Adrienne Says It Well

Then Or Now
Is it necessary for me to write obliquely
about the situation? Is that what
you would have me do?
by Adrienne Rich
fom "Dark Fields of the Republic"

Nowhere Girl Please Listen

My hundreth post finds me being a gypsy princess and a wandering Nowhere Girl. Living on the road my friend, gonna keep you free and clean. Yes, it is true, I haven't a home to call my own since the end of June. Luckily the weather has been more than wonderful for my coastal existence. I call the beach my room, "I am going to my room..." I spend hours at the beach every day. I have a car which sets me apart from the wandering on foot variety of roofless. I have all my belongings in storage until the day comes that I can afford to rent a place. My fabulous teenage sons are staying at their father's which is in the same vicinity so that is okay for awhile. We hang out and text and talk many times each day. Friends have let me crash on their couches, in their small trailers, etc. and I shower wherever I can. This is not for the faint of heart my friends. I have slept in my car also which is an art seldom given it's due. I miss my computer, wish I had a laptop. I also go to a town inland 60miles away where my 2 beautiful daughters and grandchildren live and stay there for a few days here and there but don't want to be far from my sons. All the while pretending nothing out of the ordinary has occured in the course of my daily interactions with other people in my 'professional' realm. I don't want to be a problem or worry. I have fallen thru the cracks but will sprout like a strong resilient weed. I am okay and only occasionally give into a strange and cleansing despair, and I try to actually enjoy the unconventional freedoms and insights homelessness offers.......... The rains and cold will come before long and we shall see how this wildish Sagittarian gal fends then.

The Sorceress

I asked her, "Is Aladdin's lamp
Hidden anywhere?"
"Look into your heart," she said,
"Aladdin's lamp is there."
She took my heart with glowing hands.
It burned to dust and air
And smoke and rolling thistledown
Blowing everywhere.
Follow the thistledown," she said,
"Till doomsday, if you dare,
Over the hills and far away.
Aladdin's lamp is there."
Vachel Lindsay

thistledown

The Eternal Stance of the Warrior-Sage

bending time, watching everything, missing nothing

I'd Love to be a Fairy's Child

Children born of fairy stock 
Never need for shirt or frock,
Never want for food or fire, 
Always get their heart's desire:
Jingle pockets full of gold,
Marry when they're seven years old.
Every child may keep
Two strong ponies and ten sheep;
All have houses, each his own,
Built of brick or granite stone;
They live on cherries, they run wild -
I'd love to be a fairy's child.
Robert Graves

George Augustus Holmes - Foxglove

Life Really Is A Beach

My wild Pacific was silky and languid today. Sparkling in the sun, smooth greener than blue waves spanking the shore. Aye, but she can't be tamed. She'll be sleet gray and whipping tall stinging washes of water at us in no time at all. So you better run down to the beach now because summer is short, life is short and a calm wind can heal many things. Love love love it.
Oh, yeah - somebody tell me not to leave my camera behind..

On this fawn colored shore all delicately strewn 

                                                        

Pancho, Lefty and Emmylou

PANCHO & LEFTY
Living on the road my friend
Was gonna keep you free and clean
Now you wear your skin like iron
Your breath's as hard as kerosene
You weren't your mama's only boy
But her favorite one it seems
She began to cry when you said goodbye
And sank into your dreams

Pancho was a bandit boys
His horse was fast as polished steel
Wore his gun outside his pants
For all the honest world to feel
Pancho met his match you know
On the deserts down in Mexico
Nobody heard his dying words
That's the way it goes

All the federales say
They could have had him any day
They only let him hang around
Out of kindness I suppose

Lefty he can't sing the blues
All night long like he used to
The dust that Pancho bit down south
Ended up in Lefty's mouth
The day they laid poor Pancho low
Lefty split for Ohio
Where he got the bread to go
There ain't nobody knows

All the federales say
They could have had him any day
They only let him slip away
Out of kindness I suppose

The poets tell how Pancho fell
Lefty's livin' in a cheap hotel
The desert's quiet and Cleveland's cold
So the story ends we're told
Pancho needs your prayers it's true,
But save a few for Lefty too
He just did what he had to do
Now he's growing old

A few gray federales say
They could have had him any day
They only let him go so wrong
Out of kindness I suppose
                   by  Townes Van Zandt
Video - Emmylou Harris 1977.

Apex

What makes summer so special? The feeling of fewer clothes, less binding of one's tender flesh. The sky so big and open you can see all the way to the Pleiades where the angels live. The time seeming to linger and draw loops of  memory, like a sparkler's trail of light. The way a fruit or tea tastes in the sun. The sound of a train whistle in the night, connecting dots of distance. The way a concern or worry can be put in the bottom of one's knapsack, to be brushed off of sand and crumbs at the end of the long weekend. The knowledge that love may be only a handshake, a wave, a whisper away, if one wants to dare. The tear forming at the far corners of the eye, the corner that sees the fleeting nature of summer, the summer that will change and move on even when we drag our heels and try to linger.


growing

Don't Blink

"And what is it called when you stay awake to the world all day?"
                                      Don Colburn  from the Grove of Trees

Off Season

This little ditty is off season and a bit off topic in my life but it resonates to my heart all the same.
STAY
Fall's first gold is green.
It falls somewhere between
a joy and a concern,
but soon the leaves will turn
flamboyant with that doubt,
like people falling out
of love, becoming all
the lovlier as they fall.
Eric McHenry

Elizabeth Sonrel "Our Lady of the Cow Parsley"

Well Now, Here We Are

When I was a little girl I was always fascinated by the story of the little match girl by Hans Christian Anderson. She sold wooden stick matches out in the freezing snow at the holidays and looked in the windows of the wealthy and saw the laden tables of food and gifts and warm fire crackling in the hearth. Sad, cold and hungry, she sat in the snow in the alleyway and burned her matches one by one stealing what little warmth and light she could from them, each one of course burning out very quickly. Soon she had used up all the matches. She fell into a cold slumber, dreaming of her grandmother and days of happiness before she died and left her all alone. So the story ends with the little girl dying in the snow and being led away into the light by her grandmother's spirit. Sad. Poignant.

