, she said “We need more tests.”

By this time, I was irritated. Irritated by the phone call the day before telling me that I needed to come in immediately, and by her telling me that I would need support through this, yet as to what “this” is, all she is willing to offer is vague answers with words implied but not spoken.

“What does ‘I don’t think it’s the bad kind of cancer’ mean? Are you saying that you think I have a form of cancer?” I asked. “Yes, I do,” she said, and a moment later, “you need more tests. You need to be seen by a specialist and laproscopic surgery so that a biopsy can be done.” “It could be nothing, right?” I asked. “No, it's not 'nothing' it’s a large mass, and that’s not good. I don’t think it’s the bad kind of cancer, but I can’t tell you to go home and not worry about it, and I can’t tell you that everything will be all right. It could be something that requires surgery to remove and nothing more, but that mass could be something much, much worse.”

She shut the door after she left the room, but I could still hear her speaking to someone. “Put this on the chair so that she [the other doctor] will see it first thing Monday morning,” and ASAP something and then “Poor girl, she’s only 29.”

The rhythm that I finally called my own is gone and a new one has begun. This morning I watched as my hopes and dreams and everything I thought this coming decade would hold spilled forth in a crimson wave sealed in a vial labeled with my name and CA-125.

And so I remain, in limbo, not knowing the full scale of what’s going on, but knowing that the doctor knows something that I don’t. Knowing she won’t say flat out that it’s cancer, but that she believes that it is. Knowing that no matter what, cancer or not, it’s “something” and not “nothing,” but they can’t tell me just how bad that something is. Not knowing if I will ever be able to have children. And still, the doctor’s voice echoes in my head. “It’s a large mass, and that’s not good. I don’t think it’s the bad kind of cancer, but I can’t tell you to go home and not worry about it, and I can’t tell you that everything will be all right."

Rhythm, the big 3-0, and CA-125.

Wherever you go...

2008-04-06T21:44:00.002-05:00

"Wherever you go, go with all your heart."

~ Confucius

Wish

2008-03-17T22:03:00.000-05:00

"If I were to wish for anything, I should not wish for wealth and power, but for the passionate sense of the potential, for the eye which, ever young and ardent, sees the possible."

~Soren Kierkegaard

Pieces of a Perfect Day

2008-03-17T21:54:00.001-05:00

Salt Water

2008-02-03T23:27:00.000-05:00

"The cure for anything is salt water – sweat, tears, or the sea."
—Isak Dinesen

It is times like this that I dream of the sea. Always the sea. Waves lap at my ankles, slap up against my calves, and I am knee deep, waist deep, chin high, fighting the current with every ounce of strength I have left. I go under, each wave pushing me further down into murky water, into fragmented sound and countless unknowns. It is then that I am suddenly awake in my bed, gasping for breath, the taste of the sea still fresh in my mouth. I fight it, always I fight it, but sometimes I wonder why I do not let it take me.

I have been absent from here lately. It has been easier to stay quiet, to spare the unpleasant, to not admit defeat. It is only now that I feel I can finally do so.

The past three years have been a blur of car wrecks, of needles and physical therapy; of picking up the pieces and having them crash down one by one, again and again, da capo al fine; of unrelenting pain that stays with me daily and seeps into my dreams at night. Three years of salt water – of sweat and tears and fighting the sea.

Each day is a new challenge. I now have disabilities that limit the type and duration of work I can perform and the career I went to college to accomplish is no longer an option. I am now doing temp work and exploring other options, but it’s not easy.

It is after the third car wreck that I have come to terms with the fact that this is permanent and degenerative. It is something that I had been told countless times before, but blocked out of my mind because the mere thought of it terrified me. During the last round of physical therapy, they told me again, “This is how it’s always going to be. Your injuries and your pain have been with you so long that you’re not going to get better. Stop trying to fight it, stop trying to make it go away, because it won’t. Find a way to live with it.” I ignored it, shunned pity and carried on. I kept fighting it just as I think anyone would. But slowly I have lost the ability to do many of the things that I once loved, as well as the ability to do many routine tasks with ease (or at all). And there are so many things in life that I have not yet done, so many things that I had to put aside in order to recover (three times over). A career and a family, namely. Accepting all of this has been a process. It’s not something that is cut and dry – there is a ripple effect, a whirl of chaos, of sweat and tears left in the wake.

Still, I believe that some day life will be better, that opportunities will come, and that my dreams of the sea will be as they once were: fishing on a small wooden boat in smooth glassy water with solid land to return to, an endless horizon in front of me, and a sunset to paint my own.

