Category Archives: photo

I take your hand….


wet gerber daisy, originally uploaded by pilgrimgirl.

One of my joys is to have books of poetry stashed on nearby shelves, just perfect for grabbing and reading a few poems when the time is at hand. Yesterday’s book was The Collected Poems of Audre Lorde, a book that I first happened upon at the Bluestocking Bookstore in NYC, but didn’t buy until later because I feared it’s weight would be too much in my slim carry-on bag.

One of yesterday’s discoveries was a poem about gardening and hope, titled “Walking Our Boundaries.” I suspect that only I could be so charmed by a poem that speaks of compost (yes, it is all-too poetic, in my mind). An excerpt:

I take your hand beside the compost heap
glad to be alive and still
with you
we talk of ordinary articles
with relief
while we peer upward
each half-afraid
there will be no tight buds started
on our ancient apple tree
so badly damaged by last winter’s storm
knowing
it does not pay to cherish symbols
when the substance
lies so close at hand
waiting to be held
your hand
falls off the apple bark
like casual fire
along my back
my shoulders are dead leaves
waiting to be burned
to life.

The sun is watery warm
our voices
seem too loud for this small yard[…]
our footsteps hold this place
together
as our place
our joint decisions make the possible
whole
I do not know when
we shall laugh again
but next week
we will spade up another plot
for this spring’s seeding.

rising rose


rising rose, originally uploaded by pilgrimgirl.

“There is one spectacle grander than the sea, that is the sky;
there is one spectacle grander than the sky, that is the interior of the soul”
~Victor Hugo

I can just never get enough of that azure blue sky (and the blooming roses frame it just perfectly, in my opinion).

a small cup of light


lacy reflections, originally uploaded by pilgrimgirl.

“But tomorrow, dawn will come the way I picture her,
barefoot and disheveled, standing outside my window
in one of the fragile cotton dresses of the poor.
She will look in at me with her thin arms extended,
offering a handful of birdsong and a small cup of light.”
~William Collins

The image above was the morning reflection on the wall from the light coming through my window at the Sacramento hostel. All of the windows had these gauzy, lacy curtains. If the old house was haunted it certainly seemed so with the ghosts of wind that caused the curtains to billow in the evening breeze.

so many roses


GrandmaB’s funeral, originally uploaded by pilgrimgirl.

Grandma would have just loved this. All the pretty roses.

Do not watch the petals fall from the rose with sadness,
know that, like life, things sometimes must fade,
before they can bloom again.
~Unknown

sisters


DAVSDOTR, originally uploaded by pilgrimgirl.

Grandma with her sisters (she’s on the far left). She looks so much like my older sister in the pic that it’s almost uncanny to me.

And, oh, aren’t those hairdos something else?

PS: I belive that the caption on this photo misspells some of the names. Did I do this caption over a decade ago when I was compiling my family history? I can’t even remember now…

at last, and too soon…


so pretty, it hurts a little bit, originally uploaded by pilgrimgirl.

“Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?” –Mary Oliver*

Three of my grandparents died when I was fairly young. So for many years my GrandmaB (my kids called her “Candy Grandma,” can you guess why???) was my only grandparent.

She passed away this morning after suffering from dementia for several years. Of late she didn’t even know her own name, much less the identities of those who came to visit.

I have many memories of her, perhaps the most distinct being her pain as she watched her oldest son–my father–die of cancer. I can only imagine how deep her suffering was, and remember her saying that she’d never expected to outlive my father.

So I’ll travel to Utah to join the family in celebrating the life of this beloved woman. It will be a thrill to see the extended family, as I suspect that it might be a very long time before we all have reason to gather again.

*Thank you, Deborah, for this bit of poetry.

breathless


spring quince blossoms, originally uploaded by pilgrimgirl.

Breathless, we flung us on a windy hill,
Laughed in the sun, and kissed the lovely grass.
~Rupert Brooke

Here’s hoping that your May Day is full of beauty.

mercy


Jana and CatBonny through the Window., originally uploaded by mind on fire.

Last night we got the rare change to hear hip-hop violinist Emily Wells playing in an OC venue (at Muldoon’s in Fashion Island, following the NB Film Festival). Even as much as I ridicule living in Orange County, the opportunities that result from living so close to LA are unrivaled–from art galleries, to musicians, to the gorgeous beaches.

Though Emily’s cover of B.I.G’s “Juicy” is probably her most popular piece, my favorite of the evening was “Mercy”:


Note: if you want, skip to about 1.5 mins in where she starts singing. Haunting, IMO…

rolling


Occasionally and when I think no one’s looking, I’ll take a roll down a hill. There’s such a thrill in letting momentum take over. And then when I’m done, I just lie around for awhile, enjoying the way the world keeps on spinning even when I’m not.

What about you, what do you do when no one’s looking?

PS: Any guesses as to what item is hanging out of my hoodie pocket in the bottom pic?? You can see a larger version here.

canoeing


Jana’s Outrigger Canoe., originally uploaded by mind on fire.

Sitting in seat 4 in this picture as we’re bringing the boat into shore, just an hour or so after the first time I steered the boat on the open ocean. The swells were gentle and it was far easier than I thought it would be (a bit of irony in the picture: see my crutches lying in the blue boat cover to the left of the pic?)

It’s actually a bit tough sometimes to paddle one-legged, simply because I can’t push with my right leg to get the trunk twist when I paddle on the left. But I’m holding my own and there’s something pretty exciting about doing a sport where what’s above the waist means more than what’s below.
🙂

Pic by John, my own personal paparazzi