Mia

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This is Mia, my little niece. She likes to take pictures. At her aunt’s wedding, she begged relatives for their cameras.

Mia’s picture of her cousin.

Mia asked for my camera and climbed up the gazebo to get a her pictures.

Another Mia shot.

Mia.

Music and Life

“We thought of life by analogy with a journey; with a pilgrimage, which had a serious purpose at the end. And the thing was to get to that end: success or whatever it is- or maybe heaven, after you’re dead. But we missed the point the whole way along. It was a musical thing and you were supposed to sing or dance while the music was being played.”

For Shye

We’re back from the annual road trip to Northern Wisconsin. Shye, this is for you. (All of our photo’s were taken out of the window while moving. We thought it was a more realistic way of capturing our experience. And we saved time.) Here you are, Shye-girl.

Watching

Found Here.

Free Hugs

Get them here.

On the Road to Find Out

She drags her muddy boots
Across too-shiny linoleum.
She carries a complete set
Of encyclopedias on her head.

She is not interested in the
Black-and-white photos of Lennin,
The pale maps of North Carolina,
The out-dated population of China.
She balances them and they sway with her hips.

She has all the facts at her disposal
And she likes the way it makes her  walk.

Thank you, Kathy

Women in Art

Kathy Connor sent me a link to this today. Fascinating.

A few more…

Old LJ Posts

I found a little yellow sticky note. The grimy little thing lost its stick long ago and it sailed behind my desk: A little yellow snowflake; A long-forgotten password in blued ink.

“So, there you are!”

I found my log in information from my old LJ. I thought the poems were lost forever and ever. Most of them are “friends only”. And all of them are old.

Donny

No one can tell me for certain
That the raindrops aren’t
Twinkling  back messages
Only the boy can understand.

They seem to enjoy falling
On the visored hood of his
Rain jacket. They
Leap onto his shoulders and
Dance down his arms.
He raises his hands to them.

He cannot hear them
Pat  his hood,
Drum the metal roof behind him,
Or plop onto the pavement where he stands.

His hands make shapes
That fit perfectly between
His raindrops.
The shapes make pictures
On a silver canvas.

The rain falls and dances,
Twinkles then splashes around him.
The boy smiles and
Paints pictures in the air.
He tilts his face toward the
Clouds and they
Drench him with splishy kisses.