Month: May 2012

Tennessee2012_7269

For instants

Here I am, all ready to write about instants of life that have us smiling lately. One teensy problem? It’s afternoon. And what good writer doesn’t abide by the excuse that no good writing happens in the afternoon. So I will just pick up that excuse, although I shouldn’t, since it is just as tantalizing as the neon-red strawberries I also shouldn’t have picked up this afternoon for $7.99. I will just say right here that the photos and words in this post will just have to abide together, even…

Tennessee2012_4117

Good things

He said I was myself again there. Something in the air there opens me up and lets me free to see and hold and feel, and then bring it all into myself. He was right. The rich, tangy singe of wood-burning on the wind welcomed us, and all weekend, the rains and mists that make mountains so mystical fell. The lodge of full, barked trunks beckoned with quilts, porches, and a warm fireplace. I’d forgotten the pleasure of quiet, dark sleep, and the magic of waking up to birdsong. What I’d waited…

WA1_7207

Few things are sweeter

than anticipation, and then reunion. The anticipation scale hit bottom with happy weights months ago, and since then I have tried not to count the weeks. A different home every year for five years makes it hard to remember the color of the dirt, the smell of the trees in each. I remember this: Tennessee was the realm of dry wind and tall, tall trees, of hopeful mists, of the comfort of the mountains, of wood air, and of redemption. We visited a year ago and you can read about hope here, and…

WA1_6872

Scaffolding and ramps

A reader (I say that as if I have many, but it was really a relative) told me recently that my blog is basically a long love letter to Scotland. Still. Do you think that, too? Apparently I am still longing for that place, even though I haven’t dreamed of touching a damp stone wall in months. While I want to write this post completely in the present, I need the past to compare, yet again. Bear with me. Filtering the past through the present, through where I am today, polishes it off, and so I…