“My kitchen,” says Sol Duc.
The boss
“My kitchen,” says Sol Duc.
The ferns and mosses are in a ferocious donnybrook to see who will take over the dead downed log.
For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: donnybrook.

If they whisper from one end to the other, does it get garbled before it reaches the other end?
Isn’t gossip a sin?
For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: chaos.
For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: hush.
Some days this beach is mostly sand. Yesterday it is rocks and more rocks, pebbles, stones, sand, beautiful. We are having lots of cliff collapse and new rocks are washing down. I was walking on North Beach last week when I heard bits of cliff fall. I turn and look and a nice one foot by 8 inch boulder falls from the top and rolls towards me, very fast. I stumble backwards and trip over a big boulder in the sand. I don’t hit my head and get knocked out and I don’t get hit by the falling rock.

I start back a little and another section of cliff rains rock. The tide is fairly far out, so I walk near the water until I am back where there is no cliff. Scary. Sometimes large sections collapse all at once. Death occurs by blunt trauma rather than suffocation.

My emotions are like the beach. Some days clear and sun and sand. Other days LOTS of new rocks. Other days stormy and the tide is very high and pulling at the sand and clay cliffs.
I receive a valentine from my daughter. She says she loves me. She says she misses the beach and the water most of all.
I find agates and they are beautiful. Some are clear and some are not and new ones keep arriving.

Let the light shine through, in spite of the weather.
________________________
For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: pebble.

I was looking at the rock in the center when I took this. But now in the photograph, it’s the circle around the rock that interests me. An interesting metaphor: what are we missing when we focus on one thing or one person? All the surroundings?
Dreaming of the Sun
whose warm rays surround her
and caress her
daily
she orbits him
and he pours his love on her
steady
constant
joyous
occasionally he flares up
and that might hurt
some of the small cells
on her surface
but she sheds
dead cells
they are reabsorbed
and she basks
in his warmth
with joy
ecstatic
orbit
she is alive
turning
whirling
so her small children
are not overcooked
like mercury
are not frozen
like uranus
mars is a rival
but the seas are dead
at least
her small children
think so
and venus
swelters
and is clouded
all the time
toxic
she turns
dancing
full of joy
in his steady light
___________________
written January 8, 2022
I think
you are my muse
another muse
in a series
like the men
who have young girls
in series
muses
I think
you are gristle
for my mill
I will grind your bones
to poetry
you don’t like my poems
I don’t care
hopefully you won’t read them
your bones
ground
I visit my friend Amy in Portland. We are friends from medical school at the Medical College of Virginia, now VCU, Richmond, Virginia.
Her mother is Nancy Clough and lives nearby. Amy’s house is surrounded by bronze sculptures, because Nancy Clough works in bronze and pottery.
This series is in Nancy’s house. She says that she sold winter and needs to pour another. More than one set is out there.
I love the joy in these sculptures.
Years ago I bought a vase from Nancy Clough, when I was visiting Amy on the west coast. I still have that vase and now a new one, from this trip. I bought the smallest vase back years ago, because it was all that I could afford. My mother was an artist, so I know how much it means to artists to have people buy their work. And anyhow, I love the flowers on the vase.
I tried googling her and find her on LinkedIn. She can be reached regarding her sculptures, just message me. I want to photograph more of the sculptures in the yard, so I will have to plan another trip. Heads up, Amy, I am coming back.
I am thinking of you
my love my valentine
on valentine’s day
at two in the morning
two to too
much to bear
I want to be a tiger
not an ox
disabled
but still strong
I settle into the traces
again
the load is placed
I look at my path
gather my strength
turn on my oxygen
and pull
no one expects
an ox on oxygen
to be able to pull
you don’t either
why do you think
so little of me
why do you scorn
what I do
when you return
you find
traces of the wagon wheels
on the ground
but once I am on the road
you can’t follow
you can’t find me
any more
For the Ragtag Daily Prompt slender, as in slender hope.
The photograph is neither an ox nor a tiger, but a sea lion, off of Marrowstone Island, Washington.
BLIND WILDERNESS
in front of the garden gate - JezzieG
Discover and re-discover Mexicoβs cuisine, culture and history through the recipes, backyard stories and other interesting findings of an expatriate in Canada
Or not, depending on my mood
All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain!
An onion has many layers. So have I!
Exploring the great outdoors one step at a time
Some of the creative paths that escaped from my brain!
Books, reading and more ... with an Australian focus ... written on Ngunnawal Country
Engaging in some lyrical athletics whilst painting pictures with words and pounding the pavement. I run; blog; write poetry; chase after my kids & drink coffee.
spirituality / art / ethics
Coast-to-coast US bike tour
Generative AI
Climbing, Outdoors, Life!
imperfect pictures
Refugees welcome - FlΓΌchtlinge willkommen I am teaching German to refugees. Ich unterrichte geflΓΌchtete Menschen in der deutschen Sprache. I am writing this blog in English and German because my friends speak English and German. Ich schreibe auf Deutsch und Englisch, weil meine Freunde Deutsch und Englisch sprechen.
En fotoblogg
Books by author Diana Coombes
NEW FLOWERY JOURNEYS
in search of a better us
Personal Blog
Raku pottery, vases, and gifts
π πππππΎπ πΆπππ½π―ππΎππ.πΌππ ππππΎ.
Taking the camera for a walk!!!
From the Existential to the Mundane - From Poetry to Prose
1 Man and His Bloody Dog
Homepage Engaging the World, Hearing the World and speaking for the World.
Anne M Bray's art blog, and then some.
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