Friday, 31 January 2014

31 january

 the bitter cold has kept me indoors

and i begin to feel the loss of the natural world as my constant companion

there is a stirring within me 

to walk the beaches and the small woods of this rather tiny island

exploring the lines of the horizon

the lines of dawn

the lines of the Atlantic as it laps the shore


 across the street at dog beach a small dingy washed up on shore during the nor'easter

we had just after New Years


 many years ago another storm washed up the big wooden structure in the foreground

the semi-circular pieces you see are for holding some type of oars

I have no idea what it once was

i tell the boys it is part of an old pirate ship


the very first house you can see, the green one, is our house


the market was on my list of things to do yesterday

the list i put aside in favor of searching through every single drawer and file

for a single piece of paper that, as it turns out, we never had to begin with

the market is on my list of things to do again today

it will be much more difficult to fit in though

and i will be hungry as i shop because

there is nary a crumb of food in the house

leading lines at

Wednesday, 29 January 2014

29 january

26 january

remember that time he asks me

and i do

they live in another state now

i tell him

and i think she is some kind of a facilitator

these days we do some juggling

and sometimes we write

late at night he wakes me singing old joni mitchell tunes

dancing on the bed above me

moonlight shining in

strands of music fill our bedroom

to everything there is a season

said the one who started out singing country songs

about embracing sustainablity

turn, turn, turn...and our aspects do

i think that it was fate

that sent us here all these years later

we were different then

and yet the same

remember all those plans we had

I ask him -and he does

Sunday, 26 January 2014

26 january

joe's tang soo do ribbons

writing or letters & notice

Jack's notice in elvish moon runes

-translated into english for those of not fluent

in elvish

on water

droplets on the red winterberries


of grasses along the beach

Saturday, 25 January 2014

grow your blog

my name is Kara

which as I girl I didn't like in the least because it was so different

however, i have embraced my uniqueness and love my name now.

it means pure or friend in Irish Gaelic.

 I live on a rather tiny island in Massachusetts with my best friend, the man of my dreams. We have known each other since we were 11 but took a circuitous route finally getting together. We have a kooky jaberwocky family with children ranging in ages between 6 and 27...some are mine, some are his and some we have sort of accumulated along the way. One big happy family and in our home we: love each other, play guitars and piano, sing songs, go to school, spend time in our pajamas when we can, cook great food, drink tea and vodka and sometimes wine, play games together, take walks on the beach and in the wood, watch the sunrise and set over the Atlantic ocean, work, pet the dog, take naps, look out the window at the Ocean and the view, watch the sunrises and the sunsets, smell the flowers, eat by candlelight,  learn, laugh,
welcome friends

if you are interested in following my blog

please scroll down to the very bottom of the page.

25 january



Friday, 24 January 2014

24 january

it's baaaaaack........

the polor vortex that is

hovering about 0 today and even colder tonight

i am still loving Downton Abbey

also, although I am somewhat loathe to admit it

I am looking forward to Grey's Anatomy to  start again in February

I used to love peanut butter and fluff sandwiches 

-some people call it marshmallow creme-

on white bread

it was my nod to all things horrible and i only allowed myself one sandwich every year or so

i can't/won't eat them anymore

 Grey's Anatomy is my "fluff" these days

it is a new semester in school and for the first time I am in a class with people who are young

younger than my own children

OMG  LOL  IDK how these professors do it every semester

i am taking a class that is new to the curriculum which is called 

environmental sociology 

i think I am going to enjoy it very much

the white stuff

wide open spaces

Wednesday, 22 January 2014

22 january

you remind me of him she told me

as we sat

drinking martinis

at the bar

she full of disdain and bitterness

colder than the grey goose we sipped upon

and growing older by the mouthful

me with moon eyes when i smile

just like my fathers

imaginary gardens with real toads


22 january

fog banks often sock us in here on this rather tiny island

on this day we could see only the top of the windmill 

the fog is covering up the little city nestled on the other side of the greyish sound

22 january


Tuesday, 21 January 2014

21 january

i cannot identify this fungi. It has been growing in the garden since late summer. 
It started out about 12 inches round and flat like a dinner plate but has sort of curled up into almost a series of bowls or cups about 4 or 6 inches round. It holds rain water for a day or two and has survived the polar vortex, not to mention, a few blizzards and a fairly constant assault of salt spray being blown directly off the ocean, which is only about a football field away. It gets smaller and smaller as it curls inward and I begin to think it will curl right into itself Alice in wonderland style and disappear all together. It is covered with black and green spores and despite my outstanding photography it is, in fact, quite homely.

