Thursday Door(s)

Realized i have not put up any of my door pictures of late… so, cheers, to the WP door fanatics… and quote gurus.

MFA Boston Pooh exhibit through 1/6/2019

“And by and by Christopher Robin came to the end of things, and he was silent, and he sat there, looking out over the world, just wishing it wouldn’t stop.” -A.A. Milne The House at Pooh Corner

Spring Brook Farms Littleton MA

“I am sure there is Magic in everything, only we have not sense enough to get hold of it and make it do things for us”

-Frances Hodgson Burnett The Secret Garden

Fruitlands Museum cellar door

“The claim that cellar door is beautiful to the ear — in opposition to its prosaic meaning — has been made by and attributed to a wide variety of writers over the years.” New York Times Magazine (click to read the fascinating article.)

Fruitlands Museum

“Once in his life a man ought to concentrate his mind upon the remembered earth.” N. Scott Momoday

Reykjavik Iceland
Reykjavik Iceland
Reykjavik Iceland

“…it’s doors I’m afraid of because I can’t see through them, its the door opening by itself in the wind I’m afraid of.” -Margaret Atwood Surfacing

Boston Doors

Thursday Doors – Door Lovers

Now that I am in a new locale, I can hardly wait to share Boston doors -another door paradise!

When one door shuts, another opens. I have found this to be true. Except I am waiting for the last door opened, to shut! Please, someone buy our house in Indiana! I am begging the gods or God or Karma or even the boogey man at this point! One, because i am looking to buy a new house and nothing can happen until our old house has vanished from my mind! Yes, i am never too proud to beg! Two, i am becoming superstitious and paranoid.

Would love to open this house’s front door and settle my heart “in”doors! The rain is messing up my hair and attitude and the sun is burning my soul. Real estate hell is real!

Car Wash

Tuesday of Texture

Photography is more than capturing time, it celebrates moments that otherwise might be forgotten. Rolling through the car wash is always a memory jogger…

An image without so much a smile or frown keeps my imagination in a tizzy over a lack of direction to take. Until! and only until i relax and go along for the ride…

Thanks for riding along with me. 😘<<<
><<
p>

squiggles

“Can you read my squiggle lines?
I wrote them just for you.”   –Luke

I love you mommy!
I hope you love me too…
“Can you read my squiggle lines?
I wrote them just for you.”
I head off to bed, just as you ask
dreaming of adventures
make-believe lands -once thought impossible
alive and well again.

Monsters have boundaries -mommy
they scare me just the same
whether under my bed,
in my closet or resting in my head.
They told me to tell you
they forgot to pay the rent
but they have been on their best behavior
so I gave them my consent.

We storm around the house -do mischief
the words come pouring out
a molten lava island
where imaginations run wild.
I lead them through doorways,
we crawl through the cracks
no reason to shudder -we promise
to come back.

I love you, dear mommy…
I do and I hope you love me too!

If I could write music, Luke’s monster travels would sound something like this.

 

You move me

Never knew the man behind the hat. Again, art understood fully in the rearview mirror. 

Hearing people speak of a vibrant man on stage, who they knew behind the scenes, was private and serene, spiritual, a philanthropist and devoted to his fans, moved me to understand. 

We see the shallow waters but the deeper waters submerge, where courage takes us into another person, if we are allowed. We learn to swim in humanity, in and with vulnerability. Are we only accepted by what we give? 

We are privileged when someone lets us enter their world. Out of respect we do not push. He was a musician not by lesson but by what moves within; the earth, the wind, the sky. Blue crashing waves, wave goodbye. Let’s believe his waves were purple.