trees snap their bluesy fingers

in perfect accompaniment to the tonging bells

is this

what it looks like

on the surface

of the moon?

(the confluence between the west river and the connecticut river

wearing a cratered cloak of ice)

into the blue...

how lucky the feet that follow this path

dear grace,

step right into the icebox that is brattleboro.

you're welcome to enter as often as you'd like.

bone chilling scenes await your daily perusal.

bring any and all of your southern hemisphere friends.

this offer good until late april.

love, brattcat

come gather on the ice

where dappled fish

entice

and

nothing will suffice

but pickerel on rice.

(fishing shack on the meadows,

brattleboro retreat)

defying gravity,

suspended in a tangle of boughs,

weighted only by his chainsaw.

kissed by dawn

blissed by snow

fragile snow blossoms

unfurl their white petals.

intoxication.

dawn

in her blue eyeliner and powder

the path

is strewn with diamonds

(i won't be able to leave comments for awhile

but please know i'm thinking of you even in my silence.)

snowflakes, like little wheels,

spin merrily across a pane of glass

at st. michael's school

children gaze out the windows

and dream of

flying.

in the church garden

sunlight embraces twig and stone

where is the little one

for whom this chair was intended?

little red berries

press their cheeks into pillows of snow

a raucous seam of geese

stitch a veil of darkness

to the winter sky.

safe travels.

like rapunzel's prison

this tower sits high on a hill,

deep in the winter forest

boots and skis left trails in the fresh snow

for all who would follow

the veins and capillaries of trees

form a net

to bear the weight of new snow.

i wonder

what she's dreaming of.

you don't have to be snow white

to fall for these apples.

when this little orphaline traveled from vermont to alabama

he was alone and lost in the world.

his new best friend, genie, of paris and beyond,

has taken him into her home and her heart.

she calls him

oskar

genie reports he is purrfectly content with his new life.

how i spent my new year weekend - 7

the setting sun dispatched the last wisps of fog,

i found a real path (not the deer paths i'd been following),

and reached home an hour later, muddy, but happy.

do you suppose 2012 will be a year for getting lost in the woods?

how i spent my new year weekend - 6

i took a path i thought would lead to the road.

instead i found myself in the middle of an unfamiliar cornfield.

i was lost with not even kernels of corn to lead me home.

and the light was beginning to fade.

how i spent my new year weekend - 5

i flew out with my new camera around my neck

in pursuit of dream-spun light

how i spent my new year weekend - 4

a new morning dawned, a new year began.

the day was as besotted by fog as the night before had been.

finally, in mid-afternoon, the sun woke from its new year's stupor

how i spent my new year weekend - 3

we read aloud rumer godden's

tale of ivy and holly

under the spell of the tree

how i spent my new year weekend - 2

night came quickly,

carrying the fog in its arms.

how i spent my new year weekend - 1

we dropped baby brattcat and her charming beau

at the hugging bear inn in chester, vermont

and headed back to brattleboro

amelia

brought her pencils and pens

and her paintbox

and time took a holiday

january theme: photo of the year

brattleboro in the jaws of irene.

taken august 28th, 2011 from the top of the parking garage,

looking down over the flooded streets.

happy new year, everyone.

may 2012 bring you only good things.

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