Oh, you, nature child



Oh, you, nature child, running free upon the earth, peering at frogs and snakes and puppy dog tails and wildflowers…I speak to you.

Oh, you, grown-up person, all facts & figures, all planning & obligations, all trying to figure out how to live…remember the earth where you once sank in delight in thick oozing mud, where you once scrambled up and down hillock, where you once forgot everything except the joy of the changing moment.

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Posted in August 2014 | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 22 Comments

The lives we didn’t live.

Little girls in Pow Wow dresses

Little girls in Pow Wow dresses

Sometimes I mourn that I’m not living so many other lives.

Didn’t you want to be…a sailor on board a ship, sailing the world round, salty and carefree under tropical seas, watching whales dance, whispering to porpoises telling them secrets you’ve never shared with another living soul?

Didn’t you want to be…a nomad like the heroine in Eat, Pray, Love?  Eating your way around the world, your fingers drenched in secret sauces of Spain or Portugal or China or Timbuktu as you fall to your knees in Istanbul, India, infinite freedom?  Loving your very heart into brown faces, red faces, yellow faces, pink faces, black faces, every face on the planet, appreciating every being just for being?

Didn’t you want to be…a dancer?  Like the painted elfin creatures from Degas paintings that I glimpsed in our deep dark basement at age nine?  Didn’t you want to work so diligently, shaping thigh and calf into a dancer’s ensemble, a woman wearing pastel blue and twirling endlessly?

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Posted in August 2014 | Tagged , , , , , , , | 30 Comments

Monday morning eyes

Horse eye

Horse eye

I just signed an email “Monday morning eyes”.

One of the best parts of life involve signing emails with creative names, don’t you think?  Of course, one can only play this game with creative souls, best buddies and offspring.  Everyone else might stare askance at their inbox and mutter craziness beneath their upright breath.

What be Monday morning eyes?

Sleepy eyes.  Eyes not aiming toward work.  Lazy eyes longing for weekend fun.  Eyes not towing the line.  Dreaming eyes. Eyes without focus…

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Posted in July 2014 | Tagged , , , , , | 54 Comments

Anticipating the August Upper Peninsula Book Tour!



OK, I can almost hear you wondering.

What?  She’s gone and wrote a book and didn’t tell us about it?

Rest easy, dear reader.  When and if I write a book you’ll surely know six months in advance!

However, I am participating in an upcoming book tour in our fair peninsula in a few weeks, believe it or not.  Let me share the exciting details.

Any of you know or remember my blogging buddy, Suzi Banks Baum?  She wrote a guest post here back in 2011 called Meet Suzi:  The compass of her soul points north.

Later, she asked me to contribute to an anthology called:  An Anthology of Babes:  36 Women Give Motherhood a Voice.  Suzi edited the book and it hit the shelves in 2013.

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Posted in July 2014 | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 28 Comments

Slow down, you’re movin’ too fast, you got to make the morning last…

Sitting in a quiet house this morning sipping hot dark coffee with soy creamer from a deep blue mug.  Not running hither and yon, caught up in the what-must-be-done-next.

Excuse me, I will wander out on the deck to give you a weather report from our Little House in the Big Woods one-quarter mile from Lake Superior’s lapping shores.

I’ve returned.  Blue skies smiling at you, overhead, above the green jungle-like canopy. Birds squawking, unseen, forest calls and chirps, hidden ones.  In deep summer the winged ones abandon the bird feeder and join the wild spirit back in the crooked arms of maple and poplar trees.  They’re raising their young and, like the crows and ravens, introducing the new fledglings to the world with deep croaks and cacophony.

It’s 57 degrees right now, heading upward all day, so the forecasters hint.  Summertime, smilin’ at you.

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Posted in July 2014 | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 23 Comments

“I don’t like that man. I must get to know him better.”

Honest Abe

Honest Abe

Recently a friend shared this quote from Abraham Lincoln:  “I don’t like that man.  I must get to know him better.”

I like that quote.

For many years it was my mantra.

“I don’t like (fill in the blank)…therefore, I must get to know it (or him) better.”

Our usual mode of operation is to think “I don’t like that person.  I should get far far away from her!”

Yet what do we learn when we move closer?

Usually we discover common bonds.  We discover that what we don’t like about that man is what we don’t like about ourselves.  We discover that, perhaps, we’re not as separate as we might think.

In every despicable person or situation, a pearl so often shines.  Shall we take the time to look for it?  Or shall we, unlike Honest Abe, move toward rejecting, pushing away, because it hurts too darn much to spend the time to find common ground, places where we agree?

Yes, dear friend, there are times to move away.  There are times to make a stand not to be hurt, injured, thrust in the fire.

Yet, more times than not, our enemy contains our friend.  It’s just a matter of digging deep enough to find common ground.

How many of you have discovered this?

(Thanks for the inspiration, dear Amy!)


Posted in July 2014 | Tagged , , , , , , | 28 Comments

My challenges with wood splitter motors and social media

Me on the tractor pulling the wood splitter. If you squint you can see that I'm pulling the aforementioned splitter.

Me on the tractor pulling the wood splitter. If you squint you can see that I’m pulling the aforementioned splitter.

Here is what I am not posting on Facebook:  Our wood splitter motor, RIP, died yesterday.  For five years he thwacked hearty logs in halves and quarters.  We’ll miss him dearly.  He spewed oil and gas fumes upon us as we worked, but he rarely missed a beat. Until yesterday.  

Before you all start weeping and sending consoling comments, never fear.  We knew the motor was a’dyin’ for many months.  Barry was a tad upset when the despairing moment arrived.  He muttered dire forecasts about the cost of a new motor and the effects of our wood-splitting delay.

But the Universe proved helpful and found us a new motor for under $300, so we should be back sweating and heaving logs and wood splitting before long.

I did not post on Facebook:  Hey, we found a new wood splitter motor! or The bottom wire of our garden electric fence broke.  Or Hey, we harvested our first green onions and lettuce.  Or, Guess what, my friend Ruth dropped by with a freshly washed bag of arugula and spinach!  Or:  The crows are going wild behind the house, yapping and cawing and screaming.  What’s up with crows?

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Posted in July 2014 | Tagged , , , , , , , | 70 Comments