Happy New Year

2007-12-31T23:26:00.001-05:00

Of all of the sunsets that 2007 held, I remember this one the most.

Wishing you all a happy New Year!

Learning Curve

2007-11-30T20:49:00.000-05:00

But I have promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep.
~Robert Frost

I believe that we never stop learning, given that we are willing, and that life never stops teaching us its mysteries, but never could I have imagined that life would teach me as many lessons as it has in the past few months. Things like roots and wings and how failure is part of getting ahead. How independence can sometimes be stifling, and that it is true that it's always darkest before dawn. That loving sometimes means letting go. That some of life’s greatest treasures are all around you, if only you choose to see them. That friends are worth more than their weight in gold, and that the human soul is remarkably resilient.

And yet, there is still so much to be learned, so much I never knew there was to know.

I often wonder what life will be like in the years to come, when wisdom is written in wrinkles and silver hair.

But until then, I have promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep...

*Originally posted last year. Now as true as ever, I am posting it once again.

Roar!

2007-11-30T20:23:00.001-05:00

The lion awoke and looked upon his kingdom.

Roarrrr!

(actually, it's a yawn.)

Pumpkin Carving

2007-10-22T21:57:00.000-05:00

Because pumpkin carving sometimes ends in a trip to the Emergency Room*, here is a picture from last year (or was it the year before that?).

*Not me, my friend. We had just finished talking about how careful we both needed to be while carving the pumpkin as neither one of us has health insurance, and less than a minute later... In the end it was determined that the cut wasn't deep enough for stitches. We both had a good laugh and decided that it might be wise to forgo carving the rest of the pumpkin.

Hello

2007-10-21T20:36:00.000-05:00

It seems I have been neglecting this place for far too long. I’ve been busy lately. Busy job hunting and contemplating a career change. Busy with school (I’m back in college again). And there are still words that I can’t find. I can feel them stirring in the very pit of my soul – raw, unpolished, deep – but they’re still stuck, so I’ve kept quiet. I’m back now and I thank you for all of the comments you have been leaving in my absence and for checking in on this space. Oh and someone else says hi too:

Meow!

Silence

2007-09-21T21:00:00.000-05:00

I have been searching for words lately. So much unsaid, but words are elusive, fleeting during waking hours. They taunt me frequently at 3 a.m., rousing me from fitful sleep, from wrinkled bedclothes and sunken pillows. They flow forth freely in the cloak of darkness, weaving between the locust’s song and claps of thunder rolling in from the sea. I can see them in the drops of rain slicking down the window pane and in the world outside my bedroom window bathed, momentarily, in white lightning. But they vanish smugly with morning’s light, leaving only fragments on wet leaves. Now, words spill forth only through a camera's lens and my frustration grows heavier as thoughts grow mute, my soul once painted in words, now pictures. Sometimes, I guess, silence is needed.

Down by the Sea

2007-09-10T23:58:00.000-05:00

Sandals

Walking by the sea after the rain

September Sky

Love is...

2007-09-04T21:08:00.001-05:00

Orange and furry.

Bird's nest

2007-08-19T21:16:00.001-05:00

Sunday Morning

2007-07-16T20:41:00.001-05:00

The First Rain

2007-07-10T22:29:00.000-05:00

It is the first rain that wets.
~Italian Proverb

I long for the days when summer was endless — filled with forts and mud and grass between your toes. The days of popsicles melting in the sun, slicking their way down your hands and dripping to your feet leaving sticky trails of bright colors. The days of bullfrogs, warm summer rain that drenched your skin, and billowing white clouds lined with silver; of clear nights sprinkled with constellations and stars made for wishing. I miss the way summer faded seamlessly into autumn — how the leaves, newly gold and red, crunched beneath my shoes during morning walks to school, and how the promise of winter’s magic carried in the breeze and kissed my cheeks on the way home.

When we are older, we tend to get lost in the monotony of life: of appointments, errands, obligations, of work and surviving, and we forget how to simply "be." Now, we build our forts out of bricks and mortar instead of old sheets and plywood, and we choose carefully those who we let in. We look to places other than clouds for silver linings. We know that sometimes when it rains, it pours; that however dark the night sky may be, there is a star shining somewhere. We know that winter can chill to the bone, but spring will always follow, full of new possibilities waiting to bloom.

And this is where you can find me of late. Lost somewhere in the hustle and bustle and monotony of life (and the lessons that come with it), searching for silver linings and constellations sprinkling the night sky, and remembering that very first rain.

4th of July

2007-07-05T20:36:00.000-05:00

"Let there be bonfires and illuminations across the land."

