Monthly Archives: May 2023

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Lions

The sea lions that I wrote about look static in my still pictures from Marrowstone, here. I am zoomed all the way in with my Canon PowerShot SX40HS, and in bright sunlight hand held, I can’t really see much through the camera. I try to get it in focus and hold it still.

But yesterday I found a rock and tried to take a film, a movie! The sea lions are not static at all. The tide was going out, so the little island off the southern part of Marrowstone was rising from the waters. The sea lions are getting on the island as it appears. And perhaps not agreeing about position. It is amazing to watch how quickly the island changes.

Here is a sea lion film! I propped my camera on a rock, but got early wiggles turning the camera on and off, too. But there is a lot going on between the motion of the water, the sea lions, the sail boat and birds. Not to mention the small plane. I do not think the sea lions liked it.

I think I need to take a tripod and really set up. Next project!

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: film.

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Words

Always, perfect, us, and forever
A part of me stands back wondering why
I want to believe but cannot almost ever
He tells these formidable obvious lies
Like my sister you build a story
You are the star and say you never lie
I blink in wonder at your false silly glory
You build a castle of lies while I wonder why
I’d like to believe we’ll always be friends
A part of me wants security, foolish hope
I give it 50/50, unsurprised when it ends
I think you should wash your mouth out with soap
The best liars adore and believe their own words
And it takes years for the real truth to be heard

_________________________

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: words.

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Lose the chest strap

After my fourth pneumonia, I couldn’t stand the chest strap any more. Chest strap? say the guys. “What chest strap?” Dudes, bra, brassiere, whatever you want to call it.

It made my lungs hurt. My lungs already hurt. I thought, ok. I am 60 years old. I am “small” and don’t need any “support” unless I go running or something that really makes breasts jiggle. Don’t need a bra for dancing. And anyone who stares at my tits, well, gosh, thought you guys didn’t like “old” ladies. I don’t care.

Let’s think about that chest strap though. Guys, have you ever tried a bra on? What exactly is a bra for? Well, running or soccer or pole vault or football or all sorts of other heavy athletics, yeah, it can be really uncomfortable. Strap those babies down. But the day to day bra is to enhance support, stop jiggle and hide nipple action.

Uh, and meanwhile guys can take off their shirts in public. I think this is unfair. They have nipples too and breast tissue, just less.

Also, what is wrong with jiggle? The breast tissue drains in multiple directions, through lymphatics. I think some breast jiggle may be important to that drainage. Jiggle means slut to guys? Well, go suck a lemon, guys. And if you really stare at my breasts when I am talking to you, I might not sock your eye, but I sure as hell will lose all respect for you. All. And why are nipples evil in women but not in men? Because they are functional in women and men are jealous? Tit envy.

Now support. Yes, there are women who are so well endowed that they have back pain and may choose a breast reduction. This is covered by insurance if the clinician documents that pain over time. And breasts do change with time and age. But when is our culture going to accept and even celebrate aging! We do congratulate people turning 80 or 90 or 100, but otherwise older women are often ignored. I am delighted by the older actresses and musicians who are now finding parts and are still out there and dancing. Go Tina Turner, the legs go last!

I also think the chest strap is not nice for the lungs. Certainly not after four rounds of pneumonia, but bras have to be tight enough that they do have an effect on a deep breath. I’ve retired my bras. Ok, if I am in a Madonna mood and want to wear a lace see through white shirt, then I might pull out the scarlet one for the evening, but otherwise, no way. How good are bras for people with asthma, with emphysema, with post covid?

Lose that chest strap, ladies, and take a deep breath. Breathe free.

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Gone wild

There must have been a garden here long ago
No house but a chicken coop still stands
Three rhodys gone wild: lush and gorgeous show
Taller than I can reach overhead with hands
Scattered daffodils, the deer don’t like them much.
No tulips, the deer eat them down to the ground.
Petunia purple faces spread through brush.
The deer are shy not like the herds in town
Who teach the fawns to cross at crosswalks during day.
They don’t like rhodys either so the trio grows
Untrimmed, untrammeled, untamed, without a stay
I wonder if there’s envy from wild roses
Wild roses thorn each inch to hide in brush,
while the rhodys climb like trees, flowering lush.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: lush and for Cee’s Flower of the Day.

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Beach finds

I picked this agate up. See how it looks like a Gummi Bear, a different texture than the other rocks? The clear ones light up when the sun is polarized. It is harder to find them when it is not sunny.

This is not an agate, but some agates are this color. I try not to bring occupied houses home.

This is an agate too, not clear, but lovely color and striping.

Here is another clear one:

I am not the only creature searching the beach.

These were taken on Marrowstone Island and on the beach below Chetzemoka Park in Port Townsend.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: find.

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catch

Catch

What bucket can catch this light and color?
None, I think, and then I think I am wrong.
A bucket lowered and set in the water,
Turquoise and blue and black, a song.
Lift the bucket and the turquoise is gone.
Reflected light, a dance on on the riffles.
It’s like the happiness for which we long.
Caught for a moment, containment stifles
the reflection of joy in our face and hearts.
The face that lights from music or dance
or a moment touched by another’s art.
Let joy come and go, take the chance.
The light on the water will be gone at night.
Joy wants to be free and not held too tight.

I heard the band The Winetree last September in Ohio.

Sonnet 17.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: bucket.