Old Gousty August

213 :: Always Acorns

I’m catching up on photos from this glorious month, and I’m going to let Mary Oliver do the talking tonight . . .

216 :: Legos

In Blackwater Woods
By Mary Oliver

Look, the trees
are turning
their own bodies
into pillars

of light,
are giving off the rich
fragrance of cinnamon
and fulfillment,

and long tapers
of cattails
are bursting and floating away over
the blue shoulders

of the ponds,
and every pond,
no matter what its
name is, is

nameless now.
Every year
everything
I have ever learned

in my lifetime
leads back to this: the fires
and the black river of loss
whose other side

is salvation,
whose meaning
none of us will ever know.
To live in this world
you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it

against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.

214 :: In Forest with Book

211 :: Giant Sandbox

212 :: Young Artist at Work

215 :: Flying with Uncle James

217 :: Meditation

217 :: Dark and Sunny Woods

218 :: Hers

219 :: Visitor

226 :: Nearing Dusk

227 :: Old Gousty Stump House

224 :: That Morning Light

224 :: Monitoring

226 :: Those Hands

226 :: Nasturtiums

227 :: Little Gousty Library

228 :: Cousin Love

228 :: Bud Buddies

222 :: August Glow

225 :: Papa

225 :: Water Cousins

229 :: Berry Hands

229 :: Berry Girl

229 :: 35 Pounds of Talk

229 :: Family

Together

180_pure_magic-180704-1.jpg

Mothering these two beautiful children, ten years apart in age, is one of my greatest challenges and also one of my greatest joys. The connection between them is a tremendous gift. He looks up to her with such unconditional affection and awe. She nurtures him with such adoration. Quite often these days, she is her most expressive self with him.

And he is getting quite an education from her. Today I asked if he wanted to look for tadpoles when we went down to the beach. He looked up at me and said, in his most matter-a-fact way, “We can’t go into their habitat.”

Now I wonder where my 2-year-old learned that?

Full Moon Swim

174 :: Full Moon Swim

Watching these three in the big lake, splashing under the rising June full moon, it’s hard to believe there was ever a January when I felt so cold and dark and lost. Back on the beach, standing on the threshold of all this life, next to my love, watching our babies — I am so deeply grateful

At Home At Old Gousty

120 :: Mug Boy

We are here for the month of May, and soaking up every moment of living in the beautiful Gousty woods.

120 :: Good Morning Ladies

121 :: Drawing Together

124 :: Bird In

(Shh . . . don’t tell Suzie that a bird tried to come inside while I was making dinner one night!)

121 :: Evening Light

124 :: James and Juniper

124 :: Dunescape

This land will always be my home.

124 :: Dune Light

122 :: Outside Copywork

Squeezing in a little school work . . . and cousin time.

121 :: Big Eye

126 :: Birthday Sign

124 :: Cousin Snack

124 :: Evening Walk

124 :: First Bouquet

126 :: Birthday Making

Pinecones: Close In

Revisiting one of my favorite poems. . .

Start Close In
By David Whyte

Start close in
don’t take the second step
or the third,
start with the first
thing
close in,
the step
you don’t want to take.

Start with
the ground
you know,
the pale ground
beneath your feet,
your own
way of starting
the conversation.

Start with your own
question,
give up on other
people’s questions,
don’t let them
smother something
simple.

To find
another’s voice,
follow
your own voice,
wait until
that voice
becomes a
private ear
listening
to another.

Start right now
take a small step
you can call your own
don’t follow
someone else’s
heroics, be humble
and focused,
start close in,
don’t mistake
that other
for your own.

Start close in,
don’t take
the second step
or the third
start with the first
thing
close in,
the step
you don’t want to take.

(David Whyte, River Flow: New & Selected Poems)