Sunday, May 16, 2010

anniversary, of many things

a year of beginnings and endings,
openings and closings,
and all that stuff in between.
i am continually surprised, amused, bewildered.
what a long, strange trip it has been, and continues to be.


  1. Moved to Vegas a year ago?
    Started taking pictures a year ago?
    "Once more and we'll play it all the way through and we'll get it right."
    Let's make this our motto, O.K.?
    And I thought I could only ever listen to the Beatles do Blackbird.
    Fab, totally fab!

  2. kass-i like that motto! and yeah, i really like this version of "blackbird." this past year has been such an eye-, mind-, and heart-opener, it's tough to enumerate them all.

  3. Ah, you beat me to it! I have a blog anniversary coming up, too.

    Keep on tripping!

  4. kirk-sorry, didn't mean to steal thunder. can't wait to hear your trip!

  5. Nah, there was no thunder involved. Sometime next week I'm going to put up my very first post. Once you read it, you'll wonder why I ever bothered to continue blogging.

  6. kirk-ah, good. and no, i don't wonder why you continued. everything improves with experience. i'm old enough to know.

  7. "Though the circular round-and-round of routine be the bulk of life's affairs, make an occasional jutting diversion - of fun, love, or something that will outlast you - so the shape and motion of your life shall resemble the round lifegiving sun with bright rays shining forth from all directions." ~Terri Guillemets

    Great pic!!


  8. gabi, i love that quote. it has jarred me out of the rut i've been in, and made me look anew.
    thank you.

  9. A poem for your poppies.....


    Mary Oliver

    The poppies send up their
    orange flares; swaying
    in the wind, their congregations
    are a levitation

    of bright dust, of thin
    and lacy leaves.
    There isn't a place
    in this world that doesn't

    sooner or later drown
    in the indigos of darkness,
    but now, for a while,
    the roughage

    shines like a miracle
    as it floats above everything
    with its yellow hair.
    Of course nothing stops the cold,

    black, curved blade
    from hooking forward—
    of course
    loss is the great lesson.

    But I also say this: that light
    is an invitation
    to happiness,
    and that happiness,

    when it's done right,
    is a kind of holiness,
    palpable and redemptive.
    Inside the bright fields,

    touched by their rough and spongy gold,
    I am washed and washed
    in the river
    of earthly delight—

    and what are you going to do—
    what can you do
    about it—
    deep, blue night?

  10. tregina-what a marvelous poem! i love the line that light is an invitation to happiness. do we accept that invitation? umm, sometimes.
    thank you.