Honor Appleton

Why I am thinking of this? Well now, here we are. I am glad its not winter right now.

Back Into Gypsy Princess Mode

Now I am being uprooted. Changes of the unknown kind grow rampant and unchecked in my garden. A great unbidden fickle hand is swooping in to pull my gentle weedy friends and trim my hedge, leaving me exposed and without shelter . Leave me some fragrant flowers and healing herbs please, wild unknowable future. Pot up a little bowl of parsley and thyme to roll out the door with me. Guide me to verdant and solid ground, where my roots can finally spread and bear the fruits of my labor, not to be uprooted for a long long while. Let me plant again, spreading in comfort and security my wild herbs and flowers, my hedge of many colors, my salad and turnips and radish. Give me a home where the pixies roam and the skies can be cloudy if they want to be.


of these things I have not spoken, altho it is what is happening in my life. but it does not define me or confine me or delay my movement into further realms of contributing to a better world, as best I can..



Longing for 75º Fahrenheit

I do not want to miss a minute of the warm weather, not one single precious minute. The air on my bare arms finally is not raising goosebumps of chill. The air so kindly is wafting to my eager nose smells of the biggest umbel flowers blooming at the edge of the hedge.
One thing you may not know about me is that I gave birth to my first daughter in a tent under the trees near the river in hot July sunny shine 32 years ago. It was a beautiful time to camp and enjoy nature and live freely and wildly. I was accompanied by fine wise midwives and attendant birds singing in the trees. It was a good day.
All 4 of my kids were born at home. I will tell you about that sometime.
We had a rather large tent with a fine place to pitch it. It began my love affair with having walls of canvas as opposed to brick or wood. I will tell you of my days living in a tepee sometime.
I love being outside all day and watching the changes of nature's rhythm as it flows. I love when the first star twinkles in the dusk (make a wish!) and the moon comes over the horizon. I love the comfort that the new day's sun brings as I snuggle back down into blankets for a few more minutes of sleep. I loved gathering wood for the campfire and fetching water and a delicious cup of coffee, the reward for my efforts as I smiled.
This long, seemingly 2 years of wet cool springing weather has kept me inside way more than I would prefer and made me glad to have those wooden walls to keep me dry. Now my heart sings and soars to the outside wide sky and whispery winds and nighthawks cry.
... Well, it WAS nice yesterday, the eve of summer's debut. Today, already, the heat of the inland valleys has kept the cool marine air hugging the coast, not dissipating and blowing away, alas. So, ha, the sweater is back on my chilled arms and I write of warm dreams and memories.
I know much of our nation is very very hot now, some with too much moisture and some with almost none. The Pacific Northwest has both coolness and moisture. This spring has gone on the record books as extra cool and extra wet, as was last year. I don't think it has even reached 64ºF yet all year. So although I appreciate this moderate and verdant weather, I do long for real true summery shining sky and warmth. I think nothing rejuvenates the spirit and brings out our childlike heart as much as summer does.

as a young lass, Summer dreamed of the day she would fill the sky with warmth and glowing light, making everyone smile and frolic

Brew Me a Cup of Bravery Please

borage

Herbal Wisdom

The kingly basilikon must be reviled,

Spit upon, abused for abundance

Tho admixed with goose grease so good

For babies' ears and aphrodisiacs.

"Ego, Borago, gaudia semper ago."

The oxtongue's liquid quiets

A wildman but combined with wine

One howls and pines. "I,

Borage, always gives courage."

Who said character is fate?

I should like to sate

Myself with sage and thyme.

  Martine Bellen

  The Vulnerability of Order

Sky Pilots

The sight of canada geese flying overhead is one of my favorite things. I love to hear their squawking and honking and run outside to look for them in the sky. It is really magical to hear them at night but not be able to see them but know they are flying in formation right above me. I know they can be rambunctious when you get close to them in the field - I have been chased many times!
I have noticed when they fly south they favor the V formation and when going north seem to be in the long single diagonal. Does seem they are going north a bit later than usual this year? Anyone else seeing them?

fly by

The sound of the geese stirs my true gypsy soul and awakens my innate preference for wide movement on the face of the earth. I grew up traveling and loved it. Lately not so much traveling. Well I had better make an effort to change that alrighty!
Actually I have developed a strange fear of steep roads, roads that have a steep incline up or down. Going fast down roads curving downhill. Steepaphobia. Going uphill and stopping, feeling like I may roll back. Rollaphobia. I know it's sick and unfounded! I have been around the world on steep roads. This has only developed after some nightmares of riding down some very very steep roads with my grandfather, whom I liked travelling with and other nebulous reasons. Maybe it is some kind of cosmic karmic gravity thing. Fear of flying (not a nod to Erica Jong there) - flying right off the face of the earth!
So this fear seems to limit me too much for my ideal version of self. I refuse to let it get the better of me and I am going to Get My Brave Back and deny this strange fear. I am glad for one thing; I am not afraid to examine and eradicate my fear, or at least face it.
Let me add that I do prefer to do the driving, like some kinda control freak (?!)
I might not make a very good goose...