I got nothing.

I got nothing. It's a blank page tonight, and we're hoping to find my ink tomorrow.

Life has been like a sound stage and I have no clue what 'exit right' means. Did I tell you, I got nothing?

Count 'em; I got 47 billion brain cells waiting to be used... but the pilot light went out about a week back... and I got nothing!!

On my digital camera there are new photos of the torture we're putting the yard through. If “a picture is worth a thousand words,” that'll be one super blog, huh? But I'm tuckerd out; developing muscles I was never meant to have, I'm pretty sure.

And~ I said all of that to say this: I got nothing.

all that fluff

Hello, my name is Charles. I've sat on the sideline for weeks watching this woman unload box after box. What's the problem with humans? Why can't there be a couple of boxes and they're done?

I used ONE box when I moved. Having two bowls, one for water and one for food, I'm flabbergasted at the multi-sets of glasses and dishes! There's my winter snug-coat and two pairs of little boots. ~And my smallish bed and 'bloop' my favorite stuffed toy.... one box!

It's obscene, I tell you. Thousands of possessions marching through the doors; a never-ending story of 'packaholics'.

It's hard for me to understand... all that fluff... for what?

Are you done?

sometimes

Sometimes I must wait,
for more light,
to understand,
or be at peace.

Humble pie

Many times I've allowed my ego to write checks that my body cannot cash. You know, bragging and going on about the success I exude from every pore... what a bore... right?! Such is the crux of the tale I choose to share.

In humble community I spied this Chevy truck. My-oh-my a 1967, and loaded with 'unapparent' goodies. Though the 'Green' angel sitting on my shoulder was warning me, I thought, “oh c'mon, it's an old Chevy, what's the harm with a test drive?” Eight cyclinders, a 350 under the hood, no automatic steering, three gears on the column, and a hair-trigger clutch; what could go wrong? A friend and I took the plundge, and I really mean that, as they're were no seatbelts! Add leather seats and I was definitely 'going' places!

I cranked that bad boy up, easied the clutch out, barely touching the gas pedal, and was slammed back into the seat. I took a slight right hand turn and heard tires squalling as I fish-tailed out of the parking lot; like so: “ERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRKKKKKKKKKKK”... Immediately I was terrified as I fought to regain control. (regain?) Slipped my foot off of the gas and jumped my way to the first traffic light.

The straight steering had left me breathless; I looked over at my friend to see how she was fairing. People react differently to trauma; at least that was what I was feeling – traumatized. But she was laughing. She laughed during the entire test drive. She even felt 'impressed' by the way I handled the huge steering wheel. I didn't have the heart or humility to tell her that 'IT' handled me. I only know that once I parked that truck I was no longer entranced. The good thing is that I think I fixed my spine that had been out of place.(grin)



The next day I test drove this van, bought it, and I'm very happy. If I need a truck I can always remove the seats to haul something around... like my enlarged ego, and a recipe for 'humble pie'.

Campfire Girls

We were all alone in the days of childhood. Though we laughed and played no one ever knew you lived. From the highest tree to the gentle stream, no one ever knew... only me.

We had a favorite basket to gather pretty stones. A sink was filled with water to wash the dirt away. I would see you yawn and know that you'd be leaving. I would watch the sun set in the direction of your home.

Too young to be a campfire girl, we sneaked away to cry. Seems we were the same age, with the same problem, even though Mom says you don't exist. She says I have to let you go... but where to?

Why? How do I answer that question? I began to live within a dark space. Your light no longer shone. I walk out into the yard and knew I was alone.

My parents changed churches, which caused them to drive by a childrens' orphanage. I saw you sitting behind a great wrought iron fence... it was you! Please stop the car, that's her! Yes I'm quite sure.

For three Sundays we stopped at the orphanage so I could speak to you. I heard my Mom and Dad talking of adoption. Wow, I might soon have a sister! Unfortunately my Dad didn't want to follow through. He even changed the driving route.

One Sunday we rode by, and the sad face I saw was my own reflection in the window's glass. You weren't sitting at the fence. 'Terminal' is not a word a six year old would normally know... but I had a gut feeling which was about to be verified. I was glad my Mom met you... sitting in that tiny wheelchair.

They returned a stuffed bear I'd given you, and a card you left me, which I still have. So any time I light a campfire I look for you to be dancing on the wind; those incredible somersaults that no one else could ever do.

We both dreamed of having a friend... and became the other's dream, fulfilled.

My house

On August 8, 2011 I signed formal papers taking possession of my parents' home. These photos are five years old. The yard work is on standby until we empty the house of its contents. By the time we're done it will have taken three weeks to get everything out!! Then I can begin to move my stuff in!!!



I'm so excited ~~~

Creative trash

I'm pretty sure the post title is a statement, and not a question. You know... leaving things a bit open ended creates excitement.

Why is it that my neighbors' trash looks more exciting, inviting, than mine? One sniff and I'm carried away~ with a scent hanging upon the breeze. Oh how I love 'pine sol' too. I must call about this sofa. To me it's recyclable material... creative trash.

My friend Mimi, was handling the bulk trash calls today. "Hi Mimi, how are you?".

"Hey Miss D, how are you? What you got for me today?"

"I've got nothing; just wanted to ask about that green sofa on Elm?"

"You and ten others. The truck driver is taking it home for his 'man cave'. His wife, Delores has called all morning, checking and double checking. Then Mr. Taylor fell asleep on it, waiting for the bus...but complained that some women named Delores, got him arrested for loitering. You know, she knows Mr. Taylor's been sleeping on that corner for seventeen years!"