~John Adams

(clickable)

To the ends of the earth

2007-06-09T14:01:00.001-05:00

and heaven bound.

Yesterday, 7:38 p.m. Spaceship Atlantis.

Buddha and a Bird's Nest

2007-06-03T13:33:00.001-05:00

Buddha and a Bird's Nest

Crocs!

2007-06-03T13:19:00.001-05:00

Of Distance and Dreams

2007-05-23T06:56:00.000-05:00

“ ‘It was a strange dream,’ she said, ‘& I don’t remember a thing except it kept my attention the whole time’ ”
~Brian Andreas, Strange Dream, Story People

Thick, gray smoke from the wild fires surrounds me and hangs heavy in air, enveloping me as I drive. Where I’ll end up, I don’t know, but I drive: away from the smoke and away from the uneasiness that has been with me for a long while, lingering the way dreams forgotten but still felt sometimes do.

Events from the past two years flood my mind as I drive, and thoughts I rarely allow myself to think suddenly well up in my eyes. The times I could have caved, but didn’t. The way my life has changed, some ways small, subtle, others obvious and incomprehensible. The way sketch books and canvas gather dust as the use of my right arm and hand is limited. The way pen is now rarely taken to paper as handwritten notes are illegible to all but me. How fifteen months of physical therapy three times weekly passed before I could manage a flight of stairs, or bend to tie my shoes. And still it is difficult. The way unrelenting pain wracks my body daily and seeps into my dreams at night. I drive further, forcing everything into the corner of my mind, willing it to stay there, and instead try to lose myself in optimism born out of stubbornness, and in dreams once vivid, now faded, but still whispering my name.

And when I return home, the smell of smoke and stale dreams still clings to me. I breathe in deeply and try to remember.

A day at the Zoo

2007-05-20T12:15:00.000-05:00

At the Park

2007-05-14T08:35:00.000-05:00

Field of Clover

Wishes

Upside Down!*

*He needs a name. I bought him to put on my desk at work, but he was so cute I took him home : )

Haiku

2007-04-29T12:38:00.000-05:00

Sunrise, gold-green eyes
Look up to me plaintively
Good morning. Feed me.

Je t'aime

2007-04-18T20:16:00.000-05:00

Zoe-ism

2007-04-15T16:43:00.000-05:00

Things heard whilst Skyping with Zoe:

Z ~ "My pond is diluted."

me ~ "......."

Home

2007-04-12T21:00:00.000-05:00

When I think of you I think of lavender and daisies
Of petals glistening, weighted by morning dew.

When I think of you, I think of starlight and moonbeams
Of wishes hung in the night sky
And of days when dreams were not so far away.

When I think of you I think of rain falling on the rooftop and slicking its way
Down the leaves of the umbrella tree into makeshift ponds of spring rain
Where frogs bellow and crickets chirp, weaving stillness into song.

When I think of you, I think of nights spent painting by lantern light
Of gardening by moonlight pale
And hundred year old treasures roused from beneath the soil.

When I think of you, I hear the sound of waves crashing in the distance
And the smell of the sea hangs thick in the air.

When I think of you I see sunlight seeping through the pines on a windy autumn day
And the mysteries written in the crooks of the trees come to mind.

And it saddens me to think that one day soon I will leave you
For as much as I love you, it is almost time for me to go.

Sweet cottage by the sea.... full of life, full of love, and a piece of my heart.

Evening Shadows

2007-04-05T06:39:00.000-05:00

Paw

Hand

Ribbon

Home

Ennui

2007-03-21T21:05:00.000-05:00

On a whim, I decide to take up spring cleaning early. The tiny cottage is in varying states of disarray and my mind soon follows suit. There is something about clutter that makes my head spin. In the corner of the closet, there is a wooden jewelry box. In it there is an old watch carved with characters from a favorite children’s book. The hands have stopped at 11:53. I stare at it once again, try to recall the last time it was worn, and for a moment I wonder just when childhood’s clock stopped ticking. Sometimes dreams happen so gradually that you don’t remember them, and for years they sit quietly until you find them tucked beneath dusty ephemera.

I am still the one with an affinity for funky striped socks, the one who loves dandelions and summer rain and who still can’t tell the difference between a flower and a weed; the one who loves without condition and looks to the night sky when she is lost. These things will always remain.

But I am different now, fiercely independent, a free soul who will never be tamed, who knows that life can sometimes be cruel and bittersweet; one who yearns so deeply for a different time and a different place and foreign soil. For Belgium and Scotland, Holland and Ireland; The one who wonders (often impatiently) what the next chapter in life will bring–when everything she has ever imagined life to be will finally come together.

