Tag Archives: cloud

by

Perspective: beneath the clouds

Beloved why?
I am glad for your love
and warmth
and connection
and my cat’s
and my adult children
friends
family
patients
work
and why? Beloved

A high Adverse Childhood Experience Score
Two alcoholic parents
One sick with tuberculosis through pregnancy
Letters from the hospital to her mother
After birth
Never mention me
As if I do not exist

She told a story that she dreamed
she gave birth to kittens
played with them
and gave them away

Not a dream of joyously welcoming her new baby
Me.
Yet I didn’t hate her or my father
My damaged parents
My damaged sister
Who followed their path, not mine
There was nothing I could do
Only three years old when she was born
Try to shield and mother her
As best I could

Why Beloved
I have tried so hard to grow
to love
to forgive
and yet I have no human lover

My cat jumps on my notebook
And interrupts this writing
She is happier to welcome me home
Than any man I’ve ever dated

My daughter’s boyfriend picks her up
at the airport and has made her dinner

If I am a failure at love with a partner
Or too smart or damaged or difficult
To love
For humans
At least my children have both found love
And if I were to choose me or them
Yes, I’d choose them

Is that why, Beloved?
Sacrifice to heal the next generation?
It is worth it.

And yet, that small child part of me
That even as a toddler thought the adults were unpredictable, dangerous, mean when drunk as they laughed.
She is angry at them, Beloved
She is angry at you, Beloved
Or at people
Or at the universe
She still believes in every cell, in her bone marrow, in the vast universe in her mind

that she too could be, should be

loved.

by

Seven

This is Helen Burling Ottaway, my mother, in 1945.

The vest was red wool with embroidery. We had it still, when we were kids. We probably wore it out.

I am not pensive today, I am festive! And home! Three days of driving, with Sol Duc the cat objecting quite a bit, and we are home in Washington.

There are a LOT of mountains between Grand Junction, Colorado and Port Townsend Washington. Many passes as we drove northwest, over to Salt Lake City and then up through Idaho, part of Oregon and then Washington. There was snow on the first pass, but not on the road. We stayed in Burley, Idaho and then in Pendleton, Oregon. When I drove over Snoqualmie Pass, we drove into a cloud and rain and suddenly I could smell the sound! Salt and sea! It was raining in Pendleton yesterday morning but there was no ocean smell. Sol Duc continued to complain intermittently and got tired and slept a lot. Just wait, cat, we are going back!

It is fabulous to be home and see friends already! A friend came and made me banh xeo, Vietnamese pancakes, with spinach and salmon filling, and then I crashed to sleep.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: pensive.

by

Sky

The sky is bigger here than in Washington, at least, it seems bigger than on the Olympic Peninsula. It’s the lack of trees. Yes, there are mesas, but they are on the edges of Grand Valley and have very minimal foothills and then just go UP. I am enjoying the amazing cloud formations here. Maybe it’s also that often the clouds at home feel like they are two feet above the roof instead of way up in the sky.

Cee is getting better, so Cee, this sky is for you!

Yesterday we had an amazing thunderstorm with heavy rain and hail and water pouring under the front door of the clinic. The sidewalk must be tilted the wrong way. There were flood warnings and I waited until it calmed down a bit before driving home.

I like the sky, weather I am in Port Townsend or here. (Yes, wordplay on purpose).

by

There’s a boat here somewhere

Two of the ferries, that cross Puget Sound from Port Townsend to Whidby Island, are in this photograph from January. But it’s the sky that distracts. The ferries and the dock look small in the sound and the sky.

I do miss the Salish Sea!

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: boat.

by

The numbers game #4

Here is my first try at Judy’s numbers game. The number is 125. I got over 300 photographs with that entry, so that’s a bit many to post. Many are of birds or our beautiful Salish Sea. And bowling, heh.

The first is from December 2018, of the ferry from Port Townsend to Whidby Island at sunrise.

Reflections off of North Beach. A storm was rolling in, but the sun was still lighting the clouds, which in turn lit the water. December 2018.

Taken at Fish Park in Poulsbo, February 2022.

Bowling, November 2021.

Napping. February 2023.

by

Soft cloak

The sparkling water distracts, while she is shy above it, cloaked. She waits for the moisture that remains after Mount Olympus has taken her share from the clouds as they roll over. Over the year Mount Olympus and her sisters take hundreds of inches before the clouds pass on to Tahoma, but she catches the moisture left and builds a soft cloak. She is nearly hidden in the blues and pale blues. Look for her.

______________________________

It doesn’t fit, but I wrote it for the Ragtag Daily Prompt: risque.