storm at Rachel Lake

every branch was made big with wind while we sat diminished hunkered down with steaming cups, muddied boots, cold-red cheeks, together beneath that orange tarp cracking with every gust we stayed, shivered, laughing while others fled the storm - a splendid day, my splendid friend © Sarah Whiteley

the uninvited

for once my crows (my noisome watchers) ignore the shrill complaints of a wheeling gull and crouch instead on snow-tipped branches, giving way to the whims of a relentless wind I'd invite them in (my boot-blacked friends) but they'd tease the dogs, pluck my bright beads from the lighted tree and delightedly unwind every blessed … Continue reading the uninvited

quick update

My nailbeds are a lovely blueish purple right now. The building has steam radiators which are controlled from the boiler room with a timer, the timing of which is still apparently being worked out. The dogs are curled up in the bed and Angus has taken to sleeping in a ball with his tail over … Continue reading quick update

down east

it was late November when I drove toward Maine I still hear how the wind tore across the highway, rattling doors and nearly blowing that tired red Buick into the frozen ditch I had second, third - hell sixth thoughts on the other side of the state line, but I kept right on - forward … Continue reading down east

perfect hour

Sunday morning, coffee made strong, maple donuts fetched, and you still asleep - wrapped up deep within my blankets against the bustling cold from my open windows me in my chair, mug in hand, feet curled beneath me - torn between watching the startling sight of a hummingbird in fresh snow or the slow rise … Continue reading perfect hour

*

it is a sparse sort of day of struggling light and freezing hours and hands that can't ward away the numb from stiff fingers the crows are quibbling over something fallen in the street beneath the lamp post where in twos and fives they've taken to diving at it and at each other quarrelsome in … Continue reading *

talismans

the leaves have dropped burnt out finally after the last conflagration and the fog drifts in most mornings now a shroud for ashen skies hangs about sometimes until noon even days like this call for extra cups of coffee with an extra spoon of sugar - something hot and sweet to cup chilled hands about … Continue reading talismans