Category Archives: family

Rescue, repair, and pause

We found this injured bird on the road this morning, then directed her to the curb, where she hop-flapped to this semi-sheltered spot. I promptly researched rehabilitation services without much success.

My Merlin app couldn’t identify her. Does anyone know? I think she might be a starling and that matters because the closest bird rehabilitation center does not take starlings. (why I wonder? Aggression?)

Or maybe it’s a northern flicker — although probably not because the beak isn’t long enough.

I pulled the curb-found birdcage out of the bed of day lilies and equipped it with seed and water and shelter from wind. It’s on our deck table under an umbrella, so it’s sheltered from rain too.

Sunflower seeds don’t seem like the right choice. Will have to research. Also, K wonders whether it needs more warmth?

Any and all advice welcome.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the table: a relic from the insulation in the basement “studio.”

A soggy mess to hear K tell it.

It’s a blessedly quiet morning here. Camp is over next door for the year, all the near-yard crews roared through yesterday, garbage trucks run and done, and many neighbors (I’m guessing) are getting the last of their summer fun on the Cape this week.

I’m on a quilt finishing spree (post coming about them) and also a pause (are the two related?) My summer writing workshop wrapped up on Tuesday, I’m taking a two week break on both the daily haiku and weekly Paris Collage Club responses. The calendar feels suddenly spacious.

I have a dental cleaning next week which I’m dreading with more than usual angst because of this loose front cap (can’t you just hear me — “Don’t polish it! Don’t floss on either side! Leave it alone!”), also a morning of babysitting for a new neighbor’s infant. Otherwise though the days are mine. Completely mine.

1975. Can you pick me out? Hint: earth shoes.

Nine years ago

Yesterday, someone left a comment on another YouTube video I made (once upon a time) and it led me here.

The video shows the background-audition process for a small row of connected felt houses. It reminds me of how much I (used to?) enjoy this stuff. Well, I still enjoy it but watching this made me feel like something’s been lost.

The video also offers up the impressions of being in Colorado for a college tour when we heard the news about the Boston bombing. There are images of the fretful travel home, too.

I’m posting it here because I don’t really spend time over at YouTube. It’s a little over three minutes long.

* the Marathon Bombing was ten years ago. The video nine years ago.

** 2013 was when I signed up for twitter. My son’s updates showed that it was generally 30 – 60 minutes ahead of the news cycle. I guess ten years was a pretty good run for a richly diverse and reliable news/opinion platform.

Rain on Father’s Day

Kind of swampy out there.

We took Finn on the short loop and good thing, it started to rain as we rounded our corner.

This purple hoola hoop put me in mind of how vision gets cropped. Also, how random things can be. What’s inside the circle and what’s outside? Who left this here?

I’m working on this ground today and will write #PostcardstoVoters today, alerting Ohio voters to an August special election. NPR story here. First the GOP banned August elections, then they made an exception for this one. This resolution would make it harder to amend the constitution.

Why? Because “a group of doctors and citizens is currently gathering signatures to put an abortion rights amendment on the November ballot.”

On the Father’s Day menu: braised lamb shanks on cheesy grits with green beans in the side.

Instagram story includes K with the boys, K’s father, and three old photos of my father.

Here’s to all the good fathers in the world. I wish my boys could’ve met mine.


Yesterday, I made a cake and it is delicious. It combines two almond cakes from the NYTimes cooking app. That makes it a bit of an effort but since my not-hungry-for-three-weeks brother had a wedge, it was worth it.

If you haven’t read Maggie’s comment from yesterday, do. A vivid description of her aunt.

Another day of grey here. What can I say?

I tried to walk Lila just now but a pop went off and she immediately turned around. Done. We trotted back to the house. She is scared of loud bangs and if too loud or prolonged will hide under the guest room bed.

Rescue dogs often come with shadows of trauma.

Trauma came up in my writing circle this morning. As a prompt, I posted a writer’s description of coming home to a completely wrecked house after Hurricane Andrew. I wondered if it would be productive. Was it ever!

So much insight in that group! It is the best thing in my week, week after week. I hesitate to gush, as if doing so would jinx things, but the most amazing words have come spilling out so regularly that I now think of these fellow writers as unstoppable. Unjinxable.

I’ll close with this Apple TV drama recommendation. Eight episodes. Incredible writing. Beautiful cinematography. It has: family secrets, betrayal and redemption, bad parenting, and lots and lots about wine. I love too that a lot of the show is in Japanese or French.

One of the writers also contributed to CALL MY AGENT. That’s the one about a talent agency in Paris. Also very good.

Haiku round up May ‘23

I missed a day, but otherwise there’s one haiku per day. As many of you know, I post from my phone and there I can’t create single spacing. Sorry for the inconsistency with that.

Maples, then beeches.
Catalpa comes last with those
dinner-plate-sized leaves.

Talk to me please like
I talk to my dog: WHAT A


Telephone wires,
sky, yellow parking stripes, tar.
Beauty’s everywhere.


The morning’s haiku
has vanished. Meals, sewing, moods
all taking their due.


Melody across
the rooftops. Church bells or ice / cream truck? Where am I?


Present arms! Long live
Blah blah His Majesty blah.
How silly they look!

Her orange sari
flaps as she walks. Same, my new
rust-colored duster.

Sudden quiet means
I can hear the flicker call
across the gully.


CNN took a
dump on democracy with
that interview. Shame!


Bold and scrawny, she
Looks around, trots up the street.
Neighbor coyote.


Even before the
UPS guy tossed the treat
Finn knew that he would.


The colors can’t be
named and yet we try: fuschia,
Persian blue, star pink.


He texts me to say
he’s getting a tattoo and
will call later. Sons.

The rhodies deserve
a little space. We all do.
So I dig up ferns.


Striped shirt, close-set eyes,
coffee in one hand, her hat
lined with orange fur.

The wind-tossed branches
and fluttering leaves seem to
have something to say.

* * C A L I F O R N I A * *


Arms at three and twelve,
orange wands in hand. They point
the jet to its bay.

He’s not hungry. Not
now. Doesn’t want to go out- / doors. But soccer — yes!

Weeding succulents
is one thing. Weeding cacti
quite another thing.


Tim Scott announces.
Plunging in with zero chance.
Confidence envy.

We gather and write
confined to six screen boxes
but the hearts bound free.

Pruning sheers impart
royalty as blossoms rain
down on me. Purple.

5/25 : the anniversary of George Floyd’s death

Jasmine blooms smell sweet
while waves of eucalyptus
suggest vapo-rub.


FaceTimer with leash
earns a special place in hell


Secluded path, blind
curves. She wears headphones, hot pink.
Fearless or stupid?


A fence: waterfalls
of nasturtium, yucca,
jade crowding the links.


Eighties rock band tee,
cartoon planets on his shorts,
tree of life tattoo.

The squirrel looks, freezes.
Lila stares and freezes too.
Left paw lifted, held.