Perhaps the next chapter will come so gradually that a thousand pages will turn before I realize I’m exactly where I want to be. And perhaps one day many springs from now, I will stumble upon a book whose pages are yellowed and dusted with time. It is then that I will stop to wonder just when the next volume began.

Grow!

2007-03-14T20:54:00.000-05:00

All in a day's work

2007-02-28T19:27:00.000-05:00

I could tell you about the man who called after his car collided with a cow in the middle of the road. Apparently neither one moooved.

I could tell you about the man who passed out in front of our office with his head stuck between two fence posts, the one whom police were summoned to rouse from a drunken stupor.

I could tell you about the woman who wanted to have the family that was living in her attic evicted because they make too much noise. She had no attic.

I could tell you about the man who walked into the office lobby and proceeded to change clothes (why here, no one knows). In full view of an elderly woman.

I could tell you about how our entire computer network crashes every time a bird perches a bit too delicately upon the wire outside.

I could tell you about the snake in the women’s restroom or the dead rat behind the filing cabinet...or the live one that steals the lunches of those blissfully unaware.

Or I could tell you of how the ringing of the hotline phones stays with me long after five o’clock has passed—taunting me, like Chinese water torture or the ticking of an old watch.

I could tell you that my job is boring, but that would be a lie. Each morning on the drive to work, I ~~dread~~ wonder just what the day will bring...

Wish

2007-02-27T22:16:00.000-05:00

Happiness is...

2007-02-11T15:24:00.000-05:00

Canvassing

2007-02-01T20:41:00.000-05:00

Zoe (MBIAT) has been nominated for Best European Blog in the 2007 Bloggies. If you have a spare moment, drop by her site and say hello...and please vote! :o) Congrats, Zoe!

The mind's eye

2007-02-01T20:12:00.000-05:00

Where I’ve been lately - if only in the mind's eye:

~Weaving through the aisles of the book store, floor to ceiling filled with dog-eared pages and ancient spines yellowed with time

~Watching the sun rise on the Continental Divide

~Deep in the forest, following the crooks in the trees

~Through the deserts of Palm Springs, the windmills churning like giant pinwheels in the sand

~In my grandmother’s back yard, taking linens down from the clothes line, smelling sunshine on them.

~By the creek catching fireflies in a jar

~Throwing pennies in the Koi pond, watching wishes sparkle at the bottom

~Remembering...

~Standing on the rocks by the sea looking out into forever

~Lost in the dreamy haze of morning, in the moments where night still lingers.

~Contemplating the shades of blue between the clouds

Wonder

2007-01-28T14:56:00.000-05:00

Sweet childish days, that were as long
As twenty days are now.

~William Wordsworth

Sick

2007-01-13T18:18:00.000-05:00

Energy sapped
Four walls closing in
Stir crazy
Enough with gingerale
Enough with soup
Enough with naps
And tea
Enough enough enough
The sun is shining and crisp fresh spring air is blowing through the open window
White curtains flowing in the breeze
Taunting me
Let me out of here. Please.

What lies within

2007-01-01T21:27:00.000-05:00

"What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us."
~Ralph Waldo Emerson

2006: In spite of it all, I still believe that life is good.

Merry Christmas

2006-12-25T11:56:00.000-05:00

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to everyone!
xxxxxxxx
Joanna & Willow

Ebb

2006-12-10T22:42:00.000-05:00

Winter has finally arrived here. The North Wind passed through and in one giant gust, swept away all of autumn's leaves. Mild nights spent on the front porch reading by lantern light and listening to the crickets are now filled with the soft glow of Christmas lights and the warmth of a down comforter. The smell of firewood lingers in the air and the sound of the sea echos in the distance as its waves crash against the shore. But it sounds different somehow, quieter, calmer – a peace of sorts – if only for a short while. The world is silent, still, riding out the ebb of winter, waiting for the flow of spring. And I, too, wait with it.

The more things change...

2006-11-26T22:28:00.000-05:00

...the more they stay the same.

I woke up this morning to the cabinet open (the only cabinet not cat proofed) and the bathroom TP'd. I swear, if he could, he would brag. I love that cat.

Rush

2006-11-19T23:53:00.000-05:00

Rush hour traffic. Rain is pelting down and the city is a blur of red, yellow, and green splashes of light. The sound of horns beeping is softened by the deluge and a hundred thoughts flood my mind: deadlines, meetings, appointments, the list of errands I cannot seem to find the time to run, and the list of things I still want to be: an astronaut, an archaeologist, a paleontologist, a safari guide in the Serengeti. A linguist, an FBI agent, a writer, a journalist, a photographer, a mother... The light turns green and more horns furiously beep, rushing the traffic along. And in my mind, I will them to stop, and the days to slow down, to let me catch up, to let me dream just a little while longer...

