i could see the maple tree up over the roof of the house. it had really grown a lot in the decades since our family lived there. i thought about all the time i had spent in that tree...an innocent poet trying to piece together the world, make sense of it. back then, i was proud to spend time with my family, my beloved dog missi, on the piano bench or the organ bench or tucked against the trunk of my tree, riding my bike (or, later, driving my little vw bug) to the beach or the harbor, studying, doing homework.

littlebabyscion stayed home. good thing. we would have been dwarfed in the middle of all the trucks on the highway going into the city. at least big red had a bit more presence than LBS would have had. even so, it was like being in a cave - we couldn't see anything else but the trucks. no view, no signs, nothing.

i hadn't had manhattan clam chowder in forever. but it was on the menu and the day in the village was sunny. with the scent of fresh bread baking wafting around us, we ordered a couple bowls and a couple kaiser rolls. we took it all outside to a tiny bistro table on the street next to the harbor. if we could, we would go back today.

it made me cry. it was all i could do not to down-and-out messy cry. had i lost control it would have been ugly. i grieved for every single american child as i struggled and hiccuped my way back to some semblance of calm. phil vassar's lyrics were poignant and profound and deeply troubling. the concert was amazing. phil vassar is a prolific songwriter, a consummate performer, his voice strong, his ballads clear.

we had the gazebo all to ourselves. it is likely that the tropical-storm-nor'easter had something to do with this. no one seemed inclined to be strolling about, nonetheless lingering on the gazebo. so we danced. on the rain-soaked boards of this beautiful age-old gazebo, we waltzed to the music on my phone - the cherish the ladies instrumental if ever you were mine…

even in torrents of rain i wanted him to hear the clanking of metal-rigged sails. even in torrents of rain i wanted him to sit on the benches and watch the water. even in torrents of rain i wanted him to feel the dark sky blanket this harbor. the design of the small pavilion at the end of the dock has stood the test of time - this slip-less harbor site where most boats are moored off-dock, with skiffs back and forth.

"the smallest act of kindness is worth more than the greatest intention." (khalil gibran) it had been a long day. a very long day that was preceded by other very long days. we were tired and road-weary. the last couple hours were brutal. at one point i just wanted to stop in the middle of a dark intersection and weep. we kept on.

the business was closed as we walked by on the sidewalk. the luminescent sunset over the harbor was beckoning. but i stopped when i saw the sign - facing out the window: "work hard and be kind". i'm not sure what kind of office it was - maybe a realtor, maybe insurance, i don't know. it doesn't matter, though.

if he were still in this plane of existence, my sweet poppo would be 105 today. as much as i miss my dad, as much as i would love to sit with him, to talk with him, to be quiet with him, to hug him, under the circumstances that we find ourselves in this country at this time, i would have to say i am glad he is not here.

it's a two-sided coin. these stunning plumes rise above the grasses, catching the breezes, the last vestiges of light as the sun sinks, a place for lagging butterflies to linger a moment, catch their breath. but - the tiny seeds that form these stunning plumes are actually tiny swords that find their way onto clothing and dogga and into every manner of places and stab us time and again.

the sweet potato plant is answering the call to fall. it keeps on growing, sending new shoots, vining out. it also is starting to change color. its rainbow hues draw our attention. our sweetly-screaming woke sweet potato. and i don't know if your sweet potato is as colorful. is it still all a rich green? are its leaves curling at all?

the jeep's tirecover in the meijer's parking lot made me stop: "spread good vibes" taking out my phone to take a picture, i said to d, "now there's a good monday merely-a-thought! we could totally be friends with them!" he laughed and agreed, "definitely!" i love when people put positive messages out there. so much better than the vehicles - with stickers of words or lewd cartoon images - messages that say…

i suppose in-disbelief would also apply. and horrified. and sickened. frustrated, repulsed, outraged, heartbroken, scared, exhausted, disoriented... ...overwhelmed. ***** read DAVID's thoughts this SATURDAY MORNING like. share. subscribe. support. comment. - thank you. xoxo buymeacoffee

from "i'm so excited. i hope i can sleep! see you tomorrow...." "i'll see you in baggage claim. i'll be the one holding the daisy." to "i take you to be my wife. i will share my life with you tenderly and fiercely. i will love you and cherish you in all ways for always." "i take you to be my husband.

