white roses



two cats sit inside the screen door, watching and vigilant as white roses rustle in the breeze, waiting for who-knows-what to happen.  they live in a constant state of anticipation, except, of course, when it exhausts them and they are forced, as happens with cats, to nap.

summer lasts another week, but fall migration is underway.  new warblers heading south, are posted to nyc e-birds every day, and there's much excitement about a lark sparrow in the north end.  autumn is my favorite season.

i've been sad lately, and i thank you for your kindness and comments.  the tendency is to say i'm fine now, all is well, i'm going to be happy from now on.  i think many of us do that, try to hurry unwished-for emotions along, reassure everyone that things are fine fine fine.  the truth is happiness and sadness ebb and flow, they're the tide of life.

grief echoes love in the deepest way.  to be able to feel that kind of love makes me think of the velveteen rabbit, what it means to be real.  what it means to be human.  still, and all, there is beauty in everything, even grief.  in the words of a very wise young woman: "when life hands you a lemon tree, make lemonade."  

watching the hawk

my friend in new hampshire has a field of lupines. my friend in vermont feels like wilted petunias and invited me to have lemonade on her porch.

my sister in mystic is doing yard work, and i want to bring her herbs from mim's garden--rosemary, sage, and mint with roots that go down deep and go back forever.  oh wait, she already has herbs from mim's garden.

in chelsea my little terrace has weeds between the stones and a hawk who perches on the rail eyeing pigeons.

maggie sits inside and watches the hawk.