~ ~ ~

Sunday, 19 January 2014

19 january

in the oaken wood

 owl nest sits in an old yellow pine

where the trunk bends entwined with moonseed vines

chilling squalls sigh through tree tops

conjuring neglected spirits 

pulling my cap down over my curls 

i put my back to the wind 

and carry my trinkets home-


19 January

Do you wrestle with dreams?
Do you contend with shadows?
Do you move in a kind of sleep?
Time has slipped away.
Your life is stolen.
You tarried with trifles,
Victim of your folly."

-Frank Hebert, Dune

my garden hat

which languishes on a hook...waiting patiently for spring


Oliver Twist, The Swiss Family Robinson and an old Bobsey Twins book

not only antiques but classics

a door

something you are comfortable with

our sofa

where i often sit with a cup of tea and my laptop

who is there

it is just me

Saturday, 18 January 2014

18 january


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

we two are a rippled oyster shell

two parts

two valves

hinged together

an exoskeleton 

often found in saltwater

protecting a cherished center

because we two are a rippled oyster shell

a pearl
nesting in a teary sea

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~



15 January

blow out the candles and close the door
you command me softly
in the blackness

i am bald and garmentless
as your tongue glides over me
i am wild and murmurous
white knuckled in the cool sheets

the blue moon illuminates
the yew in the garden just outside the window
and your spirituous silence over me

imaginary gardens with real toads 

poets united


imaginary gardens with real toads

Thursday, 16 January 2014

16 January

"where the bee sucks, there suck I

in a cowslip's bell I lie"


~ 1 ~

last week i picked up some primrose to gift my mother and daughters with.

we had gathered together to celebrate my daughter's 23rd birthday

and I wanted to send them home with something bright and hopeful

mine sits cheerfully in the sunny kitchen window

ever so gladsome

waiting for spring

~ 2 ~

we are in the midst of a january thaw

it has been rainy and grey and in the upper 40's

a brief respite from the bitter cold of last week's winter

~ 3 ~

these are soup evenings

early suppers

and early sunsets

and for those of us whose circadian rhythms follow the rhythms of the earth

early bedtimes

~ 4 ~

i have decided that i am going to paint the inside of the kitchen pantry.
it is quite large and i think between prep and drying times it should take me a good solid weekend
i am going to start the last weekend in January 

~ 5 ~

i love the way a garden yields

to the passing of the seasons

each flower generating a seed inside a little pod

that will gently give way

drop to the earth beneath it

and be taken in and transformed

 rustic orbit

my town shoot out

little things thursday

favorite things thursday

random 5 friday 

friday finds 

Tuesday, 14 January 2014

15 January

14 January

one of my favorite gifts this year was an old-ish and very small copy of Dickens

A Christmas Carol from my daughter.

perfect reading material for climbing into a big comfy chair 

on these grey dreary days

with a cup of tea

Monday, 13 January 2014

13 January

morning sun shines onto a small table

but in the night one can imagine

reading Dickens by candlelight

capturing the light

13 January

i spent the morning 
gathered at the kitchen table
with a few pears

Sunday, 12 January 2014

12 January

i could not fathom then just what the sea would hold

when first i came to this post so many years ago...

i stand upon a pinnacle rising out of the deepest water which spins around this universe

days and nights marked only by the sun which rises and sets accordingly

stars and sea and stars and sea and stars and sea

I was young then and star-struck with the majesty

so carelessly I tossed my secrets deep into her stormy depths

never seeing, in my innocence,  that I could lament the loss of them

now I stand on the edge and call those secrets back to me

those days when I thought I had something worth holding

and those days when I knew I had nothing

but they do not answer

sometimes I think i see them glimmering on the glass of a smooth sea

but it is only mirrors

what the sea takes it does not easily give back

and this sea has taken all from me

only when the storms come do I remember that I gave it willingly

and i am free


12 January


i burn in our song

your flaming licks consume me

daylight smoldering

poetry jam

12 january

sweeping the threshold

 pools of litter

illuminated in the morning light

piled at her feet

 lifeless now but

 she was haunted by the scenes that lay in those piles

dust to dust is the price one pays

for the impact

of what we leave in our wake

powdery flakes her grandmother had walked through long ago

microscopic bits of crayons the children had colored with

when their hands were still tiny

dirt from the garden her mother had tracked in

that day in October when they had planted all the tulips

sand from the beach they had all swept in circles...

in and out like the tide

 one she had laid with

on this wooden floor

under the light of the moon that night

 fragments they had created with their storm

still sparkled in some remote crevice

of this threshold that she swept now

12 January

happens every day

 sparrows come to breakfast on the porch feeders


branches bare allow us glimpses into beautiful little birds nests

 this one is nestled in the bulrushes

upside down

man made

Boston city skyline across Broad Sound

it has been so cold that the Atlantic has frozen here.

This is not something that happens every day

looking down

walking the beach in bright wellies

the icy waters of the Atlantic have melted and the tide laps gently at the shore

once again

all is right again with this spinning orb we live on

for our beautiful world


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