Stargazing

2006-11-19T23:49:00.000-05:00

Hopelessly addicted.

New Eyes

2006-11-12T20:50:00.000-05:00

The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes.
~Marcel Proust

Wings and paws

2006-11-09T07:55:00.000-05:00

"Wings"

"Paws"

I think this one needs a caption!

Pumpkin Patch

2006-10-31T20:41:00.000-05:00

~Pumpkin Patch~

Learning Curve

2006-10-15T01:29:00.000-05:00

But I have promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep.
~Robert Frost

I often wonder what life will be like in the years to come, when wisdom is written in wrinkles and silver hair.

But until then, I have promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep...

The Art of Forgetting

2006-10-10T20:57:00.000-05:00

~Wonder~

~One if by Land~

"I must go down to the sea again
To the lonely sea and the sky
And all I ask is a tall ship
And a star to steer her by"
~John Masefield

Favorite places

2006-10-05T00:22:00.000-05:00

Sunset at the lake

And moonrise high tide at the beach

Nothing in the world compares...

More here.

Down by the Sea

2006-10-02T07:36:00.000-05:00

The Forgotten

2006-09-24T21:24:00.000-05:00

Dailymotion blogged video
101_1578
Video sent by Anna57

Grow old along with me

2006-09-17T19:58:00.000-05:00

"Grow old along with me,

The best is yet to be.

Face the setting sun

When the day is done..."

~Robert Browning

(picture taken at dusk by the lake)

Some days are just plain weird

2006-09-17T13:04:00.000-05:00

I woke up this morning to the phone ringing.

“Hello?”

“I’ve officially moved to hell,” my friend, Cassandra, says.

“Why do you say that? Is everything ok?” I ask.

“There’s no Dunkin’ Donuts here, this town is so small that there’s no Dunkin’ Donuts!"

“Drive by a police station, I’m sure there will be one nearby,” I say.

“I’ve already done that and there isn’t one.”

“Why don’t you pick some up on Friday after work?”

“Because they won’t be fresh on Sunday, and besides, it’s a Sunday morning tradition. Hell. I’ve moved to hell. Ok, I have to go now. I’m home and I have to break the news to them...”

[*she wasn't serious, just being sarcastic]

I opened the curtains to see my tortise wandering around in the back yard, and then got up out of bed to go feed the cat, who was waiting for me in the kitchen sink, a habit acquired in kittenhood that he sometimes reverts to on the rare occasion that I take too long to get out of bed.

I fed the cat and then opened the breadbox to take my medicine (I keep my meds in the breadbox because a certain furry someone delights in systematically emptying the medicine cabinet of its contents), and then opened the microwave to take the bread out to make toast (the bread is kept in the microwave because, well, the breadbox is taken). Then, I proceeded to take the computer out of the closet, as there is no other place to keep it, so that I could write down how strange this day was, which come to think of it, is actually closer to the norm than not...

Meow, Woof, Ribbit

2006-09-10T21:33:00.000-05:00

"Sunbathing"

"Puppy dog eyes"

"Warts and all"

Laughing Leaf

2006-09-07T21:32:00.000-05:00

Heart

2006-09-05T21:59:00.000-05:00

"Autumn's Prelude"

Morning

2006-09-04T21:21:00.000-05:00

The smell of the sea before the storm, thick and heavy with salt and kelp hangs in the air and mingles with the sweet scent of the jasmine that climbs the fence, entwined with ivy and thistle.

Crickets chirp in unison and dragonflies dart past the screened porch. A lone frog bellows and the neighbor’s cat takes shelter beneath the house just before the sky opens up. Sitting in the old wooden rocking chair on the front porch, I watch as the morning comes to life, as palm fronds nod in the wind and salty tears fall from the heavens. Ribbit, rrribbit, drip, drop, splash.

Willow

2006-09-03T21:09:00.000-05:00

Meow

Salve

2006-08-20T09:12:00.000-05:00

Salve: something that soothes or heals; a balm.

~The American Heritage® Dictionary of the
English Language: Fourth Edition. 2000.

Thoughts flood my mind during the day and rouse me from fitful sleep at night, from pain that seeps into my dreams, but answers are not forthcoming, relief is not proffered. I remind myself that someday, albeit a long way away, this time in my life will be nothing more than a bad memory, but for now, it seems there is no escape. Too much is going on right now, too much to deal with, too much to juggle, and the world has come crashing down around me. Salve, solace, escape...

