people who live in lace houses

shouldn't stow thrones

(i've been speaking with friends whose towns have become islands

because of damaged and downed bridges, and destroyed roads.

all are getting by, neighbor helping neighbor.

what a mess.

but what a great state.)

three empty nests and some hazelnut boughs

on mr. brattcat's workbench

(thank you all for your kind wishes yesterday...how you sweetened the day)

today i make a wish

that each of you might share a piece of birthday cake with me

our poor little town

has taken another hit.

still don't know the full impact

but flooding along the whetstone brook has definitely complicated things.

trying to keep my feet dry and thanking all of you for your concern.

all the birds have flown

to escape irene

(i'm taking a tip from jack of hartford, ct. and

pre-posting several days of images

just in case we lose power)

who can resist

the temptation of an open gate?

(thank you so much for your good wishes regarding irene.

brattleboro is presently in her path; we're expecting her arrival on sunday afternoon.

i'll let you know on monday how her visit went)

a potted plant, a watering can, and a hazy afternoon

tiny details of summer

to stash in the drawer of memories

shy little sunflower

peeking out at the world from between buttery petals

we jiggled and rattled for over a minute.

chairs rocked themselves, plants trembled,

and little brattcat

gawped nervously.

(the epicenter of this 5.8 earthquake was over 500 miles south of here)

is the ivy trying

to get in

or get out?

how ancient the sky

how new the day

still enclosed

in curtains of work.

should be done in another week or so.

(the cab of an earth-mover after the rain)

sometimes

you just need to gather the sun's heat in your bones

(thank you all for your kind and sensitive comments yesterday.

i'm going to take a little time away. i'll be back as soon as i can.

take care, all of you.)

two days ago, when i left the house for a photo walk,

a manager of our food co-op was alive and well and going about his morning.

ten minutes later, as i stood across the street from the co-op, balancing my camera for this shot,

that same manager slumped over his desk, killed by a co-worker...

in the time it took me to walk down main street....

poetry,

like duct tape,

can mend more than the obvious

(welcome new followers: ratu makena, vie, pedro d.h., cloudia)

waiting

for transformation

(what a delightful picnic we shared together yesterday!

thank you all for coming and contributing such delicious fare!)

let's have a virtual picnic

what might you bring to the table?

ghost horses sweep silently

through the valley of green morning

name that tune

or caption this post.

please.

if eyes are the window to the soul,

what do you suppose this soul sees,

peering out through its window?

dawn wakes

and lifts her sleepy eyes

retreat meadows, brattleboro

(thanks everyone for your wonderful answers to yesterday's question,

and thank you, virginia, for your beautiful post.)

getting the wood in

it's only august,

but in new england we are already preparing for winter.

what do you do to prepare for a challenging season?

once the dew dries

the farmer draws circles with his tractor

august theme day: post-card worthy

vermont...

wish you were here.

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