American Backyard

Is there ever a week unscathed by tragedy? From losing the genius of Kate Spade to a Supreme Court that ruled against same-sex cakes to Trump’s continuously rancorous tweets embarrassing the America our grandparents worked and lived and died to shape, and that’s just the stuff of yesterday. That’s not even the abuse or despair or neglect or poverty or dead-ends so many Americans are facing this very minute every single day. Twice this week we tried to watch the evening news, but as the lead stories were homicide, actually there were two one night, we decided to pass. Sure I want to be informed, but I’d like to know about the good too. Like how some start-up was giving back to their community, or a couple on the verge of divorce thought maybe their two kids were worth another go and called a therapist for communication help or maybe someone decided to stop eating sugar and processed foods, and now a year later many of their ill-health issues are abated? Or how about the local high school students who stood in the doorway, greeting everyone who entered with a smile? All of this happens every day, over and over, in all of our communities, but it’s only a footnote that wraps up the news hour. Never the headliner. Never the grabber. Is it that we can’t get enough of drama? Even watching a tennis match the announcers slip in divisive tidbits about the players, as if their 106 mph service shot isn’t enough to hold our attention.

Thankfully I have a backyard. Hopefully you do too. Or a park. Or any space with a tree or two. Where the sky shines down and shows you some green all lit up with that gold. And you can breathe.


dandelions in the sunshine

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games people play

This week especially, maybe because of the full moon or who the heck knows, there’s been a divisive air in the air. People have been out to get someone. Even people who normally bat for your team, now are eyeing you sideways, judging your every move. I’ve done my best to ignore these astrological blasts in the past, but the last few days, wow, it’s stretched my good nature. Tonight, instead of crawling deep into fetal, we decided to blast the other direction, head to game night.

lawn games

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yesterday’s commute

Driving along my road home, both front windows open, the sky draws my eyes upward. This is one of those late spring days that you remember. Actually, it is just this moment, not the whole day, but you get my meaning. Ordinary yet memorable. Worth holding on to a little longer. The scene? Rolling hills all around me. Cows out to pasture. Horses too. Green fields popping with yellow dandelions. A flock of geese settled down momentarily by a reedy pond. Black birds darting from one side of the road to the other as a dare, they play, cavalier about the outcome. How close they flap by my bumper! Crabapple blossoms cover each and every branches with puffs of pale pink and even speeding past their fragrance is a wafting sweetness. All this in one flash of a moment.

apple tree in full bloom

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mother wood

bird on the bare branch

On Mother’s Day, my spouse and I ventured into the woods, she with her camera, and I with a hat. Spring in Vermont fully here, bird song, rushing rivers, and myriad shades of green exploding from forest floor to tree top. Ours was a meditative stroll, moments barefoot, even a toe dipped into the icy mountain stream, feeling the great mother of us all.

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May Days

May brings the days we live for in northern Vermont. Long afternoons to get outside, all of us, and even in the slanted sunlight we rejoice for this freedom. Winter, almost a distant memory as temps rise, and all around buds green and flowers red. Oh Lady Spring, thank you for all the gifts.

dog on a wooden bridge

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The 100th post: Love

347… not quite 350, but awfully close. That’s the number of posts I’ve written. Hard to imagine it’s been years since the 100th and looking back I’m not sure where the time went, or where all the inspiration and thoughts came from, but I guess that’s the point of staying present. Ideas come, and if we can catch on to them and we remain in the here, they materialize. Funny thing is I always post on a Thursday, and even on the craziest of weeks, I hold myself to that deadline. I figure you all depend on my nine cents (that’s humor). This week, if you’re reading this post in real time, I’m publishing on a Friday. And it’s even a repost! Planning you see, from time to time, flies out of our hands. Something else happens instead, and when it does, we stop. Look back. Assess. Step forward. An interesting dance. Reflecting forward. Bringing forth a forgotten moment into the now. With love.

Nine Cent Girl

crowns

Seems like a lifetime ago when Nine Cent Girl was born… The fiery hues of autumn had just subsided into a monochromatic black and white across my Vermont landscape, fickle sunlight and arctic air drove me indoors; it was during this introspective time of the seasonal circle that my blog became a trusty beacon, illuminating my direction through what dark days lay ahead as well as brightening the unforeseen surprises dropped along my path.

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