Mere water and light,
how very explainable,
but I suspect something more
legerdemainable.
Category Archives: Photography
May 27.20: Coping
You’ve seen “The Scream,” yes, dear reader? This is “The Gasp.” I made this! I, who scotch-taped pieces of fabric together to make doll clothes, made this mask with actual needle and thread. And no blood stains! I did, of course, draw blood because one of the rules of sewing is Stab yourself with the needle, but for once I didn’t get it on the material. Sometimes I amaze myself.
When I stepped away from the blog a couple weeks ago, my intention was to do what I could to re-arrange my head to survive this barrage of grief and flim-flam. What does one do with such resentment and frustration and creeping hopelessness in isolation? One grabs a dust rag and follows the lead of her ancestors.
Yes, I’ve been cleaning. To be clear, my housecleaning would never pass inspection by my mother or grandmothers. But I told their ghosts to shove off. I’ve cleaned, thrown out, packed away. It is symbolic, of course, but it is also a proven way to clear my head. If I can dig into something physically, I can dig out mentally.
I have baked, continuing my search for the El Dorado of gluten-free blueberry muffins.
Gardening beckoned but opportunity was limited to occasional cold and soggy weeding. Now overnight it’s the Amazon. I have mourned the death of spring in keeping with this season of requiem.
I started to go out last week, feeling like one of these emerging cicadas.
I made a mask!
Physically I’m better, but still get short of breath and tired. Fortunately, I was born pokey so slowing down comes naturally to me.
I have missed you and been concerned about you, dear reader. I hope you’ve managed to keep safe and sane.
May 13.20: Coping
When rain takes down
the petals of spring
and color lies dying,
when bough and branch,
weary of weight,
sag groundward,
do we pretend not to see
how much like us?
More thanks to photographer S.W. Berg.
May 12.20: Coping
On toothpick legs
with eye bright black
in marshy grass
he stalked a snack.
Deliberate his movements
just to make me mad:
if I took five hundred pictures,
five-hundred-one were bad.
I think this is a new one for the pond, dear reader!
Maybe a sandpiper?
May 11.20: Coping
Is it a window
if no one looks out
and no one looks in?
What’s it about?
It’s ever so pretty,
an unblinking eye,
watching the birds
and years flying by.
Maybe that’s all,
enough just to be
a fanciful brooch
on limestone lady.
More thanks to photographer S.W. Berg.
May 9.20: Coping
The gnarly muffin,
oven art:
happy stomach,
happy heart.
Each lump a wink
of what’s within,
promise of sugar
on the chin.
I read of COVID projects.
One of mine is the pursuit of the
perfect
gluten-free
blueberry muffin.
A worthy quest, don’t you think, dear reader?
May 8.20: Coping
Sometimes perfect form
is jarring to the brain,
absolute alignment
inhospitable, profane.
A disordered kind of order
comes with emptiness;
we’re healthier by far
with a little bit of mess.
This, dear reader, is not an argument for opening up
before we are medically ready,
but only my commentary
on what is.
More thanks to photographer S.W. Berg.
