“A woman may crave to be near water, or be belly down, her face in the earth, smelling the wild smell. She might have to drive into the wind. She may have to plant something, pull things out of the ground or put them into the ground. She may have to knead and bake, rapt in dough up to her elbows. She may have to trek into the hills, leaping from rock to rock trying out her voice against the mountain. She may need hours of starry nights where the stars are like face powder spilt on a black marble floor. She may feel she will die if she doesn’t dance naked in a thunderstorm, sit in perfect silence, return home ink-stained, paint-stained, tear-stained, moon-stained.”
Clarissa Pinkola Estes – Women Who Run With Wolves
Kristin HorniWhen We All Lived In The Forest (the group) Colorado 💜
This certainly looks like the top of the Manitou Incline in Manitou, Colorado where I used to live. I so loved it there. And there were many clear nights of skywatching, days of hiking. Dogs ran free, time was easy.
Flowers and pots and dirt, Oh My! And it’s off to the plant place we go. And about time, I say. So now with the new photo flash drive I’ll be able to easily and quickly move and backup photos on my Android. At least we’ll give it a bloody go, yes?
But of course this brings memories along with it. Memories with flowers and places and people. As indeed the trail of flower roots through out the years.
From Manitou—a touch, just a plant sampling from the upper courtyard:
My return should bring a flowering of blooms—which shall be published, assuming the new browser and flash drive and computer all cooperate!
posted by KennySstrawberryfields on Instagram
Does everyone remember “Strawberry Fields Forever”?
And so now that it has come to me, there are certain flowers come into bloom, or are planted or picked, I break into song. Daffodils? “When daffodils begin to shine, hey the doxie over the dale…” Petunias? “I’m a lonely little petunia…”
And on I sing and the flowers grow…
Below is the strawberry I planted in my courtyard in Manitou and was so proud of. Many more buds and fruits came to join us. And so we sang.
This is an old photo of the current love—Tula. (Of course that’s only one name of many—a shortened form of Talulah.) This is in Colorado where we played in the Manitou stream. Alone or with others, sometimes many others. Where she first met moving water. And became a child of the creek.
We don’t get many chances to do something like that here. But there is a place—Bow-Wow Lake—where dogs can swim and play. And that’s where we’re going today. It’s been too many, many days where she has gone without a swim.
So today she’ll get the joy of the lake and I’ll get the joy of watching her. Double blessed.
Manitou Flooding—Or, how I moved past fire & flood to bitch about Facebook
I tried to post a photo of the flooding destruction with cars and houses and roofs being washed down the road. Unsuccessfully. Very much so. I consider it very much so if I spend a great deal of time trying to overcome, work-around, beat the system. No try and then stop here. Nooooooooooooooo. And so, in the spirit of moving right along, I’m changing the subject.
Things of Note (as opposed to noteworthy):
- The chain letter has moved into a field vacated by common sense on Facebook: “Say this slow ‘God I love you and I need you’ Now if you meant it Repost & a miracle will happen tonight. Ignore and all will go wrong.”(Oops—is that why I couldn’t post a flood video/picture? Is that why Manitou flooded?)
- “Vote, vote, vote. Vote often & pass on to others to vote! Vote Now! so that our candidate can win Best Volunteer from Colorado!” I don’t see how stuffing the ballot box means that someone is the Best. In anything. But I guess that’s not the point. And I’m not sure what the actual point is.
And so it goes. Cool mornings in the mountains, threats on Facebook. Fires, floods, sinkholes and civil wars. What ever happened to the “good ole days” when all we had to fear was nuclear war and getting to the fallout shelter in time?