by the time it was late enough to see both, we were tired. saturn and the moon were supposed to be sharing close space in the night sky, but it was cloudy and we seriously needed to sleep. the show went on without us, somewhere behind the clouds a glorious celestial ballet. and the universe carries on with universe stuff. our planet earth still rotates on its axis and moves through its elliptical revolution around the sun with gravity keeping us in check in the solar system.

there were multiple times - when my sweet momma was here on this earth - that i brought her yellow roses. they were something special between us - an expression of love between mother and daughter. yellow roses have a different significance than red. they are indicative of friendship, the deep bonds of love, warmth and joy, fresh starts, gratitude, hope.

the headline on the catalog page read: don't just go somewhere. be somewhere. i lounged in the gravity chair on our deck and looked up. just beyond the peaked roof of our house, inbetween the pine tree and our westneighbor's tv antenna, with the wire that stretches across our driveway stretched right through it, there it was: the clouds had drawn the sun.

i don't honestly think that john lennon's song needs much explanation or needs me to go on and on about my own yearning for a peaceful, compassionate world. so i think i will just leave it as it is. ***** read DAVID's thoughts this SATURDAY MORNING like. subscribe. share. support. comment. - thank you. xoxo buymeacoffee

it's the last two. the very last two jalapeño peppers. today or tomorrow we'll make ann's jalapeño poppers recipe and celebrate the crazy-abundant harvest of these two relatively small plants. their season is clearly over; there are no tiny flowers left, there are no miniature peppers. these plants are done producing. but, in a new discovery, i have found that we can overwinter these perennials (more easily sustained in warm climes) - if we bring them indoors before the first frost we can give them a headstart for next year.

this tiniest flower of spanish needles reminds me of tenacity...as every plant produces about 1200 seeds to ensure its continued propagation - its desire to be in this world. to be in this world...to be a part of this universe...to be valued. we walk - when we walk in the 'hood - past this plant every day. and every day i am enchanted by these tiny blossoms, in each phase of their living, each season they exist.

because we really needed to, we went for a hike that day. we went to the trail where we have processed much life. because this was a day in which we needed just that - a place to process. the first snake we encountered was motionless, but in the dirt of the path. we gently lifted it and placed it in the trailside vegetation, out of harm's way.

planted in a barnwood planter - one that is split in half where the top half balances on the bottom half - I have been tending this mint all summer. we have used it in suntea all through these months. it's made a few appearances in quinoa tabouli. and then. then - all of a sudden - it went dormant. the stems were leggy and leafless.

here at the end of september - heading rapidly into october - elton john's "your song" lyrics - "how wonderful life is while you're in the world" - are relevant to me. we soon will celebrate our tenth wedding anniversary and life is truly wonderful for me because david is in it. so the card at the antique shoppe caught my attention as we passed by it a couple weeks ago.

supine (adjective) 2. failing to act or protest as a result of moral weakness... the example given - of this word used in a sentence - was this: "they remained supine in the face of terrible wrongdoing." though there are many other adjectives (and nouns) i can think of to describe what is currently happening while this administration attempts to destroy this democracy - the complicity, the evil, the negligence, the capitulating, the out-and-out lawlessness - the word "supine" seems mighty relevant.

when they were little, i was accustomed to watching their growth spurts - these moments when their tiny bodies were overcome by fiery energy of growth......a sudden few inches here or there...a burst in language or fine motor skills. childraising is a continual surprise. just when you thought you knew what you needed to know - at least temporarily - you were stymied by your own tiny child - and you became a little heap of not-knowing uncertainty.