"That's awful; how's Mr. Taylor now?"

"Mr. Taylor took home one of the black plastic bags with him. It was full of over size stuffed animals. He's making hats and gloves for neighborhood children; claims it will be cold before we know it."

No place like home

The rain came down but spared this home. A fellow creature
sheltered under a leaf.
A gentle breeze travelled through and the web sought to dry.
Raindrops glistened as diamonds do; a necklace rarely found.

I'm not so fond of spider webs, nor hairy little creatures.
My eyes did wonder all around in case the friend came home.
Spin today and spawn tomorrow; those little souls live fast.

They've learned to live and take what comes; it's fascinates my mind.
No matter where they go; no matter where I am; there's no place like home.
Time to leave as I see you watching and waiting to crawl upon your web.

Just another fish tale

There was a family fishing hole,
but I never liked to fish.
They cast with wooden fishing poles,
competing for a wish.

But I sat on the rocks and looked,
at gemstones in the stream.
As one by one the fish they hooked;
I chose another a dream.




Rubies sparkled just beneath me,
were scooped up in my hand.
I listened to the shouts of glee
of those fishers near the sand.

So once they caught their fill,
they thought to leave this place.
My treasure gave me such a thrill,
that showed upon my face.

They made their way to where I sat,
inquiring what I'd found.
I let them peek at this and that,
the stones from sandy ground.

We headed home at sunset,
exchanging funny tales.
Me with shiny rubies;
them with slimey scales.

Journey

As people take their journey,
that starts at birth and ends at death

Some feel their footsteps mounting,
refreshed with every breath

When long ago I watched someone
who climbed this blessed stair

I said 'goodbye' and promised that
I'd meet them in the air.

So in my time of earthbound days
this journey I'll complete.

Then take the stairs that carry me
to heaven's holy seat.

Bathed in love

My little tree grove
is a space to contemplate
the secrets of the universe
and how it all relates.

Some things are serious
some only worth a laugh
but all things are put on hold
my little tree grove gets a bath.

The Bride's Tears

I've had many classes in drawing and wood work. I even took drafting in college to improve perception. It was an amazing course, yet my first love lay years ahead in time: painting.

Watercolor was first and then I used acrylics. Ironically I am self-taught. Lately I've begun to study with different artists for tips and techniques. It looks as if I'm ready for black and white oil paint study. We'll see.

The photo above is my last portrait in acrylic paint. I labored greatly but blending is still a technique I work on.

Recently a blog pal,('Bazza') had a great photo of a painting done in oil. I liked the way the artist painted the eyes on a 90 degree plane. So I thought I'd share a close up of the bride.

Sun, rain, song, repeat...

It's warm in Carolina. Humidity makes it even warmer. Then come nightfall the thunder sounds, leaving me wondering 'when' the rain will begin? It has been the exact same cycle for almost three months now. Yet I'm grateful because some places are begging for sunshine; some are begging for rainfall.

No matter how much the lightening flashes or how loud the thunder roars, in the morning the birds awake, and I'm compelled to sing along.

You took your time ~ welcome summer!

Celebrating hope

We used to be a colony; today we're just a crowd.
We party on the fourth, and do it very loud.

The rockets glare and light the night; the huddled masses swoon.
A tummy full of yummy treats will have some yawning soon.

As day and night begin to fade, we say goodnight to friends.
Return to homes remembering, the hope this freedom brings.

shelling out a memory

When I was small we went to the beach. I found a lovely shell, but one of my pesky brothers chose to fling my shell into a small pond. It skimmed the water creating ripples that eventually reached me, crying, by the pond's side.

Everyone tried to console me, saying, "one day you'll find another shell like this one." Years went by but no shell took it's place. Yet when I saw this photo from space I realized my shell had gone to heaven! Well, thinking that way, it seems to have satisfied the child within me.

Hey, look at those ripples! As they come closer I smile, as my heart is shelling out a memory. Closure is sweet.

What if...

Is it true that we are stars
come down to earth
upon our birth?

Is it true that we are dust
traveling light
with sacred plight?

Is it true that we are seeds
upon the wind
never to end?

Then make it true that we are nice
and we are fair
and that we care.

What if we cared?

Growing pains

A vegetable
a vegetable
a vegetable I grew.

I thought it was
I thought it was
A favorite of yours too.

But you said 'red'?
and I heard 'green'?
Will be the strangest
will be the strangest
will be the strangest vegetable I've seen.

Two vegetables
two vegetables
two vegetables I grew.

A nice green one for me
a nice green one for me
and a nice red one for you!


~silly gardener

Wringing in the new

I work with me
and hope to change
the things that sadly linger.

But what I see
as changing fast
did not escape the wringer!

And oh the joy
I find inside
which makes me quite the singer.

For I have peace
with life as such
that everyone has their wringer.

I do miss you

As I grew I realized my Dad had little time for me. It wasn't personal, as it was the same for my brothers. The man was simply, always gone somewhere. He was one of those people who could not stop; in constant motion as he investigated the world he lived in. There were some good moments and I hang onto those, hoping his life was what he wanted it to be. So I can only guess that the little angels wave goodbye to him every day as he's off to explore another plane.

Yes, I do miss you.

a favorite spot

It's that time of the year when I start dreaming... which wave will knock me down? Well it doesn't really matter as I can already taste the salt. Um, lovely salt air in my nostrils, bathing my face, and tangled with my hair. I want to be there. So, please beach fairy, send me a sign. Thanks.