I like the small stories of our lives, the innumerable tiny stitches connecting miniature tableaus to create a tapestry that will one day bear witness to our joys, our sorrows, our lived love. An open bottle of wine breathes on a 1960’s vintage Formica counter top. It sets the tone for a sensual Sunday afternoon.
A small pan of lasagna bakes in the oven. Three of the four eyes on the stove work and so does the oven. A bonus. The temperature dials on the oven have all been worn off except for 200 and 250. I guesstimate where 375 might be, and hope for the best.
A well-worn handmade bar stool in the tiny square kitchen is the perfect repository for a bright yellow edition of the PARIS REVIEW.
I suddenly remember leaving a container of chocolate frozen yogurt on the kitchen counter, and run back into the cottage to put it in the freezer. Returning to the dock, my breath catches when I see the silhouetted dog, man and waiting chair, there in the gloaming at the edge of all things solid.
There is mystery in the way found objects assemble themselves. I see nature, romance, woman, man, dog, and a multitude of tiny luminous sparks in the remarkable dark night of life.
5 Comments
November 10, 2009 at 7:56 pm
Your writing and pictures have uncovered many dark areas of my life, and have brought light and healing . Thanks for sharing each tiny luminous spark. They are all important.
November 10, 2009 at 8:21 pm
You are the ink in my pen, big sister. I love you, too.
November 11, 2009 at 11:41 am
Love that dock pix.
November 12, 2009 at 7:15 am
Gorgeous–especially, I have to admit–that dock: strong new yellow pine boards, somehow in counterpoint to the timecapsule inside.
I love the elusive witchy allusiveness of your storm posts.
November 13, 2009 at 10:29 pm
I love these bayside posts. I think I hear the ocean in your words and they pull at the ocean in my heart.