Shock

2006-07-31T11:10:00.000-05:00

I stand in a dark room, cloaked in a blue gown that ties in the back. The x-ray machine clunks as it takes pictures, and the sound of metal colliding echoes in my head, replaying events from earlier in the day. It is surreal, a nightmare I have not yet woken up from. The pain that runs through my spine forces me to see that this is real and that my life has changed once again. It is all still sinking in, but as the shock wears off, tears fill my eyes. I am all too aware of what the near future holds: more x-rays and tests, needles, pain management, massive physical therapy and a subsequent upheaval in work and finances. I simply cannot believe that this is happening. Again.

This tiny cottage once filled with laughter and life has fallen silent as I pick up the pieces and try to carry on. And it may just take a while.

Life's Rich Tapestry

2006-07-25T11:51:00.000-05:00

Life’s Rich Tapestry

As a child, I watched you piece together my quilt
Your hands smallish, weathered, strong;
I must have been two, maybe three?
A sea of green, yellow, and orange covered the floor
Life’s rich tapestry before us.

At night I would trace the stitches with tiny hands,
Memorize the squares
And the bright colors would often
Stay with me in my dreams.

Today I found it
In a box of keepsakes;
After all these years, it still
Smells like sunshine on a clothes line.
I study the holes that mark years of wear:
It was at times a cape, a picnic blanket, a tent, and
Something that kept The Boogeyman
At bay during sleep;
With hands now weathered and strong, once again I trace the stitches
And remember when you sewed them
And in this tattered, much-loved piece of cloth I see
Life’s rich tapestry before me.

A welcome visitor

2006-07-20T20:26:00.000-05:00

Found!

After a long absence, Fred has finally made her way back! I found her in the yard this morning and she peeked out of her shell when I called her. Good to know she hadn't forgotten me. Crazy turtle. Welcome home, Fred! :)

Willow

2006-07-16T21:43:00.000-05:00

The Spaces In Between

2006-07-12T23:12:00.000-05:00

The day is nearly done and the lantern on the porch flickers, growing brighter as each shade of dusk grows deeper. It is the time of day when the world is seen stripped bare: the bittersweet space between light and shadow, between truth and what remains hidden. It is a shade that naïveté does not recognize, a shade that one must be taught to see or weathered to feel, and a layer that thickens with time: Life’s shade of gray.

Shadows dance upon the rocking chair and the wooden beams of the porch ceiling, mingling with flecks of old chipped paint, and surrounded by a hundred different pieces of light and shadow, I have found myself somewhere in the spaces in between.

Life is not measured...

2006-07-11T19:06:00.000-05:00

"Life is not measured by the breaths we take but by the moments that take our breaths away..."

More pictures can be found here.

Still Waters Run Deep

2006-07-08T23:36:00.000-05:00

On my mind:

Still
Drifting
Waters
Solace
Escape
Run
Time
Silence
Distance
Deep

Firecracker

2006-07-05T22:00:00.000-05:00

"Silver lining"

Dailymotion blogged video

Grand finale
Video sent by Anna57

If there were one day I could live over and over again, it would be yesterday. Clouds, rocket ships, and fireworks. The heavens really did open up. The sky was filled with clouds so low, that it felt like you could touch them if you jumped high enough ~ and each one had a silver lining. The space shuttle launched (yep, I saw it), a trail of fire cutting through the sky. By the lake at fireworks time, the wind blew soflty, and the water was a blur of pale moonlight and bright bursts of color, mirroring the sky. And for a small while cares were forgotten, lost in a sea of sound and light and red white and blue dandilions in the sky.

(a few more pictures are posted on Flickr, added to sidebar)

Bliss

2006-06-28T21:30:00.000-05:00

"bliss : complete happiness"
~Merriam-Webster Dictionary

Days spent in a bed of feather pillows and sunshine. Life is good.

To be small

2006-06-25T17:21:00.000-05:00

Small enough to fit in tiny places, beneath park benches and between the minuscule gaps in a crowd; small enough to want to be called ‘big’ but not too big to be carried or to rest your head in the crook of my neck when your eyes grow weary; small enough that your hand fits just right in mine; small enough not to feel your belly flop when you ride on the swings, small enough to fit in ~~cardboard boxes~~ rocket ships to the moon and small enough to climb trees balancing on the thinnest of branches beside the tree fort. To be small is to know the feeling of grass beneath your bare feet, to know the taste of water from the garden hose and to believe that you can reach the end of a rainbow. It is to feel the world for the first time, to breathe in summer’s sunshine and exhale winter’s magic. And each time I see you, I remember what I thought I had forgotten: how to be small.

I fell in love today...

2006-06-18T14:56:00.000-05:00

...with this little guy. Mew = ^. .^ = I so wanted to take him home, but he was already adopted. It wasn't right timing anyway (translated: the only thing stopping me is that this place is so tiny!). Everytime I go to the animal shelter I fall in love with at least one little kitty, so I've forbidden myself from setting foot in there, but sadly, my friend's cat, Pork Chop, has also gone AWOL. :o( Come back Pork Chop, and bring Fred with you!

M.I.A.

2006-06-17T14:28:00.000-05:00

Role call:

One Pesky Squirrel .... check
Lizards ......................... check
Snakes .......................... check and eeeeeek!
Lola & Clarence ........... check
Willow ........................... check
Fred .............................. where have you gone?!

M.I.A.:

One turtle that goes by the name of Fred.

Last seen: three weeks ago. Likes lettuce, cat treats, and hibiscus flowers. Missed much. Come back, Fred!

Pfffttt

2006-06-09T06:21:00.000-05:00

A certain furry someone, who shall go unnamed, insisted upon wreaking havock at 4 a.m., chasing toy mice and figments of his imagination while turning the cottage into an obstacle course, now, at the designated wake up hour, stubbornly refuses to rise. Pffffttt.

Rain

2006-06-07T07:24:00.000-05:00

Rain drops trickle down the window pane. I trace them with my finger, their paths long and winding, crossing at times, racing each other to the bottom. Thunder echoes, white flashes of lightning cut through the sky and send me a hundred different places, places only memory can carry me to...I am on the island where I was born, standing on the massive rocks at the edge of a clear crystal sea. Schools of fish dart by weaving in and out of the coral that lines the ocean's floor. In the endless cobalt blue sky, clouds hang like puffs of cotton suspended by threads from heaven. Palm trees sway in the wind and in the distance one can see volcanos covered in blankets of emerald green grass. Hibiscus flowers—pink, orange, yellow, red—bloom and tiny ferns close up when you touch their leaves. The sky splits once again and I am with my grandmother helping her plant tomatoes and strawberries in her garden and hanging laundry on the clothes line. I’ll never forget the smell of the laundry—it was what I thought sunshine smelled like. Another bolt of lightning, another clap of thunder, another memory, and so it continued on and on, reminding me that somewhere, if only in the mind’s eye, there are always tiny bits of sun waiting to break through the clouds.

Words

2006-06-04T16:04:00.000-05:00

anna blackbird chelsea morning clouds content cottage days dreams distant fly garden grass home hope life light little love moon morning night pond porch rain remember sea searching smile stars sky sun time tiny trees turtle water wind wisdom wonder world

Randomness & Daydreams

2006-05-28T19:14:00.000-05:00

"Shutters"

View from a cathedral window

Sun breaking through the clouds

Dailymotion blogged video
The beach
Video sent by Anna57
Sun, sand, and sea

Wisdom

2006-05-20T22:32:00.000-05:00

In my box of keepsakes and mementos from the past there is a photo album, its cover torn and its pages yellowed with time. My name is printed on the front in my mother’s handwriting, in ink once black, now faded to gray. Ever so often I find myself turning its pages and tracing my roots. I look at the girl in the pictures with cornsilk blond hair and hazel eyes. The one who wore cowboy boots to school for all of third grade. The one who fed stray cats and tried to hatch fallen robin's eggs. The one who watched from a distance, from the outside looking in. The one who had perpetually skinned knees and elbows, but nevertheless took life's challenges in stride.

As the sun sets on this day, I am another year older, yet small pieces of that girl still remain: the part not afraid to march to a different beat, the part that knows how distance can sometimes provide clarity, the part that values strength in the face of adversity.

They say with age comes wisdom. Really, the most important pieces of wisdom are there all along, hidden somewhere in the pages of an old picture album; with age simply comes the ability to see them.

Smile

2006-05-14T20:09:00.000-05:00

A Fond Farewell

2006-05-08T11:30:00.000-05:00

The solace of dreams and all we hope our lives will someday be is sometimes all that keeps us sane...

The last exam finished, I take one last look back, etch it all into memory, and in an instant, four years of work is finished.

I will miss Sundays spent in the law library, the white wash of moonlight that spills across the campus at night, and the hidden nooks known only to few, but my time here is done and it's time to move on. Thus far life has been built upon hopes and dreams of what will someday be, and tonight it's here wrapped up in a mortar board and a degree...it's still so hard to believe...tonight I graduate.

Blackbird Fly

2006-05-06T23:20:00.000-05:00

Blackbird
(click for sound)
(John Lennon, Paul McCartney)

Blackbird singing in the
dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise

Blackbird singing in
the dead of night
Take these sunken eyes and learn to see
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to be free
Blackbird fly
Blackbird fly
Into the light of the dark black night

Blackbird
singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Four and a half years
Three moves
Two car wrecks
Massive physical ~~torture~~ therapy
Countless Sundays spent in the Law Library
Essays, term papers, textbooks and deadlines
Ten years of dreams
Against all odds...
Blackbird fly... all your life, you were only waiting for this moment to be free...

Temporary Truce

2006-04-30T18:02:00.000-05:00

(Lola and Clarence)

Ever so often, there is peace in the land...

Turtle Pond

2006-04-23T08:16:00.000-05:00

Especially for Zoe and Barbara

Still ...

2006-04-21T15:15:00.000-05:00

...waiting for life to pen itself, for it all to come together, for the full picture to be revealed instead of glimpses here and there... still searching...

Toby

2006-04-15T11:51:00.000-05:00

With tiny, wobbly, bowlegged steps destined to tumble, he picks himself up and tries again. We walk along the path, hand in hand--his small, sticky with apple juice and baby sweat, mine older, and somewhat weathered. His big green eyes, new to the world, eagerly take in everything around him. He grasps a handful of sand and watches as it quickly slips through his fingers; his mother watches as time slips through tiny hands growing bigger by the day, as tiny wisps of corn silk curls grow thicker, and tiny toes refuse to fit in favorite shoes. Youth is but a breath in time, but while it lasts it is sweet. The world is big, full of wonder and firsts, full of bright colors, sun filled days, starry nights and mother’s arms. I smile, knowing that someday, however far away it may be, the future will hold wobbly bowlegged steps and eyes new to the world, and I too will try to stop time from slipping through small, sticky-sweet apple juice hands.

Bouquet

2006-04-13T22:16:00.000-05:00

Surfacing

2006-04-07T13:31:00.000-05:00

My purse, long forgone for a camera case, has hung on a hook in the back of the closet since last September, since the last day of my employment; today it was unearthed. I take inventory of its contents: a favorite pen, a business card, a forgotten pot of lip gloss, and one by one, doubts and fears, tucked neatly in the pockets of a purse, surface. Will I be what they are looking for? Will I know what to say or do? Will I earn the salary I ask for? Do I have enough experience? Dressed in a newly ironed suit, shiny black shoes, and thin rimmed glasses, I brush the cat hair off, take a deep breath, and purse in hand, step out the door. Soon we shall see.

Prince of Quite A Lot

2006-04-02T21:41:00.001-05:00

Meow

Night Sounds

2006-03-24T22:52:00.000-05:00

It's night time. The lanterns glow softly in the garden, the crickets are chirping and the frogs bellow from their makeshift homes in puddles of spring rain. The air is heavy, humid, and the leaves on the umbrella tree, still wet with rain, glisten in the moonlight. In the distance, a train is passing through town: clickedy-clack clickedy-clack. I remember pressing pennies on the tracks many years ago. I breathe in the thick night air. It is during times like these that I am reminded why I love this tiny cottage so much. Clickedy-clack, clickedy-clack, chirp, bellow....

Four Legs or Eight?

2006-03-22T21:44:00.000-05:00

Spring has no doubt arrived and with it has come a pleathora of 'creatures,' some welcome here, some not. Most went into hibernation when the temperature dropped. Well, guess what. They're baaaack! After a long absence, whatever it is that has taken up residence between my walls is back. I heard it gnawing its way through last night. Whatever it is, I hope it only has four legs, because oft times, four legs are cuter than eight! And speaking of eight legged creatures--one of those came out from hiding today. Here is a list of all of the 'visitors' expected this spring:

Hope that Fred comes back soon.

Gah!

2006-03-19T21:40:00.000-05:00

I swear..... everything I touch breaks!

So far, this week I have managed to:

Break my sewing machine.

Drop a piece of peanut butter toast...which landed peanut butter side down.

Tip over the trash can.

Drop a tin of muffins. I guess I should clarify that. I dropped a tin of muffin batter. In the oven. And all over the walls. And the floor...

Heh. Any bets on what's next?

Mind you, the computer bit the dust a month ago...

P.S. I'm laughing, really I am...